...

...

(2 years later)

...

"You're almost there, Geum Jan-di-ssi!" the nurse said encouragingly. "We can see the crown of the baby's head. Just a few more strong pushes!"

Jan-di didn't answer. She was concentrating on making her rapid breathing match the pattern she had learned in childbirth classes. Pant-pant-blow. Pant-pant-blow. Before she had taken more than a few breaths, however, another contraction gripped her. She fought for control over her fear as the pain intensified. She had never felt anything like it, except perhaps when she had been injured during her kidnap experience all those years ago. Jan-di had thrown herself over Jun-pyo's crumpled form and taken a blow from a heavy wooden chair that was intended for him. The pain had exploded through her small body like a bomb before she had mercifully passed out. The pain of contractions, on the other hand, stretched out in time, varying in intensity, requiring more endurance than courage. When she had finally been able to start pushing, it was almost a relief. Though it felt different, in one sense this pain was similar: it was a price she was glad to pay for someone she loved.

"Push, Jan-di-ah!" urged Jun-pyo from his place beside her, where he held her right hand. She didn't need his urging. Her body seemed to know what to do instinctively, and she couldn't have stopped it if she tried. She squeezed down on his fingers tightly as she pushed, every muscle in her body straining, sweat popping out in beads on her forehead. She in another quick breath before bearing down again, the pain growing, sharpening into a burning sensation that every moment got more intense, until she felt as if she was on fire. She couldn't help it; she screamed. Jun-pyo's reaction was instant. "What's wrong with her?" he demanded of the nurse, gripping the woman's arm. "Help her! NOW!" The panicky look in his eyes would have been comical if it weren't for the very real terror behind it.

Jan-di knew he was thinking of her first pregnancy and the child they had lost. In truth, he had very nearly lost her that day, too. Only the quick action of Yoon Ji-hoo and the top notch medical intervention she had received at this very hospital had saved her life. It haunted him to think of what would have happened if she had been home alone at the time, losing blood and slipping silently into unconsciousness and death. After Yoon Seok-young had quietly filled him in on the details of that night, he had shown up at Ji-hoo's house in tears, startling his quiet friend by grabbing him up in a fierce hug. "Wherever you go in this world, Ji-hoo, whatever you need, I promise you I will be there. You saved her; you saved my heart. From this day on, Yoon Ji-hoo and Gu Jun-pyo are brothers. We are family."

Jan-di's scream subsided as the contraction eased a bit. She knew another one would be right on its heels. "Jun-pyo!" she shouted, trying to get his attention. "Gu Jun-pyo!"

He released the nurse and turned to look into her eyes. Though she was still panting, she held his gaze firmly. "I'm all right, Jun-pyo. Everything is all right. Why do I have to tell you that? I need you now, so don't lose it, you jerk!" Gun-pyo's troubled face cracked into a small smile at this sign of life from his wife. Looking around at the faces of the obstetrician and the nurses, he could see that she was right. They seemed perfectly at ease, as if all this noise and blood was something they had experienced a thousand times. It reassured him. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and turned his attention once more to the amazing woman laboring with all her might to bring his child into the world.

...

Outside in the waiting room, friends and family waited for news. Jan-di's mother had rushed over as soon as Jan-di had called to let them know she was on the way to the hospital. Her father had taken her brother to an entrance interview at Whimoon High School, an appointment she urged him to keep, but her mom flatly ignored her when she said that she didn't need to come right away. She had shown up with a cooler packed full of kimbap, jjol-myeon, and rolled egg that Jan-di had waved away with a certain amount of amusement. Fortunately, the mountains of food found a home with the members of the F4, who started to arrive shortly after that, alerted by Ga-eul.

Ga-eul was five months pregnant herself, and Yi-jung ushered her through the hospital hallways as if she was made of glass. Not that she minded. Her pregnancy had been a difficult one. The nausea of the first trimester had extended into the second, and she felt exhausted almost all of the time. Unlike Jan-di, she could barely eat, and her heightened sense of smell and sensitive gag reflex made preparing food for Yi-jung all but impossible. Thankfully, his enlightened expectations of marriage didn't include much in the way of domestic servitude, so, although Ga-eul did enjoy doing things for him, they also employed a full-time cook and maid. In his eyes, even if she never cooked a morsel, Ga-eul was all the things he most wanted in a wife: someone to laugh with, to share his passion for art, to challenge him on his nonsense, and to give and receive the kind of unconditional love he had never witnessed growing up. Ga-eul had taught him that kind of love, and it was a never-ending source of wonder to him. Now, with her, he was about to embark on the adventure of parenthood, something he hadn't thought he would ever experience. The day they had found out she was pregnant, he had been both thrilled and scared, silently vowing to be the kind of father he had always wished he had—faithful and strong, dedicated to his wife and child through whatever hardships might come. Above all, he wanted to be present. Present for all of it. As they approached the obstetrics wing, he squeezed Ga-eul's hand warmly, silently thanking her for all the doors she had opened in him.

When Jan-di's mother saw them, she rushed to hug Ga-eul, plying her with the kind of personal pregnancy-related questions ajhummas lived for. Was she still throwing up? Was the baby kicking? Was she drinking enough water and eating all the pickled ginger Jan-di's mom had sent? Finally, she pulled Ga-eul down into a chair and pushed a plate of food into her hands, urging her to eat, eat! Though her appetite wasn't very good, she did take a few bites, if only as an excuse to stop talking.

Fortunately, Woo-bin took the spotlight off of her, turning heads at the nursing station as he sauntered in with his characteristic sunglasses, leather coat, and fedora. He looked every inch the gangster, except for the friendly smile that belied his tough exterior. He grinned when he saw Jan-di's mom handing out food. "Na Gong-joo-ssi!" he schmoozed, "Tell me you have enough left for me. I'm starving for some home-cooked food. I've been eating nothing but restaurant meals for three weeks." She needed no further urging; before he finished, she was already filling a plate, mumbling about the sad state of youth today that couldn't even stay home long enough to eat a decent meal, a pleased smile creeping onto her face.

The only one missing was Ji-hoo, but he arrived an hour later, carrying a large gift bag with a ridiculously oversized cluster of multi-colored balloons tied to its handle. "What is THAT?" Woo-bin asked.

"It's a present for the baby," Ji-hoo answered with a look that asked, "Isn't it obvious?"

"Oooooh!" squealed Ga-eul, "What is it, Ji-hoo sunbae? Baby clothes? Or maybe a big teddy bear, right?" She shifted over to a closer seat to get a look. Ji-hoo reached into the bag and gently pulled out a small but beautifully crafted violin and a matching bow.

"Ji-hoo," snorted Woo-bin, "haven't you ever seen a baby? You know—pink, squishy, drool-covered things about the size of a loaf of bread?"

"Very funny," Ji-hoo answered dryly. "I just think that it's important to start a child's music education early, if they show an aptitude. This violin is sized for a child of about three. It was mine."

Ga-eul smiled and reached out a tender hand to touch the tiny bow. "Well, I think it's a sweet gift," she said with finality. Ji-hoo tipped a grateful smile in her direction.

"More kimbap, anyone?" Jan-di's mother asked, setting the bowl out on the low table. For the next few minutes, everyone was chewing. Then they heard the unmistakable thunder of Jun-pyo's voice, shouting.

...

"One more push now!" the nurse urged her. Jan-di barely registered her presence. She was tired now, so tired. Even with the pain washing over her, she just wanted to stop, to rest, to close her eyes for one minute.

"I can't," she insisted.

"You can! You're almost there!" the doctor said, his eyes betraying a little concern.

Jun-pyo caught the look that passed between doctor and nurse. "What is it?" he demanded.

The doctor answered, "She's getting tired, weakening. We've got to get the baby out now, before it goes into distress. I might have to order an emergency C-section."

Jun-pyo stared at him. "Cut her? Is that the only way?"

The doctor nodded. "Yes. Unless she delivers this baby in the next five minutes, we need to get to an O.R."

Jun-pyo's eyes steeled with resolve. Grasping Jan-di's hand in both of his, he leaned down until his face was inches from her closed eyes. And then he shouted.

"GEUM JAN-DI!" Her eyes snapped open as if someone had run an electric current through her. He continued, all the menace and rigidity of a drill sergeant in his voice. "What are you doing now? You think you're done here? I thought you were TOUGH!" he railed. "You talk a big game, but you're punking out right now, aren't you? AREN'T YOU? Is this all you've got, Geum Jan-di?"

The weariness in her eyes was replaced by a flicker of irritation, which grew to a flare of anger. "What do you think you're saying right now, Jun-pyo?" she shouted back at him. "Is this how you talk to me? You jerk! You can't say these things to me!"

He leaned closer, squeezed her hand in his vise-like grip, and bellowed, "THEN PUUUSH!" With a furious look, she took a deep breath and focused all her energy on one last, enormous effort. A small web of red lines spread out under her left eye as a capillary burst from the pressure. At last, when she didn't think she could hold on anymore, the doctor gave a shout of triumph as the baby's head emerged, quickly followed by the shoulders and the rest of the body.

"It's a girl!" the nurse announced excitedly. The doctor cleared the baby's airway, and she gave a soft cry, a sound that filled Jan-di with relief. He clamped and cut her cord, then handed her to the nurse, who, with practiced movements, wrapped her in a blanket and laid her in her exhausted mother's arms.

Nothing prepared Jan-di for the rush of pure feeling that assailed her as she looked down into the dark, blinking eyes of her daughter. For a moment, she worried that Jun-pyo might be disappointed that the baby wasn't a son, but one look at him dissolved her concern completely. He was thunderstruck. Standing like a statue, Jun-pyo gazed at his wife and daughter, a look of joy suffusing his face and softening his countenance until the tenderness there was almost too much to behold. Jan-di's eyes filled with tears. Her so recent pain and anger was already forgotten, swept away in the tide of happiness that engulfed her. Reaching up to him with her free hand, she caught his sleeve and pulled him closer. "Would you like to hold our daughter?" she asked. For once, his words failed him. Jan-di gently placed the baby in his outstretched arms and smiled as his tears dripped onto the small blanket.

...

Some minutes later, the nurse came into the waiting room to summon them all to Jan-di's side. One by one, they filed quietly into the room behind her. The sight of Gu Jun-pyo cradling a baby invoked a kind of sacred silence as they all stared in wonder. It was Jan-di who finally broke it. "It's a girl," she announced proudly. "Her name is Hee-jin."

...

...