2

It's been two weeks. Two agonizing weeks of panic, fear, worry.

I crouch beside the crib watching Haru and Areum sleep. Haru sleeps with his thumb in his mouth, and Areum sleeps with her hand tangled in Haru's hair, they've both already got half a head of jet-black hair, just like mine but wavier.

It's funny, they look so similar, but already in just five months, they're developing their personalities.

Areum is the clingy one – she cries anytime Haru is out of her sight, and she won't fall asleep unless I'm holding her.

Haru is more independent, though he still relies on his sister to show him how to do everything, like pick up a rattle or pull my hair.

I didn't expect these guys.

When I finally decided, a little over a year ago, to go to the clinic on my own, I was expecting one baby.

One perfect baby from whomever my mystery donor was.

I didn't want to pick the father of my children out of a photo book – that just felt too weird, like shopping for an internet mate. I asked the nurses to recommend somebody and they told me they had the perfect donor in mind.

That donor turned out to be a little too perfect, at least in the fertility department. Next thing I knew, I was at my ultrasound appointment being told they'd detected not one, but two heartbeats.

Now, though? Now I couldn't imagine my life without both Areum and Haru. They are my world, my everything, and I'm so happy that everything turned out the way it did.

At least, everything except my stupid asshole ex-employer.

I wish he steps on a tiny lego block!

I sigh under my breath and lean in to brush Areum's hair out of her eyes. I need to get back to my applications. I've been applying to every job I can find, for anything I'm even vaguely qualified for. Secretary positions, office manager positions, personal assistant jobs, even some babysitting gigs.

But even for babysitting, I've been asked for a résumé a mile long, plus dedicated free hours late in the evenings and on weekends. I can't do that, not with the twins to look out for, it'll cost me as much to babysit for someone else as I'd spend on hiring a nanny to watch my kids while I'm away – and by then, what's the point?

I rub my temples trying to reign in my scent exposing my babies with how stressed I am feeling. I tried taking deep breaths to calm myself.

I have enough in savings to tide us over for a couple of months. I had 6 months of expenses set aside for me and one baby – but I didn't expect to be caring for two kids. I'm screwed if I don't find a job in the next couple of weeks.

Regretfully, since I hate to leave them, I tiptoe out of the kids' room. It's a nice room, painted a cheery yellow, with two cribs (though they cry unless I let them sleep in the same single crib anyway). I won't be able to afford a space like this soon.

My landlord will evict me, I'll have to move back in with my mother – and the very thought of her makes my skin crawl. Another wave of anxiety enveloped my body, a thin sheen of sweat appeared.

I refuse to let her around the kids without supervision. Not if she's going to treat them the way she treated me. She used to leave me alone for hours at a time, hopping off to parties or disappearing for weeks to trail some new guy she just met and his band. I was taking care of myself by age six. I refuse to let that happen to my children. Not on my watch.

I boot up my ancient laptop and scroll once more through the local help-wanted ads. I've got at least seven different sites open on my browser, but each one offers fewer openings than the last. It's all I can do not to tug my hair out or scream.

One of the sites links out to a new board, just for people who live in this area, on the outskirts of Busan, a place to post positions that you want so that anyone hiring can contact you.

Well. Worth a shot, I figure. I cast a glance over the screen at the children's room, thinking for a second I hear them stirring.

Whatever will get me a job, I figure.

I fill out a post, advertising my availability for Personal assistant/secretary/jack-of-all-trades positions. I attach my résumé and add some details about myself. It asks for a photo too – must be recent, it says, for some reason. But I figure no reason to hide who I am. Any position that will work for me right now needs to be flexible about my kids.

So I chose a picture from last month, just before I was fired. It's me with Haru balanced on one arm and Areum on the other, all three of us grinning at the camera. It's the only photo I have where both of them looked at the right place at the right time, and my hair even looks decent in it, which is a miracle lately, given the whole I have twin babies thing.

As soon as I post the ad, Areum starts to whine – I can tell it's her by the unique high-pitch in her voice. I leap up from the computer and dart into the room. She's just fussing in her sleep, but that, of course, woke up Haru. Pretty soon both of them are yelling for bottles.

It takes me the better part of an hour to feed them and calm them down enough that we can all return to the computer together this time, both of them balanced on my knees.

"What do you think?" I ask them as I open up my email. "Will Daddy find a new job today? He'd better, or we're all in a bit of trouble…" I jiggle Haru a little, bouncing him on my knee.

To my surprise, there's an unread message in my inbox, Re: Personal assistant position. Already? I clicked it open – sure enough, someone saw the ad I posted on that site. Thank god, a lead, at last!

I am looking for a personal assistant to help out around my house and with some work tasks associated with my business. If you are interested, please let me know – I am a child-friendly employer and very flexible for families. I'm looking for someone to start immediately though, so please respond with your availability as soon as possible if you are interested.

-Jeon Jungkook

Below that, he lists a starting salary that, to my shock, is even higher than I was making in the office.

My eyes widen.

This could be the break that I needed.

I quickly type out a reply – at least, as quickly as I can while juggling the twins. I tell him that I'm available to start as soon as possible, but, I won't be able to come by today since I don't have a sitter set up – could I meet you tomorrow?

His reply arrives before I've even stood up to go and fetch the binky Haru is crying for.

Not a problem – come by today and bring the children.

I pause for a moment, a quick Google search of his name brings up a professional profile online, as well as more than a few websites, not to mention some Google images.

Damn.

I stare open-mouthed for a second at the first few images of him. He's in a suit, at some kind of fancy event, which explains why this photo is available online. If they tagged him correctly. Jungkook here is one hell of an alpha hottie.

Shit, those deep chocolate eyes, his perfectly wavy black hair falling across his forehead, not to mention his sharply cut chin, jaws and cheekbones…

I can imagine the way he'd look gazing down at me, taller, in control, but with a deep understanding in his eyes.

I start to picture the way it would feel if he bent toward me, caught my lips in his, wrapped those strong, muscular arms around my waist and crushed my body against his. The way his hard chest would feel digging into mine, his lips claiming my mouth…

I shake my head, bringing myself back to reality. Get it together, Taehyung. You know better than to fall for looks.

My ex was a hottie too and look at how he fvcking turned out. He left me with nothing to show for our five years together but a whole lot of emotional fvckery and a broken heart.

Thank you for being so considerate, I write to Mr Hot Future Employer. I will stop by later this afternoon, then.

Then it's a mad scramble around the house to ready the babies for a trip. I have to pack their bags, make sure I have extra diapers and formula, just in case, and then I try to make myself look somewhat presentable for once.

I brush my wild mess of hair into a somewhat straight, neat do, and put on makeup for the first time since I gave birth. After all, Jungkook might be way off-limits but I want to make a good impression.

Not only because he's a potential employer, though I try to fool myself into believing that's why. It takes me a while to pull up the bus schedule to his place—he lives far from me, downtown in a wealthy neighbourhood. It'll take a while to get there, especially if I have to commute every day. But if this job works out, I'm set.

I'll have enough money to take care of the twins – not to mention an employer who understands the pressure of single motherhood and seems flexible enough to help me out.

Worth it. No matter what it takes.