10

Jungkook is late for work today.

I pad out of the office, where I headed to get an early start on some filing that's overdue and find him in the twins' room, cradling Haru in one arm and Areum in the other.

For a moment, I hesitate in the doorway, not wanting to interrupt.

They look so peaceful, the twins both awake but silent, not complaining or crying for attention.

They're beaming up at Jungkook, worshipful and happy, making quiet little gurgles of pleasure now and then as he coos to them.

They look… natural.

Like we've always had this.

Our little family.

Jungkook looks every bit the doting father right now.

I shake myself. This feels like dangerous territory.

The sex is one thing—one spectacular, mind-blowing thing but starting to think of him as a parent, a father to my kids, that's a whole new leap of faith.

I'd need to know he was in, all in.

I've handled breakups in the past, seen guys come and go after swearing up and down they'd be faithful.

But I couldn't put my children through that.

If the twins started to see him as their father, what would they think if he turned out to be like my exes?

Just another asshole.

Looking at Jungkook now, I can't think that of him. I can't believe he'd abandon me so callously.

But then again, we hardly know each other.

This relationship is so new, so fragile.

Maybe he wants someone else, someone uncomplicated, without babies in tow. I couldn't blame him for that. And maybe he doesn't want to settle down at all yet. Maybe he still wants to play the field.

I force myself to square my shoulders and step into the room.

I'm having fun with him, but I cannot let my guard down. I can't let him in.

Not yet.

For the twins' sake, I need to know him much better before I fully open up.

"Jungkook," I murmur.

He looks up at me, a happy, contented smile on his face. Haru and Areum coo in his arms, and he squeezed them both gently.

"Good morning," he says, smiling.

"I hate to interrupt…"

I glance at the twins, unable to stop myself from smiling too. I've never seen the babies take to someone else so easily. Normally I'm the only one they don't cry for.

"But, you've got that meeting downtown in half an hour…"

"Ah, shit." He grimaces. Then glances at the babies. "I mean, poop."

I stifle a laugh. "Don't worry. I don't think they're quite old enough to understand swears yet."

He grins. "Well, it's good to get into practice now. For when they are old enough."

My heart leaps again.

Another promise.

Another statement that says he means to stick around.

To be here when they are older.

"Fair point," I say, which is the only thing I can manage to say around the sudden lump in my throat.

He seems to sense I'm feeling something. He stands and gently places Haru and Areum back into their crib, then steps over to wrap his arms around me. "You all right?" he murmurs into my hair.

I nod against his chest, squeezing him back tightly. "Just a little tired, that's all."

He pauses for a moment, gazing down at me. I can tell he doesn't quite believe me, but he's not going to push the issue. He leans in to kiss me gently and then squeezes my shoulders one last time.

"I'll be home after the meeting," he promises. "You, the kids and I need some quality park time this afternoon."

I grin. "Deal."

Then he's gone, and I'm left staring at my babies, uncertain once more.

Am I just being paranoid? Is it just my past experiences with men making me expect the worst? Or am I right to worry, because these babies are my everything?

They deserve the best, and they deserve for me to stay vigilant, and not get them tangled up in my heartbreak.

I feed them and get them settled in for their mid-morning nap. But I'm still feeling restless, disjointed.

I finish the filing for Jungkook and get his next month of meetings entirely booked. Then I wander around the house, looking for things to tidy.

It's how I handle feeling stressed or unmoored.

Cleaning puts me into a better mindset, makes me feel productive, instead of just anxious.

I start in the living room, put away all the clothes I've left strewn around, and the baby toys and supplies. Then I move to the kitchen and finish washing up from breakfast.

There's a stack of old mail and papers on top of the fridge, which has been there since I started staying here a few weeks ago.

It's an eyesore, messing up the otherwise neat and tidy kitchen.

I pull the stack down and start to sort it into piles—obvious junk mail to be tossed, possibly important mail from credit card companies.

Then I reach a file at the bottom of the stack. A blue and white folder, stamped with the logo for A New Chance.

I recognize it at once because it's the same fertility clinic I used. The place where I conceived the twins. The company that gave me the best thing in my life.

Curious, I flip it open. Why is this here?

Then I freeze on the first page.

There's a standard application form for Jungkook, complete with a photo of him looking devastatingly handsome, and his personal information completed.

But beside it, on the other side of the folder, is someone else's application.

An omega 'woman.'

She's gorgeous. Long blonde curls, blue eyes, high cheekbones.

A model type, you can tell just from her headshot.

Park Chae Young, says her name on the personal information profile, and under her address is an address I don't recognize.

A street in a small town, less than an hour drive from Busan. But when I glance over at the other form, at Jungkook's form, it's got the same address on it.

I think about the clothing in the spare room. About the money Jungkook has.

About the work trips, he takes overnight to the outskirts of Busan proper, supposedly.

My stomach churns in horror.

The application is clear—it has "Approved for Treatment" stamped right across it.

He has another life.

Children with this woman.

A house outside of town.

A whole other family.

No wonder he seemed so natural around the twins.

No wonder he seemed too good to be true.

Tears spring to my eyes. I collapse onto the kitchen chair, staring blankly at the folder, as those tears fully form and slide down my cheeks.

I'm still sitting there when the elevator opens hours later. Startled, I inhale sharply, sniffing, and slam the folder shut, throw it back on top of the fridge, then add the mail on top of it, a haphazard, messy pile.

"Honey, I'm home," Jungkook sings from the elevator, joking, and it almost sends a whole new rush of tears down my face. I manage to hold it in, only barely, by digging my nails into my palms.

He sticks his head into the kitchen a moment later. "What'd I miss?" he asks, his voice lighthearted.

I stand with my back to him, unable to turn around.

When he sees my face, he'll know.

This whole beautiful fantasy world will collapse around us.

He'll realize I've found out, he'll throw me out.

And fvck, this job.

I need this job. I need the money.

But I can't put the kids through this.

Through the pain of a breakup.

They're still young enough that they won't remember this, thank god, if I can put him off now…

Get out of this while there's still time.

"Taehyung?" He's walking toward me, concern in his tone again. "What are you doing?"

He rests his hands on my shoulders and leans in to kiss my cheek.

"Nothing," I say, my voice strangled. Tight. "Just cleaning."

But he hears the sorrow in it.

Spins me around before I can react, and of course, my face is still streaked with leftover tears, my eyes still red from crying.

"Taehyung. Something's happened. Tell me."

I shake my head, unable to speak. Unable to voice the truth.

Unable to call him a liar. Just like every other man who's ever broken my heart.

"What's going on? You can talk to me, Taehyung. You can trust me."

"Can I?" I finally snapped. I push his hands off my shoulders, stride away from him. "I'm an idiot."

Now he's frowning, concerned and confused at once. "You are far from an idiot, Taehyung."

"Then why do I keep falling for this?" I fling my arms wide, angry. "Why do I think that I can be happy? Why did I believe this could work? Every relationship I've ever gotten myself into is doomed. Why on earth would this one be any different?"

I've raised my voice, I'm shouting now, but I can't seem to stop myself.

Jungkook stares at me, wide-eyed, shocked. "What are you talking about?"

But I can't do this.

I can't listen to his explanations, his denials, his excuses.

I can't watch him turn into the same man as all my exes, a liar and a cheat.

The babies have woken up, startled by my shouts, no doubt.

They howl from their room, and those cries echo the pain in my heart.

I push past him, storm out of the kitchen and scoop them up.

Before I realize what I'm doing, I'm packing them into their stroller.

"Taehyung, please, talk to me. What's going on? Where is this coming from?"

"I think you can figure that out yourself," I snap.

His eyes go cold. "If you won't let me in, I can't help you."

"I don't need your help," I spit. "I don't need anybody's help. I can do this on my own—I always have."

It barely takes me ten minutes to pack the essentials.

I've gotten used to this, over the years, I'm practised at running. I push the stroller out of the apartment, the babies' travel bag over my shoulder.

The rest of it, the clothes he bought me, the toys he bought them, we can do without all of that. We don't need his charity, any more than we needed him to support us.

We can do just fine on our own.

Anger replaces sorrow for the moment.

Just for long enough to get me through this, and I'm grateful for it.

He tries to stop me one last time at the elevator bank, curls his hand around my wrist and looks into my eyes, pleading.

"Talk to me about this, please! What happened?"

"I fell for you," I say. "That's what happened."

Then the elevator arrives.

He's still standing there, eyes wide, mouth open in shock, when I step into it and let the doors swing shut behind me.