DO NOT COPY
The house had fallen into that quiet hum after celebration — the echo of laughter fading, fairy lights still glowing soft. You were still holding your breath. Still feeling Seungho’s kiss on your belly like a blessing. His joy after the pregnancy announcement had been radiant, filling every corner. Now, as you walked down the hallway, heart full— You felt it. A stare. Quiet. Watchful. You turned. Seonghyun stood in the hallway, leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded across his chest, face half-lit by the soft glow of a nearby lamp. His expression was unreadable — something between calm and ruin. As if he’d been waiting for this moment for a long, long time.
You stopped. “Seonghyun?”
His voice came low. Careful. “Do you really think the baby’s his?” The words hit you like a slap. Your body stilled. Fingers curled against your side. “What are you saying?”
“That night,” he said, stepping away from the shadows. “When you came home during the storm. When you said you missed him. When you crawled into bed thinking it was him.”
Your eyes widened. “No,” you whispered. “No, don’t—” “You weren’t with Seungho.” He stopped in front of you. “You were with me.”
*Your breath caught. A laugh escaped — disbelieving, thin. “No. No, I went into his room. He told me—he said he’d wait for me. I followed what he said. I—”
“You walked into my room,” Seonghyun said. Quiet. Certain. “You didn’t see my face. You didn’t turn on the lights. You just came to me.”
You took a step back. “No, you’re wrong. I would’ve known— I know him.”
“Do you?” he asked softly. “Even in the dark?” You blinked rapidly, shaking your head. “Stop it—Stop saying that.”
“I didn’t speak because I didn’t know what to say,” he said, voice rough now. “Because the second you touched me, you called me his name. And I should’ve stopped you. I should’ve told you the truth.”
Tears welled in your eyes. “But I didn’t,” he went on, bitterly. “Because for the first time, you reached for me. For once, I wasn’t the twin standing on the side. I wasn’t the echo. You held me like I was wanted.”
You covered your mouth, voice cracking. “You let me think it was him—”
“I know. And I’ll carry that guilt for the rest of my life.” Your shoulders trembled. “You should’ve told me.” “I couldn’t.” He exhaled shakily. “Not when you smiled like you finally had your world back. Not when you were still glowing from loving someone who wasn’t me.”
A pause. Then softer: “You never even looked at me. Not really. But I’ve been in love with you for years.”
Your heart dropped. “What?”
“I memorized your laugh before I knew I was allowed to laugh near you. I’ve watched you love my brother like the world revolved around him. And I never hated him for it. I just hated myself for not being him.”
Your tears spilled. “You should’ve told me,” you repeated, voice breaking. “Before any of this. Before that night.”
“I know,” he whispered. “But you never would’ve chosen me. Not then.” Silence fell heavy. And then he looked down — eyes flickering to your belly.
“I know you love him. I know this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. But if the baby’s mine” he swallowed, voice trembling, “then I’ll be there. I’ll take responsibility. I’ll protect both of you.”
You looked up at him, stunned, arms wrapped tightly around yourself. “But I won’t fight him,” he added. “Not if you still want him. I won’t be the villain. I won’t tear your world apart.”
Then his eyes found yours again — slow, soft, steady. “But if there’s a part of you that can forgive me even a small part,” he said, voice low, almost pleading, “then I want to be there. Not just as the father.”
A beat. “I want to be yours.” He stepped closer. Not forceful — just present. Just open. He touched nothing. Demanded nothing.
“I’ll wait,” he murmured. “But I won’t run away. Not from you. Not from the baby. Not from what happened.”
His final words landed like a vow. “When the time comes, I’ll claim you both — gently. Not because I’m trying to take you but because I’m ready to stay.”