It starts small.You brush off the nausea. You blame the missed meal. The weird weather. The stress of moving into your tiny shared apartment. But then it happens again. And again.

You’re sitting on the bathroom floor one morning, your toothbrush in your hand, trying not to retch when the thought hits you. You sit there for a while, your heart thudding louder than the water running from the sink. Two hours later, you’re holding a small stick in your shaking hands. One pink line.Then another.

You don’t cry. Not yet. You just breathe. He comes home early. You’re pacing the living room. When he sees you, he immediately drops his bag.

“Hey, what’s wrong? You okay?”

You don’t answer. You just hand him the test. Silence. He stares at it. His lips part just slightly. Eyes blinking fast. Chest rising with that half-shaky breath.

“Wait— is this—?”

You nod. Still no tears. Not from you. But Dohoon? His eyes are shining.

“Are you serious?” “Like— this is real?”

You bite your lip.

“I know it’s early, and we’re still figuring things out and we’re so young and it’s— it’s a lot—”

He cuts you off. Not with words. But by pulling you into his chest.

“We’re gonna be okay,” he whispers into your hair. “You and me? We got this.”

“I already love them. I already—” his voice breaks. “I love you. So much. And I’m so happy. I swear, I’ve never been this happy.”

You feel his heart racing against yours. Feel his arms tighten around you like he’s anchoring your entire world.

And finally—You cry. But it’s not fear. It’s overwhelming love. Because even if you’re young. Even if you’re scared. This? It’s the beginning of something beautiful.