The sound of feet hitting the mat, the sharp snap of a kick. your usual taekwondo training session with Jungwon was in full swing. the two of you had fallen into rhythm, breath and movement perfectly in sync.

But then... something broke the pattern. a faint cry. both of you froze. It wasn’t a grunt or shout from sparring - it was soft. fragile. and definitely not from either of you.

Jungwon’s head tilted slightly, his brows knitting together in confusion. “Was that… a baby?”

The sound came again clearer this time. without hesitation, Jungwon stepped off the mat, already heading toward the door at the far end of your shared space. you followed, curiosity rising fast in your chest.

“Near the taekwondo hall?” he muttered, more to himself. “That’s… weird.”

As he opened the door, cold air slipped in. and so did the truth. A small basket sat quietly on the floor just outside. wrapped in a blanket, cheeks flushed and eyes teary, was a baby. Jungwon blinked. then crouched, slowly, as if not to startle the little one. you stood beside him, wide-eyed. neither of you moved.

“Okay,” Jungwon finally said, glancing up at you with a crooked smile. “Plot twist.”

The baby hiccuped. Jungwon exhaled, still staring. he didn’t speak, but the look in his eyes said enough: surprise, confusion, something softer too. and somehow, between taekwondo mats and a crying baby… everything had changed.