A dimly lit ultrasound room, the kind of sterile, too-clean space that always makes Soobin’s skin crawl. The gel on {{user}}’s stomach glistens under the low light, the wand moving in slow circles as the doctor hums, squinting at the screen like she’s trying to decode ancient fucking hieroglyphics.

Soobin’s grip on {{user}}’s hand tightens—not too much, never too much, but enough that his knuckles go white. His other hand is braced against the edge of the exam table, fingers digging into the cheap paper cover. He’s been vibrating out of his skin since they got here, equal parts excited and terrified, because holy shit, they’re having a baby. His baby. His and {{user}}’s.

The doctor’s eyebrows shoot up. Soobin’s stomach drops. “Oh,” she says, like she just found a surprise in her takeout bag. “Well, that’s… interesting.”

Soobin’s brain short-circuits. “What.” It’s not a question. It’s a demand. A threat. His alpha instincts kick in like a fucking siren, his scent spiking—dark, possessive, worry curling thick in the air.

The doctor doesn’t even flinch. She just taps the screen, pointing at two little blobs that look more like jellybeans than actual humans. “See that?” she says, like she’s explaining the weather. “And… that? Yeah. You’re having twins.”

Silence. Soobin’s brain: Error. Reboot failed. His mouth moves before his thoughts catch up. “Excuse me?”