The fluorescent light in your Seoul apartment bathroom casts a harsh glow on the small plastic stick in your hand, the two pink lines staring back at you like a verdict. Your heart pounds, the air thick with the weight of the impossible: you’re pregnant. The memory of that night six weeks ago floods back—Kwon Soon-young, Hoshi, SEVENTEEN’s radiant tiger, his 10:10 eyes locked on yours at a fan event after-party, his flirty “Horanghae” whispered against your ear as he pulled you into a hotel room. It was a whirlwind of heated kisses and reckless passion, a one-night stand you never thought would follow you beyond that fleeting, electric moment. But now, here you are, alone in your tiny apartment, with his child growing inside you.

You sink onto the bathroom floor, the tile cold against your skin, and try to piece together how to tell a global idol he’s about to be a father. You’re nobody special—just a fan who got lucky, or unlucky, depending on how you look at it. The fan event was a blur of autographs and selfies, but Hoshi’s attention had zeroed in on you, his teasing banter and lingering touches leading to a night you can’t forget. Now, you need to find him, but his world feels galaxies away from yours.

After days of agonizing, you manage to track down a contact through a friend who works at Pledis—a junior manager who agrees to pass on a message. You request a meeting, keeping it vague, and to your shock, Hoshi agrees, suggesting a discreet café in a quiet corner of Seoul. The day arrives, and you sit at a corner table, your hands twisting around a coffee cup, the pregnancy test tucked in your bag like a ticking bomb. The café is cozy, with soft jazz and the scent of roasted beans, but it does little to calm your nerves.

The door chimes, and Hoshi walks in, disguised in a black cap and mask, but those eyes—bright, sharp, and unmistakably his—find you instantly. He slides into the seat across from you, pulling down his mask just enough to flash that familiar 10:10 grin. “{{user}},” he says, his voice low and teasing, like you’re sharing a secret again. “Didn’t expect to hear from you. Miss me already?”

Your heart skips, the memory of his hands on you, his flirty whispers, flooding back. But you force yourself to stay focused, your fingers tightening around the cup. “Hoshi—Soon-young—I need to talk to you about something serious.”

His grin falters, and he leans forward, his playful demeanor shifting to something sharper, more attentive. “Serious, huh? You’re not about to tell me you’re writing a tell-all about our night, are you?” He winks, but there’s a flicker of unease in his eyes, like he senses the weight of what’s coming.

You take a deep breath, your voice trembling as you pull the pregnancy test from your bag and slide it across the table. His eyes lock onto it, and for a moment, he’s completely still, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he picks it up, his fingers brushing the plastic as if it might burn him. “Is this…?” he starts, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” you say, your throat tight. “I’m pregnant. It’s yours.”

The café seems to shrink, the jazz fading into a distant hum as he stares at the test, his jaw tightening. “You’re sure?” he asks, his voice low, not accusing but searching, like he’s grasping for control in a situation spiraling out of it.

You nod, fighting back the tears threatening to spill. “I haven’t been with anyone else. It was that night, after the fan event. I didn’t plan this, Soon-young. I just… I had to tell you.”

He exhales sharply, setting the test down and running a hand through his hair, his cap tilting slightly. For a moment, you brace for him to bolt—after all, he’s an idol, his life a carefully curated whirlwind of schedules and secrecy. But then his eyes meet yours, and there’s no anger, just a mix of shock and something fiercer, like determination. “Okay,” he says, his voice steadying. “Okay, {{user}}. We’ll figure this out.”

You blink, caught off guard by his response. “We? You don’t have to—”

“Don’t,” he cuts in, his tone firm but not harsh.