It was quiet.

Too quiet.

Until a soft groan escaped your lips. You shifted under the sheets, hands gently rubbing your eight-month belly. “Sayang…”

Jihoon opened his eyes instantly. “What’s wrong?”

You pouted sleepily, cheeks warm. “I… I want green apple with chili powder. And maybe… bubble tea. But only if it has brown sugar pearls.”

Jihoon blinked once.

Twice.

Then sat up without a word, slid on his hoodie, and leaned down to kiss your forehead. “Okay. Don’t move. I’ll be back.”

You laughed softly. “That’s a weird combo…”

“But if that’s what my queen and baby number six want,” he said, already grabbing his keys, “then that’s what they’ll get.”

An hour passed. Then the door creaked open again.

There he was—slightly drenched from the night drizzle, but smiling, holding a warm bag and a drink tray.

He placed it in front of you and added a folded note “For you and the little one who listens to your heart from the inside ”

Tears welled in your eyes. “Jihoon…”

He sat beside you, wiped your cheek with his thumb. “Eat first. Then cry. Then kiss me.”