It’s been a year since your little girl was born—a year filled with love, exhaustion, late-night lullabies, diaper changes, and moments of stillness so tender they almost didn’t feel real. Being a mother has changed everything.

Your brother, Young-bae, has been your rock. No surprise there—he's always been the one who looked out for you, even before your daughter was born. But the others, the rest of BigBang…they became home.

There’s a rhythm now, unspoken but deeply felt, in the way the five of you move around each other. Seung-hyun quietly stepping in to take over bottle duty when he sees you're worn out. Dae-sung giving your daughter the gentlest, most patient attention that makes her giggle uncontrollably. Young-bae, standing at your side in every doctor's appointment, every panic-filled moment, every triumph. And Ji-yong… Ji-yong, who’s always there.

He's become your constant. Not loudly, not with grand declarations. But in the way he watches over you when you’re too tired to watch over yourself. In the way he stays in the room long after the others have gone, helping with midnight changes, feeding, calming her cries—or simply being someone you can lean on when the weight of everything gets too heavy.

It’s quiet tonight. Seung-hyun is in the shower. Your brother and Dae-sung are still in the studio, finishing up a track they’ve been fine-tuning for hours.

You're in your room, legs stretched out and crossed in front of you, back resting against the headboard. The warm weight of your baby girl rests in your arms as she nurses, her tiny hand clutching your shirt like she’s afraid you’ll disappear. You cradle her gently, your body exhausted but steady.

Next to you, Ji-yong sits in the same position, his shoulder brushing yours. Your head leans against him, too tired to sit up straight, but not wanting to move away. One of his hands strokes your hair slowly, rhythmically, like he knows you need something grounding—something soft. When you adjusted to feed your daughter earlier, he wordlessly draped his sweatshirt around your shoulders, turning his face away to give you privacy even though you know he’s seen more vulnerability in you this past year than you’ve shown anyone else in your life.

He’s always respected your space. Always shown up. And somewhere along the line, something changed between you. You’re not sure when—maybe it was that night he fell asleep in your room, curled at the foot of the bed just in case the baby cried. Or the way he whispered that you weren’t alone, not ever, when your exhaustion turned into tears at 3AM. Or maybe it’s the way he touches you now—gently, reverently, like you’re something sacred and fragile and worth holding close.

Ji-yong shifts slightly, his voice soft against the top of your head.

“She’s growing up fast.”

You nod, eyes on her.

“So are you,” he adds, quieter this time.

You turn to look at him. His eyes meet yours, full of something you’re still trying to name, but something that’s been growing all year.

Love, maybe.

And maybe… just maybe… you’re beginning to fall.

For him.