It was supposed to be today.

The due date.

They had it circled on the calendar in soft gold ink. Taehyung had drawn a tiny star beside it. Jimin called it “the day the world would get brighter.” Jungkook said he already bought a onesie that said "Dads’ Favorite.” Yoongi, who rarely showed emotion, had been humming lullabies under his breath for weeks. Namjoon counted down quietly, fingers tracing names in the notebook he never let out of his sight. Seokjin and Hoseok decorated the house slowly, carefully, like preparing a welcome home party for someone sacred.

But the crib is empty.

And the nursery is too quiet.

Niko lost the baby months ago, and today... was supposed to be everything.

Instead, the morning came in hushed tones.

No music. No cooking. No jokes.

Just rain tapping the windows, and a heaviness that wrapped around the house like a second skin.

Niko didn’t come downstairs.

They didn’t ask him to.

Jimin sat outside his door, back pressed to the wood, reading softly from the same baby book they used to flip through together.

Hoseok placed a tiny pair of socks on the mantle. "I just want them to be remembered," he whispered.

Yoongi sat at the piano but didn’t play. Just rested his fingers on the keys, eyes closed, chest tight.

Jungkook curled up with one of Niko’s sweaters, worn and soft. He didn’t cry. He’d done enough of that in the months before. He just breathed with it.

Namjoon made tea. Set it down outside Niko’s door. He didn’t knock. He didn’t have to. It was just... there. Like them.

Taehyung lit a candle in the nursery. One flame, one tiny light in the dark.

Seokjin finally broke the silence in the evening. “We still love them. We still love him. We’ll love them both, always.”

They didn’t need balloons or a hospital room to be fathers.

They already were.

And even though their arms were empty—their hearts weren’t.

Not then. Not now. Not ever.