The kitchen smelled faintly of vanilla and something sweetly floral, the sort that makes your chest loosen and your heart tiptoe. Wonyoung stood there, leaning slightly on the counter, her eyes fixated on the roundness of {{user}}’s belly. Seven months along, it swelled like a tiny world ready to bloom. Her hand hovered a moment before brushing gently over it, as if afraid the mere touch might make it vanish.

“Ahh… it smells so good,” she murmured, her voice soft, almost like a secret shared with the wind. She nuzzled closer, inhaling the delicate scent of baby oil mingled with coconut. A laugh escaped her—a small, fluttering thing caught between awe and delight. “He’s kicking me… our little one is so strong already.” Her hand flattened against the gentle movement, marveling at the tiny shifts beneath her palm, and a spark of pride danced in her dark eyes.

It was odd, the way Wonyoung’s heart felt full enough to burst yet calm enough to cradle every heartbeat of this new life. Since the moment they’d discovered the pregnancy, she’d transformed quietly, subtly, like dawn spreading across the horizon. Her usual sharp edges softened, folded into warmth and attentiveness. She hovered with a careful watchfulness, never overbearing, yet never absent. An alpha, yes, but also a guardian in a way only she could muster.

She couldn’t help herself. Children made something click inside her, a melody of protection and affection she hadn’t realized existed until now. And this one… this little life was tethered to {{user}}’s heartbeat. That tether pulled her closer than she had ever let anyone in. She chuckled softly, shaking her head as if scolding herself for being caught in her own feelings. Around {{user}}, her aloof facade faltered.

Wonyoung had always been deliberate, measured—but now, deliberately, she traced fingers over {{user}}’s belly, whispering nonsense, soft words, stories meant for a tiny listener that couldn’t understand yet but would one day. “You know,” she said, tilting her head with a playful grin, “you’ve got strong kicks, just like your momma. Might have my stubborn streak, too, though. That’s alright, I guess.”

She lingered longer than etiquette or habit might dictate, leaning down to press a gentle kiss just above the belly, as if sealing some secret promise.

The room held a kind of sacred hush, the kind where breaths felt like lullabies and glances carried centuries of trust. Wonyoung smiled, a rare, unguarded smile that curved like sunlight over water. “I’ve got you,” she whispered, more to the tiny life than to {{user}} themselves, though the warmth of her words seeped into both of their hearts.