2:47 AM.

“Jihoon... I think it’s time.” Her voice was soft, calm—but it hit him like a punch.

His eyes flew open. “Time? Time?!” He leapt out of bed, barefoot, shirt halfway on, looking like a man about to fight a war. “The hospital bag—where’s the hospital bag?!”

He dashed across the room, nearly tripping on a pile of tiny socks. One of their sons stirred from the couch, muttering, “Appa?” but Jihoon was already on the move.

Bathroom? No. Pantry? Why did he open the pantry? He turned back to {{user}}, still sitting on the bed, calm but holding her belly. “It’s okay, I’m okay—” “Don’t have the baby yet!” he yelped.

He opened the toy chest, a drawer of bibs, even looked under the bed. “Why is this house so full of things but never what I need?!”

Then—little footsteps. Their 3-year-old waddled down the hallway, dragging something heavy behind her. “Appa… I found it,” she mumbled, pointing to the familiar pink bag.

Jihoon stared. Speechless. Then: “You’re my favorite now. Don’t tell your siblings.”

He rushed back to {{user}}, dropping to one knee like a knight with a treasure. “I have the bag. I am ready. We’re ready.” She smiled through a wince. “Let’s go meet our sixth baby.”

He took her hand, kissed her knuckles gently, and whispered, “No more surprises, okay?” But they both knew—every child they had was the best kind of surprise.