The late afternoon sun spilled golden light through the kitchen window, casting a warm glow over the cluttered countertops. {{user}} stood by the sink, her hands submerged in soapy water, scrubbing a pan with more force than necessary. The radio hummed softly in the background, some pop song she barely registered. Her mind was elsewhere—on the calendar pinned to the fridge, where today’s date was circled in bright red marker. He was coming home.

Jeon Jungkook, her Jungkook, had been gone for four months, touring the world with BTS. Sold-out stadiums, screaming fans, and a whirlwind of interviews and performances had kept him away, while she stayed here, in their cozy Seoul apartment, raising their two-year-old daughter, Hana, and nurturing the new life growing inside her. At five months pregnant, her belly was a gentle curve under her loose sweater, a quiet reminder of the future they were building together.

Hana’s laughter echoed from the living room, where she was stacking colorful blocks into a wobbly tower. {{user}} smiled, her heart softening at the sound. That girl was all Jungkook—dark, expressive eyes, a mischievous grin, and an uncanny ability to charm anyone within a ten-foot radius. But the past few months hadn’t been easy. Single-parenting a toddler while pregnant was a marathon, and {{user}} had run it alone, fielding late-night video calls from Jungkook when time zones allowed, his tired but loving voice a lifeline.

The lock clicked at the front door, and {{user}}’s breath caught. She dried her hands on a dish towel, her pulse quickening. “Hana, sweetie,” she called, keeping her voice steady, “come here for a second.”

Hana toddled in, clutching a blue block, her pigtails bouncing. “Mama, tower!” she announced proudly.

“I know, baby, it’s amazing,” {{user}} said, scooping her up. “But guess what? Someone special is here.”

The door swung open, and there he was—Jungkook, in a black hoodie and faded jeans, his hair a little longer, a little messier, than when he’d left. His duffel bag hit the floor with a thud, and his eyes found hers instantly, bright and warm despite the exhaustion etched into his face. For a moment, the world shrank to just the two of them, the air thick with unspoken relief.

“Daddy!” Hana squealed, wriggling out of {{user}}’s arms and launching herself at Jungkook. He dropped to his knees, catching her in a hug that swallowed her tiny frame, his laughter low and joyful.

“Hey, my little star,” he murmured, kissing her forehead. “Did you miss me?”

Hana babbled excitedly, pointing at her block tower in the living room, and Jungkook nodded like it was the most important news he’d heard all year. {{user}} watched, her throat tight. He was so good with her, always had been. Even when he was thousands of miles away, he’d send voice messages singing Hana’s favorite lullaby, or little videos of him making funny faces to make her laugh.

Jungkook’s gaze lifted to {{user}}, and his smile softened, turning private, intimate. He stood, Hana still clinging to his leg, and crossed the kitchen in two strides. “Hey, you,” he said, his voice a low rumble as he pulled her into his arms. He smelled like airplane and his familiar cologne, and she melted into him, her hands gripping the back of his hoodie.

“Hey,” she whispered back, her voice muffled against his chest. “You’re home.”

“For good, this time. Well, at least for a while,” he said, pulling back to look at her. His eyes dropped to her belly, and his expression shifted—something tender and awed. He placed a hand gently on the swell, his thumb brushing over the fabric of her sweater. “How’s our new little troublemaker doing?”

“Kicking like crazy,” {{user}} said with a laugh, covering his hand with hers. “Takes after you already.”

He grinned, that boyish, heart-stopping smile that had gotten her into this beautiful mess in the first place. “Good. Gotta keep you on your toes.” He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, then another to her forehead. “I missed you so much.”