Chapter Seven #3
She pauses, glancing at me briefly before turning back to Hyunwoo.
“Speaking of which—the slick production is going to increase substantially as the pregnancy progresses. His body is going to stay in a heightened state of receptivity for the duration, which is normal for a bonded omega carrying an alpha’s child.
” She hesitates, her gaze flicking between us again, clearly recalibrating around the fact that we’re not bonded.
“Even in an unbonded pregnancy, the hormonal changes will keep his body producing slick at elevated levels. He should invest in absorbent undergarments if he hasn’t already, and he may find that certain physical activities or emotional states trigger surges. That’s all within the range of normal.”
I stare at the wall behind her head and try very hard not to die of embarrassment.
“As for warning signs,” she continues, her tone becoming more serious, “any sharp abdominal pain, bleeding, or sudden cessation of symptoms should be reported to me right away. Fever above thirty-eight degrees. Dizziness or fainting spells that last more than a few seconds. And given that this is his first pregnancy and he’s presenting with atypically high testosterone for an omega, I’d like to see him every two weeks rather than the standard monthly visits, at least through the first trimester.
His hormonal profile is unusual enough that I want to monitor the pregnancy closely. ”
Hyunwoo nods along to all of this, his expression focused and attentive.
He’s absorbing every word. He asks Dr. Ahn a couple of follow-up questions—about exercise limitations, about whether I can continue working as a trainer, about optimal sleeping positions—and she answers each one patiently, handing him a printed packet of information and a list of recommended supplements.
I hear very little of it.
I’m holding the printed ultrasound image in my hand.
The paper is thin and slightly warm from the printer, the image itself grainy and indistinct—a dark oval with lighter shapes around the edges and, in the center, a tiny bright spot that barely looks like anything at all.
I told Hyunwoo it would be nothing at this stage, that it was too early to see much.
And I was right. It’s barely visible. Barely anything.
But I can’t stop looking at it.
My thumb traces the edge of the printout, following the border of the image where the dark field of my womb meets the surrounding tissue.
That small bright cluster of cells in the center doesn’t look like a baby.
It doesn’t look like anything, really. Just a smudge of white against black, a speck that could be a printing error if you didn’t know what you were looking at.
And yet my chest is tightening, constricting, a pressure building behind my ribs.
Something is swelling up inside me that I wasn’t prepared for, it sits heavy in the space between my lungs and makes my eyes sting when I blink.
This is inside me. This is real. Not just a plan, an idiotic scheme scribbled on the back of a napkin over expensive wine. There is something alive and growing in my body right now, something that is half of my DNA and half of Hyunwoo’s.
I swallow hard and run my thumb over the printout one more time before folding it carefully and tucking it into my own pocket, pressing it flat against my thigh.
After we leave the clinic and come home, I drop onto the couch the second we’re through the door.
My body feels too heavy for what I actually did today—sat in a car, sat in a waiting room, lay on an exam table, sat in a car again.
That’s it. But I’m exhausted, my eyelids drooping, my limbs sinking into the cushions like they’re filled with sand.
Kal and Machete are on me before I’ve fully settled.
Kal jumps up first, his large tawny body pressing along my side, his head dropping onto my thigh with a contented huff.
Machete follows a beat later, scrambling up and climbing half into my lap despite being way too big for it, her paws digging into my legs as she arranges herself.
She does the thing she’s been doing for the past couple of weeks—nosing at my stomach, her wet nose pressing against the fabric of my shirt, sniffing instensely.
She sniffs my lower belly, her nostrils flaring, and then settles her head right there, directly over my navel, letting out a long, soft sigh through her nose like she’s satisfied with whatever she found.
I scratch behind her ears and let my head fall back against the couch cushion.
They’ve been like this for a while now—more attentive, more clingy, following me from room to room and positioning themselves close whenever I sit or lie down.
Kal has taken to sleeping outside my bedroom door at night instead of in his crate, and Machete whines if I close the bathroom door.
I’m pretty sure they can smell it. Whatever hormonal changes are happening inside me, whatever shift in my scent the pregnancy is producing, their sharp noses are picking it up.
Machete especially seems to have appointed herself my personal bodyguard, stationing herself between me and the front door whenever someone knocks, her ears pinned forward and her body tense until she determines the visitor isn’t a threat.
From the kitchen, I hear Hyunwoo shrugging off his jacket and loosening his collar, the soft sounds of expensive fabric shifting.
“I’m going to call in an order to that place you like,” he calls out. “The one with the galbi-jjim. We should celebrate.”
“Okay,” I say tiredly, my fingers working through the thick fur behind Kal’s ears. He groans and pushes his head harder into my hand.
I haven’t had any morning sickness yet, which I’m grateful for.
But the fatigue has been creeping up on me for the past couple of weeks in a way I initially chalked up to overwork.
Falling asleep on the couch after dinner before Hyunwoo even picks up the game controllers.
Needing to sit down between clients at the gym and close my eyes for five minutes, my head tipping forward, jerking awake when Ye-eun taps my shoulder.
Sleeping nine, ten hours a night and still waking up feeling like I haven’t slept at all.
And there are other things I haven’t mentioned to Hyunwoo.
My nipples have started tingling—a persistent prickling sensation that flares whenever fabric brushes against them, my shirts suddenly feeling abrasive against skin that used to respond to nothing.
I caught myself wincing yesterday when I pulled a hoodie over my head, the cotton dragging across my chest sending a sharp zing through both nipples that made me hiss and yank the fabric away from my body.
My lower belly feels different too—not visibly, nothing anyone could see from the outside, but internally there’s a subtle firmness beneath my abs that wasn’t there before, a tautness that I notice when I twist or bend, like something is taking up space that used to be empty.
Hyunwoo appears in the living room doorway, his phone pressed between his ear and his shoulder as he rattles off a food order to whoever’s on the other end.
He’s loosened his tie and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, his gold watch flashing.
He finishes the call, pockets his phone, and drops into the armchair across from me, stretching his long legs out in front of him.
“So,” he says, his tone shifting from casual to businesslike. “I’m going to take the paperwork and the ultrasound to my parents and my grandmother this weekend.”
My stomach drops. “Does it really have to be so soon?”
“No point in waiting.” He leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees.
“The sooner I present the evidence, the sooner they release the hold on my inheritance. My grandmother’s been getting more aggressive about the timeline—my mother called twice this week asking for updates on the mystery omega I told them I was seeing.
” He makes air quotes around the words with his fingers.
“They need something concrete, and now we have it. Medical documentation, an ultrasound image, a confirmed pregnancy from a licensed clinic. That’s as concrete as it gets. ”
I shift on the couch, dislodging Machete slightly, and she grumbles before resettling her head on my belly. “And they’re going to see my name on the medical records.”
“Yes.” Hyunwoo’s expression doesn’t change. “The clinic listed you as the carrying parent. That’s standard—they can’t leave it blank.”
I stare at him. Hyunwoo’s grandmother, with her sharp eyes and her army of lawyers and her decades of running a billion-won empire, is going to look at those records and see my name.
Sung Yugyeom. She’s going to know that her precious Seo heir—the baby she’s been demanding, the continuation of her bloodline, the key to the family’s future—is growing inside me.
I rub my face with both hands and let out a long breath through my fingers.
“You need to make sure they keep it confidential,” I say, dropping my hands and looking at Hyunwoo directly. I hold his gaze and don’t let go. “Hyunwoo. I’m serious. My parents cannot find out about this. Under any circumstance. None.”
Hyunwoo opens his mouth, and I cut him off before he can deflect or make light of it.
“I mean it. Promise me. Look me in the eye and promise me right now.”
He holds my gaze. The playfulness drains from his face, sobering, and he nods once.
“I’ll make sure of it. My family has no reason to tell your parents, and I’ll make it explicitly clear that this information stays within the immediate family.
Grandmother, my mother, my father. That’s it.
No staff, no lawyers beyond what’s necessary for the inheritance paperwork, no one else. ”
“Your grandmother’s lawyers are going to know.”