Chapter Seven #2
“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one with your ass on a paper sheet.
” I adjust the gown over my thighs, tugging it lower.
I can already feel a faint dampness beneath me—slick, since my body has decided that any situation involving me being naked and vulnerable is now an occasion to produce it, which is a new and deeply unwelcome development since the heat.
I shift again, trying to be subtle about it, and change the subject.
“Is it really necessary to do this now? The baby’s going to be nothing more than a blob on the ultrasound at this stage anyway. Barely a cluster of cells.”
Hyunwoo doesn’t look up from his phone. “I need the ultrasound image and the official medical documentation to bring to my family this weekend.”
My stomach drops. “This weekend?”
“When I tell my parents and my grandmother, they will absolutely question it. They’ll demand verification, probably have their own doctors check the clinic’s records and confirm the results.
” He scrolls further, his tone matter-of-fact.
“It needs to be legitimate and thorough. My grandmother didn’t build a billion-won empire by taking people at their word. ”
I cringe at the thought of Hyunwoo’s formidable grandmother—a woman I’ve met exactly twice in my life, both times at formal family events where she sat at the head of the table like a general surveying her troops—scrutinizing my medical records with those sharp, assessing eyes.
The idea of her knowing what’s inside my body, knowing that her precious Seo heir is growing in the belly of the servants’ kid who used to track mud through her estate, makes my skin crawl.
A knock on the door interrupts my spiraling thoughts, and the doctor enters—a composed woman who looks to be in her mid-forties, with kind eyes behind wire-framed glasses and her dark hair pulled back in a neat bun.
She carries a tablet in one hand and extends the other to shake mine, introducing herself as Dr. Ahn.
Her grip is firm and her smile is warm without being patronizing, which I appreciate more than she probably realizes.
She reads off my chart on the tablet, noting my secondary gender, age, and the positive home tests, then glances over at Hyunwoo, who has pocketed his phone and risen from his chair.
“And you’re his alpha, I assume?” she asks, her tone pleasant and professional.
“Yes,” Hyunwoo says at the exact same time I say, “No.”
We look at each other. Hyunwoo’s eyebrows climb toward his hairline. I hold his gaze and say firmly, “He’s the baby’s father.”
Hyunwoo’s face flickers, but he schools his expression quickly. Dr. Ahn’s eyes flick between us but she nods without pressing the point, making a small note on her tablet before moving on.
“Alright then. Yugyeom, I’m going to need you to lie back for me and place your feet in the stirrups.”
I do as she asks, scooting down the table until my heels catch in the cold metal stirrups, my knees falling open.
The position is humiliating—it’s the vulnerability of it, the complete lack of dignity, my most private parts displayed under bright fluorescent lighting while a stranger prepares to insert something into me and Hyunwoo watches from three feet away.
I stare hard at the ceiling tiles and try to think about literally anything else.
Dr. Ahn retrieves the transrectal ultrasound wand from the machine beside the table.
It’s longer and narrower than I expected, smooth white plastic with a rounded tip, and she covers it in a generous amount of clear lubricant that she squeezes from a tube with a practiced hand. The gel glistens under the lights.
“You’re going to feel me insert this,” she says, her voice calm and steady. “Try to relax for me. It shouldn’t be painful, but there may be some pressure.”
I grit my teeth as the ultrasound wand presses against my rim and pushes past it, the cool lubricated surface sliding into my hole with a smooth, firm motion that makes me clench involuntarily despite my best efforts not to.
My cheeks flame as the wand goes deeper, the rounded tip navigating my passage, and I grip the edges of the exam table with both hands, my knuckles going pale.
I can also feel Hyunwoo’s gaze. The man has abandoned his phone entirely and moved his chair closer to the exam table—not to my side, where a normal supportive person might sit to hold my hand, but to the foot of the table, where he has a direct, unobstructed view between my spread legs.
He’s leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, watching the doctor work, his brown eyes tracking the wand’s progress with open curiosity.
I want to kick him in the face. I settle for glaring at the ceiling and saying through my teeth, “Do you have to sit right there?”
“I want to see the screen,” he says, as if that’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for parking himself between my stirruped legs.
“The screen is up here, you idiot. By my head.”
He doesn’t move. Dr. Ahn, to her credit, doesn’t acknowledge the exchange and continues adjusting the wand inside me, tilting and pressing and angling it with small, careful movements that make me squirm despite myself.
Each adjustment shifts the wand against my inner walls, and I fight to keep my breathing even, my jaw locked tight.
The last thing I need is for my body to mistake a medical instrument for something else and start producing more slick than it already is.
The monitor beside the table flickers on, filling with a grainy black-and-white image that shifts and swirls as the doctor searches for the right position.
Shapes appear and dissolve—dark cavities, lighter tissue, the interior of my body shown on screen in a way that makes my head spin if I think about it too hard.
She presses the wand deeper, angling it upward, and I feel the tip brush against the entrance to my womb.
A jolt of sensation shoots through me, that same deep, resonant feeling from when Hyunwoo’s cock breaches my cervix—and I suck in a sharp breath through my nose.
The image on the screen shifts and clarifies.
My womb appears—a dark, roughly oval cavity on the monitor, its walls a lighter gray.
And nestled inside it, small and bright against the darkness, is a tiny shape.
Irregular, barely distinguishable from the surrounding tissue if you didn’t know what you were looking for. But unmistakably there.
“There we are,” Dr. Ahn says, her voice carrying quiet satisfaction. She points at the bright spot on the screen with her free hand. “That’s your embryo. Right there.”
Hyunwoo stands up from his chair so fast it scrapes against the linoleum.
He’s at the monitor in two strides, getting close, staring at the screen with his lips slightly parted and his eyes wide.
His hands hang at his sides, forgotten, and for once he’s completely silent.
No quips, no smirks, no commentary. Just staring at the tiny shape on the monitor with an expression I have never seen on his face before.
I watch him watching the screen, and my throat tightens.
Dr. Ahn clicks points on the image, taking measurements, noting numbers on her tablet.
She confirms a viable pregnancy and puts the rate of development at approximately four weeks along, consistent with the timing of my heat.
She prints the ultrasound image—a small, grainy square of black and white that the printer spits out with a mechanical whir—and then carefully withdraws the wand from my body.
I exhale as it slides free, my hole clenching around nothing, and immediately close my legs and pull the paper gown back over my lap.
She starts talking then, addressing both of us but primarily directing her instructions at Hyunwoo, as is customary with alpha-omega pairs regardless of whether the alpha is actually the omega’s partner or not.
It’s one of those things about the medical system that has always annoyed me—the assumption that the alpha is the decision-maker, the caretaker, the one who needs to know the information because the omega can’t be trusted to manage their own body.
But I’m too tired to fight it right now, so I let her talk to Hyunwoo while I sit on the table and try to process.
She tells Hyunwoo what to expect in the coming weeks.
Fatigue is going to be significant, especially in the first trimester—I should expect to feel like I’m running on half a battery for the foreseeable future.
Morning sickness may or may not hit, and despite the name it can strike at any hour of the day, so we should keep bland crackers and ginger tea on hand.
My appetite is going to fluctuate wildly—some days I won’t be able to keep anything down, other days I’ll eat enough for three people.
My sense of smell will sharpen to an almost unbearable degree, which means certain foods, cleaning products, and even people’s natural scents might trigger nausea without warning.
“You’ll also want to increase his iron and calcium intake,” Dr. Ahn says, scrolling through something on her tablet as she addresses Hyunwoo directly.
“Leafy greens, red meat if he can stomach it, dairy. Prenatal vitamins are essential—I’ll write a prescription for a stronger formulation than the over-the-counter ones.
And make sure he’s getting enough water.
Omega males tend to get dehydrated faster during pregnancy because of the increased slick production. ”