Chapter Seventeen
“Ouch.”
I hiss and pull back slightly, casting a reprimanding look down at the tiny person currently attached to my chest.
Wonyoung doesn’t care. She’s latched onto my left nipple with the single-minded ferocity of a baby who skipped her usual ten minutes of fussing and rooting and went straight for the kill, her tiny mouth working so hard her jaw trembles with the effort.
Her fingers are curled into loose little fists against my chest, pressing into the swollen flesh of my breast like she’s trying to hold it in place, and her dark eyes are squeezed shut in concentration.
She looks furious about being hungry, which is an expression distinctly Hyunwoo-like in origin.
The girl came out of me six weeks ago already looking like she had opinions about everything.
I shift her carefully, sliding my hand under her head and adjusting the angle of her latch so the worst of the pressure on my nipple eases from excruciating to merely very uncomfortable.
These things are sore enough on their own, swollen and tender and leaking at inconvenient moments throughout the day, without a newborn treating them like they’re personal chew toys she’s been given permission to destroy.
I settle back against the stack of pillows behind me and let out a long breath through my nose, watching her nurse.
“She clamping too hard again?”
I look over. Hyunwoo is lying next to me on the bed in gray sweatpants and nothing else, his hair sticking up on one side from where he fell asleep earlier with Wonyoung on his chest, his reading glasses perched on his nose.
He’s got his tablet propped against his bent knee, some article open on the screen that I can tell from the header is another one of his endless parenting deep-dives.
The man has consumed more literature on infant care in the past two months than he consumed in four years of university.
“Yeah.” I laugh softly, adjusting Wonyoung’s head again. “She was hungrier than I thought. Skipped the warm-up entirely and went straight for the main course.”
Hyunwoo sets the tablet down and rolls onto his side, propping himself on his elbow.
He leans over me to peer down at the baby, his expression pure, unguarded adoration.
His whole face goes soft, the sharp angles and the cocky set of his jaw dissolving into a tender affection, like seeing a wolf lie down with a kitten.
This is the man who once told me with complete sincerity that he had zero interest in fatherhood and would rather eat glass than change a diaper.
That man is currently gazing at a six-pound infant like she hung the moon and every star around it.
“That’s because she’s our perfect little princess who never wants to trouble her daddies,” he coos, his voice pitched softly.
His finger reaches out and strokes the top of her head, tracing the impossibly fine dark hair that sticks up in every direction no matter how many times we smooth it down.
It defies gravity. It defies combing. It does whatever it wants, which is also very Hyunwoo.
“You can cry a little when you’re hungry though, Wonyoungie.
We want to know. Don’t just suffer in silence. ”
I sigh, looking down at her again. At her tiny nose and the dark sweep of her lashes against her cheeks and the miniature perfection of her ears.
My chest does the thing it’s been doing since the moment they placed her in my arms, that swelling ache behind my ribs.
Just love, plain and simple and so big it scares me sometimes.
“She really is the best little angel, isn’t she?” I murmur, and lean down to press my lips to her temple. Her skin is impossibly warm and soft and she smells like milk and the lavender baby soap and baby.
We watch her nurse together in comfortable silence for a while, her tiny chest rising and falling, her sucking slowing as the initial desperate hunger gives way to the drowsy contentment of a full belly. Her dark eyes are half-closed now, her grip on my breast loosening.
I still can’t believe we ever seriously discussed handing her off to someone else.
That conviction lasted exactly as long as it took for both of us to hold her for the first time.
She came out screaming, red-faced and furious and smaller than I’d imagined any human being could be, and the nurse placed her on my chest and I looked down at her scrunched, angry little face and something inside me rearranged itself permanently.
I looked up at Hyunwoo standing beside the bed in his hospital scrubs, and there were tears running down his face that he would later deny with his dying breath, and he said, his voice cracking, that she wasn’t going anywhere.
That she would stay right where she belonged. With us.
We have absolutely no idea what we’re doing.
I’m a personal trainer whose most complex responsibility before this was making sure my clients didn’t drop barbells on their faces, and Hyunwoo is a trust fund kid whose longest commitment prior to Wonyoung was his dogs.
But having the nannies around during the day to help, and more importantly the night nurses to handle the overnight feedings so we can actually sleep more than two hours at a stretch, has made the learning curve survivable.
It’s been six weeks, and already I can’t imagine a version of my life where she doesn’t exist. Where I might have just taken my money and gone back to my crappy apartment and my routine and my debt and never known what it feels like to have this tiny person fall asleep on my chest with her fist curled around my finger, trusting me completely.
“Take your time, princess,” Hyunwoo tells her, his finger still tracing gentle circles on her fuzzy head. “It’s all for you anyway. That’s the benefit of being the only child.”
I hesitate. My heart picks up, and I stare at the top of Wonyoung’s head for a few seconds, gathering myself. Then I say, carefully, keeping my voice light, “Well … She doesn’t have to be the only child.”
Hyunwoo’s head jerks up. He stares at me, his hand freezing mid-stroke on Wonyoung’s hair, his eyes going wide behind his glasses. “You aren’t saying—”
I shrug one shoulder, aiming for casual and probably coming off more transparently nervous based on the heat climbing up my neck.
“I didn’t actually hate being pregnant. The last month was miserable, sure, and the birth was—” I pause, searching for a word that adequately captures the horror.
“But the rest of it wasn’t terrible. And maybe we could think about giving her a sibling.
Eventually. Not right now, obviously, but—you know. Down the line.”
Hyunwoo blinks at me. Several times, in rapid succession, his mouth slightly open.
It’s rare to genuinely surprise Seo Hyunwoo—the man operates like he’s already predicted every possible outcome of every conversation before it starts—and the satisfaction of catching him flat-footed is deeply gratifying.
Then he lets out a bark of incredulous laughter that’s loud enough to make Wonyoung twitch against my chest. He lowers his voice immediately, but the grin splitting his face is enormous.
“Are you sure? Because just a few weeks ago, screaming bloody murder in that delivery room, you threatened me with grievous bodily harm if I ever came near you with my dick again.” He holds up a finger.
“Your exact words were that you’d cut it off with kitchen shears.
You called it—and I’m quoting directly—a weapon of mass destruction.
The nurse looked genuinely concerned for my safety.
She asked if she needed to call security. ”
My face burns. “The birth wasn’t pleasant, I’ll admit.”
That’s the understatement of the century.
The birth was the single most agonizing experience of my life, and I went through military basic training and let Hyunwoo fuck me dry the first time we had sex.
Hours of contractions that felt like my lower body was being slowly torn apart from the inside, followed by the indescribable sensation of pushing an entire human being out of my body while Hyunwoo held my hand and looked like he was going to pass out or throw up or both.
There were sounds I made during labor that I’m fairly certain weren’t human.
I’ve repressed most of it. Six weeks ago my freshly stitched asshole would have clenched in terror at the mere suggestion of doing any of that again.
But that was then.
“I’m all healed now,” I say, keeping my voice even.
“The stitches dissolved, everything’s closed up, and my doctor cleared me at my last checkup.
” I look down at Wonyoung, who has detached from my nipple on her own and is lying milk-drunk and heavy-lidded against my chest, her rosebud mouth still making tiny sucking motions in her sleep.
“And look at her, Hyunwoo. She’s perfect.
She’s the cutest little girl the world has ever produced. Who wouldn’t want more of this?”
Hyunwoo grins so wide his eyes crinkle at the corners, that delighted gleam I know so well shining bright behind his glasses.
He sits up, already holding his hands out.
“Then what are we waiting for? Give her to me. I’ll put her down for her nap and we can get started immediately. No time like the present.”
“You’re ridiculous,” I tell him, but I’m already carefully detaching Wonyoung from where she’s nestled against my breast. She comes away with a soft grunt, her little mouth still working for a moment before she settles, boneless and content, her eyes fully closed.
I transfer her into Hyunwoo’s waiting arms and he cradles her against his bare chest with the ease of six weeks of devoted practice, tucking her head into the curve of his neck.