She called him while he was still on the training field.
The grass was damp beneath his cleats, the sun sitting high and merciless, sweat running down his spine as the coach shouted drills from the sidelines. The world, for once, felt predictable, movement, rhythm, breath. Control.
Then his phone vibrated in his locker.
He almost ignored it.
Almost.
Her name lit up the screen.
Something in his chest tightened before he even answered.
"Ha-yoon?" he said, already stepping away from the field.
Her voice came through quieter than usual. Steady, but only just. "Can we meet? I need to talk to you. About something serious."
The word serious hit him harder than any tackle ever had.
"Where are you?" he asked immediately.
"I'm near the river. The old steps."
"I'll be there," he said, not bothering to lower his voice, already grabbing his jacket. "Don't move."
He didn't wait for a response.
She was sitting exactly where she said she'd be, hands folded tightly in her lap, staring at the water like it might answer questions she was afraid to ask out loud.
When she saw him, she stood.
Hae-min crossed the distance between them in long strides, his chest still rising too fast, adrenaline mixing with dread. He stopped in front of her, searching her face for signs, sickness, fear, something broken.
"What is it?" he asked, voice rough.
She inhaled slowly.
"I'm pregnant."
The world didn't explode.
It didn't shatter or go silent the way movies liked to pretend.
Instead, it narrowed, collapsed inward until all he could hear was his own breathing, ragged and uneven, like he'd forgotten how lungs were supposed to work.
Pregnant.
The word echoed through him, heavy and unreal.
He stared at her, then down at her stomach, still flat, still ordinary. The disconnect made his head spin.
"You're..." He stopped, swallowed hard. Tried again. "You're sure?"
She nodded. Once. Small.
"I took the test twice."
His knees felt weak.
He stepped forward without thinking, hands landing on her waist as if anchoring himself to something solid. The contact was instinctive, protective, grounding, almost desperate.
Pregnant.
With his child.
His grip tightened slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to feel real. To make sure she didn't disappear.
"…God," he breathed. "You're… ours."
The thought hit him all at once, terrifying and overwhelming. A future he hadn't planned for, suddenly undeniable. A life growing quietly inside her, changing everything.
She searched his face, fear flickering beneath her composure. "So… what should we do, Hae-min?"
The question landed heavy between them.
He went still.
For the first time in a long while, he didn't have an answer ready.
His mind raced, careers, timing, consequences, the world watching him more closely every day. Seon-woo. The past that still hadn't loosened its grip. The future that suddenly demanded decisions now.
But through all the chaos, one truth cut clean and sharp.
There was no universe where he walked away.
He tightened his hold on her, jaw clenching as if bracing himself.
"…We get married," he said finally.
The words surprised even him.
She blinked. "What?"
"We get married," he repeated, voice lower now, steadier. Possessive not in dominance, but in certainty. "Fast. Quietly. Just us."
He lifted his hands to her face, palms warm, thumbs brushing her cheeks as if memorizing her. His gray eyes burned with something fierce and unyielding, as though he were carving this moment into his soul.
"Then we tell the world when you're ready."
He leaned his forehead against hers, breath uneven, his next words not a suggestion but a vow.
"You're mine. This baby is mine. And I won't let anything touch what's ours."
Her breath hitched.
"Hae-min..."
"I'm serious," he said, cutting her off gently but firmly. "I don't care about the timing. I don't care about what people say. I don't care about my career if it comes to that."
He pulled her against his chest, arms wrapping around her like a shield. He inhaled deeply, her familiar scent calming his racing heart just enough to keep him standing.
Fear churned inside him, wild and relentless.
But beneath it, resolve.
"You stay with me," he murmured into her hair. "Both of you. Do you understand?"
She nodded against him, tears dampening his shirt.
"I'm scared," she whispered.
"So am I," he admitted quietly. "But I've got you."
They hadn't gone far before the cameras appeared.
As soon as they stepped outside the building, voices called his name. Flashes burst like tiny explosions. Paparazzi, relentless and hungry, circling like they always did now.
Hae-min's entire body went rigid.
He immediately moved in front of her, one hand gripping hers tightly, the other hovering instinctively over her stomach. His broad shoulders blocked her from view as he guided her toward the car.
"Damn vultures," he muttered under his breath.
He opened the passenger door for her, eyes sharp, scanning everything.
"Seatbelt," he said in that low, gravelly tone he used only with her. "Now."
She did as told, a faint, shaky smile tugging at her lips.
He checked it once.
Then again.
Then a third time.
She let him.
He shut the door firmly and walked around to the driver's side, posture rigid, jaw clenched. When he started the engine, his expression was stoic, unreadable, but his eyes were alert, every sense on high warning.
The drive was quiet at first.
His free hand found hers almost immediately, fingers threading through hers, thumb rubbing slow circles into her skin.
"You okay?" he asked gruffly, eyes fixed on the road.
"I think so," she replied.
His grip tightened.
"You'd tell me if you weren't feeling well," he said, not quite a question.
"Yes."
"If anything feels wrong, anything at all, you tell me immediately."
She nodded. "I will."
He exhaled slowly, shoulders easing just a fraction.
"Yeah," he muttered. "Good. You're fine."
He needed to hear it.
Needed the reassurance like oxygen.
He wasn't sure he'd breathe properly again until the baby was safely in his arms.
Until then, he would watch. Protect. Prepare.
No matter what it cost.
The city blurred past the windshield, unaware that two lives, and a third, just beginning, had crossed a point of no return.