Du-sik was staring at the ceiling.
The yawning expanse offered little comfort for the persistent pounding in his temples. Nor his parched mouth.
I'm never going back to sleep.
He sat up and ran his hands roughly through his hair. The scraping of his fingernails temporarily relieved the dull throbbing of his headache. Then he sighed and stared out the window. Only blackness returned his gaze.
He was annoyed at himself for being awake. And so he sought out the only thing that could help. Du-sik turned and looked down at his wife.
Hye-jin was curled up on her side. Her hair splayed wildly across the pillow in contrast to the serene look on her face as she slept. Du-sik felt his throat tighten as he took her in.
We are going to have a baby.
Initially Du-sik had felt like a thousand fireworks were exploding within his chest after months of trying. Their celebration had quickly turned into an impromptu gathering rich with the laughter of friends, unsolicited advice, and the steady flow of soju and homemade wine. In the midst of the revelry, Du-sik had wondered whether he was tipsy with joy or alcohol. His headache confirmed it had been a little of both.
A baby.
The word echoed in his mind. He had gone to bed curled around Hye-jin making exuberant plans for building a crib while his wife had patted his arm as she drifted off to sleep.
But then the sound of an infant crying pierced an endless darkness in the middle of the night. It was a familiar dream. Yet, it was newly terrifying. Du-sik had awakened in a cold sweat. His mind had raced with everything that could go wrong ever since.
If there was one inescapable truth in Hong Du-sik's life it was that love and death go hand in hand. He had lost his parents and grandfather. Jung-woo had died right in front of him leaving his son fatherless. His wife's mother died before she reached ten.
They had decided together to bring a child into such uncertainty anyway. In the darkness that now felt reckless. After a life defined by solitude, Hye-jin was by his side. Should not that have been enough? It felt greedy to want more; foolish to tempt a fate that had only just granted him a reprieve. Like placing a risky bet when he was finally ahead.
Du-sik's mind had wrung every conceivable tragedy from the void of the night. Thoughts of losing Hye-jin in delivery or his child having to grow up an orphan like him slid under his rib cage like cold knives.
You're being ridiculous. Bo-ra and Yi-jun were just playing with your camera collection last night. Statistically, very few children lose their parents.
He nodded as his rational side wrestled with another inner voice.
But you did. So did Hye-jin. What about Ju-ri? And children die too. Look at Nam-sook.
He squeezed his eyes shut as fear clawed its way through his chest. That familiar knot between love and death tightened within his heart.
Don't think too much Du-sik. Be happy.
His eyes flew open as if Hye-jin was speaking to him now. But her shoulders were still rising and falling at the same even pace as she slept on. Then her brow furrowed. An amused puff of air escaped from his lips.
No doubt she is scolding me even in her sleep for being so anxious.
His wife looked fierce and vulnerable all at once in this large bed that he had built for them. The dream that Hye-jin had first given voice to in this room was now growing inside of her. And if anyone was brave enough to turn the hand of fate it was Yoon Hye-jin.
