Falling For A Single Mother KTH FF ✔️

Chapter 35

Y/N's P.O.V.

Anticipation- how if you may define, would you define it?

I believe, most of us would go by  the laymen defination- the expectation of nearby future. But I believe its true essence cannot be surmised into these few words.

Is it an expectation?

Or a vision we have in our mind that we eagerly or sometimes dreadfully wait to become the reality?

Anticipation is actually a visceral feeling, which literature tried to buckle up and at some extent did but one can never be too sure when feelings are involved.

And reckoning so, I am anticipating the hazy smoke of my dream to wither away, awaiting with stillness and a thumping heart to let those words be a mumble rather than a calling.

But the ticking seconds and static picture of my daughter with glistening eyes, thrust me to the reality.

She called him- no, she is on call with him.

"tae tae." I blink away the gathering moisture from my eyes when she repeats her words.

But the moisture returns when her face falls with dejection, eyes dim with sorrow, and  fingers tremble around the device.

"Sweetheart," I embrace her figure, the phone forgotten when she drops it and coil her arms around my midriff, hiding her face in my chest and weeping softly.

The suffocating feeling expands from my aching heart to my lungs, constricting them and making it hard for me  take the oxygen I am running out.

I hurl my baby in my arms, she complies and hides her face in my neck holding me from shoulders and securing her legs around my waist.

"Shh, my love." My quivering palms run balming circles on her back and her weeps turn into gasping cries. My throat constricts with emotions and I part my lips to take a breath but it came out as a gasp, and then a taste of salt invades my mouth, I am crying.

I sniff, bringing her closer to me .

We weep our loss, missing the man who's so dear to us with a gaping hole in our heart, a wound that's as fresh as the day we left him. 

"M-mumma?" Her meek voice calls me out, we are laying now but our arms are around each other giving the solace. I breath in a painful inhale, a headache coming on it's way, and I will probably need the eye drops to drive off the burning sensation in my eyes.

"Yes, angel." I croak. my throat parched from the soundless cries.

"He forgot us?" My guts clench at the possiblity, quite unsure how to answer the question.

"Why this doubt, my love?" I caress her her tear stained cheek. She peers at me, her eyes rimmed red, the pain evident in them, and I feel my strength withering away.

"H-he did not speak, m-mumma." She sniffs the incoming trail of tears, her lips wobbles as she tries to hold herself.

"I-it must be a w-wrong number, baby." I speak with clenched jaw to stop myself from sobbing, trembling and breaking apart.

"N-no. Hobi said it was his. Hobi does not lie, mumma." She clarifies, breaking away the embrace. My mind stuck on her words, hoseok? D-does this . I sit up hurriedly, pick up the phone and with bated breath I hold it in my hand to peer the numb-

It's his.

how do we breath? It seems my breath and beats both have stopped or dropped, I clutch the phone tighter, and air strike me with such a force I gasp, vision filled with those familiar number..