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☽✧ ＣＨＯＩ ＳＡＮ ✧☾
The next few days we spent in the villa were not quite what I had envisioned. Wooyoung was still feeling unwell after that whiskey incident, and what had started as a dramatic joke turned into a few days of struggle for him. He looked pale and under the weather, often laying in bed, exhausted from restless nights spent trying not to be sick.
As I sat on the balcony, sipping my coffee and trying to finish the book I had promised myself I'd read during our honeymoon, I couldn't help but steal glances at him. The warm weather wrapped around me, a stark contrast to the worry in my chest. I leaned back in my chair, trying to focus on the words in front of me, when Wooyoung's phone began to buzz incessantly on the bedside table, the silent vibrations cutting through the stillness.
Curiosity piqued, I stood up and picked it up, glancing at the screen to find the doctor from the wedding calling. "This might be important," I muttered to myself. I answered the phone quietly, stepping outside onto the balcony to keep the noise from waking him.
"Good morning—Wooyoung?" the doctor greeted cheerfully.
I chuckled softly, shaking my head. "It's San. Wooyoung is sleeping; he's a little bit unwell."
"Oh, I see," she replied, her tone shifting to one of understanding. "Well, what are his symptoms? I have his blood results, and I might have an idea why he is feeling this way."
I stood there, feeling a wave of concern wash over me. "He's been pale, really fatigued, and he had some nausea. It seems like he's been fighting off something for a few days now."
"Has he had any fever? Any chills or sweats?" she asked, her voice professional yet warm.
"Just a low fever, I think," I replied, rubbing the back of my neck nervously. "He was sweating a lot last night, but he said he felt cold at times. It's been a bit of a rollercoaster."
"I have questions. Has he been put off by anything—food-wise or drink-wise?" she asked calmly, her tone professional yet warm. I couldn't help but chuckle quietly.
"Well, a few days ago, he gave me a dramatic description of his favorite honey whiskey smelling like old socks that stepped in shit. Does that give you a rough idea?" I replied, unable to suppress my laughter at the memory of Wooyoung's over-the-top reaction.
The doctor burst out laughing, the sound brightening the otherwise tense atmosphere. "That's a vivid image! I'll give you that. But it's not uncommon for someone feeling unwell to have aversions to certain smells or tastes."
"Right? It's been a whole ordeal," I said, shaking my head at the ridiculousness of the situation. "But I thought it was just food poisoning or something."
"Well—his results state that he is pregnant." Her voice suddenly turned serious, but there was still a hint of amusement in her tone. "That's a miracle—male pregnancy. We're trying to figure out how that's possible."
