The Bangtan Baby

dairy farmer

While not unusual, it was becoming harder and harder for Grace to find time with her mother. Comeback plans, endless meetings, recordings, filming, every demand piled up, and trying to carry it all while twelve weeks pregnant drained her energy faster than she could replace it.

Still, the plan was holding steady. Big Hit knew. The boys knew. Their families had been told, along with a handful of close friends. The world, however, remained in the dark. The small swell of her stomach could still be disguised: loose clothes, careful camera angles, or simply someone standing in front of her.

So when a rare day off finally arrived, Angela had only one wish.

Baby clothes shopping.

But how do you shop for onesies when you're one of the most recognisable idols in the country and no one knows you're expecting?

You slip quietly into a shop in the Dongdaemun District, owned by a Korean-American couple. If they suspected who Grace was, they didn't show it. They barely blinked when two bodyguards and a manager went in first, followed by the two women who were there for something far more ordinary than fame.

Angela drifted straight to the racks, hands brushing through rows of impossibly tiny clothes: soft cotton rompers, pastel knit hats, and socks no bigger than a thumb. She let out a breathy laugh. "Can you believe this? You wore things like this once."

"I think the nineties were a lot brighter and neon," Grace chuckled as she followed. She and Seokjin didn't know what they were having yet; they hadn't even figured out the nursery (though Grace had a vision forming), and it felt too early to be buying anything. But with her mother, once she started, there was no stopping.

Sejin tagged along quietly, more bag-carrier than chaperone, though his eyes lingered on certain items as if filing them away for later. At one point, a rug ended up in his arms, a play mat covered in an animal alphabet print, big enough for a child to sprawl across. Angela rolled it neatly and handed it over without hesitation.

Then came blankets and then hats. Grace let her mother run wild, wandering over to the racks of bodysuits. That's when she spotted it and burst out laughing the second her eyes landed on the embroidery. She snatched it up and turned, holding it aloft for Angela, Sejin, and even the stone-faced bodyguards.

Sejin's reaction was exactly as expected: a slow headshake before he turned away. But Angela's mirrored Grace's perfectly, full of uncontained laughter.

"Oh, you have to get that," she giggled. "That's hilarious."

It was a pale yellow bodysuit, embroidered with a pair of cartoon boobies and the words 'I Support My Local Dairy Farmer'.

The mood of the trip shifted right there. At first, Angela had been drawn to soft pastels and blankets, but once Grace spotted the Dairy Farmer bodysuit, the two of them went hunting for the most outrageous slogans they could find.

Grace pulled out a hot-pink romper that read 'Party at My Crib, 2AM. Bring Bottles'. She doubled over laughing before it even reached the pile.

Angela retaliated with a tiny grey one stamped in bold letters: 'I Only Cry When Ugly People Hold Me'. She wagged it at Grace like a trophy.

"Nooo, Mum, we can't get that," Grace laughed, her shoulders shaking as she tried to maintain some kind of sensibility. "You're evil."

The bodyguards shifted awkwardly nearby, trying and failing to keep straight faces as Grace unearthed a white piece that simply declared 'Poop Machine'. Another, in black with neon-green lettering, read 'Straight Outta Mummy'.

By the time they were done, Sejin could barely see over the mountain of shopping bags. The normal baby haul, blankets, bibs, and socks, was buried somewhere under a pile of slogans bold enough to make any parent blush.

Back at the townhouse, the spare room that was now going to become their nursery looked like Amazon had exploded inside it. Boxes, bags, and rugs crowded every available surface.

When Seokjin came home from a day out with friends, the first thing he noticed was the mess. He opened the nursery door, blinked once, and promptly shut it again with a shake of his head.

"Did you buy the whole place?" he asked as he came into the kitchen, setting a takeout bag on the counter. The smell of fried chicken and tteokbokki drifted up, rich and spicy.

"Mum nearly did," Grace said cheerfully, pulling chopsticks from the drawer. She reached over, lifted one of the shopping bags from the pile, and handed it to him with mock ceremony. "But we had to buy a couple of items I think you'll like."

Suspicious, he set down the food and peeked inside.

Seokjin tugged another item from the bag, expecting something harmless. What he unfolded instead was pale yellow cotton, soft and innocent, until his eyes landed on the embroidery.

Two cartoon boobies. And the words, stitched in cheerful block letters: I Support My Local Dairy Farmer.

He froze, blinking hard, as though maybe the letters would rearrange themselves into something wholesome if he stared long enough. They didn't.

Slowly, very slowly, he lifted his gaze to Grace. "Really?" His voice cracked on the word. "This is what you spent money on?"

Grace was already doubled over, one hand clamped over her mouth, the other reaching for the counter to steady herself. Her shoulders shook with uncontrollable laughter.

Seokjin turned the romper over in his hands like a detective examining a suspicious piece of evidence. Then, instead of scolding, his lips twitched. He cleared his throat, dead serious.

"Well," he said, holding it up at arm's length for dramatic effect, "at least our child will grow up knowing the importance of supporting local business. We're teaching economics from birth."

She couldn't help but let the laughter burst out, food completely forgotten as she leaned back in the chair for support, laughter so loud that their neighbours could probably hear her.

Seokjin wasn't finished. He draped the romper over his chest and struck a pose, chin lifted. "Should I wear it on the next live? Very educational. ARMY will respect me more for my commitment to... dairy."

Grace completely lost it, tears spilling from the corners of her eyes as she gasped for breath. "Stop, it hurts!"

He dropped the pose and laid the romper flat on the counter with a solemn pat, as though it were a priceless relic. Then he leaned against the counter, picking up his food as if nothing had happened.

"If my mother ever sees this," he said, finally chuckling, "she'll disown both of us. No inheritance, nothing. Just me, you, and our little dairy farmer."

Grace managed to choke out, "Worth it."