Boundless

제 18 장

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Eight Weeks Later

Morning sunlight filtered through the gauzy white curtains like a whispered promise—soft, golden, and almost shy. The apartment carried a hush to it, a reverent stillness, as though even the furniture had leaned in to listen to the new rhythm that pulsed beneath the surface of my life.

My hands moved instinctively to my belly, where a gentle swell now curved beneath my sweatshirt. Thirteen weeks. Barely into the second trimester, and already the world felt transformed. My body no longer belonged only to me—it was a vessel now, cradling a secret heartbeat, a constellation of cells that felt more like a miracle with each passing day.

Jae was zipping his suitcase at the door, his eyes flitting over me as if memorizing the exact way the light hit my cheekbones, the way my fingers folded protectively over our growing child. He was due to fly out for a quick overnight trip—business with his father's company, the kind that couldn't be avoided, even when your entire world had just shifted into something sacred.

"Do you have your vitamins?" he asked, his voice low and warm, as if speaking louder might shatter something delicate between us.

I nodded. "Yes, and the ginger chews. And the tea. And the almond snacks."

He chuckled and ran a hand through his hair, the kind of laugh that tried to hide its reluctance. "I'll be back tomorrow night. Think you can last that long without me?"

I grinned, raising an eyebrow. "I'm pregnant, Jae. Not made of glass. I'm only thirteen weeks—I'm not going to combust while you're gone."

Still, his gaze fell to the gentle swell beneath my hoodie. He dropped to his knees, reverent as a priest before an altar, placing his palms carefully on my belly.

"Baby bear," he whispered against the fabric, "your daddy's leaving for just a little while. Stay warm in there. I love you."

His voice trembled ever so slightly on the word love. I bit my lip, heart swelling, as I watched him press a kiss to the space just above my navel.

Since the first ultrasound—since that heartbeat had echoed like a wild bird in a crystal cavern—Jae had spoken to my belly like it was its own person. Like he already knew our baby. As if the soul he helped create was one he'd met before in a dream.

We hadn't told anyone. Not officially. Jae had been quietly possessive about the whole thing, insisting on oversized hoodies and staying mostly indoors. He visited his mother instead of having her over. I knew he was trying to protect us. But the bump was beginning to show—no longer an ambiguous bloat, but a soft, undeniable truth.

He rose from his knees, pressed a long kiss to my lips, and rested his forehead against mine.

"I love you. Don't forget the medication. I'll call you before I board, alright? I love you."

"You said that twice."

"I'll say it a hundred times if it keeps that smile on your face."

And then one last hug, one last kiss. The cinnamon and clove scent of him lingered faintly in the air after he left, like incense burned during prayer. But it faded too fast. The silence he left behind stretched long and empty, like arms reaching out for something just out of reach.

I missed him already.

Not fifteen minutes had passed when there was a knock on the door. I glanced up from my tea, heart skipping with the childish hope that he'd forgotten something, that I'd open the door to his sheepish grin and outstretched arms.

Another knock.

"Is Daddy back already?" I murmured to myself as I padded to the door, smile curling at the edges of my lips.

But when I swung it open, the breath caught in my throat.

Ms. Park stood in the doorway, clutching her usual basket of sweets, but her eyes were frozen—locked onto my belly. The basket trembled slightly in her grip.

"Hey, Ms. Park," I offered softly, bowing as best I could. I reached out to take the basket, but she was already stepping inside, her hands rising to her mouth in shock.

"Athena..." Her voice cracked, barely above a whisper. "Are you... are you pregnant? Or are you—"

"No, I'm not fat," I laughed nervously, rubbing my stomach. "I'm pregnant."

Her gasp filled the room like a bell tolling at the start of something. She moved to me quickly, her hands flying to my bump, reverent and wide-eyed.

"How long? How could I not have known?"

"Thirteen weeks," I admitted. "Jae wanted it to be a surprise. We were waiting."

"Thirteen weeks... My grandchild," she whispered. "I'm going to be a grandmother." Her voice filled with quiet wonder. She clutched my hand, trembling, before suddenly diving into her bag.

"You know," she began, unwrapping every almond chocolate bar in sight, "I hadn't expected this right away. You two must've been very busy." A sly smile played on her lips as she stuffed sweets into my hands. "No wonder you quit that dreadful school. Mrs. Kim and Ms. Oh have been whispering like parakeets in heat. The board talks."

"They always talk," I sighed.

"You're not going back, are you?"

I shook my head. "Not now. Not until after the baby's here, at least."

She nodded, pleased. Then her eyes sparkled with something far more mischievous. "You know what comes next, right?"

"What?"

"Marriage."

I stiffened.

"Well, babies usually come after marriage. So we'll just need to get you two married in the next five months." She clapped her hands, practically glowing.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves. Baby steps, big baby steps."

"Baby steps lead to weddings," she sing-songed, tugging me gently toward the sofa.

"Ms. Park," I said hesitantly, "don't you think marriage might be too fast right now? This baby... it wasn't planned. Jae and I—"

"I know how babies are made, Athena," she interrupted flatly, and I flushed, biting my tongue.

"What I mean is... yes, I love Jae. And I'm sure he loves me. But he's made it clear—this is our thing. Me, him, and the baby. No audience. No big announcements. No plans bigger than the next heartbeat."

Her smile faded slightly. "That boy. That punk. Keeping this from me all this time."

Then she looked at me, truly looked, and her entire posture softened.

"Sweetheart," she said gently, taking both of my hands in hers, "Jae loves you. Don't ever doubt that. He cares about you. And no matter what happens next, I want you to remember that."

There was something... off in her voice. Like grief dressed in Sunday clothes. A finality that made my breath hitch.

"I promise," I said quietly, blinking at the sudden weight in the air.

She nodded, and then—unexpectedly—she hugged me. Fierce. Almost desperate.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you so much."

And just like that, my intuition rang like an alarm clock in the dark.

Something was wrong.

The warmth in her embrace did not match the chill that had suddenly crept into the room. A hush, not unlike the one before the thunder breaks. Her words—gentle, sorrow-laced, almost trembling—left invisible fingerprints on my soul.

And in the silence that followed her departure, I sat still for a long time.

Hand over my belly.

Listening.

Waiting.

Because something inside me—something ancient and wise and unnamed—was whispering:

This is the calm before the storm.

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