Three months had passed since we decided on the names for our bundles of joy. We had announced to everyone what we wanted to name them and that was that. We had started planning for their arrival.
We had set aside a room that would be transformed into their baby room.
And we had started shopping for toys and clothes.
But we still hadn't heard from Nayoung or her boyfriend.
Not that we were complaining.
We didn't even notice their absence.
At least not until they showed up again.
It was a normal day, our order for paint was supposed to come in because we wanted to paint the baby room.
We were excited and nervous.
The feeling of becoming parents was starting to set in a lot more.
But we were getting through it together, hand-in-hand.
So when we heard the doorbell, we got excited thinking it was our paint orders
To our dismay, instead of paint, we got unwanted guests.
"False alarm!" I told Namjoon.
He came over to the door and saw who it was. He took my hand in his and squeezed tightly.
"I thought you guys were done bugging us," I remarked.
"Isn't it a bit petty to hold a grudge," Nayoung retorted.
I clicked my tongue, "Not this time."
"What do you guys want?" Namjoon asked.
"Well since we just came from vacation we thought you guys missed us," Nayoung smirked.
"Yeah totally. We were heartbroken that you weren't here to bug us. Now, what are you really here for? You never come here without something to say or do," I spat.
"Someone's cranky," Nayoung teased.
"If you have nothing to say then please leave. It's been nice not having to deal with you. So if there's nothing you want or need please get out of my house," I blurted.
They looked taken aback by my sudden anger. But my moods were on autopilot so they did whatever they wanted to. And just the sight or thought of Nayoung and her boyfriend ticked me off.
"If you must know we want to invite you to dinner. It appears we got off on the wrong foot," she said.
I looked at Namjoon.
He shrugged unsure of what to say.
"What time?" I asked.
"Eight-thirty," she answered.
I sighed, "We'll join you if you leave our home. We've got things to do today, but if you're so hellbent on it then we'll come at eight-thirty. But until then please leave."
Nayoung bit her lip, holding her boyfriend's hand tightly.
"Alright see you then," she said softly.
They left without another word as a tense silence filled the air.
I turned back to Namjoon resting my head in the crook of his neck.
"Was I too harsh?" I asked.
"You have a lot of pent up anger. You had a right to say what you said," he replied.
"But you didn't deny it. So I was too harsh," I instantly felt bad.
"Hey. There's no reason to feel bad. It's alright to get angry," he consoled.
"But not when it's petty. I'm holding a grudge, and I never hold grudges. I don't hold a grudge against my dad. I never forgave him, but I don't hold a grudge against him. But I don't know why I have so much anger toward the woman," I sighed.
"Y/N, she abandoned you when you were a baby. She just left you in the hospital. It's understandable to hold a grudge against her. Your father, before he went off his rockers, raised you as his own daughter and loved you. Your mother gave you up. But it's important to remember that if you hold onto your anger for too long, it'll end up eating you alive. Because you know you're not angry anymore, but you want to be because it's pent up," Namjoon reasoned.
I shrugged, feeling bad about lashing out.
A little while later there was another knock at the door.
The delivery guy had come with our paint which instantly brightened my mood.
We went to the baby room and started decorating.
We already had three cribs set up and had everything else a nursery should have.
All we needed to do was paint the walls.
Namjoon had this cute ideas of painting mountains behind the cribs, so it looks like the babies are about to climb a mountain.
But of course, Namjoon being Namjoon the sentiment of it was that our babies are going to overcome every challenge with their heads held high.
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We started on the paining, filling the walls with vibrant colors and life.
I squealed internally and externally as the walls became cuter and cuter with every brush stroke.
"I didn't know you had a knack for painting," I commented as Namjoon delicately painted the walls.
"I didn't either. But I do and it's surprisingly very calming," he chuckled.
I smirked, noticing an open paint can nearby.
I took a small dot of green, and when Namjoon turned to face me, I booped his nose with the paint.
His eyes widened, a need for revenge filling them.
"I would do it back to you, but this is poison so I won't do it to you. Because I'm a good husband," he said.
"Now I feel bad. Fine, I'll clean it off of you," I pouted.
I grabbed a rag and started wiping the paint off.
While doing so, I couldn't help but notice his cute features. The way his eyes twitched when I got close to them, or the way his lips pursed when the rag grazed it, or how his dimples would appear when he laughed because I was tickling him.
I planted a short but sweet kiss on his lips.
"Consider it an apology," I said.
"Apology accepted. But if you want you can keep painting me and give me more apologies," he smirked.
I rolled my eyes at his remark.
He grabbed me gently and sat me down on his lap, resting his chin on my shoulder.
"I can't believe we're really doing this," he breathed, his warm breath tickling my earlobe.
"Me neither. I mean we're going to be parents," I hummed.
He chuckled, "That too. But I was talking about the dinner."
