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aiden immediately responded with a delighted squeal, arms flailing as if demanding to be picked up. yn laughed softly and scooped him into her arms, his warm little body curling instinctively into her chest.

“ah, missed mama, didn’t you?” she teased, brushing her nose against his. the moment she did, he let out a giggly shriek that filled the whole room with warmth. she peppered his cheeks with kisses—one after another, until the baby was squirming and laughing uncontrollably, his chubby hands reaching up to grab a fistful of her hair.

“gentle, bubba–” she laughed, prying his fingers loose. “mama doesn’t need a new hairstyle so early today.”

after a quick diaper change, she decided to take him out to the hall. her hair was tied up messily, aiden propped on her hip, still babbling away in baby language as if telling her about his dreams. “you were probably dreaming about dada again, huh?” she murmured fondly, kissing his temple.

the kitchen smelled faintly of coffee from the night before. she placed aiden in his high chair, handing him a soft teething toy before turning to the counter.

“okay, yn,” she muttered to herself, clapping once as if summoning courage. “eggs benedict. easy peasy. jay does it all the time—how hard can it be?”

famous last words.

within ten minutes, the counter looked like a war zone. broken egg shells, spilled butter, and a failed attempt at hollandaise sauce that resembled something out of a chemistry experiment gone wrong. she sighed, throwing her head back dramatically as aiden watched her with his pretty almond eyes.

“don’t judge mama,” she said, pointing a mock-warning finger at him. “you try poaching an egg one day, mister.”

he just giggled.

“fine,” she huffed playfully. “we’ll stick to what we’re good at.”

so, she made his favourite baby mash—apples, strawberries and bananas—blending it until it turned into a creamy pink puree that always made him clap his hands in excitement. she tasted a bit herself and hummed. “yup, still the best thing ever.”

for herself and jay, she poured some granola into a bowl, added yogurt and spooned in a generous scoop of aiden’s mash because, truth be told, she loved it just as much as he did. she poured the coffee she had brewed into mugs as well.

when everything was ready, she balanced the three bowls and mugs carefully on a tray and tiptoed back into the bedroom. the sunlight was warm against the soft sheets and jay fast asleep on his back, chest bare and rising steadily with each deep breath.

she looked down at aiden, who had crawled in after her and was currently watching his father curiously with big eyes. “wanna wake dada up?” she whispered conspiratorially.

the baby gurgled in response, the closest thing to a yes.

“alright, mission wakey wakey dada,” she grinned softly, setting the tray down. carefully, she lifted aiden and placed him right on top of jay’s chest.

he stayed still at first and then, as if on instinct—

jay’s arms came up automatically, steady and protective, one hand cradling aiden’s back, the other rubbing softly over his tiny diapered bottom. his brows furrowed for a second, before his body relaxed again, and a sleepy smile appeared on his face.

“mm… morning, baby…” he mumbled, voice gravelly and rough with sleep.

yn’s heart clenched at the sound. “good morning to you too, dada,” she whispered, grinning.

jay’s eyes fluttered open slowly, the sight that greeted him making his whole face soften. his son was lying right on top of him, looking down at him with curious eyes, chubby, droolly hands patting his chest like he was trying to wake him properly.

“hey, my little baby boy,” jay rasped, pressing a kiss to aiden’s forehead before glancing up at yn. “and hey, my big baby.”

she rolled her eyes affectionately. “wow. romantic.”

“always,” he grinned, reaching out lazily with one hand until his fingers found hers. “you made breakfast?”

“kind of,” she said sheepishly. “i tried making eggs benedict but uh… let’s just say the eggs didn’t make it.”

jay chuckled, sitting up carefully so aiden was perched against his shoulder. “you mean my chef retired early today?”

“temporarily!” she insisted, crossing her arms, though her lips curved into a smile. “we have baby mash and granola instead.”

he reached over to peck her cheek. “sounds perfect, honey. especially since you made it.”

aiden squealed suddenly, bouncing a little against jay’s chest, which made both of them laugh. yn took out a tiny spoon and fed the baby his first bite—the pink mush smearing around his mouth almost instantly.

jay couldn’t help but stare at them, his whole world bundled up right there in his arms and hers. the sleepy morning light, their shared laughter, the way yn’s hair framed her face — all of it felt so domestic, so complete.

“love you,” he murmured softly, almost to himself.

yn looked up from feeding aiden, her eyes warm. “love you too, dada.”

he smiled at that, brushing his thumb across aiden’s soft cheek. “yeah, i think he does too.”

after breakfast, their bedroom was still filled with that lazy sunday calm. jay sat cross-legged with aiden perched on his lap, patting his little back gently after his meal. he’d already learned from experience that their baby boy had a dangerous habit of flopping over on his tummy right after eating. the image of baby puke dripping down his onesie while aiden blinked up in total confusion still haunted jay a little.

“not this time, my love,” jay murmured, bouncing him lightly. “we’re gonna burp first, okay? no acrobatics.”

aiden responded with a grumble, squirming in his arms like a miniature protest. his face was scrunched in that dramatic baby way, his bottom lip jutting out into the tiniest pout.

“oh no,” jay chuckled, glancing at yn over his shoulder. “he’s giving me your look, baby. the one you use when you want me to cook instead of getting takeout.”

yn, lounging back against the headboard with her half-empty granola bowl, shot him a grin. “well, clearly it works, doesn’t it?”

jay laughed, pressing a kiss to aiden’s temple. “you’re already learning too much from mama, huh, baby boy?”

aiden huffed, or at least made a sound that sounded like one, before burying his face in jay’s chest, tiny fingers gripping his dad’s chain. the sight made jay’s heart melt completely. he rubbed aiden’s back in slow circles until he finally got the softest burp out of him, smiling like he’d just achieved something monumental.

“there we go,” he whispered proudly. “good job, my love.”

but the peace didn’t last long. the moment aiden realised he wasn’t being put down yet, he started to fuss again, turning his head toward the bed and letting out a string of tiny whines that grew louder by the second.

“you wanna lie down, huh?” jay said, bouncing him gently.

aiden’s answer was to give him that look again—the wide eyes, the trembling pout, the tiny eyebrows furrowed like his whole world depended on it.

“don’t even start, mister,” jay teased. “that’s not fair. you and your mama are turning against me.”

yn snorted mid-bite, almost spilling her granola. “oh my god, he really does look like me when he does that.”

jay looked at her with a grin that made his small dimples show. “he’s your mini-me. but i’m onto both of you, you know. not falling for that face this time.”

aiden blinked up at him innocently, then let out the smallest, most pathetic whimper.

jay groaned, defeated already. “okay, maybe for one second.”

yn laughed, shaking her head as jay stood up, holding aiden close to his chest. the baby’s chubby legs dangled, kicking softly against jay’s abs as he started walking slowly toward the window. he was still shirtless from waking up, his broad back flexing as he shifted aiden’s weight with ease.

“look, baby boy,” he murmured, drawing back the curtain slightly. “there’s your favorite view again.”

the glass gleamed in the sunlight, and aiden’s eyes went wide. no matter how many times he’d seen the same city skyline from their window—the little trees below, the far-off shimmer of cars—he still reacted like it was a brand-new discovery. he tapped the glass excitedly, tiny palms leaving perfect little prints, feet kicking as if to say look, dada, look!

jay smiled down at him, his voice dropping into that soft, soothing tone that made yn’s heart ache every time. “you like that, huh, my love? you’ve been seeing this view for months and it’s still your favorite, huh?”

aiden giggled, turning his face to press it against jay’s chest for a moment before looking out again. the way jay swayed him gently from side to side, murmuring nonsense in between kisses to his soft hair, was enough to make yn pause mid-spoonful just to watch them.

she sat there for a long moment, bowl in one hand, spoon in the other, her chest full of something warm and aching. jay’s messy hair fell slightly into his eyes, his voice low and tender as he spoke to their son. it was the kind of sight that made everything else disappear.

“baby,” she called softly.

jay turned, still rocking aiden lightly. “yeah?”

“come here,” she said with a small smile, holding up her spoon. “you need to eat too before you faint from being the world’s most awesome dad.”

he chuckled, walking back toward the bed but careful not to jostle aiden too much. “i’m not that awesome, baby.”

“you absolutely are,” she teased, holding out a spoonful of granola and fruit mash. “open up.”

jay leaned down obediently — but before he could even get close, aiden leaned forward too, mouth open like a tiny bird, babbling a soft “aaah!” as if he knew food was involved.

yn broke into a fit of laughter, almost spilling the bowl. “oh my god, aiden!”

jay laughed too, looking down at the eager little face between them. “hey, baby boy, that’s mine!” he said, but the teasing tone betrayed him and he leaned down anyway, pretending to fight aiden for it.

“you can’t steal my bites every time,” he murmured playfully, booping his son’s nose. “you already got your gourmet meal, my love.”

aiden responded with another happy squeal, tiny hands grabbing at the spoon. yn was giggling too hard to stop either of them, her whole heart swelling at the scene: her boys, one big and one small, both trying to steal bites from the bowl in her hands, both making her morning feel impossibly full.

“fine,” she said finally, surrendering with a grin. “you both can share.”

jay gave her a soft, crooked smile, brushing a strand of hair from her face as he sat beside her. “we already share everything, baby,” he said, voice low and fond.

masterlist / prev / next

yn gently lifted her into her seat, placing a noise-canceling headset over her small ears just as the arena lights dimmed for the opening VCR.

shai squealed with delight when the crowd erupted into cheers. “mmaaammmmaaaa! ight!”

“i see, baby, i see,” yn murmured with a small smile, patting her hand. “they’re cheering for dada.”

next to them, the seats were filled with fans—young women in merch and coordinated accessories, waving lightsticks and adjusting fan cams. a couple of them noticed the adorable little girl and her matching shoes, and one of them waved hesitantly.

shai, as usual, didn’t hesitate at all. “allo!” she chirped, lifting her lightstick and waving back energetically.

the girls cooed softly, clearly enchanted. one of them leaned in to whisper, “she’s so cute! is she yours?”

yn smiled politely. “yes. she’s just a big fan.”

shai was already bouncing on her seat, her eyes trained on the main stage as the lights began to shift. she didn’t need to say it out loud, but yn could feel it—her daughter knew. she always knew when it was her father on that stage.

the music hit, and the members burst onto stage in coordinated outfits, the crowd erupting. shai squealed again, her tiny legs kicking as she clapped and lifted her lightstick. yn leaned closer to her, whispering in her ear, “there’s dada.”

and as if she could sense it, shai stood up on her seat—still safely held by yn—waving her lightstick with all her might toward the stage.

from where he stood, mid-choreo, sunghoon’s eyes flicked toward the VIP section for a split second and just barely, just long enough, he caught the flash of a tiny lightstick waving wildly from a familiar head of curls and a pair of bright brown eyes.

his heart swelled.

shai didn’t know it, but she had always been the highlight of every show for him. and tonight, it was no different.

shai had no sense of stage decorum, and honestly, it was endearing. she wasn’t quiet, wasn’t composed, and definitely wasn’t trying to be. every time sunghoon appeared on screen or passed close to their section, she screamed.

“hoo!!! dada!!!” she shouted with every ounce of her toddler lungs, lightstick flailing.

yn’s heart jumped each time the word “dada” rang out. she tried to play it off, yelling alongside her—“hoo! woohoo!”—hoping to mask the cries, blend in, muffle the damning syllable. her hand stayed tight on shai’s shoulder, trying to guide her excitement into safer, vaguer exclamations.

but shai was determined. and so very loud.

during the water break segment, when the stage lights dimmed slightly and the members huddled on screen for a casual talk with fans, the girl next to them leaned in with a friendly smile.

“sorry—just curious,” she said casually, “are you, like, related to one of the members?”

yn turned to her with a polite, almost confused expression. “no, just big fans. she loves them.”

another girl, beside her, piped up. “she kept screaming ‘dada’ for sunghoon though.”

shai, as if summoned by his name, immediately lit up. “dada!!” she cried, grinning and bouncing in her seat. “my dada!!”

yn froze.

and then she saw it—that brief flicker across their faces. first disbelief, then a flicker of understanding, and finally… that creeping horror of realization.

they weren’t just fans. the way their expressions shifted—shocked, then wide-eyed, then whispering behind cupped hands—it was all too familiar. this wasn’t harmless curiosity. these were the kind who dug through archives, compared baby photos, and tracked flight records. these weren’t regular fans.

these were sasaengs.

yn’s breath caught in her throat. her hand reached for shai instinctively, pulling her into her lap, cradling her tightly. her gaze stayed straight ahead, but her mind raced.

she had to get out of here. now. before they took pictures. before they posted. before the whispers turned to trending tags.

she leaned in close to shai, voice soft but urgent. “no more screaming, baby. we’re going to go find dada now, okay?”

shai blinked, confused, but nodded.

yn stood quickly, her heart thudding painfully as she slipped past the row of seats, shielding shai’s face with her hand and hoodie. her fingers trembled slightly as she texted sunghoon:

need u. now. emergency. back room.

and then, with shai clutched tight to her chest, she disappeared into the arena’s side corridor, praying no one had filmed that moment.

the hallway was cold compared to the concert heat, and the echo of distant basslines still vibrated through the walls. yn held shai close, her heart racing faster than it ever had before. one of the venue’s bodyguards walked briskly beside her, scanning the area as they moved.

but neither of them saw the two girls weaving through the crowd behind them, faces set with determination. they weren’t fans anymore—just predators chasing a secret.

“is that sunghoon’s kid?!” one of them yelled loudly, sharp and ringing. the hallway fell quiet for a breath.

yn turned instinctively, a chill seizing her spine. that voice wasn’t confused or excited—it was possessive, hungry.

they were closer than she realized. before she could react, one of them lunged. not for her, not even for a photo—but for the hoodie over shai’s head, trying to yank it down, to expose her face.

“let me see her—!”

“she’s his, isn’t she?!”

they didn’t care about hurting her. in the frantic grab, fingers caught in shai’s hair and pulled harshly. she wailed instantly, her face crumpling into pain, small fists clinging to her mom’s jacket as her body tensed up in pure distress. her scream echoed so loud it made yn flinch.

“DON’T TOUCH HER!” yn shouted, her voice raw with rage and panic.

the bodyguard stepped between them immediately, grabbing one of the girls by the wrist and shoving her backward. “back off now.”

yn turned to him, her face pale and wild. “call someone. anyone. get sunghoon off stage. right now.”

the guard’s hand flew to his comm. “code red. back hallway by section 3c. we need park sunghoon pulled, priority level one. this is not a drill—there’s contact with the child.”

shai was sobbing in her mother’s arms, her tiny body trembling as she whimpered repeatedly, “mamaaa… urts.. mamaaa…”

yn crouched low in the hallway, shielding her, gently stroking her hair as tears streamed down both of their faces.

“it’s okay, baby, i’ve got you,” she whispered over and over. “mama’s here. i’ve got you. you’re okay…”

the boys were scattered across the stage, each seated on tall stools, bathed in soft amber and pearl lights. it was the final q&a session of the concert—a tradition by now. fans held glowing banners and shouted their names, and the members fed off their energy, their grins wide and voices warm despite the fatigue of the final stretch.

sunoo was in the middle of answering a fan’s question—something about his skincare routine—his tone exaggerated, hands flailing for dramatic effect, making the crowd laugh with every word. he even stood from his stool, striking a mock pose, lips pursed. sunghoon, beside him, had just rolled his eyes, leaning into the mic to mutter something like, “this is so unserious,” earning a fresh wave of cheers.

and then the staff appeared.

they moved swiftly, headset in place, weaving around camera rigs and crew with purposeful urgency. the crowd barely noticed, too caught up in the laughter—but the members did. the woman reached sunghoon and leaned close to his ear, murmuring something only for him.

the smile dropped from his face in an instant.

his whole body tensed. “what?”

the staff whispered again—quieter, urgent—and though her words were indistinct to the audience, jungwon, who was seated in the stool next to him, caught enough of it.

“…your wife… something happened… backstage now.”

sunghoon stood immediately. no hesitation. he didn’t even think to excuse himself—his mic still clipped to his collar, catching the soft clatter of his stool being pushed back as he left.

jungwon’s heart plummeted. he caught heeseung’s gaze across the stage, who faltered mid-joke, confusion replacing his dramatic flair. jake leaned forward on his stool, eyes narrowing in concern. the audience, now picking up on the sudden shift, quieted slowly, murmurs rising like static.

“is he okay?” one fan shouted timidly from the front.

the rest of the boys exchanged glances but stayed put, professionalism keeping them anchored despite their concern. jungwon subtly slipped off his stool and followed after sunghoon, motioning to a stagehand to stall the crowd.

backstage was chaos. the quiet, polished veneer of the concert hall broke down behind the curtains—runners speaking frantically into earpieces, security moving with quickened steps. and amidst it all, that sound—

shai’s cries.

she wasn’t just crying. she was screaming, inconsolable, her voice shrill and hoarse like she had been doing it for minutes. it echoed down the corridor, sharp and heartbreaking.

sunghoon heard it the moment he stepped off stage.

he sprinted.

“where is she?” his voice cracked. “where’s my wife—where’s shai?!”

one of the staff members gently tried to guide him. “they’re in the dressing hallway, sunghoon—she’s okay now, the situation is under control, but—”

but he wasn’t listening anymore. he was already moving. behind him, jungwon had caught up, his face ghost-white, his breath short. he looked toward the staff for answers, but no one gave him anything clear—only fragments. something about a fan, a hoodie, hair being pulled.

shai’s cry cut through again.

and all jungwon could do was trail after him, his chest tight, praying that whatever they were about to walk into… it wasn’t as bad as it sounded.

yn sat on the floor just outside the dressing room, legs folded beneath her, holding her daughter close—no, clinging to her. her arms wrapped tightly around the toddler’s back as shai cried into her chest, muffled sobs dampening the neckline of her t-shirt. her own chest rose and fell unevenly, breaths shaky and short, panic still pulsing hot in her veins. the world around her buzzed, but she couldn’t focus. she didn’t even try.

her hands shook violently as she smoothed down shai’s curls, trying to hush her with a gentle rock, but it wasn’t working. shai was trembling too, shoulders twitching with each sob, and when yn pressed her fingers into her scalp instinctively to check for injuries, her heart dropped.

there was a bump.

small, but warm and swelling.

“oh my god,” she breathed, voice breaking. “no, no—baby, i’m so sorry, i’m so—”

she choked on her words.

she hadn’t cried when the girl grabbed her. hadn’t screamed when the hoodie was yanked or when the hand darted out to grab at her child like she wasn’t a person—just an object. yn had been in survival mode. she reacted, she protected, she ran. but now…

now that they were back inside and shai was screaming in her arms, now that the security had whisked away the girls and staff swarmed her asking questions—now that everything was technically okay…

she couldn’t stop crying.

silent tears streamed down her face. she didn’t sob. she couldn’t. her body wouldn’t let her. it was too busy shaking.

every second replayed behind her eyes. the yell. the turn. the glint of recognition and malice in that girl’s eyes. the grip on shai’s hoodie, the way it had pulled back so hard it revealed the top of her head. the hand that had followed—too fast—and the little yelp of pain that came from her daughter. the way her little fists had flailed, how she’d screamed in terror.

how close they came to losing her.

“please calm down,” someone had said earlier. maybe a staff member, maybe the security. yn didn’t even look up. she didn’t want calm. she wanted sunghoon.

because no matter how tightly she held their daughter, no matter how hard she tried to soothe her, she needed him. the one person who could hold them both up when everything else felt like it was breaking.

heavy footsteps thundered down the hallway.

“YN—?”

his voice was breathless, tight with dread.

yn’s head jerked up, eyes glassy and red, lips quivering as she locked eyes with him.

“hoon,” she whispered, her voice cracking like glass.

sunghoon dropped to his knees before them, hands reaching out, shaking worse than hers. “i’m here. i’m here—oh my god—” his gaze flicked over shai’s tear-streaked face, the red of her bump just visible under her curls, her tiny fists still clinging to her mother’s chest. and then to yn’s face—pale, drenched in tears, a haunted look in her eyes like she was still stuck in the moment.

he reached for them both at once, pulling them into his arms. yn let out a strangled noise as she melted into his hold, still clutching shai, now sandwiched between their chests.

shai’s cries faltered—confused at first—then settled into hiccuping whimpers as she recognised the warmth of her dad’s arms.

“shh, baby,” sunghoon whispered, rocking them all gently. “i’ve got you. both of you. i’ve got you.”

jungwon burst around the corner, heeseung hot on his heels, both of them looking like they’d sprinted like crazy after sunghoon.

“where is she—?!” jungwon panted, eyes wide as they swept the hallway, landing on the small bundle in sunghoon’s arms. “oh my god—”

shai was curled tightly against her father’s chest, face blotchy and puffy from all the crying, her sobs reduced to little hitching gasps now, her fingers still clutching the neckline of his shirt. sunghoon had crouched to the floor, holding her securely, his head lowered close to hers, whispering calm reassurances into her ear with a soft sway that rocked all three of them—her, him and yn, who sat beside them on the floor, shell-shocked and trembling.

heeseung slowed as he entered, his eyes locked onto yn first—her tear-streaked face, the raw guilt in her expression and then to the small, red mark just visible on the side of shai’s head.

“is she—?” he choked on the words. “she’s okay?”

sunghoon nodded faintly. “physically, yeah. but she’s scared.” his voice was steady, but barely. he looked like he was one wrong breath away from unraveling.

jungwon stepped in closer, crouching low near yn, his face softening as he noticed the state she was in.

“yn…” he said gently.

she flinched.

“i’m sorry,” she said abruptly, her voice hoarse and watery. her hands fisted in the fabric of her jeans as she sat upright again, chest heaving. “i’m so sorry—sunghoon—”

“hey, hey—” he said quickly, eyes darting to hers.

“i should’ve been more careful!” she cried, words tumbling out in a rush. “she kept yelling dada and i should’ve known they would start asking—those girls, they weren’t just fans, they were sasaengs, and i—i thought security would be enough, i should’ve just taken her back, or said we needed to go, or just—”

“baby,” sunghoon said softly, firmly, still holding shai tight.

“it’s my fault,” she said again, barely holding it together. “i let my guard down. i thought we were okay because there were other people around but i should’ve known better. i put her in danger. they pulled her hair, hoon—”

her voice cracked violently at that.

sunghoon’s jaw clenched. his hand instinctively cupped the back of shai’s head, protectively covering the bruise like it was something sacred. he swallowed hard, holding her closer.

“you didn’t do anything wrong,” he said firmly.

“but—”

“you were with her. you held her. you protected her. you brought her back.” his voice faltered slightly, then steadied again. “you did everything right, yn.”

yn shook her head, tears falling again. “but she got hurt. she was screaming—she was scared, and—”

“so were you,” jungwon said quietly, watching her with pained eyes.

“you think this is your fault?” heeseung asked, stepping closer now, kneeling beside sunghoon. “they shouldn’t have even gotten close. that’s on security. that’s on us for not anticipating something like this. not you.”

sunghoon looked down at the toddler in his arms, now resting her cheek on his chest, little fingers still clinging to his necklace. his voice softened again.

“she’s okay because of you.”

yn met his eyes, barely holding on to herself.

“you always blame yourself,” he said. “every time something bad happens. but yn, you’re her mother. you love her more than anything. you were terrified, but you didn’t let go. you fought to keep her safe.”

“i couldn’t even stop them from touching her,” she whispered, staring at the floor.

“but you got her back,” sunghoon replied. “you ran. you didn’t freeze. you didn’t waste a second. that’s what matters.”

there was a long pause. the room was thick with silence except for the quiet, shaky little breaths coming from shai, finally starting to calm down.

then yn shifted, leaning into sunghoon’s side, her head against his shoulder as her hand reached up to brush her daughter’s hair gently.

“she was so scared,” she whispered, voice breaking.

“i know,” sunghoon murmured, pressing a kiss to the crown of shai’s head. “but we’re here now. she’s safe. you’re safe.”

heeseung let out a breath, running a hand through his hair, eyes red-rimmed as he stared at the small family on the floor. jungwon looked down, his fists clenched in his lap, expression tense.

sunghoon sat quietly for a long moment, his hand softly stroking shai’s back as she slept against him. the others sat close by, the energy in the room still thick with the aftershock of what had happened. yn hadn’t moved from her spot next to him, her fingers woven into the hem of his hoodie, eyes puffy but no longer crying.

then, without lifting his head, sunghoon quietly said, “i’m going back to the hotel with you.”

heeseung and jungwon looked up immediately. “yeah, of course,” heeseung said without hesitation, already pushing himself to his feet. “we’ll go back on stage. just say there was an emergency.”

“i’ll handle it,” jungwon added, already making a beeline for the door.

“tell the fans i had to leave. make something up—family emergency, health thing, anything.”

yn turned toward him, her eyes wide. “hoon… are you sure? if you leave mid-show, you could get in trouble with the label, the press, the fans—”

“i don’t care.” he cut in gently, lifting his gaze to hers.

she blinked. he wasn’t angry—his voice was steady, almost calm—but there was something in his eyes. something resolute.

“i care about her more than anything else. you know that.”

“but it’s the last show—”

“and she was just attacked,” he said, quieter now. “my two girls were chased and grabbed in a crowd of people who are supposed to love us. she’s bruised. you’re shaking. i’m not leaving you alone right now.”

yn looked down at shai in his arms, then back at him, unsure whether to cry again or pull him in tighter.

sunghoon continued, softer now, “they can be mad. let them be mad. this is my family.”

heeseung hovered in the doorway now, glancing between them. “we’ve got you covered, hoon. don’t worry about anything else.”

jungwon gave a quick nod from behind him, already pulling out his earpiece to relay the update backstage.

sunghoon slowly stood, adjusting shai so she stayed curled close to his chest without stirring too much. she let out a little sigh, her fingers bunching up his shirt again like she could tell he was about to go anywhere.

yn followed suit, wrapping her hoodie tighter around herself, still visibly anxious. but as sunghoon reached for her hand, threading their fingers together tightly, she nodded.

“okay,” she whispered.

the ride back to the hotel was subdued, steeped in silence. the dim light from the streetlamps streaked across the seats of the car, occasionally illuminating yn’s tearstained face and sunghoon’s clenched jaw.

yn’s hands trembled as she gently pulled the tiny concert merch tee over shai’s head, her fingers careful not to disturb the little girl’s sleep. shai shifted slightly in her slumber on the hotel sheets, murmuring something incomprehensible, her cheeks still tearstained and flushed from the ordeal. yn’s breath caught in her throat as she leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her temple.

she moved her fingers gently through the dark curls, whispering reassurances that shai couldn’t hear but needed to say anyway — “mama’s here, you’re okay, baby, you’re safe.” but then her hand paused. her thumb brushed over something… crusted.

her eyes darted to the spot, and her heart dropped.

just beneath the hairline near the crown of shai’s head was a small patch of dried blood. it had matted some of the strands together, the skin faintly purple from the earlier yank, now forming the beginning of a bruise.

yn’s breath stilled in her chest. her vision blurred as fresh tears welled up in her eyes. a single drop fell onto shai’s soft pajama top as she instinctively shielded the small form with her body, like she could still protect her from what had already happened.

across the room, sunghoon was pacing with his phone to his ear, voice low but tense as he spoke with his manager. he was explaining the situation calmly, professionally—at least trying to—but his shoulders were rigid, jaw clenched tight like he was holding back the full brunt of emotion.

yn looked up, her eyes shimmering with pain and helplessness, the kind that only a parent could feel. her lips quivered as she called softly, barely above a whisper, “hoon…”

he turned instantly, mid-sentence, eyes snapping to her face. she didn’t need to say a word.

his gaze followed hers down to the back of shai’s head, to where her fingers hovered protectively. the sight alone was enough. he saw the blood. he saw the way yn was holding herself, trying not to shatter completely.

“hyung, i’ll call you back,” he said quickly into the phone, not even waiting for a response before hanging up. he crossed the room in two quick strides, dropping to his knees beside the bed, his palm gently resting on shai’s back.

yn’s lips finally parted, the words tumbling out in a choked whisper, “there’s blood, hoon. i didn’t see it earlier, but it’s there—what if it’s worse than we thought? what if something happened inside—”

he reached up, cupping the side of her face, thumb brushing under her eye to catch a tear. “breathe, baby. breathe. we’ll take her to the doctor first thing in the morning. just to be sure. i promise.”

“but—”

“we’ll get her checked. everything. we’re not taking chances, yn. but look at her right now,” he said gently, voice thick. “she’s sleeping. she’s safe. we’re okay.”

yn let out a small, shaky exhale. her eyes dropped down to their daughter, still curled in the sheets, her breathing soft and steady. she nodded slowly, burying her face in sunghoon’s shoulder, her fingers still clutching shai’s pajama sleeve.

he held them both there on the hotel bed, one arm around yn and the other resting over shai, his family, all that mattered.

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