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The air in your childhood bedroom never really changed. It still smelled faintly like old wood, laundry detergent, and whatever fabric softener your mom used, floral, a little powdery, like a scent from another decade. You’d hoped it might feel comforting after everything, but all it did was remind you that you didn’t belong here anymore. Not really. You weren’t a child anymore. You weren’t a daughter. Not just that. You were a mother. A wife, sort of. Or maybe just someone who used to be married. The line was blurry. The divorce papers were still unsigned. You hadn’t touched them since the day you left Seungmin.
Roan had adjusted better than you thought he would, not that that said much. He didn’t throw tantrums, didn’t cry at night or beg to go back. But you saw the way he lingered by the front window, how he never said Seungmin’s name anymore but would still quietly tuck the stuffed lion his dad gave him beside his pillow every night. He didn’t talk about his old friends, or his old school, or the home you left behind. He just colored a lot. Long, quiet afternoons bent over crayons and sketchpads, like he was trying to give shape to things he didn’t have the words for yet.
Your parents didn’t ask too many questions. They welcomed you back like it was just temporary. Like it was a little break while you and Seungmin sorted things out. Like it wasn’t the wreckage of everything you’d been holding together for too long. You let them believe it. Because explaining would mean exposing yourself, and you didn’t have the strength for that yet.
“Just a trial separation,” your mom had said that first night. “Sometimes space is good. Men panic when things get hard. But if he really loves you—”
“He cheated,” you’d wanted to scream. “He cheated and then told me he still loved me. Like that meant anything. Like love excuses betrayal.”
But you’d just nodded. Quiet. Hollowed out. You let her hug you and serve you leftover bulgogi and rice like nothing was broken.
It was three days later that the note came home in Roan’s backpack. Written in soft cursive with a smiley face beside your name. “Looking forward to meeting you at Parent-Teacher Night!” It made your stomach sink. You didn’t want to go. You weren’t ready to face small talk with strangers, other parents with their lives in order, smiling faces and matching wedding rings. You didn’t want to sit through a slideshow about math curriculum while pretending your life hadn’t just imploded.
But Roan was excited. He showed you which table he sat at. He told you that his teacher, Ms. Lee, was “super nice” and let them choose from the “big crayon bucket” on Fridays if they finished their reading.
So you went.
Your mom helped you pick an outfit. Something presentable. Not too formal, not too casual. You ended up in dark jeans and a beige cardigan over a clean white tee. Simple. Safe. The kind of outfit that said, “I’m doing fine.” Even though you weren’t.
The classroom smelled like floor polish and old books. The kind of smell that never really left these places. Parents were already filing in, chatting in little groups. Some you vaguely recognized from your own time here. Faces that looked older now, slightly more worn.
Roan was already tugging at your hand, dragging you to the back of the room where the kids were gathered, coloring and playing with puzzles. You ruffled his hair, kissed his forehead, told him you’d be right over there if he needed you. He nodded, too busy choosing crayons to really listen.
You sat down. Alone. The rows of chairs were filled with clusters of couples, some laughing together, others nudging each other as the principal began to talk. You were trying to pay attention. Something about volunteers. Fundraisers. A school play. You couldn’t focus. Your hand moved unconsciously, rubbing the skin between your thumb and forefinger. A nervous tick you hadn’t realized had come back.
“You still do that thing with your hand when you’re not listening.”
The voice beside you was soft. Familiar.
You froze. Your fingers stopped moving.
Slowly, you turned.
He looked different. Older, definitely. His hair was shorter, the lines around his eyes deeper. He looked tired, but in that way people who carry grief tend to look. Like something had settled into his bones and refused to leave. But he was still unmistakably him.
“Changbin?”
He smiled, lopsided. “Hey.”
Your heart did something strange. Twisted, maybe. Or maybe it just broke a little more.
He looked at you for a second longer than polite. His eyes dropped to your hands, still frozen in your lap. Then up to your face again.
“I thought that was you earlier,” he said. “Wasn’t sure if I should say anything.”
You swallowed, found your voice. “What… what are you doing here?”
He jerked his thumb toward the group of kids in the back. “Yuna. My daughter. Seven. Same class as your son, Roan, Right?”
You blinked and nodded. “Your daughter?”
“Yeah.”
You processed that slowly. Looked toward the coloring table. You hadn’t noticed her before, but now that you knew, her dark eyes, the way her nose scrunched up when she concentrated, it made sense. She was beautiful. She looked like him.
“She’s adorable,” you murmured.
“Thanks.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Her mom picked the name.”
You looked at him again. Hesitated. Asked before you could stop yourself: “Your partner…?”
His expression didn’t falter. Just grew heavier.
“She passed away. Last year.”
The words hit like a quiet blow. Not sharp. Just… devastating in a way that took the air out of your lungs.
“I’m so sorry,” you said quietly.
He nodded once, like he’d heard it too many times to react anymore.
There was silence. Not awkward, but full. Heavy. Weighted by history you both hadn’t touched in over a decade.
He looked over at you. “What about you? Are you married…?”
But before he could finish, the teacher called your name. “Mrs. Kim? Roan’s mom?”
You stood too quickly. “I—yeah. That’s me.”
Changbin looked like he wanted to say more. You didn’t give him the chance. You stepped away, fast, and walked toward the front of the room where the teacher was smiling too brightly, talking about reading levels and handwriting improvement, and all you could think about was the fact that Changbin had been sitting beside you. That his wife passed away. That he had a daughter. That your son and his went to school together. That the past had just reinserted itself into your present like it had never left.
You answered the teacher’s questions. Nodded at the right times. Smiled when prompted. But it wasn’t real. None of it felt real.
When the meeting ended, the parents filtered out. Some lingered, chatting. You tried to leave quietly, but Changbin caught you by the exit.
“Hey,” he said, stepping in front of you. “Sorry if that was weird.”
You shook your head. “No. It’s okay. I just wasn’t expecting—”
“Me?”
You hesitated. “Any of this.”
He nodded. Looked down at his shoes for a second, then back up. “It’s weird being back here.”
“You moved back?”
“Few months ago. My parents are helping out with Yuna. I couldn’t do it alone anymore.”
You nodded. You understood that. In your own way, you were doing the same.
He hesitated. “So… are you okay?”
You wanted to lie. To say yes. But your voice cracked. Just barely.
“No,” you said, and that one word felt like a floodgate breaking.
He didn’t ask what happened. He didn’t push. Just looked at you like he saw right through all the walls you were barely holding up.
“You don’t have to tell me,” he said softly. “But if you ever want to… I’m around.”
You nodded. Bit your lip. Blinked fast.
Roan came up then, holding your hand. “Can we go home now?”
You ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, baby. Let’s go.”
Changbin smiled at Roan. “See you at school, buddy.”
Roan tilted his head. “Who’s that?”
You paused. “Just… an old friend.”
Roan nodded, accepting that. You started walking away. Changbin didn’t follow. But you could feel his gaze on your back all the way to the parking lot.
When you got home, your mom was waiting up.
“How’d it go?” she asked.
You shrugged. “Fine.”
She gave you a long look. “You sure?”
You nodded. Roan ran past you toward his makeshift bedroom that was once the guest room. Your mom smiled after him.
“Seungmin called earlier,” she said casually. “Said he was thinking of coming by this weekend.”
You froze. “Did he say why?”
She shrugged. “Said he misses you both. Wants to talk.”
You didn’t answer. You just went upstairs. You didn’t have the energy to tell her not to get her hopes up.
Later that night, when the house was quiet, you sat on your old bed, the divorce papers in your lap. Blank. Still unsigned.
You didn’t cry.
You just sat there, staring at them, while outside, the town you once left behind breathed quietly in the dark. Somewhere across it, Changbin was probably doing the same thing, navigating the ruins of what used to be, trying to find some kind of shape to rebuild from.
But you weren’t rebuilding. Not yet. You were just surviving.
And that had to be enough for now.
-
It had been a rough morning.
You barely slept the night before. Tossed and turned in the narrow bed, the blankets tangled around your legs, heart heavy in your chest like a rock that refused to dissolve. The silence of your parents’ house wasn’t comforting, it was deafening. And knowing that Seungmin might come by, might try to see you, that turned every breath into a burden. You didn’t want to see him. Not in this house, not in your childhood bedroom, not where everything already felt too small, too loud, too exposed.
You didn’t want to see him because you couldn’t trust yourself not to crack. Not in front of Roan. Not in front of your parents. Not when every part of you was still raw and bleeding.
And when you finally did fall asleep, maybe an hour or two at most, it was like sinking into darkness with your fists clenched.
You were pulled out of it by a light nudge at your arm. You stirred slowly, bleary-eyed, your first instinct assuming it was Roan, coming in to tell you he was ready for school.
But then you heard it, that voice.
Soft. Familiar. Too gentle.
“Hey,” he whispered, almost lovingly. “Baby, wake up.”
Your eyes snapped open like something inside you had been shocked awake. It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t your imagination.
It was Seungmin.
You jerked upright, heart hammering as you blinked the sleep from your eyes and looked at him, standing there in the pale morning light, like he had every right to be in this room, like the last few weeks hadn’t happened. His voice, the way he said your name, the way his fingers had brushed your arm, had sounded too much like before. Before everything.
Before he’d shattered you.
You opened your mouth to curse him, maybe. To scream, to demand why the hell he thought it was okay to come into this room, to look at you like nothing had changed.
But your mother’s voice came from the doorway before you could say a word.
You could’ve told her to leave. You could’ve asked for privacy.
But then you heard it. Roan’s voice. A sudden, thrilled cry from down the hallway.
“Dad?!”
You heard the thump of feet running on hardwood before Roan threw himself into Seungmin’s arms.
You watched it happen. You watched your son’s arms wrap tightly around his father’s neck, his face buried into his shoulder like he hadn’t slept in weeks without that exact kind of comfort.
“I missed you!” Roan mumbled against his chest, holding on like he never wanted to let go.
Seungmin was grinning, holding him close, swaying just a little, as if everything was fine.
“I missed you too, buddy,” he murmured, voice soft.
You felt your throat tighten. This was why it was so hard. This, the joy in your son’s voice, the love in his eyes, the complete adoration for a man who didn’t deserve either of you anymore. You couldn’t take that away from Roan. You wouldn’t. But it made your chest ache in that sick, hollow way, the ache of watching your own pain become invisible to the people you loved the most.
“Why don’t you go get ready for school?” you managed to say to Roan, gently. Carefully. “We’re leaving soon.”
Roan pulled back, nodded, and turned but not before Seungmin crouched down and said, “I’ll take you with Mom, okay? I’ll drive.”
Your heart skipped, something twisting deep in your stomach.
And of course, your mother jumped in again from the hallway. “That’s a great idea! The three of you. Just like before. You need this time. I’ll go finish breakfast. You two talk.”
Then she was gone.
You stood there in silence as Roan padded off, humming to himself, oblivious to the storm behind him.
Then it was just you and Seungmin.
You stood up slowly to close the door, your movements stiff, every muscle tense. He took a step forward, arms already open like he could hold you and fix everything with the same touch he once used to make you laugh, to calm you down, to convince you you were safe.
You stepped back. Immediately. Sharply.
His arms dropped.
“Are you serious right now?” you asked, your voice flat, brittle.
He sighed, like you were being difficult. “What, are you still on this?”
You blinked. Your mouth dropped open just slightly.
“Still on this,” you echoed, voice low. “You cheated on me.”
“It was a mistake,” he said quickly, as if that word made it smaller. “You left. You packed up and left, you took Roan—”
“I took him away from you?” you snapped. “You’re the one who ruined everything!”
His jaw tightened, and he ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “You’re being dramatic. You didn’t even let us work through it.”
You stared at him in disbelief. “Work through what? You slept with someone else. You lied to me. Repeatedly. And now you’re standing here, in my parents’ house, acting like I’m the problem because I won’t let you hug me?”
His voice lowered, sharper now. “You ripped our son away from his home. His school. His routine. You think that didn’t hurt him?”
You faltered because he was right, in some twisted way. Roan was hurting. You saw it in the quiet moments. In the way he didn’t ask about friends. In how he always looked to you first, like he was afraid something might shift again.
But you didn’t do that. Seungmin did. You left because you had to. Because staying meant breaking completely.
He reached for your hand. Gently. Like he always used to. Like those early years, before everything got heavy.
But you didn’t realize what he was doing until he stopped, eyes flicking down.
“You’re not wearing your ring.”
You pulled your hand back, slowly. “Of course I’m not.”
The silence between you was cold now. Thicker.
He didn’t let go of it, though, the guilt, the insinuation. “You think you’re the only one in pain?” he said softly. “You think I didn’t stay up every night after you left, thinking about Roan, about you, about what I—what we—could’ve fixed?”
“You should’ve thought about that before you started sleeping with your coworker,” you snapped. “Before you made me think I was going crazy. Before you stood in our kitchen and told me you still loved me after everything.”
He stepped back, but only slightly. “Because I do. I always have.”
The door knocked lightly. Your mother’s voice followed: “Breakfast’s ready! Seungmin, you’re welcome to stay, of course. Even a few days, if you want!”
Your heart seized.
You turned toward the door, ready to open it, to tell her no. That it was a terrible idea. That she didn’t know the truth, any of it.
But before you could say anything, Seungmin looked at you with that familiar, quiet smile. The one that used to charm your parents, used to make you feel like the most cherished person in the room.
“I’d love to,” he said loud enough for her to hear. “Let me just talk to my office. I can work remote for a bit.”
You could see it already, your mom beaming. Roan cheering. The quiet assumption that this was the beginning of a fix, not the deepening of the fracture.
Your fists clenched at your sides.
He was doing it again, weaving his way back in, without apology. Without accountability.
You stared at him, your voice caught somewhere between rage and heartbreak.
“This doesn’t change anything,” you said, your voice shaking. “You don’t get to just… move in and pretend we’re fine.”
He tilted his head. “But we could be. Eventually.”
And just like that, the cracks inside you deepened.
Because part of you wanted to believe it. Wanted to reach out and rewind time.
But another part, the part that remembered the nights you cried in silence, the lies, the hollow apologies, knew better.
The door creaked slightly, your mom’s voice warm and hopeful again: “Come eat before it gets cold!”
Seungmin brushed past you, opened the door, like he belonged there.
And you stood alone in your childhood bedroom, heart in pieces, knowing that the worst kind of betrayal wasn’t the one that came from an enemy.
It was the one that came wearing your husband’s smile.
Breakfast was unbearable.
Not because of the food, your mom, as always, had made more than enough: golden pancakes with just the right crisp on the edges, scrambled eggs, a fresh fruit bowl, and toast she always left slightly burnt because she knew your dad liked it that way. Everything smelled like comfort. Like childhood. Like home.
But the weight in the room made it all feel distant. Like you were watching a scene you didn’t belong in anymore.
Roan, on the other hand, was glowing.
He talked nonstop, bouncing in his seat as he told Seungmin every little detail about his new school from how his new teacher smiled a lot and had a frog-shaped pencil case, to how another kid in class had Pokémon stickers, to how he was trying to memorize the name of every student even if he couldn’t remember which of the twins was Ava and which was Emma.
“Ms. Lee said we might get to do a science experiment next week,” Roan grinned, syrup on the corner of his mouth. “And she said I’m a really good reader!”
Seungmin was nodding along, eyes bright with pride, one hand gently ruffling Roan’s hair.
“That’s my smart boy,” he said, voice warm. “You’re amazing.”
Your heart tightened. Not at the compliment, but at how seamless it was for him to just be here. At your kitchen table, in this house, pretending like he belonged again. Like he hadn’t destroyed something precious and just decided he could waltz back in and act like the glue was already drying.
Your parents were eating it up.
“I thought you were going to visit this weekend,” your mom said suddenly, taking a sip of coffee and glancing at Seungmin with a smile that felt far too affectionate. “What brought you down early?”
You didn’t even try to hide the way you rolled your eyes just a small, weary gesture, hoping no one would notice. But of course, Seungmin did.
He set his fork down gently and leaned back, giving the most concerned sigh he could muster. It was so calculated it made your skin crawl.
“She hasn’t been answering my texts,” he said, voice low. “Not about Roan. Not about… anything, really. I couldn’t sleep. I was worried something had happened. So I just got in the car and drove.”
You scoffed softly into your mug, shaking your head. Worried.
Your mother gasped like it was a scene out of a drama.
“Oh my god,” she breathed. “That’s so romantic.”
You looked at her, stunned. But she was already turning to your father, eyes sparkling.
“Isn’t that romantic? Driving all this way, just to check on her? That’s love, right there.”
You felt your stomach twist.
“It’s like I always say,” she continued, voice rising with that hopeful little lilt she used when she was narrating the story she wanted to believe. “Every couple goes through hard moments. That’s what makes a marriage strong, weathering the storms together. Don’t you think, honey?”
Your father nodded solemnly, like he was offering some sage wisdom. “I’m just glad you’re here, Seungmin.”
“Thank you,” Seungmin said quietly, giving your dad a respectful smile. “And thank you, really, for breakfast. It’s… it’s good to be here.”
You didn’t miss the glance he threw your way as he said it.
Like he was laying it on, just enough to keep the illusion going.
You clenched your jaw, pushing your barely touched plate a little to the side.
You’d had enough.
Roan was still mid-sentence, telling Seungmin about how there was a garden outside his classroom and the teacher let them pick mint leaves to smell, when you stood abruptly, your chair scraping back against the floor.
“You’re going to be late, Ro,” you said, already walking around the table. “Get your stuff. Shoes, backpack. Let’s go.”
Your voice was firm. Not sharp, but final. The kind of tone Roan knew meant not to argue.
“Okay!” he said, popping the last strawberry into his mouth before hopping off the chair.
Seungmin stood as well, grabbing his coat from the back of the chair, still holding that calm, casual air like he wasn’t carefully engineering a performance.
“I’ll be in the car,” he said, smiling at your parents. “Thanks again for everything. I’ll be back after drop-off,”
You froze.
You wanted to say no. To say he wouldn’t be. To explain that your mother’s hospitality wasn’t a free pass for him to pretend the last weeks of your life hadn’t just collapsed in on themselves.
But you felt your mom’s hand on your shoulder as she passed you to start clearing plates, and you couldn’t.
You didn’t have the energy.
So instead, you just walked. Quietly. Past your father still sipping coffee. Past Seungmin, who followed behind you like nothing was wrong.
Out of the room. Out of the comfort. Into the chill of a mid-morning that felt far too bright for how heavy you were inside.
-
By the time Roan had his shoes on and his little arms were shrugging into his backpack, Seungmin was already in the driver’s seat of the car, fiddling with the mirror like this was his routine. Like you were just an accessory to it all.
You opened the door and slid into the passenger seat, not looking at him.
Roan climbed into the back and buckled himself in, already humming some melody he’d picked up from a show. Oblivious. Happy.
You hated how hard that made everything.
Seungmin started the car. Silence sat between you like an unwanted guest.
You stared out the window, jaw tight, hand fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve the way you always did when you were overwhelmed.
“You still do that,” Seungmin said softly, glancing at you. “That little fidget thing with your sleeve.”
You didn’t respond.
He let out a soft breath and turned his eyes back to the road.
“I just want to talk,” he said, voice lower now, just for you. “After we drop him off. Just… please.”
You still didn’t answer.
Because the truth was, you weren’t sure you had anything left to say.
And yet, you knew as the school building came into view, as Roan waved goodbye and ran up the steps that you'd be forced to speak to him.
And you'd have to face the wreckage of everything he'd broken… with no one left to protect you from it.
-
The ride back from Roan’s school was quieter than the one there.
Not in the peaceful, comfortable way quiet sometimes is but heavy, thick, like the air had turned to smoke. You kept your eyes on the road ahead, even though Seungmin was the one driving. You didn’t speak. You didn’t look at him.
And he didn’t say anything at first either. Like he was waiting, testing how long he could sit in your silence before cracking it open.
The school faded behind you. The morning light had warmed into late morning, hazy and humid, the trees lining the side streets full of buzzing cicadas. You wanted to disappear into the sound. Dissolve.
When he finally spoke, his voice was too soft. Too rehearsed.
“You’re really going to let everything go, just like that?”
You didn’t respond. Your gaze stayed fixed out the window, watching a woman walk her dog past a florist you used to visit with your mom. Everything about this place was stitched into your childhood, and now it felt like a cage.
“You’re not even going to try?” Seungmin said again, more firmly this time. “After everything we’ve built together?”
That made you laugh dry and bitter.
“Built?” you muttered. “We didn’t build anything. You bulldozed it.”
He gripped the wheel tighter. You could see the white of his knuckles.
“Come on,” he said, glancing at you. “Don’t let all these years just go to waste because of this—this thing.”
You turned slowly. Looked at him. Really looked at him.
“This thing?” you repeated, voice dangerously low. “You mean you sleeping with someone else?”
His jaw clenched. “You always twist things—”
“I always—?”
“Roan’s hurting,” he cut in. “And you don’t even see it. You moved him two hours away from home. From me. From everything he knows. And for what? A fight?”
Your eyes widened. Your mouth opened, then shut, then opened again because you were too stunned to even choose the right reaction.
“It wasn’t a fight, Seungmin. You cheated. You lied. You broke every ounce of trust I gave you, and now you’re sitting here calling it a fight?”
He turned into your parents’ driveway too fast, jerking the car slightly. His voice raised for the first time, sharp and impatient.
“Get over it already! You’re acting like I murdered someone!”
You stared at him, breathing hard, heart beating like a drum in your throat.
“You should’ve never come back.”
Your voice wasn’t loud. It was quiet. Dead cold.
You got out of the car before he could say anything else.
You didn’t slam the door. You didn’t scream. You just walked back into the house like you’d walked into a burning building because at least then you could pretend the smoke choking you was from fire and not from everything else he’d left behind.
-
You didn’t speak to him for the rest of the day.
Not when you passed in the hallway. Not when Roan asked the three of you to play Uno together and you politely declined. Not when your mother insisted on putting Seungmin’s favorite tea in front of him at dinner and asked, with a too-bright smile, how he liked working at the firm now.
You didn’t speak when your father nodded along like a quiet referee, reading the air and choosing silence. You didn’t speak when Roan leaned on his father’s shoulder while watching cartoons, clearly desperate for things to feel normal again.
You only spoke to Roan. And even then, your voice was gentler than it usually was, like you were trying not to let any bitterness bleed through. You didn’t want him to absorb it. He was seven. He deserved peace. He didn’t ask for any of this.
The sun went down slow, casting a warm gold through your old bedroom window. You’d cleaned the space up a little, stacked a few of your old books on the nightstand, put a photo of Roan in a small frame. You were brushing your hair in front of the vanity, watching the soft reflection of yourself, looking more exhausted than you’d ever allowed yourself to admit.
You didn’t hear her at first.
Your mother’s knock was light, almost timid, as if sensing the tension even through the closed door. She was standing there in her robe, a small stack of folded blankets cradled against her chest, her eyes warm.
“Is Roan asleep?” she asked, already stepping halfway into the room.
Seungmin, who had been sitting silently on the edge of the bed scrolling through his phone answered first.
“Just checked on him. Out like a light.”
Your mother beamed. “He looked so happy today. I think seeing you really lifted his mood,” she said, directing the comment at Seungmin.
You rolled your eyes and looked back at your reflection, brushing slowly, carefully, ignoring them.
“I brought a few extra blankets,” your mom said, walking over to the foot of the bed. “It’s supposed to get cold tonight.”
You didn’t answer. Just kept brushing.
But then she added, breezily, “Thought you two might want them, since you’ll be sharing the bed tonight.”
The brush stilled in your hand.
Your reflection didn’t blink.
You turned your head slightly, unsure if you heard her correctly. “What?”
“Just like old times,” she went on, either not noticing your reaction or choosing to ignore it. “The bed’s plenty big. I know it’s been a hard few weeks, but maybe some closeness would help.”
You opened your mouth to speak to correct her, to set the record straight, but Seungmin spoke first.
“Thank you,” he said smoothly, before you could even draw breath. “That’s really kind of you.”
Your jaw dropped slightly. You turned, eyes burning into him.
Your mother just smiled. “Of course, honey. Goodnight, both of you.”
She left. Just like that. Blankets at the foot of the bed, hopeful energy lingering in the air like cheap perfume.
The door clicked softly behind her.
You turned to him. “Why the hell would you say yes to that?”
Seungmin shrugged, like it was nothing. “I didn’t want to make it weird.”
You laughed once, sharp and humorless. “It’s already weird, Seungmin.”
He didn’t answer. Just pulled one of the blankets over his lap and leaned back against the headboard, like he hadn’t just signed himself into your space for the night.
You stared at him, heart pounding, fingers still tangled in your brush handle.
The air between you was thicker now, like every truth you couldn’t say had taken physical form and was slowly filling the room.
You turned away, back to the mirror, and continued brushing slowly, methodically because it was the only thing you could do that didn’t feel like drowning.
And behind you, in the reflection, Seungmin sat in silence.
Still acting like this wasn’t a nightmare of his own making.
You slept on the edge of the bed like you were afraid the mattress might betray you, lying stiff and still, your spine nearly aligned with the seam of the bed’s edge. The line between you and Seungmin was vast, even if physically it was only a few feet. You felt every inch of it.
The silence stretched.
There was no comfort in the dark, only the constant, low hum of your thoughts. You could hear the subtle sounds of the house, the creak of pipes, a faint breeze against the windowpane, the occasional scuff of a car passing by too late into the night. Roan’s soft breathing from the next room.
And then, from the other side of the bed, Seungmin’s voice.
“I’ll stay on my side,” he said softly, like it was some olive branch. “I’m not trying to make things worse.”
You didn’t answer. Your hand was curled near your chest, tangled in the fabric of the blanket.
So here you were.
Lying inches from a man you no longer recognized, in a room that used to belong to someone you no longer were.
He didn’t speak again.
Eventually, you turned your back to him. Not because it helped, but because it was the only direction you could face without breaking.
You woke before your alarm.
Roan was already moving in the next room, his usual morning rustling of trying to pick an outfit, deciding which Pokémon socks were lucky, which book he wanted to bring in his backpack. He called your name once and you responded quickly, happy for the excuse to leave the room.
You slipped out of bed carefully, barely glancing at the other side.
Seungmin was still asleep, or at least pretending to be.
You didn’t care.
Downstairs, the smell of toast and eggs filled the kitchen again, your mom moving around like she had a thousand good intentions tucked into her apron. She smiled at you like nothing was wrong.
You could feel your chest tighten.
“I was thinking,” she said, flipping something on the stove, “you two should take Roan to the park after school. You know, spend a little time as a family. He looked so happy yesterday.”
You shook your head almost immediately. “I can’t. I have an appointment.”
“An appointment?” she asked, turning her head. “For what?”
“Just… something I scheduled a while ago,” you lied. “It’s nothing big, just something I have to do.”
She nodded, still smiling. “Okay, well maybe tomorrow, then.”
You didn’t answer. Instead, you poured Roan a cup of juice and distracted yourself with folding his lunch napkin.
“Also,” you added, casually, “I’ll take Roan to school today. Alone.”
She looked at you, blinking. “Oh?”
“Seungmin probably has work to catch up on,” you said, smoothly now. “Emails, meetings, all of it. He shouldn’t miss any more days than he already has.”
There was a pause. Barely half a beat, but it said everything. Your mother wanted to say something, something hopeful, something intrusive, but Seungmin had just walked into the room, ruffling Roan’s hair.
You kept your expression neutral.
“I told Mom I’d take Roan this morning,” you said to him directly, watching his reaction. “You probably have work.”
He opened his mouth, hesitating ready to argue. You could see it. But then he caught your look.
Tired. Unshakable. Empty.
He sighed and relented.
“Yeah. I’ve got a few emails to catch up on. Go ahead.”
Roan didn’t protest. He was too busy trying to zip his backpack and carry his lunchbox at the same time.
But on the drive to school, it surfaced.
“I like it when Dad drives me,” Roan said, swinging his legs in the seat. “He talks to me about music and lets me pick the songs.”
You gripped the steering wheel tighter but didn’t respond.
“I wish both of you took me to school,” he said after a moment. “Like yesterday.”
You reached for his hand at the red light. Squeezed it gently.
“I know, baby.”
It was all you could say.
At the school, you walked him up to the entrance, your hand resting lightly on his shoulder. You hugged him tighter than usual too tight, probably, but he didn’t complain. He just laughed and wrapped his arms around your neck.
“I’ll be good,” he said brightly.
“I know you will.”
He waved once, twice, and then he disappeared through the front doors.
You hadn’t even fully turned around when you walked straight into someone, solid and warm and familiar.
You let out a startled yelp, stumbling slightly.
A deep, amused laugh.
“Oh gosh,” you breathed, hand clutching your chest. “Are you serious?”
Changbin grinned down at you, eyes crinkling with laughter.
“You should’ve seen your face,” he said, still chuckling. “I think I might’ve scared you half to death.”
You lightly smacked his chest. “You did! Are you stalking me?”
“Only mildly,” he teased. “Nah, I just drop off Yuna a little later on Wednesdays. Lucky me.”
You rolled your eyes, still smiling despite yourself. The sharp edge in your chest softened for the first time that day.
He looked good. The same, and not the same. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, exposing the faint veins of his forearms, and he had that same relaxed, easygoing charm that used to be your undoing when you were seventeen.
He looked like a breath you’d forgotten how to take.
“I’ve been meaning to see you again,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “Didn’t get your number at the school meeting. I wasn’t sure if you were avoiding me or just busy.”
“Maybe a little of both,” you said honestly, folding your arms but not stepping away.
He smiled again, this time softer.
“Look,” he said, tilting his head slightly, “I don’t want to make anything weird. I just thought it’d be nice to catch up. You know — talk. Laugh. Drink something stronger than school cafeteria coffee. My treat, obviously.”
You hesitated, lips parting, unsure what to say.
Because you hadn’t laughed genuinely laughed in weeks. Because you hadn’t had anyone look at you like you in even longer. Because part of you hated how much that brief moment the banter, the touch, the easiness made something flutter low in your stomach.
“Coffee?” he added, sensing your hesitation. “Or food. I know a great place just off Main. I’m flexible. Just say the word.”
You looked at him, still smiling at you like there wasn’t a single crack in your armor he couldn’t see and wouldn’t touch unless you let him.
Something in you shifted.
“I’ll think about it,” you said quietly.
He nodded, backing up slowly with both hands raised. “That’s all I’m asking.”
And then he winked.
“See you around, heartbreaker.”
You didn’t walk any farther.
You’d barely made it halfway across the school parking lot when the thought hit you like a brick to the chest, the image of your front door waiting to open to more of the same. Your mother’s voice sweet and persistent, urging you to see the good in your marriage, like the betrayal was just a lapse in Seungmin’s character, not a rupture in yours. Seungmin’s voice, too, soft and heavy and manipulative pulling on history and guilt and the shared weight of Roan’s little heart like it was enough to glue together something already cracked beyond recognition.
You couldn’t do it. Not this morning.
Your hands were trembling not from fear, but from the tiredness of having to hold everything together all the time. Of being careful. Measured. Quiet.
So you turned around. Fast.
You spotted him just in time Changbin was a few steps ahead, walking down the sidewalk toward what seemed to be his car, his stride relaxed. He hadn't noticed you yet.
“Changbin!” you called out, a little breathless, your voice slicing through the low hum of early morning traffic.
He turned.
His brows lifted at the sight of you jogging slightly toward him, something like concern flashing in his face for a moment, until you caught up, and he saw your expression: flushed from decision, not panic.
“Everything okay?” he asked gently, but not intrusively.
You took a breath. Then another.
“Do you have time now?” you asked, voice lower this time. “To… get that coffee. Or food. Or whatever you offered. I just—” you paused, looking away. “I don’t really want to go home yet.”
He didn’t ask any questions.
No why, no what's going on, no are you okay.
Instead, he just smiled. A little crooked, a little soft. Familiar.
“Yeah,” he said simply. “I’ve got time.”
He pointed at his car, a black, slightly beat-up sedan in the corner of the lot, the kind of vehicle that had seen long nights and longer road trips, mismatched air fresheners and glove compartments filled with half-written lyrics.
“I’ll drive?”
You felt something ease inside your chest as you smiled back. “Okay.”
You slipped into the passenger seat, tugging the seatbelt across your lap with a click. He tossed his backpack into the back seat before climbing in beside you, one hand on the wheel, the other adjusting the AC vent. He turned to you as he started the engine.
“So,” he asked, “want to try that new place I mentioned? Or…”
You hesitated.
There was something about this moment, something tender and loose and unfamiliar in its comfort. You stared out the window for a beat, then turned to him.
“Do you remember that diner we used to go to?” you asked. “The one near the overpass? We used to ditch class and get pancakes.”
His face lit up. “With the cracked jukebox and the chalkboard menus? That place?”
You nodded, the corner of your mouth twitching into the smallest smile. “Yeah. That one.”
His eyes softened. “I haven’t been there in forever. Still smells like syrup and fryer grease and bad decisions, probably.”
You laughed, and it surprised you how natural it sounded. How easy.
“That’s where I want to go,” you said.
“You got it,” he replied, throwing the car into drive. “Nostalgia breakfast. Coming right up.”
He winked at you, and this time, you let the flutter in your stomach stay.
-
The bell above the door chimed gently as you both stepped into the diner, the soft smell of syrup and coffee wrapping around you like an old blanket. It was still there, that same sticky warmth, the gentle hum of classic rock spilling faintly from the speakers, and the low murmur of early patrons with their morning mugs and newspapers.
You both slid into a booth near the back, the one that curved along the window, the same one you used to claim every time you skipped class and wanted to pretend you were older than sixteen. Changbin sat across from you, his hands still calloused but somehow gentle-looking as he grabbed a menu he probably didn’t need.
You didn’t need one either.
“It smells the same,” you muttered, eyes scanning the room. “Like grease and… rebellion.”
Changbin laughed. “And questionable hygiene.”
You laughed with him, the sound coming easily now. Lighter.
A waitress came by familiar face, maybe a little older than you both, her name tag crooked and took your orders without fuss. Two coffees, two plates of pancakes, a side of bacon for him, fruit for you, like muscle memory.
After she left, Changbin leaned back against the booth, stretching his arm across the back like he used to when you were younger though now, he wasn’t trying to flirt. Just relax. Be.
“I still can’t believe that was actually you,” he said, shaking his head. “Like, at the school. If it wasn’t you, and I said something stupid like ‘you still do that fidgety hand thing,’ I would’ve had to change my name and leave town.”
You snorted into your coffee. “Would’ve been hilarious though.”
“I don’t think my ego could’ve taken it,” he teased, grinning.
You took a sip of coffee, watching him as he stared out the window for a second. The sun hit just right, the gold catching on the edge of his jaw, in the little crow’s feet near his eyes, the slight exhaustion in his frame. Life had happened to him, clearly. It had happened to you too. But in this booth, it felt like the world slowed down.
You ended up talking about high school. Not the painful parts, not yet, but the funny, absurd pieces. The time you both got caught making out behind the gym during prom. The time you threw a soda can at someone’s car because they catcalled you and Changbin wanted to defend your honor. The camping trip where you two shared a blanket and he screamed at a raccoon in the middle of the night.
“That raccoon was at least 30 pounds,” he insisted.
“It was five, tops.”
“It had rabies in its eyes.”
You laughed again. A real, full laugh.
He was halfway through his second pancake, slicing through the stack with syrup-covered enthusiasm, when he suddenly froze. His fork hovered in midair, dripping slightly.
“Oh my god,” he said through a mouthful. “I just remembered something.”
You raised an eyebrow. “This could go in so many directions.”
“No, no, listen,” he said, swallowing his bite dramatically. “Do you remember… Seungmin?”
Your heart stilled. Like it had tripped over itself and forgot how to keep beating for just a moment.
“Kim Seungmin.”
Of course you remembered. Of course you did.
But Changbin didn’t know. He had no idea.
You stiffened slightly. “Yeah…” you said cautiously. “I remember.”
He didn’t notice the way your fingers curled around your cup, the way you leaned just slightly back, preparing for the hit.
“Geez,” he muttered with a grin, shaking his head. “I hated that guy.”
Your head snapped up.
“I was so jealous back then,” he continued, chuckling. “Everyone knew Seungmin had the biggest crush on you. Dude would always hang around after classes, try to sit near you, act like you and I weren’t even dating. Like… you were just this free agent waiting for someone better.”
He laughed a little bitterly at the memory, like it didn’t actually sting anymore, just existed.
“I mean, I get it,” he added. “You were… you. You were always so bright. People wanted to be around you. I didn’t blame him. I just wanted to punch him.”
You finally breathed. A slow, careful breath. It was now or never.
“Changbin,” you said quietly.
He looked up.
You hesitated for only a beat. Then:
“Seungmin is my husband.”
The fork in his hand froze. Slowly, he set it down.
He blinked.
Once. Twice.
“You’re serious?” he asked, voice lower.
You nodded. “Yeah.”
He sat back, visibly trying to process. “You… married him?”
You didn’t answer with words at first. Just gave him a look that said, Yes. It's as complicated as it sounds.
And maybe because this was Changbin, and he knew you too well, he didn’t laugh. Didn’t react with some big dramatic sigh or over-the-top comment.
He just let out a quiet, “Wow.”
You looked down at your plate, picked at a strawberry.
“After you left,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “I was in a bad place. I think you knew that. And he… he stayed. He was always there. At first just a friend, then someone who made me laugh again. It wasn’t sudden. It wasn’t even romantic at first. I just… I needed someone. And he was there.”
You glanced at him, trying to gauge his expression. It was unreadable, his lips slightly parted, brows furrowed in that faint way they always did when he was really listening.
“We ended up going to the same college,” you continued. “Out of town. Different majors, but… he stuck around. And somewhere between trying to get over you and trying to survive being on my own, I fell in love with him.”
You looked down again. Your voice cracked slightly. “We got married after college. Roan came a year later.”
For a long moment, neither of you said anything.
Then Changbin let out a soft breath and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table.
“Can I say something?”
You nodded.
“I’m not mad,” he said gently. “I don’t have a right to be. I left. I hurt you. And Seungmin… I guess he didn’t.”
You looked at him. “He did. Just… not right away.”
Understanding flickered across his face.
You didn’t need to explain more. Not yet.
“He cheated,” you whispered.
Changbin’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t speak.
You laughed bitterly. “Everyone thinks we’re just going through a phase. A rough patch. My parents love him. Roan loves him. And I’m the only one who knows the truth. And now you.”
He stared at you, like he was searching for something in your eyes.
“I don’t know what to say,” he admitted, after a pause.
“I don’t need you to say anything,” you said, voice small.
“But I want to,” he said.
You looked at him.
“I want to be here,” he said simply. “Even if it’s just as someone who listens.”
You smiled a slow, aching thing. “Thank you.”
And for the first time in a long, long time maybe since before everything shattered, you felt like someone really saw you.
Not as Seungmin’s wife. Not just Roan’s mother.
Just you.
And it felt like hope.
-
By the time the soft clinking of cutlery had dwindled, and the hush of the post-rush lull settled over the diner, you noticed the waitress throwing not-so-subtle glances your way. Her polite smile was stretched thin now, the kind of weary look that screamed, You two have been here way too long, please let me clean your table and go home at a decent hour.
Changbin caught it too, offering a sheepish laugh as he polished off the last sip of his now lukewarm coffee. “I think we’re being evicted.”
You sighed, smiling reluctantly. “Feels like old times. Except now we’re overstaying because of emotional baggage instead of teenage hormones.”
He grinned. “Emotional baggage is way more interesting.”
You reached into your bag for your wallet, reflexive and automatic. “Let me at least get half —”
He was already sliding his card across the table to the waitress, not even looking your way. “Don’t start. I invited you.”
“No, but—”
“I said I wanted to treat you.” He smirked, leaning back with exaggerated smugness. “You can get the next one.”
You narrowed your eyes. “You just want me to feel obligated to see you again.”
He didn’t miss a beat. “Exactly.”
You stared at him. A beat passed. Then you chuckled, the sound quiet and honest.
Outside, the light had softened into that almost-golden afternoon hue, the kind that makes everything look washed in nostalgia. When you stepped out of the diner and into the sunlight, you blinked against it, stretching your arms above your head with a groan that came from deep in your chest. Changbin walked beside you, keys twirling between his fingers.
It wasn’t until you were halfway to the school, laughter still lingering in your chest from some half-told story about his failed attempt at teaching Yuna how to ride a bike that you realized the time.
“Oh shit,” you gasped, sitting upright in the passenger seat. “It’s pickup time. Like right now pickup time.”
Changbin’s eyes widened. “You said it was later!”
“I thought it was!” you said, quickly grabbing your phone and checking the clock. “I didn’t realize we’d been sitting there for five hours! You were too interesting.”
He grinned. “Flattered.”
“You shouldn’t be,” you snapped, panicked, swatting his arm. “Drive!”
He did. Fast enough to make it right as the trickle of students began flooding out the school gates, colorful backpacks bouncing, parents chatting in clusters by the sidewalk. You both barely made it out of the car when familiar voices caught your attention.
“Mom!”
You turned just in time to see Roan running toward you cheeks flushed, his bag half zipped and bouncing against his back. His hair stuck to his forehead from play, and his voice cracked with excitement.
Right behind him, Yuna’s squeal echoed as she launched herself at Changbin, who caught her with ease, laughing as he staggered slightly from the force of her affection.
Roan flung his arms around your waist, and you caught him, bending slightly to hug him properly.
“Hey, baby,” you said, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “How was school?”
“I drew a frog with wings!” he announced proudly. “And Ms. Lee said it was very imaginative.”
“Of course she did,” you laughed. “That sounds very… avant-garde.”
He nodded solemnly, then tilted his head. “Where’s dad?”
The question hit you like a soft thud. Not painful. But heavy.
You hesitated for half a second before answering, “He’s at home. He had work.”
Roan frowned slightly but didn’t say more. He leaned into your side, rubbing his eyes with a little yawn.
“Hey,” Changbin’s voice came from behind you, softer now. “Thanks for today. It really… meant a lot.”
You turned around, finding him with Yuna still perched on his hip, her arms looped around his neck as she played with the ends of his hair. Her small eyes fluttered sleepily.
“I should be thanking you,” you said, adjusting Roan’s backpack on your shoulder. “I really needed to… not be home for a while.”
He watched you carefully, his face gentling. “You didn’t have to explain.”
You smiled weakly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Still.”
There was a pause. A tiny, breath-held moment.
“I didn’t get your number,” he said suddenly, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his phone. “And if I don’t ask now, I’ll probably regret it for another ten years.”
You laughed under your breath. “Smooth.”
He passed you the phone, and you typed in your number, pausing only once before hitting save under your name.
“Done,” you said.
He smiled this time, quieter. “Maybe next time… drinks? A real dinner? My treat, again. Unless you really want to fight me over the bill.”
You snorted. “Oh, I will.”
“I’m counting on it.”
And then Roan tugged at your hand, murmuring that he was tired and wanted to go home. You nodded, your heart heavy again but full in a different way now.
Changbin and Yuna waved as you started walking toward your car, and Roan ever the polite boy waved back, yelling a cheerful, “Bye, Yuna! Bye Yuna’s Dad!”
Yuna waved so hard her ponytail bobbed with the motion. “Bye Roan! Bye Roan’s Mom!”
You paused at that, warmth spreading in your chest despite yourself. You looked back just once.
Changbin was still watching you. Not staring. Just… present.
And for the first time in a while, you didn’t feel like you were walking alone.
-
You smiled the entire ride home. Not a loud, ecstatic grin, but that quiet, involuntary kind of smile, the one that lingers at the corners of your lips long after a warm memory. Changbin had made you laugh today, not just once, but more times than you could count. Honest laughter, too the kind that didn't feel forced or coated in guilt. For a little while, it was easy to forget how heavy everything else was. It was easier to feel like yourself again.
But the moment your front door creaked open, reality swept back in like a bitter wind.
The sound hit first: low murmuring, the subtle clink of bottles, a laugh that didn't belong to you. It was Seungmin’s, quiet, practiced. Familiar. Too familiar. Then your father's gruff voice, amused and relaxed in a way that made your skin prickle. As you stepped inside, the weight came crashing down again.
There, in the living room, Seungmin sat next to your father both of them holding beers, the kind your dad only pulled out when he was feeling particularly welcoming. Seungmin's sleeves rolled up in a way that once made you feel comforted. Now it made your stomach turn.
Your mother was curled up in her armchair with a book resting open on her lap. She looked up the second you stepped in, her eyes lighting up like she'd just spotted good news walking through the door.
“There you are!” she chirped, her voice far too cheerful for how tight your chest had suddenly become. “Where were you? Seungmin’s been so worried. He was about to go out and look for you.”
The mention of his name, that carefully woven narrative of him being “worried,” instantly soured your mood. You hadn’t texted. You hadn’t wanted to. You’d had one afternoon, just one, where you could breathe without his voice tugging at your every memory, and now you were being pulled right back under the water.
Roan ran past you before you could say a word. “Dad!” he squealed, flinging himself into Seungmin’s arms with no hesitation. “I drew a frog with wings today and Ms. Lee loved it!”
You stood frozen in the entryway, your smile long gone now, watching Seungmin smile as he ruffled Roan’s hair, responding with a soft, “Of course she did, bud. That’s awesome.”
Your mom turned to you again, brows lifting. “Honey? You alright? Why didn’t you come home after drop-off?”
You felt the muscles in your jaw tighten. The question felt too pointed, too soon. You hadn’t even set down your keys yet. Your pulse rose with the sudden sensation of being cornered.
“I just… needed some air,” you said flatly. “Ran some errands. Got a headache.”
“Oh no,” your mom said, eyes full of concern now. “You should rest. You look pale.”
You nodded. “Yeah. I think I will. I’m going to lie down.”
There was no room for more conversation. You turned on your heel, making a beeline for your room, practically choking on the tightness in your throat. The moment you were inside, you shut the door behind you not hard, but firm. It wasn’t a slam. It was a boundary.
You slipped off your shoes and collapsed onto your bed without turning on the light. You lay on your side, staring blankly at the wall, your back to the door. You hadn’t even bothered to change clothes. The ache in your chest had returned, dull and gnawing, the contrast between now and the afternoon with Changbin cutting deep.
You heard the knock a few minutes later. Not loud just a gentle knock, followed by the door creaking open.
Of course. It was him.
“Hey,” Seungmin’s voice was soft. Carefully rehearsed. He closed the door behind him, and you could feel his eyes trying to find you in the dim room.
You didn’t move.
“Heard you weren’t feeling well,” he added, as if that excused the way he came in uninvited. “I just wanted to check.”
Still, you said nothing. You didn’t need to. The silence was thick enough.
“Where were you?” he finally asked, the first question that wasn’t wrapped in false concern. Just a little more pointed. A little less kind.
You still didn’t answer. You stayed on your side, back to him. Your arm folded under your head, breath steady. But he knew you weren’t sleeping.
A sigh. A pause. The shift of the mattress behind you as he stepped closer, probably expecting some sort of response, a confrontation, anything.
“Look,” he began, his voice tightening. “I’m just trying to talk. You can’t keep shutting me out like this.”
Still nothing. You stared at the wall, heart slowly rising into your throat again. If you opened your mouth, you might say something too honest. Too cruel.
Seungmin sighed again, louder this time. “So this is it? This is how we’re going to do this now?”
You turned slowly, finally, to face him. Your voice was quiet, but it was hard-edged. “How we’re going to do this? You don’t get to walk in here and pretend like we’re on the same team.”
His jaw tensed. “I’ve been trying. You’re the one who left.”
You sat up, your hands trembling in your lap. “You cheated.”
His eyes flashed with something guilt, maybe, or frustration. “We had a fight. We were already falling apart.”
You flinched. “And your solution to that was to sleep with your coworker?”
“That’s not fair—”
“No, Seungmin,” you cut him off, your voice rising, “What’s not fair is you coming here, acting like you’re some loving husband, winning my parents over, making them think this is just a bump in the road. You know what you're doing.”
“You didn’t correct them either,” he shot back. “You’re letting them believe it too.”
You hated how easily he turned the blame. How calm he tried to stay when you were crumbling. It made you feel insane like you were the one unraveling in a perfectly tidy room.
“You should’ve never come,” you muttered, standing now, pacing. “I told you not to. I told you this isn’t your home anymore.”
He looked at you with a wounded kind of disbelief. “You’re really willing to throw away years because of one mistake?”
“One mistake?” you scoffed, incredulous. “That’s how you talk about it? You made me feel like I was crazy, Seungmin. You came home late, you lied to my face for months. And then you had the audacity to tell me you still loved me after. What kind of love is that?”
“I do love you,” he said softly, almost defeated.
And for a moment, the smallest flicker you saw the man you had once believed in. The one who held your hand in college hallways, who fell asleep with his head on your stomach as you read aloud your thesis. The man who cried in the hospital when Roan was born.
But that man cheated. That man let you cry alone the night you packed your bags. That man chose himself when you needed him the most.
“I can’t do this,” you whispered. “Not right now.”
He nodded, reluctantly stepping back, but he didn’t leave without the final blow.
“Roan misses you. The you we used to be. Just… think about him before you throw everything away.”
He didn’t wait for an answer. He slipped out the door and closed it gently behind him.
You sat on the edge of the bed long after he left, the ache crawling back into your chest like it had never left.
The only lightness in your body now was the faint echo of laughter in a diner booth. A brief moment where you didn’t feel like a wife. Or an ex-wife. Or a disappointment.
Just a woman. Who used to love pancakes. Who used to skip class. Who used to dream.
And maybe, just maybe was learning how to again.
You liked taking Roan to school. It was the one part of the day that still felt soft, simple. His tiny hand in yours, the way he talked the entire way about his drawings, or what he thought the cafeteria would serve for lunch today. It helped you start the morning with something solid, something good before the noise of your fractured reality crept back in.
Today, you made sure he got into class okay, even lingered longer than usual near the door as he turned to wave at you. You waved back, a small smile tugging at your lips.
And then you felt a poke.
Right at your side.
You jumped so hard you let out a yelp, loud enough that a few parents turned to look and immediately whipped around to find the only person who’d have the audacity to poke you like that.
Changbin.
You immediately slapped his chest with a hand, playfully but firm. “You really have to stop doing that,” you huffed, glaring at him.
He was already laughing, loud and shameless. “I live for it. You should see your face—every time!”
You rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you.
He fell into step beside you as you started walking away from the school gates.
“I didn’t realize you walked here,” he said after a few beats, glancing around the sidewalk like he was piecing it together.
“Yeah. Just needed the air.”
“Need a ride back?” he asked, casual, like it wasn’t already obvious that’s what he was going to offer.
You let out a quiet sigh through your nose. “You’re relentless.”
He grinned. “That’s a yes.”
And it was.
You followed him to his car, sliding into the passenger seat like you had yesterday only this time, it felt less like a spontaneous escape and more like… routine. Something easy. Something welcome.
The ride home was quiet at first, not awkward, just easy like neither of you felt the need to fill the space. But halfway there, he spoke.
“You know,” he began, eyes on the road, “you can talk to me. Anytime. About anything. You don’t have to, obviously. But just… I’m around.”
You turned your head slightly, watching his profile. The curve of his jaw. The soft worry at the corner of his mouth.
“I know,” you said, quietly. “Thank you.”
He nodded once but didn’t look at you. “I don’t know what happened with you and… him. I’m not prying. But I can see it in your eyes. You’re tired.”
There was no judgment in his voice. Just quiet, heartfelt observation.
Your throat tightened at that. Because he wasn’t wrong. You were tired. Tired in your bones. Tired in your mind. Tired of pretending.
You turned toward the window, blinking fast. “I am.”
He didn’t press for more. Just drove.
You were already nearing your neighborhood when he let out a soft laugh and said, “Do your parents still hate me?”
You looked at him sharply, surprised, and then laughed, really laughed for the first time since the diner.
“Oh,” you said between giggles. “You remember that?”
“How could I forget? Your dad used to literally grunt when I came over. I thought he was going to bury me in the backyard.”
“To be fair,” you said, covering your smile with your hand, “you did sneak into my room at 2 AM and set off the fire alarm trying to microwave nachos.”
He shrugged. “Worth it. Those nachos were killer.”
You shook your head, still laughing. “Don’t take it personal. They were overprotective. I was their only kid.”
“I’m not taking it personal,” he said, mock offended. “But do they still hate me?”
You gave that some real thought, chewing the inside of your cheek.
“I don’t think so,” you said. “Honestly, I think they barely remember. You’re ancient history.”
“Ouch,” he gasped. “And here I thought I left a lasting impression.”
“You left a mess in my kitchen, not an impression,” you teased.
He was still chuckling when he glanced at you and asked, “Do they like Seungmin?”
Your smile faded slightly, but it stayed on your face out of habit.
“Yeah,” you said, trying to make it sound lighter than it felt. “They… treat him like he’s their own son.”
He looked genuinely scandalized. “Seriously?”
You laughed again, shaking your head. “Don’t take that personal either.”
But it lingered, that realization. That your parents had accepted Seungmin with open arms in ways they never had with anyone else. In some ways, it made everything harder.
You were still thinking about it when he pulled into your driveway.
As he parked, he turned to you with a grin. “Don’t forget. You still owe me drinks.”
You groaned. “Right. You’re never going to let that go, are you?”
“Nope. I’m petty.”
You were still laughing when you unbuckled and stepped out of the car… only for your breath to catch in your throat the moment you saw who was standing on the porch.
Seungmin.
Arms crossed. Shoulders stiff. His expression thunderous.
He didn’t move when he saw you. Just stared. A storm in his eyes. His gaze shifted briefly to Changbin, and you swore something in his jaw clicked.
Changbin, still in the driver’s seat, gave a cheerful wave through the open window. “See you, mystery woman.”
You smiled faintly and waved back. “Thanks for the ride.”
He gave a wink, and then he was gone, the car pulling away, tires quiet on the pavement.
You barely had time to turn toward the porch when Seungmin snapped.
“Who the hell was that?”
You blinked.
His voice wasn’t loud, but it was sharp, seething. Cold.
You climbed the steps slowly. “It was just someone I know.”
“Someone you know?” His voice dropped lower, more dangerous. “That someone just happened to be driving you home? You left early this morning without a word and come back laughing in some guy’s car?”
You kept your face neutral, trying not to react, trying to keep your pulse from flaring.
“I walked Roan to school. I didn’t want to come straight home. I ran into someone and accepted a ride back. That’s it.”
“Is that what this is now?” he asked bitterly. “You disappearing with strangers?”
“He’s not a stranger.”
That was a mistake. You said it too quickly, too defensively.
Seungmin’s expression shifted, suspicion to realization to something uglier.
You could practically see it on his face. The puzzle clicking into place.
But you weren’t about to confirm it. Not now. Not here. The last thing you needed was seungmin exploding on your first heartbreak, in front of your childhood home.
“I don’t owe you an explanation,” you said, stepping past him.
“Oh, so now we’re doing that?” he called after you. “You disappear all morning, and I’m just supposed to smile and wave when some guy drops you off at my son’s house?”
You stopped cold.
Spun around.
“This isn’t your house anymore. And he’s not just your son. He’s ours.”
Seungmin’s mouth opened, but you didn’t let him speak. You turned, stormed into the house, and let the screen door swing shut behind you.
You didn’t bother to see if he followed.
Because you were too tired. Too full of guilt and rage and the faint remnants of laughter that still clung to your sleeves like perfume.
And in the quiet that followed, you let yourself remember the way Changbin looked at you.
Like he saw you.
Not the wife. Not the failed marriage. Not the tired mother.
Just… you.
-
You could tell Seungmin was angry.
He hadn’t said anything explicitly, not since earlier on the porch, but his silence wasn’t quiet, it was loud. Too loud. The tension in his jaw, the tight way he held himself when he walked past you in the hallway. The pointed slams of cabinets when he was in the kitchen and you were in the room next to him. You tried not to acknowledge it, but it was there. Like a storm cloud in every corner of the house.
That night, as you stood in front of the bathroom mirror brushing your hair, trying to find some stillness before bed, your phone buzzed on the vanity.
Once. Then again.
You glanced down. An unknown number.
[Unknown]: Okay so maybe I did rehearse that joke in the car. Rate my delivery, 1-10.
You blinked at the message. And then smiled, a genuine, unguarded smile because you recognized the tone. You didn’t even need the name to know.
You typed back.
"That was a solid 6.5. I’m being generous because you’re funny when you’re smug."
A moment passed.
[Changbin]: Oh, a 6.5? Harsh. I'm wounded. Drinks on you for that.
You laughed under your breath. Actually laughed. That warmth again. That ease you thought you’d lost.
"Fine. Drinks on me. One drink. Don’t push it."
You were still smiling when your mom called your name down the hall.
“Can you come here a sec, sweetie? I wanted to ask about Roan’s weekend plans!”
“Coming!” you shouted back.
You set the phone down on the bed, the screen still lit for a few seconds before dimming. You didn’t notice the shadow in the hallway. The way Seungmin had paused in the doorway, leaned against the frame with crossed arms, eyes locked on your smile.
And when you left the room, your phone buzzed again.
He didn’t mean to do it. Not really.
But his jaw was tight. His stomach was churning.
He walked over and picked up the phone like it offended him just by existing. The way it lit up again with another message.
Roan’s birthday had been your password for years, unchanged. He hadn’t even needed to think twice. Muscle memory.
It unlocked with a soft click.
[Changbin]: So how’s the house of chaos? Still surviving?
He scrolled.
Each message painted a clearer picture than the last, Changbin flirting, light and easy, poking fun, asking you about your favorite drinks, joking that he might actually dress up if it meant seeing you smile again.
Seungmin’s blood pressure spiked.
That was him. That was the guy from the car.
Changbin. Seo Changbin.
He froze.
His chest tightened, and his grip on your phone turned white-knuckled.
Changbin. That Changbin.
High school Changbin. First boyfriend Changbin. The guy Seungmin loathed, not because of some petty rivalry, but because he had what Seungmin wanted first. You.
The guy who laughed too loud, kissed you in the hallways, held your hand like you were already his long before Seungmin had even found the nerve to tell you he liked you. The one you skipped classes with. The one who broke your heart when he left and left just enough space for Seungmin to be there, to pick up the pieces.
And now he was back? Now? When everything between you and Seungmin was still splintering, still bleeding?
He was seething.
When you came back into the room, Seungmin was sitting at the edge of the bed, your phone in his hand. His eyes locked onto you the second you stepped in.
You stopped mid-step, your expression shifting instantly. “What are you doing with my phone?”
He didn’t respond at first. Just lifted it and tilted it slightly in his hand.
“Really?” he said, voice tight. Controlled.
You narrowed your eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“You really came all the way back here, dragging Roan with you, telling everyone you needed space, but really you just wanted to see him again?”
You blinked. “What?”
He turned the phone to show you the screen, Changbin’s messages still open, bright against the dark of the room.
You froze.
“You were with him,” he said. “Changbin. Of all people.”
Your lips parted slightly, more from shock than guilt.
“You read my messages?”
“You left them wide open.”
“That doesn’t mean—” You stopped yourself. “You had no right to go through my phone.”
“No right?” he barked a humorless laugh. “You disappeared this morning, left without a word, came back laughing in some guy’s car, and now you’re texting your ex-boyfriend like you’re sixteen again!”
“He’s not just my ex—”
“I know exactly who he is,” Seungmin snapped. “He’s the guy who dated you while I sat there like an idiot watching it happen. I remember him.”
You clenched your jaw. “And I remember what you did. Don’t throw a tantrum because someone actually makes me feel sane for five minutes.”
His nostrils flared. “So that’s what this is? You’re punishing me. Using this whole situation as an excuse to flirt with an old flame while pretending you’re the victim.”
“Are you serious right now?”
“Oh, I’m dead serious,” he spat. “You left. You took Roan. You’ve barely looked me in the eye since. And now it all makes sense—you came back to fix things? No. You came back to relive your past with him.”
You stared at him, chest heaving, feeling heat rush to your face not from shame, but rage.
“I came back because I needed air. I came back because you broke something in me I don’t know how to fix. And I’m trying to survive trying to hold it together for Roan. And if one person out there gives me a second to breathe without feeling like I’m drowning, I’m not going to apologize for that.”
He didn’t say anything. Just looked at you with a glare so sharp it could’ve cut straight through your chest.
“I can’t do this with you tonight,” you said quietly, turning away from him.
And this time, when you walked out of the room, he didn’t follow.
//
masterlist. dad!skz series masterlist.
❌proofread
[official taglist: @alisonyus @lenfilms @captainchrisstan @anastasiiiiaaaaa @emilyywhyy @ready2readnwrite lmk if you’d like to be added/removed 😙 ..]
Hi everyone! I am back with my first full fic in a while! Sorry it has taken me so long, I have had many many many mental breakdowns BUT I AM FEELING BETTER AND DRINKING WATEER! YIPPEE! This is for my lovely 🍒 anon! Who is my first request, like ever, so thank you lovely anon! I saw the words chunky baby and i KNEW I had to whip something up. Soooooo, enjoy my loves!!!!
Pairing: Changbin x reader AND BINNA (THE CHUNKY BUBBA)
Warnings: this might suck bc I haven’t sat down and written a full fic in a while so I sorry, dad!changbinnie, 10 month old Binna( our chunky bubby), FLUFF FLUFF,, italicized text indeicates reference to the past, pet names,simp binnie, playful teasing,fem!reader, let me know if i missed anything
10 months ago, you and your husband Changin welcomed your daughter into this world. Her name is Binna and she is yours and Changbin’s world. Changbin was the proudest dad to be and is now the proudest dad.
Even in your 42 week pregnancy— Binna came late, loving her warm, safe home in your belly a little too much— he was proudly telling everyone and everyone that he came across that he was going to be a dad. And when i say everyone, i mean everyone. He told strangers, his bandmates ( like a million and one times), JYP, his managers, he told STAY on bubble and in lives, he told his stylists, his bandmates’ stylists, he even told you.
Currently, you were about 30 weeks into your pregnancy. So, your bump was round and proud. You and Changbin wer5e cuddled on your couch, watching your favorite k-drama as he rubbed your belly. Turning to you, an ecstatic giggle tumbled from his lips. “Yes, jagi?” you asked him, pausing the drama on the Tv in front of you. “I’m going to be a dad.” He giggled, his hands caressing your bump. “Yes, you are, Binnie.’ you patted his hand and laughed. “A baby. Our baby, jagiya!” he exclaimed, he was just exploding with excitement. Yes, you knew you were having a baby, your bump proving the point. But, you couldn’t crush his cute excitement.
Pressing a kiss to his cheek, you giggled. “You know, i hope she looks like you, binnie.” Gasp, “yah! You can;t just say things like that to me, yeobo!” he pouted. “Why not, my binnie?” You giggled, pinching his plump cheek. Oh, that’s why. Sniffling, he whined and whined. “I’ll cry, jagiyaaaaaa.” oh, he was so cute. “Baby, why are you crying?”
“You said you hope our baby looks like me,” he sniffled out.
And you thought your pregnancy hormones were all over the board. Well, at least he’s cute.
Holding his cheeks in your hands, you pressed a plethora of soft kisses all around the perimeter of his face. “Waaahhhhhhh. My Binnie is so cute!” you google out, seeing a soft crimson blush rise up his neck, cover his cheeks and tint his ears. “Why is my hubby blushing? You’re too cute?” nYou teased, his eyes crinkling as his perfectly straight pearly white teeth flashed with his wide grin. “You’re making me! Yeoboooooo!”
“How am i making you blush, huh binnie?” you giggled, as his hands resumed their usual belly rubbing. Such belly rubbing causing your already daddy’s girl to kick from her secure place in your womb. Laughing, you pinched his cheeks, “see. Even Binna thinks her appa’s cute!”
Again, he giggled, as a blush tinted his cheeks again.
“Shush, yeobo.”
That was a little over 11 months ago. Since then, you and Changbin have been soaking up the precious times with your baby girl. When she became Earth side, you remember how chubby she was– and still is. Her late birth made her a chunky and squishy baby. 10 pounds and 5 ounces to be exact. So, safe to say, Binna is a chunky girl. And a replica of her appa– big brown doe eyes, the same smile, raven black her and the same giggle.
Oh, her giggle, one to match her appa’s.
Currently, you were sitting next to Changbin on your couch, a 10 month old Binna on his lap. She was giggling and hitting her hands against his chest as Changbin’s lips were blowing raspberries on her cheeks. “Hi, Binna! Binna bear!” you cooed, leaning over to press a kiss to her cheek.
Giggling, she squealed and turned her head to look at you. “Eomma!” she squealed– although her first word was appa. Something Changbin was very proud of and told everyone. “Hi baby doll! Are you having so much fun?” you perched, as one of her small, chubby hands reached towards you.
Taking her hand in your, you smiled and playfully bit at it. “Eomma! Eomma!” She exclaimed, plopping herself to lay against Changbin’s chest. Smiling, Changbin held her close to his chest, his hands supporting her back and legs. “My binna bear, give appa some love,” he pouted, pressing his lips to her forehead. Gasping, she looked up at him, her pink lips forming a small o-shape, before forming a gummy smile as she giggled. “Appa!” she exclaimed, her short legs kicking.
reaching her arms up, she pressed her hands against his cheeks, smooshing them to make a fish face. “Appa!” She squealed, loud, high pitched giggles falling from her lips. “Ppo-ppo?” Changbin asked, hands lightly tapping on her bum, as he puckered his lips even more. Puckering her own lips, Binna raised herself to be level with Changbin’s face.
What Changbin thought would be his daughter giving him a sweet kiss, was not that.
Puckering her lips, Binna leaned and bit down on Changbin’s chin. “I-Binna bear, what are you doing, bubba? I wanted a kiss.” He laughed, feeling her nomming and gumming at his chin. The cold wetness of her drool coating the slightly stubbled skin of his chin. “Okay, princess, come here,” you cooed.
Leaning back, you carefully lifted her off his chin and subsequently off of his chest. “Yah! Yah yah yah, I still haven’t gotten my kiss,” Changbin whined, seeing Binna curl into your hold, her hands holding a tight grasp onto your shirt, as you peppered her chubby face in kisses. “Oh hush, let me love on my princess,” you retorted. “Binnie, you get plenty plenty plenty of kisses. Doesn’t he, princess? Doesn’t appa get so many kisses?” You smiled, as she giggled and kicked her feet. “Eomma! Eomma ppo-ppo!” She giggled, smacking her lips together. “Yes, baby. Kisses for eomma,” you giggled, kissing her lips.
Pouting, Changbin leaned over, with his lips puckered. “Not fair, jagiya! I want Binna kisses too,” he pouted, watching Binna smack her lips onto yours. “How about me, binna bear?” He pouted, leaning in to try to steal a kiss. “Eomma kiss!” She squealed back, much to Changbin’s dismay and chagrin. “Wha-why not appa, binna bear?” He pouted, pretending to sniffle.
What a dramatic man. Hanging out with Hyunjin too much,although he would disagree.
Laughing, you squeezed binna to your chest as she kissed your cheeks. “Waaah! Thank you, angel! So many kisses for eomma!” You laughed, watching as Changbin’s jaw dropped. Bro was flabbergasted, appalled, taken aback. He was shook.
“Wh-why does eomma get kisses but not me, binna?” all Binna did was giggle, continuing to give you kisses. Squealing happily, Binna laid her small chunky body against your chest and smiled. “Because she loves meeeeeeeee. Isn’t that right, princess?” You cooed, rocking her back and forth in your arms. “Love eomma so much so much, huh, Binna bear?” Nodding her head, she pressed her lips against yours before resorting to laying her chubby cheek against your shoulder.
Maybe, she wasn’t so much of a daddy’s girl after all. Lies. Binna was the epitome of a daddy’s girl. Oh, she’s crying? Changbin walks in and those tears dry up and she goes back to being her bubbly self. She can’t fall asleep? Put her on Binnie’s chest and she’s out like a light. You’re trying to feed her mashed veggies and she won;t eat them? Let Changbin feed Binna and she'll eat those veggies right up.
Daddy’s girl
But, you could pretend for a little bit that she was a mommy’s girl. Just for now, until her daddy’s girl side came back out.
Smiling, you cuddled her small body close to you, her arms curled around your neck for some much needed eomma cuddles. “But…. she’s my binna bear…just want a kiss is all.” He sighed out, gently running his hand over her pink sleeper onesie clad back. “Binnie, my sweet sweet husband….you know she’s the biggest daddy’s girl. She clings to you, day in and day out. Not that I'm complaining. I find it adorable, you and your mini. But, she needs momma kisses and cuddles sometimes.” You conceded, gently leaning forward to press your lips to his in a soft kiss. “I know, jagiya. I know,” You soothed back, running his knuckle over your knuckle. “You’re the best wife, eomma and partner anyone could have. I don’t blame her for needing some lovings from you, in fact I want to join,” he giggled.
“Join? Yah, be careful, you sap.” You teased, as he maneuvered himself to be fully wrapped around your side. Much like Binna was cuddled into your shoulder with her cheek pressed against you and her arms curled around your neck; Changbin was wrapped around you. His arms curling around your waist with his head on the opposite shoulder.
Sighing, you turned and kissed a kiss to his forehead before repeating the same to Binna. “Aigo, now I have two cuddly babies, don’t i?” you pondered to yourself. Nodding, Changbin smiled and pressed a soft kiss to the underside of your jaw. “Indeed you do, yeobo. Me and my mini.” situating yourself into a more comfortable position, you leaned to settle your back further into the couch. “Now, how am I going to get up if I have to use the bathroom?” You questioned, feeling him nuzzle further into your side. “We’ll figure that out when we get there, yeobo.” he smiled, his big brown eyes filled with nothing but pure love and adoration for you.
You really do have two babies, in the best way. There was a lot of Changbin’s personality that showed and carried in Binna’s. She got his bubbly personality, his eyes, his laugh and giggle and his love for your love and cuddles.
she was the epitome of a daddy’s girl. She’s tired? Give her to Binnie and she’ll fall asleep in the snap of a finger. She’s upset or fussy? Not when her appa holds her and kisses her cheeks. You made pureed veggies and she won’t eat them? Sure, not when you try to feed her. But, let Changbin feed her and those veggies will be eaten without crying, fussing or a tantrum.
And her favourite plushy? You guessed it….dwaekki.
Curling himself into your side, Changbin laid his head on your shoulder and pressed a soft kiss to the underside of your jaw. Unknowingly, his knee was pressing against your lower region. “Aigo, Changbin-ah. Don’t do that please, my love. Then I’ll have to pee.” You breathed out, wiggling in your spot a bit. “Oops. sorry, jagi.” He nodded, head still tucked into your shoulder as he moved his leg to sit lower. “Thank you baby.” You smiled, pressing a kiss to his nose.
Laying into the couch, you sighed. “At least if I have to go to the bathroom, I can take binna with me.” Wait, Binna goes but not him? Changbin thought to himself. So he pouted and looked up at you.“If you go to the bathroom, I get to go right too?” he asked, settled into your side. “I-what kind of question is that Changbin? Why would you go.” “Well, it only seems fair and right since baby princess gets to go.” this man. He is something, that’s for sure. “Binnie….I love you and all. I do, really but please be so for real.”
Time had passed so fast that neither you or Changbin had realised it was 8 o’clock. Which was Binna’s usual bedtime. So, she would eventually grow sleepy and fall asleep. However, Changbin was still tightly curled around your body. His arms around your waist and one leg thrown over the tops of your thighs.
Changbin had always fallen asleep if he was cuddled to you, and Binna would as well. Well, when she wasn’t in Changbin’s arms. While being so befuddled by your dear husband asking if he was going to the bathroom with you, you had failed to notice how Binna had gone completely relaxed against you and fallen asleep.
Peeking down at her, you smiled to yourself seeing how her eyes had closed, dark eyelashes fanning over her chubby cheeks. While her arms were still curled around your neck, they had gone more lax. A state of sleepiness and relaxation consuming her small body. Her legs were relaxed, lax against your torso. “Awwwww, princess is asleep, bin.” You smiled, gently rubbing her back.
“She is,hm” He smiled, gently lifting his head to see his 10 month old daughter so completely relaxed and at peace in your arms. “Mhm. My cuddles do have that effect. Even on you,binnie. “ It was true. Something abo0ut being in your arms or just curled around you brought a sense of peace and urged anyone to fall asleep within minutes. Especially Binna and Changbin.
Changbin could never place a finger on it as to why your cuddles so easily made him fall asleep. Maybe it was the way you would play with his hair or run your hands up and down the expanse of his back. Maybe it was your soft scent, a scent he knew as home– soft cashmere notes tinged with vanilla and a hint of a light spice. Whatever it was , he would never complain. Often getting the best sleep when he was in your arms or cuddled up to your body and Binna seemed to be the same.
Feeling himself yawn, he nestled his head into your shoulder and pressed a kiss to the space of skin that your shirt didn’t cover. “Sleepy, binnie?” you perched, pressing a kiss to his temple before resting your cheek against his soft black curls. “Mhm,” was all he was able to get out before another yawn cut him off.
His strong arms, once tightly wound around your waist, had loosened their hold. Still, they were holding you and Binna close to him and his leg had relaxed on its spot on your lap. He was almost there, the realm of his dreams creeping upon him and embracing him in their hold. The big brown eyes that had been passed onto his daughter, asleep in your hold, drew closed. His own eyelashes spanning the tops of his cheeks.
Smiling to yourself, you gently manoeuvred your cuddle puddle so you could lay more comfortably on the large plush couch. Binna still safe, tucked against your chest with Changbin curled into your side. Pressing a kiss to his hair, you smiled and repeated the same to Binna’s hair. “Good night, binnie. I love you to the moon and back.”
“I love you too, forever,” was all you heard before falling asleep yourself. Warmly welcomed to the world of dreams where you would see Binna and Binnie, even while asleep.
They were yours forever. Binnie and Binna, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. Blessed was an understatement when it comes to the lights of your life.
🌟Hi hi hi! I hope you guys enjoy this fic! I think I am slowly easing my way back into writing so please bear with me! I love you all! My requests are open for drabbles or full fics. Reblogs are appreciated 🌟
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hi! this is my first post on here, so please bear with me 🙂🙂.
dad!changbin head canon; 1
warnings: none
style: changbin x reader(afab), fluff, dad!changbin
word count: 530
lets go!
imagine coming home from the grocery store after a long day at work. the house is silent, which is odd because it’s only 7pm. you set the grocery bags on the kitchen counter, putting them away item by item. as you were putting the refrigerator and frozen item away, you heard soft singing coming from upstairs. once only dried goods were left, you went to go see what was going on.
turning on the hallway light, you turn the knob for vienna’s room, cracking the door open silently; only to see your husband cooing your guys’ 8 month old daughter to sleep, his back towards you. he turns on the sleepy time music machine, and progressed from soft singing, to humming, to rocking the sleeping baby back and forth in his arms. he sets her down in her crib ever so softly, not to wake up the infant that’s been cranky all day.
once she’s out of his arms, he watches his feet on the creaky floorboards beneath him. he places his foot carefully, sees the light from the hallway, looks up and sees you standing there, admiring him so dearly. you turn off the hallway light and open the door for him to exit vienna’s room. you close the door gently and walk away without saying a word. you two are now in your guys’ bedroom, sitting next to each other on the bed with a sigh.
“how was she for you today?” you say after a 20 second moment of silence.
“she was super crabby, cried about 30 times today, she ate fine but didn’t want to play, just wanted to be held… i’m surprised she didn’t take a nap today, with all of the crying, ya know… i tried to put her down to sleep around noon but she didn’t want to, you know how much i hate it when she cries because i don’t know what’s completely wrong, it pains me to hear my little girl cry… but, i love her to death, and that’s all that matters at the end of the day”
“thank you for being an amazing father to our child, i mean that… seriously, you deal with her better than i do, you have magic dad powers or something”
changbin smiles at your kind words, finding them hard to believe. you wrap your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.
“i mean it, i seriously do, you’re the best dad in the entire world, she loves you so much, i love you so much, i can’t say it enough but it’s true, we both love you so much”
he smiles again and kisses your lips. you return the kiss, smiling against his lips.
“now please rest, she’s asleep after this rough day, there’s still some groceries i have to put away, and if she wakes up, i will get her”
“i can help you with the groceries, then we can watch that movie we wanted to watch”
“i’m not asking you to rest, i’m telling you to… i wont be long now… while i’m down there, you can set up the movie”
you exit the bedroom and he smiles once more.
“god, i love you woman” he says softly while reaching for the tv remote.
summary: haein stands up for you while you and changbin fight
age: Haein = 19
warning: fighting
_________________
“Changbin, I don’t want to fight!” you exclaimed.
“So you just wanted to insult my presence for nothing then?!” he shouted.
“I wasn’t, I was just saying you could help me out a bit!”
“I’ve just come home from work, Y/N! I’m sorry I don’t know everything that needs doing around the house!”
“Well you could ask!” you yelled back.
Haein rolled his eyes from the living room.
Changbin groaned, “you’ve always been saying this. You used to say you were taking care of our kids. Now what?! They’re not little anymore, you’ve lost your argument.”
You sighed, shaking your head and going back to cleaning the kitchen.
Haein was about to walk to his room, but stopped, joining you and Changbin in the kitchen.
“Get out Haein,” Changbin said, wearily.
“No, I won’t. What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” he exclaimed.
“What?” Changbin asked.
“Haein-ah,” you warned.
“Mum, he’s being horrible to you! What are you doing, Dad?!” Haein yelled, “just because you go out to work, doesn’t mean that you’re the only tired one in the house.”
“Hae—”
“Maybe mum was asking cause of her bad back!”
“Bad back?” Changbin repeated.
Haein scoffed, “you don’t even know. You’re saying she doesn’t raise us anymore, she was helping me with my studies yesterday! Do you even know what college I wanna go to?!”
“Of course I do,” Changbin said, “you wanna be a teacher. You want to go and study at Yonsei.”
“Oh that’s good, cause you haven’t asked about it. You haven’t helped me do that!” Haein exclaimed.
“Haein-ah, it’s okay,” you soothed, grabbing your son’s arm.
“I’m sorry,” Changbin said, “I’m sorry I shouted at you, Y/N, and I’m sorry for not being here often Haein-ah. I wish I could be.”
Haein’s eyes filled with tears, “I just don’t want mum to get hurt.”
“Ya, idiot,” you chuckled.
“I’d never hurt your mum!” Changbin exclaimed.
Haein glared, “you just did.”
“Haein-ah,” you said, forcing him to look at you, “thank you. But I know your dad won’t actually hurt me. Look how tired he is.”
Haein looked at his dad’s face. Changbin had lost weight recently, his eyes surrounded by bags. 3RACHA’s new roles as songwriters for multiple artists across the music scene was affected all three of them.
“You need to sleep, Dad.”
“Ya, what?” Changbin asked confused, “what’s wrong with my face?”
“You’re tired. I can see it. I’ll make you dinner and then you’re gonna go to bed.”
“No I need to—”
“No,” Haein said, “listen to mum.”
“That’s the word,” you said, starting to prepare ingredients for dinner.
Changbin sighed, pulling Haein into a hug and whispering in his ear, “I’m sorry. Thank you for protecting your mum. You’re such a good kid.”
Haein smiled bashfully, “I didn’t want to swear at you.”
Changbin laughed, “it’s okay. I deserved it.”
Haein nodded, “you did. And don’t do it again.”
“Idiot,” Changbin muttered, watching Haein leave the kitchen, “go and study.”
“I will!”
Walking over to you, Changbin wrapped his arms around your waist, “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m childish.”
You hummed, “it’s okay, Bin. It was just a flippant comment but you’re very irritable at the moment.”
Changbin sighed, “why didn’t you tell me about your bad back?”
You shook your head, “it’s okay, Binnie. I sprained it the other day, but it’s not serious. Just let me take care of you, and promise me you’ll go to sleep when I ask you to.”
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his hands are so big and strong that he can hold both of your tiny little twin babies in each one and carry on with his day so effortlessly. fatherhood is a good look on him
A/N:These are all connected stories tied in with the reactions. If there is a dad au that you are looking for that is not involved in this timeline then it will be linked in the regular masterlist.
