NLFSD Chapter 89

Chapter 89

“I understand. I’ll stay with you no matter what.”

“And one more thing… there are words I’ve forgotten to say.”

“…Yes?”

“For a whole day I regretted it — why didn’t I say them sooner.”

“…Taecheon…”

“I love you. I love you more than anyone, Jiwoon. I was terrified that I might never actually tell you those words in my lifetime.”

“…Ah.”

Jiwoon’s chest surged with heat. The overwhelming rush of emotion swelled up and spilled into tears.

He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d heard someone say “I love you.” Perhaps not since before his grandparents passed away. No one had spoken those words to him in years. Yet now — a man who vowed to be his eternal partner confessed so earnestly, so desperately, that he loved him.

“Taecheon…”

“I love you. So much.”

Choked, Jiwoon couldn’t even answer properly; but the affection in Taecheon’s eyes and in his trembling touch spoke undeniably. To think there was someone who loved him like this… Jiwoon, who once rejected the notion of God, now believed only some divinity could have delivered Taecheon into his life.

“…I love you, too.”

At Jiwoon’s words, Taecheon pulled him into a crushing embrace. Startled, Jiwoon pushed.

“W‑wait! Let go for a second.”

“…What? Did I make you uncomfortable?”

“No, that’s not it. I just….”

He hesitated. Was this really the moment to say it? But he couldn’t put it off any further either.

“At the hospital… I found something out.”

“…Go on.”

“There’s something inside me.”

“…What do you mean? A tumor?”

Taecheon’s brows knotted sharp.

“So you do have some illness? Not terminal, but—”

“No, no. Not an illness… I’m pregnant.”

“…What?”

Stunned, Taecheon’s mouth fell open.

“You remember during my heat cycle… that time. I think it happened then.”

Jiwoon lowered his eyes and patted his stomach. Taecheon stared blankly… then slapped his own cheek.

“Why did you do that?!”

“I felt dizzy. Needed to snap myself awake.”

“It’s just pregnancy…”

“Not just. This means… our baby is inside you.”

He gathered Jiwoon gently in his arms, not crushing but firm and steady with love. Buried in his chest, Jiwoon could hear Taecheon’s booming heartbeat — so strong it blurred with his own, until both seemed one.

“Thank you. This is so… unbelievably joyful.”

“I was shocked too. That we… made a child.”

Tears streamed down Jiwoon’s face. Taecheon tenderly wiped them away, smiling faint.

“Same as always… you’re such a crybaby.”

“What?”

“Do you know? Your tears have power. When you cry, I can’t walk away. I can’t ignore you.”

“…What kind of thing—”

But Taecheon leaned close and whispered in his ear:

“It was a green‑and‑brown plaid handkerchief with silver embroidery, wasn’t it?”

“…Wh‑what? How do you…”

Jiwoon froze. He was referring to that handkerchief — the one a kind hotel staffer had lent him once, long before he joined the company, when he’d broken down crying in the lobby. He still had it tucked away, swearing to one day return it. But he had never once taken it out after moving in here.

“How could you know what that handkerchief looks like? …Wait, you’re the one who gave it to me?”

“Yes. I handed it to you when you were weeping there, alone.”

Jiwoon’s brain whirled slowly, replaying: a tall man, a comforting scent. All this time — it had been Seo Taecheon?

“Then… the man that day was you, Director?”

“Yes. I waited for years. Waited for you to return that handkerchief. Or rather, I waited for you.”

Jiwoon’s tears fell endlessly.

“How… how is this real?”

“From now on, whenever you cry — I’ll be your handkerchief. Please, don’t cry anymore.”

“…Now you’re just making me cry more!”

Jiwoon buried his head in his chest again, sobbing loud — but not with sadness this time. There would be no more farewells, no loneliness; only warm, fragrant days together.

Back at their home at last, Jiwoon felt a strange sense of awe. It had only been three days away but… with all that happened, it felt like years.

He looked around: the small room with his belongings, the main bedroom, the kitchen full of traces of their life. He realized he had landed back where he belonged.

Particularly, the coffee machine and beans beside it made it real. Yes. My place is here. The home of the man in black suits, brewing his bitter coffee.

As he touched a mug, the bedroom door burst open. There strode Taecheon in his gown.

“Taecheon?”

“…Why weren’t you in bed? You scared me.”

“I woke early…”

“I thought you vanished again.”

He sighed lightly, then pulled Jiwoon tight to his chest.

“Were you worried?”

“If you ran again… where would I even begin looking? The thought blinded me.”

In close, Jiwoon noticed his sharper lines — thinner, like he had skipped meals.

“Sorry. I made you suffer.”

He caressed that worried face. Taecheon laid his own hand over his.

“…You’ve lost weight. What will we do with you?”

“All I need is for you to stay here with me. Nothing else.”

“…Shall I cook for you?”

“No — don’t strain yourself. Just rest.”

“I’ll whip something up quickly, wait here!”

He bustled into the kitchen. But opening the milk, a wave of nausea hit.

“Ugh.”

Holding his mouth, he gagged. Taecheon rushed in alarm.

“Are you ill? Spoiled milk? I’ll throw it out.”

“N‑no… it’s fine. It’s just… morning sickness.”

“…Ah.”

Joy about the baby filled him, yet seeing Jiwoon nauseous twisted his heart. For this food‑loving man to be unable to eat — that was tragedy.

“Sit down, please. Is there anything you crave?”

“…Hmm…”

Jiwoon thought hard, then whispered:

“…Mango. I want mango.”

“All right.”

“Actually… we named the baby Mango. That’s the fetus name.”

“…What?”

“Yesterday. I chose it.”

Laughing low, Taecheon longed to hand him an entire orchard.

“Our baby is Mango then. Jiwoon’s beloved mango.”

“Yes. My most favorite.”

Taecheon pulled him tight.

“Wait a bit. I’ll bring you mango.”

“How—?”

“I’ll order it from the hotel.”

He whipped out his phone without pause.

“Send the finest mangos, to my house. Add other fruits as well.”

Jiwoon watched in awe. My director husband is the best. He kissed his cheek in adoration.

Soon, a hotel staffer arrived with an ice chest piled high with neatly trimmed mango slices, exotic fruit, expensive delicacies — all ready to eat.

“Oh… this is too good.” Jiwoon nearly cried eating them.

“These are better than at Mother’s. Hotel fruit really is on another level!”

Giving a thumbs‑up with a satisfied groan, he basked. Taecheon stood, arms crossed, silently watching… then asked:

“…By the way. Why were you at my mother’s house?”

“Cough—!”