NLFSD Chapter 117

Chapter 117 – Call My Name IF Extra 1

The day Seo Taecheon lost his memory began as ordinarily as any other. Early in the morning, he left for work with Driver Kim, and Jiwoon, half‑asleep, saw him off, then slept in and rose to sit before the breakfast Taecheon had laid out.

Up to this point, nothing was out of the ordinary. Taecheon was a superb cook; even when busy, he would deftly prepare Jiwoon’s favorite menu before heading out. Today’s toast was neatly wrapped in plastic, with a tiny note on top.

[I love you. I’ll come home early today, too.]

The penmanship was sober and tidy, yet the heart inside it sweet and tender. Jiwoon brushed his fingers over the letters and broke into a wide smile.

Drawing back the living‑room curtains, he found the day especially clear. Gazing out the window, he took a bite of the special toast Taecheon had made.

Mmm, as expected — so good.

Once, he had asked Taecheon for the secret to making toast this delicious. Taecheon said it was a simple dish he used to make often while studying abroad — but to Jiwoon it wasn’t simple at all. He’d carefully jotted down the recipe, to no avail. When Jiwoon made it, it never tasted the same.

After only a few bites, the toast was gone. Jiwoon was banned from all housework — especially dishwashing — so he only carried the plate to the sink. Now there was nothing left to do. Usually he would read a bit or listen to music, but today felt like a day to go out. It must have been the fair weather.

Turning on the news from the sofa, he heard the forecast that true spring weather would begin this week.

[Cherry blossoms have already begun blooming in the southern regions, including Busan and Gwangju. The capital area should hear blossom news soon. Bloom is expected around March 28; let’s preview some prime viewing spots.]

Shall we take a spring outing before it’s too late? Once the body grows heavier, cherry‑blossom viewing will be hard.

Watching TV, Jiwoon mulled it over. The anchor highlighted crowded favorites like Seokchon Lake and university campuses, but Jiwoon wanted someplace quiet — a place to make memories without others intruding.

Hm… back to the villa we visited before? Pretty sure there were cherry blossoms there. Or the seaside?

He decided to bring it up as soon as Taecheon got off work. Likely, if it was someplace Jiwoon wanted, any place would be fine by him. In truth, if they went together, he’d be happy even under a bare, dried‑out cherry tree — what mattered wasn’t the flowers, but the one beside him.

“Maybe I’ll pop out for a bit.”

For now, his belly wasn’t showing much, so moving around was no trouble. Stretching wide, Jiwoon went into the dressing room. He pulled on a cap Taecheon had recently bought him, threw on light spring clothes, and headed out.

A roomy hoodie hid any hint of a bump. But in a month or two his belly would grow enough that he’d look pregnant in anything, so he’d heard. He found himself looking forward to that day — it would mean Mango had grown.

Late spring announced itself as petals fell and fresh shoots rose, the path rich with the scent of green promising how deep the summer’s color would be. For days, Jiwoon had favored a nearby walking trail — just right for a light stroll when feeling heavy.

Tall trees cast shade on both sides of the path. Somewhere, a soft acacia perfume drifted.

Already that season — time flies.

Not long ago, they’d gone for a routine checkup to check Jiwoon’s health and the baby’s. The doctor reassured them: the child was growing sturdy. He added: don’t sit still too much; a little movement is better for the baby. Indeed, Jiwoon had been over‑protected at home, eating only what his husband served and being carried about so he hardly touched the floor under his own power.

Even when told it was fine, Taecheon fussed, “Don’t step on cold ground — you’ll catch a chill. Why is our floor so hard? I should rip it up,” treating him like treasure.

Active by nature, Jiwoon welcomed the doctor’s prescription for strolls. And Taecheon understood.

But no running, no risky places. Absolutely no dashing, he said — like talking to a child — yet this overprotection was one more sign of love. Jiwoon reassured him:

“There’s a perfect spot near home. I’ll only go there and back — don’t worry.”

“If it’s there, fine. Call immediately if anything happens.”

Morning birdsong filled the trail. A tiny white bird crossed the clear sky. Following its movement, he spotted a large tree — trunk sturdy, leaves glossy.

He decided to rest a moment on the bench beneath its shade. He wondered what Taecheon was doing just then. It was about the time the morning rush would be easing at the office. In truth, because Taecheon often texted him first, updating him on the day, Jiwoon knew his routine naturally even without being in the same workplace.

Still, curious — time to send a message. Just then, his phone buzzed. As expected, it was from Taecheon.

Did you eat well?

A smile spread on Jiwoon’s face. His thumbs flew.

Yes, it was delicious.

Without hesitation, he added a heart emoji. A reply came quickly.

I love you, too.

Happiness swelled in his chest, ready to burst. How was it possible to feel this good from a single exchanged line? A greedy thought for one who had everything.

Sitting on the bench trading messages, time ran. Breakfast must have digested; he was growing hungry. He’d finish the walk, then hit the market and buy armfuls of fruit.

He’d always loved mangoes and oranges, but since getting pregnant he tore through fruit like a runaway train. Lately, fruit‑hunting was the main event in his day. He bought so much it was hard to believe one person could eat it; sometimes he even hailed a taxi to lug it home.

No way he knows I’m eating three kilos of fruit a day. But it’s so good — what can I do?

More than rice, fruit called to him now. People warned him about gestational diabetes and other issues — not to overdo sugar. So at each checkup they measured glucose and discussed it with the doctor.

Fortunately, Jiwoon was blessed. The doctor said there was no issue; he could eat plenty of fruit. From then on, it was open season. Strictly speaking, the doctor meant moderate amounts on an empty stomach, not a fruit war — but Jiwoon heard only what he liked and ate his fill. Still, with no problems, it was lucky.

At the market he used the black card with no limit from Taecheon; at roadside fruit stands, he paid cash and bought in piles.

Since becoming pregnant and, with the love front stabilized, Jiwoon was relaxed and unhurried. He enjoyed every small thing: a stray breeze, a bird’s cry, the leaf‑fresh scent of grass.

He rose, ate, rested, walked. He came back with fruit and ate with delight — and his beloved husband returned and held him tight. A perfect everyday.

Seo Taecheon, for his part, tended Jiwoon’s diet with care. Was anything lacking, was he eating enough meat — he checked. When a quirky fruit appeared on TV or one from the internet came to mind, Jiwoon asked him to find it. Then Taecheon would shake down hotel kitchens nationwide and present a bounty of rare, fancy fruits.

As time passed, Taecheon’s affection only grew — and so did Jiwoon’s. Even when it felt impossible to love more, another day would pass and love would widen again — like rings in a tree. Living the daily together, layered affection made today happier than yesterday.

No matter how often I think it, it feels like a dream. To have met, fallen in love, and to be carrying our child. I’m so lucky. The hard, weary years feel like a lie.

With thoughts like these, Jiwoon couldn’t help but go about smiling.

“That tree is unusual. Maybe I should take a photo.”

He opened the camera app. It was the latest model Taecheon had bought him, but it was a different line than before, and he wasn’t used to it yet. He toyed with angles, studying how to shoot more beautifully.

Just as he thought he’d got it and went to press the shutter, the phone rang.

The caller ID showed Secretary Park — the chief among Taecheon’s secretaries. When the Director was away from his desk, Park handled all manner of matters; Jiwoon had his number saved.

Huh? Why call at this hour?

These days, there wasn’t much reason for direct contact — unless Taecheon was abroad. Since Jiwoon had taken leave, Taecheon had kept company matters away from him.

Of course, in reality, work needs sometimes meant messages anyway. But Taecheon wanted him to forget work and rest — so aside from meeting friendly staff privately, even the closest secretary couldn’t call Jiwoon directly without going through him.

Could something have happened? Probably not.

Without much thought, Jiwoon answered — not knowing what he was about to hear in that secretary’s voice, nor that a small event would twist their fate.

“Hello, this is Lee Jiwoon.”

Footnotes:

1. Sanhujori/sanhujoriwon: Korean postpartum care practices and centers emphasizing maternal recovery and newborn support, often part of the couple’s post‑birth routine in modern Korea.