Extra 18

“Hmm… yes, good. You did well.”

“……”

“If Igyeol-ssi is all right with it, may I speak with your spouse alone for a moment?”

The doctor, who had been putting away the ultrasound equipment, asked gently with a soft smile. Go Igyeol’s eyes—already reddened and threaded with broken capillaries—flew wide in alarm. His gaze snapped immediately toward Seo Dohyeon, trembling as if struck by an earthquake.

“It’s all right. It’s all right.”

Dohyeon soothed him with practiced ease, wiping away the gel spread over Igyeol’s abdomen with a warm steam towel. He checked carefully to make sure nothing was left behind, ensured every trace of moisture was gone, and lowered the hem of his clothes back into place.

“Once you step outside, Chief Yoon will be there. Have something warm while you wait for a moment.”

“…I can just… stay with you….”

“It’ll only take a minute. Okay?”

Treating him as though handling something glass-fragile, Dohyeon lifted Igyeol carefully to his feet. He led him outside the exam room and seated him beside Yoon Jaeseon, giving him a pointed look that said, stay with him. When he returned to the exam room, the doctor rotated the monitor toward him and offered an awkward, considerate smile, as though granting him time to compose himself.

“Why are you showing me this.”

“This is the ultrasound image we just took of your spouse. As you can see, the uterine lining has thickened, but it’s completely clear. There’s nothing inside.”

“…What does that mean.”

“Did you happen to do a test kit before coming here today?”

At the question, Seo Dohyeon shook his head. He hadn’t had the heart to suggest taking a test. The possibility of pregnancy alone had thrown Igyeol into a panic. To get an accurate answer, they had rushed to an OB-GYN instead.

“Your spouse must have shown some symptoms that differed from usual.”

“We went through rut together, and he’s been sleeping much more lately. His pheromones are weaker than normal. And… he hasn’t been able to eat properly.”

“It’s understandable to misunderstand, then. Every symptom you just listed can appear in early pregnancy. And if rut overlapped, even more so. Were you perhaps attempting natural conception?”

“…No. We’ve been using protection.”

Dohyeon’s answer was firm. The doctor let out a long breath, relieved.

“Do you think your spouse might have wanted a child?”

His expression hardened instantly. There was no universe in which Igyeol wished for a child—least of all pregnancy. They had never discussed it, but Dohyeon didn’t need to. He simply knew.

“As you are aware, your spouse’s uterus is currently in a condition where pregnancy is difficult in the first place. Even though the lining is thickened, it’s nowhere near sufficient to maintain a pregnancy, and its position is too low. Even if, by a miracle, natural conception occurred, the likelihood of miscarriage is extremely high.”

“……”

“And yet… your spouse is showing signs of pseudopregnancy. It appears when someone both desperately wants—and simultaneously fears—pregnancy.”

He wanted a child?

The unexpected words twisted through Dohyeon like a storm, his thoughts scattering chaotically.

“That’s impossible. My spouse would never….”

His mouth opened, closed, opened again—only to shut tight as he pressed his fingertips hard against his eyelids.

“All symptoms of pseudopregnancy disappear once the person learns they are not pregnant. It may help to talk with him gently, in a way that doesn’t frighten him.”

There was no clear answer. No explanation made sense. No matter how he turned it over in his mind, he could not fathom why Igyeol would want a child.

The ride to the restaurant was suffocatingly silent. Only the driver, Yoon Jaeseon, had to endure both discomfort and tension at once. Sweat dampened his grip on the steering wheel. From the atmosphere alone, it felt as though the result might be pregnancy… yet also not.

When they reached the restaurant, Seo Dohyeon tapped lightly on the back of Igyeol’s hand, which he had been holding the entire time.

“Shall we get out.”

“…Yes.”

Touching a cheek that had gone frighteningly pale, he opened the door. At the same moment, Yoon hurried out from the driver’s seat to assist Igyeol.

“You should head back to the office now, Chief Yoon.”

“Yes, sir. Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

After exchanging a brief goodbye, Dohyeon wrapped an arm around Igyeol’s shoulders and began walking slowly. Even as they approached the entrance, his mind was sunk deep in thought.

Which words should he start with?

How was he supposed to begin?

No matter how he tried, he couldn’t find an answer that felt right.

“The… the doctor… what did they say….”

“Let’s eat first, then talk slowly. You didn’t even have breakfast.”

At that gentle tone, Igyeol held back the desperate urge to hear the results immediately and nodded. He felt as if he couldn’t swallow a single bite in this state, but one glance at Dohyeon’s expression—strained, pale, unmistakably hurting—told him he should try. If only for his sake.

“The dishes here are clean, the flavors mild. You’ll like them.”

“…I was hungry, so… that’s good, actually.”

Watching the faint smile appear on that delicate face, Dohyeon felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to pull him close.

“…What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Come on.”

The server guided them into a private room, where a fully set table of neatly arranged dishes was brought out at once. Dohyeon moved everything he knew Igyeol could eat well toward him and expertly deboned the fish, placing only the white flesh onto Igyeol’s plate.

“Eat plenty.”

“You too, eat slowly.”

As soon as Igyeol put a spoonful of rice in his mouth, his eyes widened—and then he smiled softly, trying a bit of each dish. The nausea that had been roiling inside him subsided enough that he could eat normally.

“Are you feeling all right?”

“Yes, it’s good.”

“Then we’ll have to come again.”

Relief warmed him at the sight of Igyeol eating well, but the tangled problem remained—how could he explain what the doctor had said?

When he did not touch his own food, Igyeol puffed out his cheeks and asked quietly:

“You’re not eating?”

“Lately, I’ve finally understood what it means to feel full without eating… thanks to you.”

“…Pardon?”

“Watching you eat makes me full. Especially when you enjoy it like today.”

Isn’t that what people say about their children?

Igyeol tilted his head. He himself sometimes felt that way with Ihyeon—when the child ate well, or smiled at him, or slept peacefully beside him. Was this a similar feeling?

“What is it.”

“…Just… please eat before it gets cold.”

Embarrassment flushed him, and he shook his head before returning to his meal. Dohyeon watched him for a moment longer, smiling faintly, then finally began eating as well. Neither of them spoke again—they simply ate carefully and dutifully.

Igyeol set his spoon down first. Now that his hunger was gone, his hands refused to move. When Dohyeon urged him to eat more, he shook his head.

“If I eat more, it’ll feel heavy.”

Dohyeon gazed at him tenderly before calling the server to clear the table. While waiting for dessert, he asked quietly whether he could move to sit beside Igyeol.

“…Yes, of course….”

He didn’t finish the sentence before Dohyeon had already moved, as if waiting for permission. He clasped the neatly folded hands resting atop Igyeol’s thigh. For a long while he said nothing—just stroked the back of his hand, traced over the faint scars across his palm, and inspected the short nails trimmed to avoid scratching Ihyeon.

That soft, careful touch continued as the desserts—yakgwa, wagashi, and cold cinnamon tea—were brought in. As soon as the server left, silence blanketed the room. The air grew heavy, sinking lower and lower. Igyeol glanced sideways at the man who kept touching his hand yet said nothing—until he could no longer bear it.

“…Dohyeon-ssi.”

“I honestly… don’t know how to say this. I don’t want to hurt you. I just… don’t know if that’s even possible.”

At those words, laid down like a preface to sorrow, Igyeol’s face drained of all color. The hand that had grown warm from being held turned cold in an instant. His eyelids fluttered—slow, then fast—and before he realized it, tears welled up to the brim.

He was using protection. Dohyeon would never slip, not this time.

So then—pregnant?

How?

Why?

How could that even happen?

After Dohyeon’s rut, Igyeol had occasionally imagined the possibility. What would it be like to have a second child? To check a test together and welcome that moment with joy? To visit the hospital together like other couples; to watch his belly grow day by day; to decorate ultrasound pictures; to choose a nickname for the baby.

Days filled with more laughter than tears.

Not having to hide anything.

Being able to say what he craved whenever he wanted.

He had imagined all of that—only in his mind—because he felt guilty toward Ihyeon.

But no matter what he imagined, the moment of confirming a pregnancy…

He had wished, so desperately, that it would never look like this.

“I… am I really… pregnant…? H-hic… why… why is there… a baby… why…?”