TCBW C80

Chapter 80

So when Suhoe finally awoke, Professor Eun approached him without hesitation.

It wasn’t only out of professional duty as a physician, but also a human tenderness—an instinctive compassion for this fragile young man caught in the middle of tragedy—that gave her the courage to offer help, even if it meant acting behind Dowoon’s back.

“Because there wasn’t any knotting during this rut.”

Even though Suhoe had spoken those words firmly, Professor Eun couldn’t let go of her doubts. Out of caution—or perhaps quiet disbelief—she continued to examine him daily, studying his condition with the meticulous concern of someone who refused to miss even the smallest sign.

Her colleagues teased her for being obsessive.

Maybe he had lied. Maybe he was protecting someone. Either way, as long as she had the chance to intervene for his sake, she would continue.

But day by day, her fears began to ease. Every single test came back negative.

He’s been hospitalized for quite a while now.

Maybe he was telling the truth. If there truly was no knotting, then conception would be nearly impossible with his weakened uterus. The tests all say negative. If he continues to rest and his body strengthens, he might recover within a month.

Still, it was too early to be completely certain. Professor Eun decided she would keep testing throughout the remainder of his stay.

If, by chance, there had been knotting—and implantation had occurred—she needed to detect it quickly enough to save Suhoe’s body before it was too late.

“Good morning.”

Haeon rose from his seat beside the hospital room door as Professor Eun approached. He greeted her with his usual bright expression—one that had become a familiar sight to her after weeks of daily meetings.

“Ah, yes. The results from this morning’s test just came in,” she replied.

“I see. Judging from your expression, it’s another negative?”

He gave a sheepish laugh, and she responded with a warm, easy smile. Since Suhoe’s admission, the two of them had fallen into a comfortable routine—meeting every morning and evening, exchanging brief updates, even sharing quiet jokes about how neither of them ever seemed to rest.

“Yes, well…”

Their motivations couldn’t have been more different—he worried for his employer, and she for her patient—but in that quiet devotion, they were strangely alike.

“Madam’s with the CEO,” Haeon whispered, nodding toward the room. Then he held up a hand, signaling her to keep quiet.

Professor Eun tilted her head, then leaned closer to the glass window on the door to peek inside.

“Oh…”

Now she understood his meaning.

Inside, bathed in sunlight, Suhoe was chattering happily. Opposite him sat Dowoon, dressed in a soft cashmere sweater, listening silently.

Whatever the topic was, it must have been lighthearted. Suhoe was smiling so brightly that his entire face seemed to glow, his hands busy fiddling with a small plate of fruit his husband had brought. Occasionally, he popped a piece into his mouth and continued speaking.

“Madam’s talking to himself, though,” Eun murmured.

“Well, yes,” Haeon said with a grin. “But look at the CEO’s face. He looks like a father watching his kid talk about their day at school.”

Suppressing a chuckle, Haeon pointed discreetly toward Dowoon.

Indeed, the man’s expression was softer than either of them had ever seen. The frantic, furious man who had once stormed into the hospital, covered in sweat and blood, was gone. What remained was a quiet figure, gazing at his recovering spouse with wordless awe.

“His eyes are smiling,” Eun said softly.

“They are. Honestly, if he starts sprouting hearts, I won’t be surprised,” Haeon muttered under his breath. “I’ve worked for him for years, but I’ve never seen him look like that. It’s… unnerving, honestly.”

Professor Eun’s lips twitched upward in amusement. The moment felt oddly domestic, almost peaceful.

“I suppose we should give them some time.”

“Of course. They’re newlyweds, after all.”

“Newlyweds… yes.”

They both knew how ironic that sounded—how tragedy had been the only thing to slow their lives down long enough to truly look at each other. So they stepped back quietly, allowing the small, fragile calm inside that room to breathe.

Meanwhile, inside, Dowoon was perfectly aware of the two figures hovering outside the door.

He had intended to leave before Professor Eun’s arrival, but since she hadn’t entered yet, he decided to remain seated a little longer. When he heard faint murmurs outside, he had reached for his jacket, preparing to stand—but upon realizing they were simply talking, he let his hand relax.

He leaned back on the sofa, checking the time on his wristwatch. He’d have to return to the office soon anyway. Another few minutes wouldn’t matter.

Since Suhoe’s hospitalization, this had become routine. Dowoon now came and went from the hospital as if it were his workplace.

Each morning, he arrived without fail. When he couldn’t—on days with critical board meetings or appointments with foreign clients—he returned without delay in the evening.

He didn’t sleep here, but it was close enough; his life revolved around the room where Suhoe lay.

And Suhoe, in turn, had grown accustomed to it—to waking and sleeping to the sound of his husband’s presence.

“So, Mr. Kim has a daughter? Really? Have you met her?”

Suhoe’s eyes sparkled as he leaned forward, curiosity gleaming.

Dowoon turned his gaze toward him, his expression softening. “Yes. He does.”

Ever since learning that the fruit delivery had been from Mr. Kim, Suhoe had been full of questions, his delight childlike.

Dowoon answered patiently, though he avoided mentioning the man’s current condition—bedridden with worry since hearing about Suhoe’s hospitalization.

Dowoon had even told Haeon to keep that detail secret, afraid that if Suhoe found out, he’d insist on leaving the hospital to see him.

“Wow, really? I heard male Omegas usually have sons, not daughters! That’s amazing! I totally assumed he’d have a boy!”

Laughing brightly, Suhoe covered his mouth in surprise. His shoulders trembled with excitement, and then—quietly, almost to himself—he whispered as his hand came to rest gently on his belly.

“Ah… I don’t care if it’s a boy or a girl.”

He smiled faintly. “Whatever it is, I’ll be grateful.”

His voice was barely audible, a soft murmur swallowed by the quiet room. Dowoon didn’t catch it.

All he saw was his cheerful young spouse humming softly, hands resting over his stomach, bathed in sunlight.

He had no idea—no inkling—that something was already growing inside that fragile body.

He had forgotten the knotting entirely.

And Suhoe had chosen not to tell him.

It had all begun on the day Professor Eun had asked the question: “Was there knotting?”

The doctor’s offer—though born of compassion—had felt, to Suhoe, like a cruel verdict.

A denial of the life already blooming within him.

So he had lied.

That warmth he had felt in the darkness, the quiet pulse deep within him—it couldn’t have been a dream. It was too vivid. Too alive.

He couldn’t abandon it.

He had thought Professor Eun believed him and let it go, but after that day, she came every morning to draw blood.

Her explanation was always the same—“just in case”—but to Suhoe, it felt like suspicion disguised as concern.

So far, every test had come back negative. For now, the truth remained hidden. But Suhoe knew it couldn’t last. Sooner or later, the secret inside him would be revealed.

And for that day, he prepared. He practiced what he would say.

The truth is, I lied because I was afraid. But I can’t give up this child. I want to protect it, even if it destroys me. Even if I can never have another, I’m all right with that. Because if it’s not Dowoon’s, then I don’t want to have any at all.

Perhaps his words would sound foolish, reckless—even selfish—to a doctor like Eun. But to Suhoe, it didn’t matter.

Neither the world’s disapproval nor the threat to his body could sway him now.

He had made his choice. And he would see it through.

With quiet resolve, Suhoe brushed a hand over his lower abdomen, as though to soothe the tiny life he was certain existed there.

Then he raised his eyes—and met Dowoon’s.

“I knew Mr. Kim used to work for your family,” Suhoe said, smiling softly, “but I didn’t realize you remembered so many details about him. How old is he now?”

Dowoon looked at him, and for a moment, the weary Alpha’s gaze softened completely.

The young Omega before him, with his pale skin and gentle smile, seemed almost luminous.

And for a fleeting second, Dowoon thought—

perhaps this quiet, sunlit moment was the closest thing to peace either of them would ever have.