Chapter Text
Chapter 5: Congratulations
The clinic was located on the upper floors of a private medical building tucked away in one of the quieter districts of Seoul, far from the chaos of entertainment companies, cameras and gossip websites hungry for the destruction of people like them. Even from outside, the place looked intimidatingly expensive, all dark glass, muted lighting, and discreet entrances clearly designed for clients who valued privacy more than anything else.
The car ride there had been silent. Seonghwa had spent almost the entire drive staring out the window while the city blurred past him in shades of gray and silver beneath the cloudy afternoon sky, his thoughts moving in frantic circles he could no longer control. Beside him, Hongjoong remained close enough but neither of them had truly spoken since leaving the company building. There was simply too much fear between them now, everything seemed hyperreal.
When the car finally stopped in the underground parking area reserved for private patients, Hongjoong moved immediately, stepping out first before opening the door for Seonghwa with that same quiet attentiveness that had followed him all day. The omega accepted the offered hand without thinking, his fingers cold despite the warmth inside the building. For one horrible second, Seonghwa expected disaster the moment they entered the clinic.
Maybe someone would recognize them or some nurses would be shocked. Maybe all the medical staff would start whispering and gossiping. Or someone would stare too long before realizing exactly who they were but none of that happened.
The reception area remained calm and softly illuminated beneath warm lights that reflected gently against cream-colored walls and polished floors. A few other patients were sitting scattered through the waiting room, absorbed in their own lives and worries, none of them paying even the slightest attention to Hongjoong and Seonghwa beyond brief polite glances and somehow, that felt almost surreal.
A receptionist greeted them politely the moment they approached the desk, her expression professional and kind as she confirmed their appointment under the fake names Junghyun had apparently arranged beforehand. The woman never once looked at them twice, never hesitated over their faces, never betrayed even the smallest hint of recognition. To her, they were simply another alpha and omega couple arriving for a private consultation.
The realization made something strange ache inside Seonghwa’s chest. Hongjoong seemed affected by it too because the alpha’s shoulders slowly loosened for the first time since they had entered the building, though his hand never fully left Seonghwa’s back.
A nurse appeared only a few minutes later. She was an omega, probably somewhere in her late thirties, with soft eyes and a calm voice that immediately reminded Seonghwa of the kind of gentleness people used around frightened patients.
“Mr. Lee?” she asked kindly.
Seonghwa’s stomach twisted. The false surname still sounded strange in his ears. Hongjoong stood immediately beside him anyway. The nurse smiled softly at both.
“We’re going to begin with bloodwork first,” she explained calmly. “The doctor will review everything afterward.”
Seonghwa nodded slowly, though he barely heard half the words leaving her mouth because his pulse had started racing again the moment reality turned medical. The nurse guided them down a quiet hallway lined with private consultation rooms until they reached a smaller examination room filled with softly humming equipment and the sterile scent of antiseptics. Seonghwa sat carefully in the chair she indicated while Hongjoong remained beside him so closely that their knees brushed. The nurse prepared the materials efficiently before glancing up at Seonghwa again.
“I’m just going to take a few samples, alright?” she said gently.
Seonghwa nodded once. He hated how nervous he suddenly felt over something so simple. The omega rolled up the sleeve of his hoodie with slightly trembling fingers, and immediately Hongjoong’s hand settled against his thigh beneath the chair, grounding him before the panic could spiral too far. The nurse noticed but her expression only softened slightly as if she had seen frightened couples countless times before.
“Try to relax your arm a little,” she murmured kindly while tying the band gently around Seonghwa’s arm.
Hongjoong stayed silent the entire time, though Seonghwa could practically feel the alpha’s anxiety vibrating beside him with every second that passed. The blood collection itself was quick, barely more than a sharp sting, but Seonghwa still felt cold afterward while watching dark red fill the small collection tubes one after another. The nurse carefully labeled each sample before setting everything aside neatly.
“Alright,” she said softly once she finished. “We’ll process these immediately.”
Hongjoong finally spoke then, his voice quieter than usual.
“How long will the results take?”
The nurse offered a reassuring smile.
“This clinic uses accelerated diagnostic processing for private patients, so we should have preliminary results within forty-five minutes,” she explained. “The doctor will see you as soon as everything is ready, meanwhile, please fill in the forms I will give you, okay?”
Forty-five minutes. The number settled heavily between them, Seonghwa lowered his gaze toward his hands while the nurse continued speaking calmly about waiting areas and water and notifying them once the doctor was ready, but the words blurred together around the edges because all he could think was that in less than an hour, there would be no more uncertainty left. In less than an hour, someone would officially tell them that there was truly a baby growing inside him.
The forty-five minutes passed slowly enough to feel almost cruel, it was Hongjoong who end up writing in all the forms, Seonghwa couldn’t focus. Time moved strangely inside the private waiting room they had been guided toward after the bloodwork, each second stretching endlessly beneath the soft hum of the clinic’s air conditioning and the muted sounds of distant conversations hidden behind closed consultation doors. Outside the wide windows, Seoul continued moving normally beneath the gray afternoon sky, traffic flowing through the streets while people carried on with ordinary lives completely unaware that Hongjoong and Seonghwa felt as if the universe had narrowed down to a single impossible question waiting behind a doctor’s office door.
Neither of them spoke much. There was simply nothing left to say that had not already been said in frightened whispers the night before. Seonghwa sat curled slightly into himself on the small sofa, both hands wrapped tightly around the paper cup of warm water the nurse had given him earlier even though he had barely touched it. Beside him, Hongjoong remained close enough, one of his hands firmly intertwined with Seonghwa’s beneath the space between them. They stayed like that the entire time, holding onto each other as if letting go might make everything collapse completely.
Every now and then Hongjoong’s thumb moved unconsciously against the back of Seonghwa’s hand in slow repetitive motions that revealed exactly how anxious he truly was beneath the carefully controlled exterior he kept trying to maintain. Seonghwa noticed every single movement because after years of loving Kim Hongjoong quietly, he knew all the small signs of his fear by heart. The alpha only became that silent when he was overwhelmed.
At one point Seonghwa thought about speaking, about saying something comforting or practical or hopeful, but every possible sentence died somewhere inside his throat because nothing felt capable of surviving the weight pressing down on them now.
Eventually, the door to the waiting room opened softly, a woman stepped inside. She was an omega doctor, probably somewhere in her forties, dressed in a white coat with tired but gentle eyes that immediately settled on them with practiced warmth.
“Mr. Lee and alpha?” she asked softly.
Both stood almost immediately. The doctor offered a small reassuring smile.
“I’m Doctor Han,” she introduced herself calmly. “Please come with me.”
The consultation room was warm and quiet, filled with soft lighting instead of the harsh clinical brightness Seonghwa had been expecting. There was a desk near the far wall alongside medical monitors and neatly organized files, but the atmosphere felt strangely personal despite the obvious professionalism surrounding everything. The doctor gestured for them to sit down across from her desk before opening the electronic file containing Seonghwa’s preliminary results. For a few seconds she reviewed the information silently.
“First of all,” she said gently while lifting her gaze toward them, “congratulations.”
The word hit them like a physical blow. That word sounded strange. Congratulations, as if being pregnant was something to celebrate and not a disaster of biblical proportions. Seonghwa felt his throat tighten painfully and beside him, Hongjoong went completely still. The doctor’s expression softened slightly as if she had expected exactly that reaction.
“The bloodwork confirmed the pregnancy,” she continued calmly. “Based on hormone levels and the information provided in your intake forms, you’re most likely around three to four weeks along, so this is still a very early pregnancy.”
Three to four weeks. The number echoed strangely inside Seonghwa’s mind. His pregnancy was real enough to have symptoms despite the fact that it was too early for any other kind of certainty. Doctor Han continued reviewing the file for another moment before her gaze suddenly shifted sharply toward Hongjoong and her entire tone changed.
“Are you planning to run away, alpha?”
The question was so direct that Seonghwa physically startled beside him. Hongjoong blinked once in complete shock before immediately shaking his head.
“Of course not,” Hongjoong’s words were firm, frankly offended.
Something unreadable flickered briefly across the doctor’s face then before she nodded slowly, apparently satisfied by the sincerity in his voice.
“Good,” she said simply. “You’d be surprised how often omegas sit in this office alone.”
The sentence settled heavily between them and Seonghwa lowered his eyes immediately. Hongjoong’s jaw tightened visibly but Doctor Han smoothly shifted the conversation back toward medical professionalism afterward, her demeanor softening once more as she turned fully toward Seonghwa.
“Alright,” she said gently. “I’m going to ask you some questions now so I can evaluate how your body is responding so far, okay?”
Seonghwa nodded slowly. The doctor began typing notes into the file as she spoke.
“Have your cycles been regular recently?”
Seonghwa answered quietly, forcing himself to focus despite how surreal the conversation felt.
“Mostly,” he admitted softly. “But schedules have been stressful and I have taken suppressants.”
Doctor Han nodded knowingly at that.
“Have you experienced nausea often?”
“Yes.”
“Vomiting?”
“This morning,” Seonghwa whispered.
“Any dizziness, fainting episodes, headaches, abdominal pain, or unusual cramping?”
Seonghwa hesitated briefly before answering.
“Dizziness during work today,” he admitted. “But no pain.”
Hongjoong looked visibly distressed hearing the symptoms listed out loud like this. The doctor noticed immediately.
“Has he been eating properly?” she asked while glancing toward the alpha.
Hongjoong looked almost guilty.
“He barely ate breakfast,” he admitted quietly. “And truth be told, our schedules haven’t been healthy lately.”
Doctor Han hummed softly before returning her attention to Seonghwa.
“How many hours a day are you physically active?”
The omega froze slightly because there was no normal way to explain idol training schedules.
“A lot,” Hongjoong answered before Seonghwa could minimize it. “Dance rehearsals almost every day, cardio, gym training, the works.”
The doctor’s eyebrows lifted slightly higher with every additional detail.
“How intense are the rehearsals?”
Hongjoong exhaled quietly.
“Several hours a day.”
Doctor Han stopped typing for a second then looked directly at Seonghwa with unmistakable concern now.
“You collapsed today?”
Seonghwa immediately shook his head weakly.
“Not completely.”
Hongjoong looked like he wanted to argue that point. The doctor sighed softly before continuing.
“Any appetite changes besides nausea?”
“Food smells stronger now,” Seonghwa admitted quietly. “Sometimes it makes me feel sick.”
“That’s normal,” Doctor Han reassured gently. “Especially during early pregnancy.”
The word pregnancy still felt unreal every single time someone said it aloud. The doctor continued the interview carefully after that, asking about sleep patterns, stress levels, suppressant use, hydration, medication and omega hormone stability. Through all of it, Hongjoong remained completely attentive beside him, answering details whenever Seonghwa looked too overwhelmed to speak properly himself.
And slowly, something inside the room shifted because the doctor was treating them like this was real, even normal, not something shameful or catastrophic. Inside the consulting room they were just a pregnant omega and his alpha.
Doctor Han remained quiet for a few moments after finishing the intake questions, her fingers moving calmly across the tablet screen while she reviewed Seonghwa’s symptoms and bloodwork results once again. The room had grown strangely still during the interview, the kind of silence that only existed when something life changing was sitting invisibly between people. Finally, the doctor looked up again, her expression had softened considerably, but there was concern in her eyes now too.
“Your hormone levels look normal for an early pregnancy,” she explained gently. “Nothing immediately alarming appears in the bloodwork, which is good, especially considering the amount of stress your body is currently under.”
Seonghwa swallowed quietly. Beside him, Hongjoong sat unnaturally tense, his hand still wrapped tightly around Seonghwa’s as if he physically could not stop touching him anymore.
“But,” Doctor Han continued carefully, “you need to understand that early pregnancy is also the most fragile stage.”
The word fragile made something twist painfully inside Seonghwa’s chest. The doctor rested the tablet down for a moment before continuing more seriously.
“Extreme physical exertion, chronic stress, lack of sleep, dehydration, and nutritional instability can all affect both your health and the stability of the pregnancy during these first weeks,” she explained calmly. “That does not mean something bad will automatically happen: it does mean your body needs care now.”
Hongjoong’s jaw tightened visibly with every additional sentence. Seonghwa lowered his eyes toward his lap because everything the doctor listed sounded exactly like their idol’s lives. They had practically built their careers on surviving things that would destroy most people physically and suddenly Seonghwa felt terrified realizing that perhaps his body could no longer afford that kind of survival.
“You need rest,” Doctor Han said firmly now. “Proper meals. Hydration. Reduced stress as much as possible. And ideally, your physical activity should be moderated until we know your body is adapting well.”
Seonghwa let out a tiny broken laugh at that. The sound made both the doctor and Hongjoong look at him immediately.
“We can’t stop,” the omega whispered softly.
Doctor Han’s brows furrowed slightly. Seonghwa forced himself to continue even though shame was already creeping up his throat again.
“We have a… special event coming,” he admitted quietly. “It requires practice every day, we have filming schedules and performances.”
For the first time since entering the office, genuine surprise crossed the doctor’s face.
“You’re performers?”
Hongjoong answered this time.
“We work in entertainment.”
It was the safest explanation possible. Still, Doctor Han sighed softly afterward in the way medical professionals did whenever patients confessed to lifestyles that made self-preservation almost impossible.
“I understand responsibilities don’t disappear because of a pregnancy,” she said carefully. “But your body is already reacting strongly, especially considering how early this is. The nausea, dizziness, and near collapse today are signs that you cannot continue functioning the same way without consequences.”
Seonghwa felt his throat tighten again. The doctor was speaking so rationally because there was truly a tiny living thing depending entirely on what happened to his body now. For several seconds, nobody spoke, then Doctor Han leaned back slightly in her chair, her expression changing into something quieter and more serious than before.
“There’s another question we need to discuss,” she said gently.
The room suddenly felt colder and Seonghwa’s fingers tightened instinctively around Hongjoong’s hand. The doctor looked between them carefully before speaking again.
“Do you want this pregnancy?”
The words landed heavily enough to steal the air from the room and Seonghwa froze completely. Beside him, Hongjoong went motionless too. Doctor Han’s voice remained calm and professional when she continued.
“You are still in a very early stage,” she explained softly. “If this pregnancy is unwanted, if continuing it would endanger your mental health, physical safety, careers, or overall wellbeing, then medically speaking, this is the safest time to terminate it.”
Terminate it. The word cut through Seonghwa so sharply that for a second, he genuinely stopped breathing. The doctor continued gently, clearly used to difficult conversations like this.
“You do not need to answer immediately,” she assured them. “But it is important that both of you think seriously and honestly about what you want, because pregnancy decisions become emotionally and medically more complicated the longer you wait.”
Silence swallowed the room completely after that. Seonghwa stared down at their intertwined hands while his thoughts suddenly became unbearably loud inside his own head. Terminate it. It opened the door to a quick solution. End everything before anyone knew or the company discovered everything. They could save ATEEZ, they could avoid the scandal and the judgment. The logical part of him understood immediately why the doctor was asking and yet the moment the possibility became real enough to be spoken aloud by another person, something inside Seonghwa’s chest twisted painfully around the idea of losing the tiny life growing inside him.
Beside him, Hongjoong’s hand tightened suddenly around his own. Seonghwa looked up instinctively then and immediately wished he had not because Hongjoong looked devastated instead of relieved. It was as if merely hearing the possibility spoken aloud had hurt him in ways he had not expected. The alpha swallowed once before finally forcing himself to speak.
“We…” His voice cracked slightly before he steadied it again. “We haven’t decided anything yet.”
Doctor Han nodded calmly.
“That’s understandable.”
But Seonghwa barely heard her anymore because suddenly all he could think was that sometime during the last twenty-four hours, without either of them noticing, this had stopped feeling like a problem and started feeling dangerously close to becoming a child. For several long seconds after the doctor mentioned termination, neither Seonghwa nor Hongjoong managed to say anything at all.
The silence inside the office became unbearably heavy, filled with thoughts neither of them seemed capable of putting into words yet. Outside the windows, the city continued moving beneath the fading afternoon light, indifferent to the fact that inside that quiet room two people were suddenly being asked to decide their fate. Seonghwa could still feel Hongjoong’s hand wrapped tightly around his own.
The alpha had not loosened his grip even once since the conversation changed and somehow that only made everything hurt more. Doctor Han seemed to understand that neither of them was going to answer immediately because her expression remained calm and patient, the kind of professionalism that came from years of guiding frightened people through impossible conversations.
Eventually, Seonghwa forced himself to speak. His voice came out small and strained.
“How much time do I have?”
The doctor’s eyes softened instantly.
“Medically speaking, because this is still an early pregnancy, you have some time to decide safely,” she explained gently. “At this stage, termination would typically be done medically rather than surgically unless complications appeared later.”
Seonghwa swallowed hard. The doctor continued calmly, never sounding cold, never judgmental, simply factual in the way medical professionals often became when discussing difficult realities.
“For pregnancies this early, medical termination usually involves medication that stops the pregnancy from progressing and then induces cramping and bleeding so the tissue can pass naturally,” she explained carefully. “It is physically similar to a very heavy and painful cycle for most patients, though experiences vary. We monitor everything closely throughout the process.”
Hongjoong’s fingers tightened around Seonghwa’s immediately at the explanation. The doctor noticed but continued gently.
“There are risks and emotional effects with any decision, whether you continue the pregnancy or not,” she said softly. “My role is not to pressure you either way. My responsibility is simply to make sure you understand your options and remain medically safe.”
Seonghwa stared at their intertwined hands again because suddenly everything felt horribly real in a completely different way now. Should he continue the pregnancy selfishly? Should he be brave enough to terminate it and save himself and his members from disaster? Both choices sounded terrifying. Doctor Han allowed the silence to settle for another moment before speaking again, her voice becoming softer now.
“But until you decide,” she said carefully, “your body still needs prenatal care.”
And there it was again, the reminder that his pregnancy was real, and it required special care. Seonghwa felt his throat tighten painfully and doctor reached for a folder near her desk and opened it while continuing her explanation.
“I’m prescribing prenatal vitamins immediately, especially folic acid and iron supplementation,” she said. “Folic acid is particularly important during the first weeks because neural development begins very early, often before omegas even realize they’re pregnant.”
Hongjoong listened with frightening attentiveness beside him, as though trying to memorize every single instruction.
“You also need consistent meals even if nausea makes eating difficult,” Doctor Han continued. “Small portions more frequently throughout the day are usually easier to tolerate than large meals. Hydration is extremely important as well, especially if vomiting continues.”
Seonghwa nodded weakly.
“Limit caffeine intake,” the doctor added while typing notes into the file again. “Avoid alcohol entirely. Be careful with supplements or medications that have not been medically approved during pregnancy. And if you experience severe cramping, heavy bleeding, fainting, chest pain, or dehydration from vomiting, I want you to contact me immediately.”
The sentence “contact me immediately” felt strangely protective somehow. It was as if the doctor had already quietly accepted responsibility for both him and the tiny life inside him regardless of what decision they eventually made.
“We’ll also monitor your hormone levels closely for the next few weeks, you have to stop using suppressants,” Doctor Han continued. “Since this pregnancy is still extremely early, I’d like to see you every two weeks for now.”
“Every two weeks…” Seonghwa repeated faintly.
The doctor nodded.
“We need to monitor your health carefully considering your stress levels and workload,” she explained. “At a later appointment we’ll likely schedule an ultrasound once we’re far enough along to properly evaluate development.”
The mention of a future appointment made Hongjoong visibly tense again because future implied continuation and continuation implied possibility. The doctor finally closed the file before looking between them once more, her expression calm and unwavering.
“You do not need to decide today,” she said gently. “But you do need to start taking care of yourselves. And whatever decision you make I will support you medically through it. Continuing the pregnancy is not wrong. Terminating it is not wrong either. What matters is that the choice is made honestly and carefully.”
Seonghwa felt tears burning suddenly behind his eyes again because the doctor kept speaking about the pregnancy with such kindness that it became harder to think of it as a disaster. Beside him, Hongjoong remained completely silent, but his thumb had started moving unconsciously against the back of Seonghwa’s hand again in slow repetitive strokes and somehow Seonghwa realized with clarity that Hongjoong had not let go of his hand once since the doctor confirmed there was truly a baby growing inside him.
Doctor Han remained quiet for a few moments after explaining the prenatal care instructions to Seonghwa, her fingers moving calmly across the tablet while adding prescriptions and follow up notes into the clinic system. Then, slowly, her attention shifted toward Hongjoong and something in her expression changed again.
“Now,” she said carefully, “there are also things you need to understand as the alpha involved in this pregnancy.”
Hongjoong straightened almost immediately beside Seonghwa, the doctor studied him for a second longer before continuing.
“Early omega pregnancies are not only physically demanding,” she explained calmly. “They are hormonally unstable, emotionally overwhelming, and instinctively vulnerable periods, especially if the omega is under severe stress.”
Seonghwa lowered his eyes slightly at the word vulnerable. Beside him, Hongjoong’s entire focus remained fixed on the doctor with almost frightening intensity. Doctor Han noticed that too.
“An omega’s body responds strongly to emotional security during pregnancy,” she continued. “Particularly during the first trimester, stress hormones can become elevated very quickly if the omega feels unsafe, abandoned, isolated, or emotionally distressed.”
Hongjoong’s expression tightened visibly. The doctor spoke gently, but there was unmistakable seriousness beneath every word now.
“That means your behavior matters,” she said directly. “More than usual.”
Seonghwa felt heat rise faintly into his face because suddenly the conversation felt unbearably intimate. Doctor Han continued anyway.
“You mentioned in your intake forms that you are not bonded.”
Hongjoong nodded once.
“No.”
The doctor hummed softly at that.
“That complicates things somewhat instinctively,” she admitted. “An unbonded omega carrying an alpha’s child can experience heightened anxiety responses because the body naturally expects certain reassurance patterns from the father during pregnancy.”
The word father landed strangely inside the room. Neither Hongjoong nor Seonghwa reacted outwardly, but both felt it. Doctor Han continued professionally.
“I am not suggesting you force a bond,” she clarified immediately. “Especially not during emotional distress. Forced claiming during unstable emotional states can psychologically damage both parties if consent is unclear.”
Hongjoong nodded immediately at that, almost sharply.
“Of course.”
The doctor’s expression softened slightly as though reassured by how quickly he answered.
“But,” she continued, “physical reassurance and scent stability become especially important in situations like yours.”
Seonghwa’s pulse stumbled slightly because suddenly the conversation was moving into the strange instinctive territory omegas and alphas rarely discussed openly with others. Doctor Han spoke matter of factly anyway.
“If Mr. Lee experiences panic attacks, heightened emotional episodes, insomnia, appetite loss, or instinctive distress, your presence may help regulate some of those responses,” she explained calmly. “Simple physical contact, scent comfort, sleeping nearby, calming touch, and emotional reassurance can significantly reduce physiological stress reactions.”
Hongjoong looked momentarily overwhelmed by the amount of responsibility hidden inside those words. The doctor noticed immediately.
“I am not saying you need to become emotionally perfect overnight,” she said gently. “However, you have to take into account that inconsistency will affect him more strongly now than before.”
Seonghwa felt his chest ache painfully because Hongjoong had already been doing all those things instinctively since the previous night. The touching, the constant proximity, the protectiveness. Doctor Han continued speaking carefully.
“You may also notice changes in your own instincts,” she warned Hongjoong. “Protectiveness, territorial behavior, increased aggression toward perceived threats, scent sensitivity around other alphas, difficulty separating from the omega during periods of distress.”
Seonghwa immediately thought about the practice room. About Yunho. About the way Hongjoong had practically positioned himself between them without realizing it. Beside him, Hongjoong went visibly still too, and the doctor clearly noticed that reaction.
“Ah,” she murmured softly. “It has already started.”
Hongjoong looked almost embarrassed suddenly.
“I can control it,” he said quietly.
Doctor Han nodded calmly.
“I’m sure you can,” she replied. “But controlling it and ignoring it are different things. Alpha protective instincts intensify during pregnancy for biological reasons. Pretending those instincts do not exist usually creates more stress rather than less.”
Hongjoong fell silent after that.
“What matters is how you handle those instincts,” the doctor continued more gently. “Increased possessiveness should never become controlling behavior toward the omega. Pregnancy already makes many omegas feel emotionally trapped inside their own bodies. He needs support but that does not mean you have to confine him.”
The alpha nodded immediately.
“I understand.”
And Seonghwa knew he meant it completely.
Doctor Han looked between them for another moment before adding one final thing.
“And one more important detail,” she said carefully. “Pregnant omegas often become more scent sensitive toward the father of the child very early on. Emotional rejection, avoidance, or sudden distancing from the alpha can trigger severe emotional distress responses during hormonal adjustment.”
The room became very quiet again because suddenly both Seonghwa and Hongjoong understood why separation had already felt unbearable since the previous night and why Hongjoong kept touching him constantly. Doctor Han finally closed the file completely after that.
“In other words,” she said softly, “whether you continue this pregnancy or not, both of you need to stop treating this as something only Mr. Lee is carrying alone.”
The sentence settled deeply into the silence between them because that was exactly what Hongjoong had been trying to do since the moment he saw the positive test, carry it with him too. Doctor Han spent the next several minutes reviewing the final instructions carefully with them, her calm voice grounding the conversation back into practical things after the emotional weight of everything they had just discussed. Seonghwa nodded quietly at everything. Doctor Han also emphasized rest again with slightly more firmness than before.
“I know your schedules are demanding,” she said while looking directly at both of them, “but your body is already signaling exhaustion very clearly. If symptoms worsen and you continue overworking yourself, your risk of complications increases.”
The word complications visibly unsettled Hongjoong. The doctor noticed immediately.
“I am not trying to frighten you,” she clarified softly. “Most early pregnancies progress normally with proper care. But stress management is not optional anymore.”
Hongjoong nodded slowly.
“We understand.”
Doctor Han then scheduled their next appointment herself, exactly two weeks later, explaining that by then they would likely repeat bloodwork and evaluate whether the pregnancy was progressing appropriately for gestational age.
“And if you make a decision before then,” she added gently, clearly referring to termination without forcing the word into the room again, “you contact me directly. Not the reception desk.”
She wrote a private number onto one of the clinic cards before sliding it carefully toward them across the desk.
“For emergencies too,” she continued.
The fact that she included emotional distress in the same tone as medical emergencies made Seonghwa’s throat tighten slightly again because somehow this entire experience had been far kinder than he expected, kinder than the outside world would ever be. Doctor Han finally stood then, signaling the end of the appointment, and both Hongjoong and Seonghwa rose immediately after her. For a moment the doctor simply looked at them quietly. She was not pitying them and then her expression softened one last time.
“You’re both very frightened,” she said gently.
Neither of them denied it. The doctor gave a small nod like she already knew they would not.
“That’s normal,” she continued softly. “Just remember that fear does not automatically mean you’re making the wrong decision, whichever decision you eventually choose.”
Seonghwa felt his chest ache painfully at that. Beside him, Hongjoong’s hand found his again almost instinctively.
Doctor Han noticed but she only smiled faintly afterward.
“Take care of each other,” she said quietly and then she let them go.
The clinic hallways felt strangely silent after that. They bought Seonghwa’s meds at the clinic´s pharmacy. Neither Hongjoong nor Seonghwa spoke while walking back toward the private elevator Junghyun had arranged for them. Seonghwa held the bag with the vitamins and the folder containing prescriptions, appointment schedules, bloodwork results, and pregnancy information tightly against his chest while his thoughts spiraled endlessly around everything they had just heard.
Beside him, Hongjoong looked equally overwhelmed now that the immediate pressure of the appointment had passed. The alpha remained close, as if neither of them knew how to exist separately anymore after hearing the doctor speak about them like a real family. The underground parking garage was quieter now when they finally reached the waiting car. This time, Hongjoong waited until they were both inside before speaking at all.
“We don’t have to decide anything tonight,” he said softly.
Seonghwa stared down at the folder in his lap.
“I know.”
But his voice sounded distant and tired.
The car slowly pulled out of the parking structure and merged back into the city traffic while dusk settled over Seoul in soft gray shadows. Outside the windows, the world still looked ordinary. Couples walked together beneath streetlights, people carried shopping bags home from work, students laughed outside convenience stores. Meanwhile, inside the backseat of that quiet car, Hongjoong and Seonghwa sat side by side carrying a reality that already felt too large for either of them to hold. After several long minutes of silence, Hongjoong spoke again.
“The members are waiting, they’re at Yunho and Mingi’s.”
Seonghwa closed his eyes briefly. And there it was again, reality waiting for them. Because while the clinic had briefly felt isolated from the rest of the world, protected somehow beneath soft lights and confidential files and gentle voices, now they had to go back to the building and the members’ questions and worries. They had to go back to six people who loved them enough to notice that something enormous was wrong even without knowing the truth. Seonghwa suddenly felt exhausted down to his bones.
“I don’t know how to look at them normally anymore,” he admitted quietly.
Hongjoong’s expression tightened beside him. For a moment the alpha looked like he wanted to say something comforting, something reassuring, but in the end he only reached over and carefully took Seonghwa’s hand again and somehow that felt more honest than words could have because neither of them knew how to go back to normal now, not after hearing a doctor say congratulations. Not after hearing someone refer to Hongjoong as the father. Not after realizing that the tiny life inside Seonghwa had already begun changing them completely.