Her belly grew like a promise — round, heavy, glowing under her clingy silk dresses. Hyunbin was there for every heartbeat, every late-night craving, every sleepy, sweet cuddle with his hands splayed over her swollen bump.

And even when she was too big to squeeze into her tiniest dresses, she still found herself at that same hotel suite — her belly bouncing as Jungkook bent her over the bed, one big hand braced protectively over the baby he’d put inside her.

“You’re glowing for me,” he’d growl, fucking her slow and deep while she sobbed his name. “Big, perfect mama. Carrying my boy so good.”

She’d always cry out, her hands clawing at the sheets, her guilt buried under layers of forbidden pleasure. It’s Hyunbin’s. It’s for Hyunbin. It’s for our family, she told herself. But she couldn’t stop. She didn’t want to.

⸻

When her water broke late one warm night, Hyunbin practically fell apart trying to get her to the hospital. He was so soft, fumbling with her hospital bag, kissing her knuckles between contractions, whispering, “You’re amazing, baby, you’re doing so good — I love you — I’m right here — you’re not alone.”

Hours later, drenched in sweat, tears streaking her cheeks, Taehyung screamed one last time and felt her world split open — and then there he was.

A perfect, chubby baby boy, red and wailing and beautiful.

A tiny version of Hyunbin… and Jungkook.

The baby’s soft green eyes cracked her heart wide open. Hyunbin didn’t see it — he just cradled their son in his big gentle hands, crying right there in the delivery room, kissing her forehead over and over.

“Look at him, baby — he’s perfect. He’s so perfect. You did it. I love you so much. I love you both.”

She smiled through her tears, delirious with exhaustion and relief. All worth it. She pressed her lips to their baby’s soft crown, inhaling the sweet, warm scent of new life.

⸻

A day later, they brought him home — swaddled like a little prince in a cloud of blankets, his chubby cheeks flushed pink, tiny fingers curling around Hyunbin’s.

Hyunbin refused to put him down for hours. He just sat there on their big bed, shirt half unbuttoned, glasses askew, his eyes shining. He looked at Taehyung like she’d given him the world. And in her twisted way, maybe she had.

⸻

Jungkook came that evening.

She shouldn’t have let him in — but she did. She slipped him through the back door while Hyunbin napped with their baby on his chest. Jungkook stood there in the nursery doorway, looking down at the little boy in the bassinet — chubby, milk-drunk, so peaceful.

His rough, wolfish grin softened for once. “Look at him,” he murmured, brushing a knuckle over the baby’s fat cheek. “My boy’s boy. My blood. You did good, pretty girl.”

She shivered when he bent down, pressing the softest kiss to their son’s tiny forehead — so tender it made her throat close up. Then he straightened, catching her in his arms, kissing her rough and deep — the taste of everything they’d done together hanging like a ghost between them.

“You remember this,” he rasped in her ear, palm cupping her hip. “Every time you look at him. He’s mine too.”

She nodded, her heart pounding. “I know.”

⸻

In the next room, Hyunbin stirred, shifting under the baby’s sleepy weight — smiling, blissful, clueless.

And Taehyung stood there, sandwiched between two worlds — the sweet man who gave her his whole heart, and the monster who gave her the secret she could never, ever confess.