"Eggs." Tae stared at the cracked sidewalk, the single word escaping her lips like a sigh. The grocery bag dug into her thin forearm, the cheap plastic stretching under the weight of discounted staples. A solitary yolk gleamed amber in the gutter, spilled from the careless drop of someone rushing home. It reminded her of wasted potential, of fragile things broken before they could bloom. She adjusted the strap of her too-tight tank top, the worn fabric straining against her curves. Poverty meant choices: dinner tonight or the bus fare for tomorrow’s job interview? She chose the interview. Always fighting.

Inside her cramped studio apartment, the air clung thick and stale. Tae dumped the groceries onto the chipped laminate counter – instant noodles, cheap coffee, a bruised apple. Her reflection in the microwave door showed tired eyes, sharp cheekbones, and lips painted a defiant, cheap pink. She needed work. Good work. Fast. Flipping open her battered laptop, she scanned local job boards. Cleaning gigs, waitressing shifts… nothing paid enough. Then, a listing flashed: Experienced Nanny Needed Urgently. Jeon Enterprises Residence. Competitive Salary. Her breath hitched. Jeon. Kook.

Two days later, the imposing iron gates of the Jeon mansion swung open. Tae smoothed the hem of her impossibly short denim skirt, the sequined top sparkling under the midday sun. Confidence was her armor, cheap fabric her weapon. She’d rehearsed cold indifference all morning. An efficient-looking woman, Kook’s assistant, greeted her briskly. "Mr. Jeon and the baby are expecting you in the south garden." Tae followed, heels clicking sharply on the marble, ignoring the silent judgment radiating from the immaculate staff.

The scent of roses hit her first, thick and sweet. Then she saw him. Kook stood frozen near a stone fountain, sunlight catching the planes of his jaw, the familiar strength in his shoulders. He wore dark slacks and a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled up. Cradled against his broad chest, held with surprising tenderness, was a bundle of soft blue blankets.

Tae’s carefully constructed frost faltered for a millisecond. His eyes, wide with disbelief, locked onto hers. "Tae?" His voice was rough, scraping across old wounds. The baby in his arms wriggled, turning its head. Big, dark eyes blinked open, focusing on Tae. A tiny hand waved vaguely in her direction.

Kook shifted instinctively, stepping closer. "He... seems to like you." Tae’s gaze flicked from Kook’s stunned face to the baby’s. The resemblance was startling – the same dark, serious eyes, the same stubborn curve to the tiny chin. Her practiced, icy reply died on her tongue. She just stared. The baby cooed softly.

Without thinking, Tae reached out. Her fingers brushed the impossibly soft blanket, then Kook’s forearm as he carefully transferred the baby into her waiting arms. The sudden warmth, the solid weight, the clean scent of baby powder – it slammed into her senses.

She adjusted her hold instinctively, cradling little Taegguk’s head. He felt heavier than she expected, dense and warm. His chubby cheek pressed against her sequined top, his tiny fingers curling into a fist near her collarbone. Looking down at his face, so impossibly like Kook’s, a tremor went through her. My baby should be here. The thought was a knife twist. Her eyes stung. She blinked rapidly, forcing the tears back, but the ache in her chest was raw and gaping. She pressed her lips together, hard.

A sharp click of heels shattered the fragile moment. Yuna strode across the manicured lawn, her tall, lean figure clad in sleek athleisure wear. Her eyes, cold and assessing, swept over Tae from the impractical heels to the clinging sequined top, lingering on the baby nestled against Tae’s chest. Disgust curled her lip.

"So, you're the new help?" Her voice was brittle. "Listen carefully. Feed him precisely every three hours. Bottles are sterilized in the kitchen. Bathe him before 7 PM. He sleeps in the nursery alone. Don’t coddle him. We don’t need him spoiled." Her gaze flickered dismissively over Tae’s outfit. "And for God’s sake, find something... less distracting to wear tomorrow. This is a home, not a nightclub." She didn’t wait for a reply, turning sharply towards Kook. "I’m off to Pilates. Try not to ruin his schedule." She stalked away, leaving a trail of expensive perfume.

Tae watched her go, her grip tightening slightly on little Taegguk. The baby let out a soft sigh, nestling closer. She looked up at Kook. His jaw was clenched, eyes tracking Yuna’s retreating back before he turned to Tae, a flicker of apology in his expression.

Tae’s voice was deliberately flat, colder than she intended, cutting through the rose-scented air. "The baby’s name?"

Kook cleared his throat, shifting his weight. He gestured towards the infant in her arms. "Taegguk. We call him... Ggukie. He is 5 months old."

The name landed like a physical blow. Tae’s entire body stiffened. Her eyes snapped back to Kook’s face, wide with shock and sudden, overwhelming pain. Taegguk. The name they had whispered all those nights curled together in her cramped dorm room. The name meant for their child. Her vision blurred; hot tears welled instantly, defiantly, spilling over despite her furious blinking. She couldn't speak. She just held Ggukie tighter, the little boy oblivious, his tiny fingers brushing against the dampness on her cheek.

Kook hesitated, reaching out slightly before pulling back. "Tae... how have you..." he started, his voice thick with unspoken questions.

She cut him off sharply, turning away to hide her face against Ggukie's soft hair. "Fine," she clipped out, the single word brittle. The scent of baby powder filled her nostrils, mixing with the faint, clean smell of Kook’s cologne still lingering on the blanket. She focused on the warm, solid weight against her chest, Ggukie’s steady breathing against her skin.

This should have been her moment. This chubby baby boy, this perfect blend of Kook’s features – the dark eyes, the stubborn set of his tiny mouth – should have been hers to hold. Instead, she was the hired help, holding the living reminder of everything he’d lost. The ache in her chest deepened, a hollow yearning sharpened by Yuna’s cold dismissal and Kook’s conflicted gaze. Ggukie cooed again, a sweet, gurgling sound that clawed at her resolve.

"Follow me," Kook murmured, his tone subdued. He led her away from the fountain, across the manicured lawn towards the grand house. Tae walked beside him, her heels sinking slightly into the damp grass. She kept her eyes fixed forward, focusing on the imposing marble steps leading to the terrace. Inside, the air was cool and hushed. Polished wooden floors gleamed, reflecting crystal chandeliers.

Kook gestured down a wide hallway lined with abstract art. "The nursery is this way," he said quietly. They stopped at a door painted a soft sky-blue. Inside, sunlight streamed through large windows onto plush cream carpets. Everything was pristine, expensive – a gleaming white crib piled with stuffed animals, a plush rocking chair, shelves overflowing with untouched, brightly colored toys. It felt sterile, unlived-in. Tae’s gaze swept the room, her brows knitting slightly. Where was the worn comfort? The lived-in chaos? Kook pointed to a door connecting to the nursery. "That’s your room. It’s private."

He lingered awkwardly in the nursery doorway, watching her hold Ggukie. His eyes traced the curve of her cheek, the defiance in her posture despite the tears she'd hastily wiped away. "Tae..." he began again, his voice low, strained. "Tell me... tell me how you really are."

Tae carefully, almost reluctantly, placed Ggukie into the crib. The baby instantly fussed, reaching tiny hands towards her. She forced herself to step back, ignoring the pull. Turning to Kook, she met his searching gaze head-on, her own eyes glacial. "Why?" she asked, her voice devoid of warmth. "Does it matter now, Mr. Jeon?" The deliberate formality hung heavy in the luxurious silence of the nursery.

Kook flinched, his knuckles whitening where he gripped the doorframe. He opened his mouth to reply, but Tae turned her back, walking towards the connecting door to her new room, the cheap sequins on her top catching the afternoon light.