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Hide(,) My Baby pt.1

✨ idol!jaehyun x she/her

genre: mature themed, angst, only a flash of fluff warning(s): mature content, no explicit scene, but still, mention of abortion, unplanned pregnancy, innacurate description of something just for the sake of the plot (not majorly wrong either, just not detailed)

Read at your own risk, I already put the trigger warnings :)

next chapters: pt.2 pt.3

🪶 preview.

Perfect life, perfect love, perfect pair, and an angel that came into their life unexpectedly,

How would two selfless lovers deal with the unplanned pregnancy?

The city glittered that night, still humming from the echoes of applause and flashing cameras. Jaehyun had just come from the award ceremony, the Daesang trophy is still gleaming in his hands, his name still trending across every feed. But the noise, the lights, and the glamour mattered as much as the thought of her.

The moment he stepped through the apartment door, the familiar scent of her cooking greeted him— warm, buttery, and a little sweet, like home. “Baby, I’m home,” he called out, his voice still soft from exhaustion but tinted with a smile.

There was a shuffle of hurried footsteps, and before he could even take his shoes off, she was already running toward him.

“Sweetheart!” he laughed, barely catching his breath as she threw her arms around him. She cupped his face, peppering his lips, his cheeks, his jaw with tiny kisses between words. “I’m so, so proud of you!”

Her excitement was contagious, the kind that made Jaehyun giggle like a boy again. She smelled like specifically like tuberose and warmth and everything familiar. Her smile, bright and unguarded, made the long night worth it.

He hugged her back tightly, pressing his face into her hair. “You’re gonna make me blush,” he teased, but his voice was tender. To Jaehyun, she was more than a girlfriend. She was his home.

His biggest fan, his quiet muse, the person who waited through sleepless nights and cheered through every rough patch. The one who reminded him to eat, who listened to him ramble about melodies and scripts, who never let him forget that beyond fame, he was still just a man worth loving.

They were three years in.

Three years of rushed and slow mornings, shared takeout boxes, little notes left on mirrors. Their love was gentle and consistent, growing quietly in the spaces between days.

Jaehyun loved to provide for her. To nurture her, to protect her, to spoil her with small, thoughtful things, even jewelry that sparkled like her smile. Food that she said she wanted to try. Books she mentioned once in passing. Clothes and bag and shoes he caught her pressed a like button on Instagram. Flowers “just because.”

And she gave back in her own ways through devotion, through effort, through the quiet pride she carried for him.

She was still a student, and the way she repays his attentiveness is with her attitude in living her own life— always striking for perfection, hardworking, endlessly motivated, just like what he does in his job. Straight A’s, perfect attendance, internships lined up like stepping stones toward a bright future. She always said she wanted to make him proud.

And she did. Every single day.

They met by accident, almost like fate when you look back. It was the wrap-up party for one of Jaehyun’s dramas. She wasn’t supposed to be there. She had only come to pick up her friend, who were his junior stylist who’d still unfamiliar with her drinking limit.

He noticed her right away. Not because she was trying to stand out, but because she didn’t. She was polite, quiet, but the way she smiled when she talked to people, bright, genuine, and unfiltered caught him off guard. Not to mention her looks. She looks like an angel in his eyes.

Later, he asked his stylist to set them up. Just coffee, he’d said. Just to talk.

Coffee turned into dinner. Dinner turned into laughter. Laughter turned into something neither of them expected.

They fell into rhythm easily, like they’d been waiting for each other all along.

Through the years, they built a world together.

She was there when Jaehyun got his first win, his first record-breaking chart, his first scandal that came out of nowhere and nearly broke him. When he was lost in doubt, she was the steady anchor that pulled him back.

And he was there when she faced her own storms; when her parents passed, when the grief sat heavy on her chest and made it hard to breathe. He held her through the quiet nights, through every tear, through the silence that followed.

He was there, too, for her victories. When she finally finished her bachelor’s degree, Jaehyun was the first face she saw in the crowd—holding the biggest bouquet of white lilies and baby’s breath, smiling so bright she swore he lit up the entire hall.

After the ceremony, he slipped a small box into her hands. Inside was a watch— sleek, silver, and far too expensive for him to justify, but he just grinned when she tried to protest.

“You worked hard for this,” he’d said, fastening it around her wrist. “Let me be proud.”

He told everyone about her—his friends, his staff, even his manager. He bragged like she’d won a Nobel prize when she got scouted by a multinational company.

When she landed her first real job, he made it his mission to celebrate properly. He took her shopping for work clothes, insisting on picking every blouse and blazer himself, pretending to be the fashion expert he wasn’t. On her first day, he woke up early to drive her there, waiting in the car until she disappeared through the lobby doors. And when his schedule allowed, he’d pack her lunch, meticulously packed, with little notes tucked inside: Eat well, little baby.

They weren’t perfect. But they were each other’s.

The third year was supposed to be their year—steady, secure, finally at peace. They had survived so much, and this was meant to be the time they thrived.

Until it wasn’t.

It started small. A missed period. Then another. She brushed it off at first, blaming stress, diet, anything else. But soon, she couldn’t ignore the changes. Her body felt strange, unfamiliar. Her stomach felt tight sometimes, her appetite erratic, the morning nausea too consistent to be a coincidence.

And one evening, after sitting on the edge of her bed for what felt like hours, she gathered the courage to go out and buy a handful of pregnancy tests. She came home trembling, locking herself in the bathroom.

First time in the evening. Second time in the next morning. Third time in the afternoon. Fourth time right now.

Each one spelled the same word: Pregnant.

She didn’t have the heart to read the result, and she avoids it until the fourth time she didn’t it. Her heart dropped. She sat on the cold tile floor, staring at the tiny plastic sticks as if they might change if she just blinked long enough. But they didn’t.

The next morning, she went to the nearest gynecology clinic, the one just a few blocks from her office. Her hands shook when she filled out the forms. The doctor, who’s a woman in her forties with kind eyes performed an ultrasound quietly.

After a moment, the doctor smiled gently. “You’re about eight weeks along,” she said. “The baby’s developing well.”

She couldn’t even process the words. “But… I’m on birth control,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “I never missed a day. Not even once.”

The doctor nodded sympathetically. “It happens, sometimes. Very rare, but possible.”

Her eyes filled with tears she didn’t even feel falling. “So… what now?”

The doctor hesitated, typing something on her tablet. “If you’re not ready to continue, I can write you a referral letter to a clinic that provides termination services,” she said carefully. “We don’t handle that procedure here.”

She just nodded. She didn’t trust herself to speak.

She came home that night in a daze. The walls of the apartment felt smaller, quieter. She cooked dinner. She showered. She sat beside Jaehyun while he talked about his upcoming schedules, smiling when he smiled, laughing at all the right moments.

But she didn’t hear a word.

The next few days passed like that. She went to work, clocked in, clocked out, but her thoughts were trapped in one looping question: What am I supposed to do?

Every answer led back to him.

If she told Jaehyun, it would destroy everything he’d worked for. The career he loved. The fans who adored him. The company that would never forgive him.

And if she kept it secret… she’d be the only one to bear the cost.

She avoided him for days, claiming exhaustion, hiding the truth behind small smiles and weak excuses. She needed time to think, to plan, to be brave enough to make a decision that would break both of them.

She thought about him crying because of her. Because of this. So she made a choice.

She’d protect him, even if it meant breaking her own heart.

She started building a plan. Switzerland. Her father’s dream country. He used to talk about it often— the quiet towns, the clean air, the peace.

Her father’s voice echoed faintly in her memory was his stories about Switzerland, the place he always dreamed of retiring. He used to say he wanted to see his grandchildren grow up there someday, in a quiet town surrounded by mountains.

After he passed, she’d learned he had a small house there, tucked away under his name.

That’s where she turned first.

She remembered that. And now, it felt like destiny.

She went through her finances carefully, calculating every possible cost. Her savings. Her insurance. Her inheritance. She contacted her father’s old attorney—an older man named Mr. Yoon who used to handle her family’s affairs—and told him she wanted to fulfill her father’s wish of “spending part of her life in Switzerland.”

He agreed to help. He handled the paperwork, reviewed the house ownership, and arranged all the documents she’d need.

Within days, everything was ready.

“Your application looks strong,” Mr. Yoon told her over the phone. “You have the inheritance, the property, and the qualifications for residency. All that’s left is your confirmation. Shall I proceed?”

She hesitated. Her hand tightened around her phone. “Not yet,” she said quietly. “Please wait until I tell you to.”

He respected that. “Of course,” he said. “When you’re ready.”

She hung up, staring at her reflection in the dark window. Everything was in place. She just had to find the strength to walk away.

But she couldn’t. Not yet.

Every time she looked at Jaehyun, his soft smile and the warmth in his voice when he said her name, she froze. She told herself she’d leave tomorrow. Then tomorrow became another day. Then another week.

When night came, she’d lie beside him and whisper, Just one more day. One more night. One more morning waking up next to him.

One more time seeing him thrives in his element. To see how he shines the brightest when doing what he likes to do in his life.

Weeks passed that way. The thought of leaving him crushed her, and she kept delaying it, waiting for the courage to do the one thing she swore was necessary.

And then, Jaehyun won his second Daesang.

She sat in front of the TV that night, watching him smile on stage, his face glowing under the lights makes her heart swell with pride and breaking at the same time. He looked so happy, so fulfilled, so radiant glowing under the lights, his smile full of everything she’d always loved about him— his passion, his grace, his endless dedication.

And she realized it was time.

Her excuse was up.

After wiping her tears, she reached for her phone and called Mr. Yoon.

“Please go ahead with my visa application,” she said quietly. “Process everything.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she whispered, eyes glistening. “I’m sure.”

She wanted him to come home to something warm, something real. So she spent the entire evening cooking his favorites — mushroom soup, steak, mashed potatoes, and even buying his favorite wine from their regular wine shop just across the street.

He deserved to be celebrated. And she wanted to be the one to do it. When they finally sat down together, it didn’t feel like a dinner but it felt like love.

He told her stories from the night, about the speeches, the laughter, the backstage chaos. She listened, eyes shining, resting her chin on her palm, smiling like she’d never get tired of hearing his voice.

He teased her for overcooking the steak a little; she rolled her eyes and said he was lucky she even cooked at all. He kissed her temple as an apology. She giggled.

Everything about them that night was full of unspoken devotion. After dinner, they moved to the living room. She put on a movie neither of them really watched, and Jaehyun sprawled out on the couch, lazily twirling his fingers, his head heavy from comfort and wine.

In the kitchen, she was taking a fresh batch of cookies out of the oven, humming softly to herself.

As the night goes deeper, Jaehyun was sprawled on the couch, a half-watched Netflix series running in the background. His hands fidgeted restlessly, rubbing his knuckles, tugging at a loose thread on his sleeve. In the kitchen, she was taking a fresh batch of cookies out of the oven, humming softly to the sound of the timer.

Jaehyun glanced at his hands again. “Shit,” he muttered. He realized it was past his nail care routine so his nails had grown longer than she liked.

“Baby,” he called out, already standing. “Can I borrow your nail clippers?”

"Yeah, it’s in my wardrobe drawer" She answered casually— absentmindedly, forgetting what she was hiding in that specific drawer.

Jaehyun walked into her room, and he pulled the drawer open, expecting the small metal clipper he always borrowed but he froze when he sees something else.

There was a neat pile of used test packs, folded clinic papers, ultrasound photos, and a sealed envelope with a hospital logo and her name typed cleanly on it.

He blinked once. Twice. Then sat down on the edge of her bed, staring.

Each test pack read the same word: Pregnant.

His heart thudded unevenly fast, heavy, panicked. He ran a hand over his face, inhaled through his nose, exhaled shakily. The images blurred as he tried to process what this meant. There were too many scenarios happening in his head, and it was stressing him out.

Yes, he dreamed of having his own family with her, but not in this way, and not now.

He went out of her bedroom, coming over to her whose eyes are glued to his new drama on TV. There were cookies and a glass of warm milk in front of her, her little domestic ritual.

He stood adjacent to her with all of the things he had found, he then called her name softly. "Baby…"

Her head turned. The color drained from her face instantly. Then, her eyes darted to his hands, to the test kits, the photos. She froze.

Oh shit.

Jaehyun could read the horror in her eyes when she saw what Jaehyun had been holding in his hand. He wasn’t supposed to find out about her pregnancy. She had no plans to tell him about it.

In her plan, as cold, careful, and cruel as it might’ve been, he was never meant to see this part of her. She had already decided to play the villain. To become the bad guy who left without reason and hurt him so he wouldn’t come after her.

“I have so much I want to do.” “I need to find myself.” “I can’t stay in Korea anymore.” Excuses that sounded believable enough, painful enough, final enough to take the blame and let him hate her if that’s what it took to keep him safe.

But never I’m pregnant. Never I’m scared.

Because she knew exactly what would happen if Jaehyun ever found out.

He was never supposed to find those test kits, those ultrasound photos, that sealed envelope with her name on it. He was never supposed to see proof of the life that was tying them together.

The look in his eyes was a mix of shock, confusion, something raw and trembling underneath, and he wouldn’t ever imagine every lie she’d built, every escape route she’d planned, had just fallen apart in his hands, would he?

There was no way to lie now. He’d already seen everything, yet, it was him that broke her, not the evidence.

It was the way Jaehyun was looking at her softly, not angry, not accusing. Just… worried. The same kind of worry he always had when she caught a fever, or forgot to eat, or worked too late. That gentle, instinctive concern that made her feel both loved and small.

She could feel her defenses unraveling under that gaze.

He’d always had that effect on her. No matter how strong she tried to be, no matter how stubbornly she held her ground, she could never withstand him when he looked at her like she was the most precious thing in the world.

And now, when he should’ve been furious, or at least disappointed, he was just here with her, giving her the gentleness she needs for now.

Jaehyun crouched in front of her, setting the items gently beside her thigh. “Want to tell me what this is?” His tone wasn’t sharp, but soft and confused.

When she didn’t speak, he reached for her hands, thumbs brushing her knuckles. “Sweetheart,” he murmured. “Is this yours? Are you pregnant?”

The tears came before she even realized it, spilling down her cheeks without her permission. She tried to look away, to hide her face behind her hands, but Jaehyun’s presence made it impossible. His silence pressed softly around her, not demanding answers, just… waiting.

She nodded slowly, barely breathing. When she senses no anger in his voice and his voice is somehow soothing her anxiety, she looks at Jaehyun with teary eyes. She broke down in front of him, silently crying in frustration and relief at the same time because Jaehyun’s response is far better than what she expected.

Jaehyun’s chest sank. He exhaled a long, heavy sigh that sounded like it came from somewhere deep in his soul.

He stared down at the test pack still resting in his hand, the word Pregnant burning through him like a heartbeat.

Yeah, he could read the words printed in bold on the plastic, he could see her name on the ultrasound photo, the tiny smudge of what was now a life inside her— but it hit him differently when she actually said it.

Something about hearing it from her lips made it real in a way a device never could.

He sat beside her, silent for a few seconds, just watching her fall apart. His throat tightened, his mind swirling in fear, confusion, love, all tangled together but when he reached out, his hands didn’t shake.

Without another word, he pulled her into his arms.

“It’s okay,” he whispered against her hair, pressing his lips to the crown of her head. “It’s okay, baby.”

He didn’t know what okay meant right now.

It didn’t mean he was ready. It didn’t mean he wasn’t terrified. It just meant she wasn’t alone.

His world was spinning too fast for him to define what came next, starting from his career, their future, to the tiny heartbeat they hadn’t planned but all that mattered was that she was trembling in his arms, and he needed her to know she was safe there.

He could feel her heartbeat against his chest, frantic and scared, and he tightened his hold as if he could shield her from everything— the world, the fear, even himself.

“Shh,” he murmured softly, rocking her just a little. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

He kept hugging her to give her assurance that he would not react badly to whatever situation she’s going to explain to him. Although he wasn’t welcome to the idea of having a baby right now and he knows how fucked up his career could be if this gets to the public, he knows it must’ve been 300% harder for her to take in the situation since she is the one carrying the unwanted child in her body.

She cried quietly against him, her fingers clinging to his shirt like it was the only thing keeping her upright. He could feel her body trembling in his hold, so he hugs her even tighter. His hand soothes her back, and he gives small kisses on top of her head for long enough until she calls his name.

“Jae…” she whispered when her voice finally found strength.

He leaned back a little, brushing her hair away from her face. Her eyes were red, her lashes wet, her expression half-guilt, half-relief.

Seeing Jaehyun’s face makes her tears run down even more because he has been taking the news unexpectedly well. She knows it must’ve been hard for him too, but she knows he prioritizes her, and she is very grateful for it.

“When did you find out?” he asked softly.

“Last month,” she said, voice cracking. “It’s been twelve weeks now.”

“But you’re on birth control.” Jaehyun knows she was never not on birth control. He knows she even had alarm to take her pill. He is confused about how she can get pregnant when she’s on birth control.

“I know,” she muttered, wiping her cheeks. “They said… it’s rare, but possible.”

"I don’t know," She doesn’t even know how and what to explain. It was all white when the doctors explained to her how can it actually happened, which makes him confused even more, Jaehyun never knows that case would be possible. Never in his life he ever thought a birth control device planted inside her body could be faulty.

"It’s possible..?" He asks, not sure on how to responds to this new information.

“They- they write me a referral letter to… remove it.” Her voice broke on the last words. She swallowed hard, trembling again.

“Remove it?” His tone was quiet, but pained. “Baby, are you thinking about that?”

She shakes her head at his question and Jaehyun doesn’t really know how to respond and what to feel by her answer. He knows it will turns their life around either way. He feels like he rationally should encourage her to do what’s best for them, which is to abort the unwanted child, but Jaehyun doesn’t want to do that.

He worries more about her than his whole life career, he doesn’t have the heart to get rid of the— his child, and he couldn’t bear to see her going through any of those kind pain. Not just physically but mentally too.

“I’m scared, I don’t want to do that” she finally said, voice small, and her eyes are filled with frustration, tears are constantly streaming down her eyes, her voice is trembling. Jaehyun couldn’t help but to cry with her, understanding how overwhelming this situation is.

"Ooh my baby.. how much have you gone through on your own?" Jaehyun’s heart feels like getting ripped into pieces to imagine how distressed and painful it is for her to endure and hide all of what she has been going through alone.

He imagined the past eight weeks. Her waking up alone, sick and scared, trying to act normal around him while her world quietly shifted inside her body. The doctor visits she must’ve gone to by herself. The fear that probably kept her up at night.

The thought made his stomach twist. He couldn’t believe she’d been carrying all that pain and God’s sake, carrying their child, without ever reaching out to him.

“God,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “You must’ve been so scared.”

She didn’t answer. She only pressed her lips together, shaking, and he pulled her closer, holding her as if his arms could undo the weeks she’d spent alone.

He could feel the tremors in her shoulders, the uneven rhythm of her breath against his chest. And all he could think was how fragile she felt in his hands. All while, Jaehyun’s mind kept racing, not about the press or the company or the headlines waiting to devour him if this ever got out.

All he could think about was her. Her health. Her heart. The small, invisible life growing inside her.

He tilted her chin up gently, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Have you… been feeling okay?” he asked softly. “Any pain? Morning sickness? Have you been eating enough?”

His voice trembled with genuine worry. He was desperate for details, not for control, but to understand how to take care of her. She nodded weakly, voice faint. “A little sick in the mornings. I feel tired all the time… but it’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” he said, shaking his head. “You should’ve told me sooner, baby. You shouldn’t have gone through this alone.”

“I didn’t want you to worry,” she murmured. “You’ve been so busy. And I…” Her words trailed off, her gaze flickering to the floor. “I didn’t want this to ruin anything for you. If people found out… it could all just… fall apart.”

Her voice cracked, but Jaehyun wasn’t even listening to that part. His thoughts were still stuck on her face, pale and tear-streaked, still imagining how she must’ve held it together every day while a secret like this was eating her alive.

He didn’t hear the fear in her words about his career; all he heard was the quiet echo of how alone she’d been. He brushed her hair from her face, fingers trembling. “Don’t think about that right now,” he whispered. “I just need to know you’re okay. That both of you are okay.”

She didn’t answer. She only looked at him, something tender and heavy in her eyes. She could tell his mind was somewhere else, spiraling quietly in his own panic. So she said nothing.

She just leaned into him, letting him hold her tighter.

Letting him have this moment of comfort, the same onr she didn’t know she’d been craving until now.

Her hands slipped around his waist, her cheek pressed to his chest, listening to the uneven rhythm of his heart. They stayed like that for a while.

He wasn’t an idol with a career on the line. She wasn’t a woman drowning in fear. They were just two people who loved each other so much that, even in a moment of chaos, their first instinct was to hold on tighter.

Some time later, the TV had been switched off. The room was dim, filled only with the faint smell of cookies and the sound of their breathing. They sat curled together on the couch, her head on his shoulder, his fingers tracing slow lines down her arm. Neither of them spoke for a long while.

Jaehyun’s mind wouldn’t stop, and the silence between them was filled with all the possibilities that were tearing him apart.

If he told her to remove it, if he said that word aloud, he knew what it would do. It would shatter her. He’d seen the way she trembled when she mentioned the doctor’s referral letter, how she couldn’t even bring herself to say abortion. If he pushed her toward it, she’d do it for him. He knew that. She’d do it out of love, out of fear of being a burden.

But then she’d carry that pain forever. Her body scarred, her mind haunted, her heart empty. And he’d live with it too, the guilt of asking her to destroy a part of herself, and of ending a life that, no matter how small, was his.

He couldn’t even imagine looking at her afterward, knowing he’d chosen himself over them. But if they kept the baby, if he asked her to keep it, he knew the world wouldn’t be kind.

His career would collapse overnight. The news would explode; headlines, hashtags, speculations. He could already hear the whispers in company halls, the cold, calculating tone of his managers. The brand deals would drop, fans would turn rabid. The people who once screamed his name would spit it out like a curse.

And she would be hunted. Dragged through hate, lies, death threats, paparazzi following her every move. All for something as human as loving him.

He clenched his jaw, trying to breathe through it all.

Every scenario ended the same way: with someone broken. Her. Him. The baby. No version of this was painless.

He looked at her then, at the way her lashes clung together from dried tears and the faint redness around her nose, at the small rise and fall of her chest against his shoulder.

What did she really want?

Did she want him to tell her to end it so she could stop being afraid, because maybe she didn’t have the courage to make that choice herself?

Or did she want to keep it, truly, deep in her heart, because something in her.. maybe some motherly instinct, had already accepted it?

Was it fear that made her hesitate, or love?

Was she already picturing them as a family, the three of them together, somewhere far from all of this?

He didn’t know. And that terrified him.

His throat tightened. The longer he sat there, the heavier it all felt. He felt her shift beside him, and when he turned, he saw that silent tears slipping down her cheeks.

Without saying anything, she reached for him, her hand trembling as she cupped the side of his face.

Then she pulled him close.

Jaehyun didn’t realize he’d been crying too until her thumb brushed away a tear on his cheek. She didn’t say a word. She just held him, her small fingers tracing soothing circles at the back of his neck.

Jaehyun’s hands were still on her knees, as if to ground her while thumbs drawing aimless circles against her skin. His voice trembled when he spoke, careful but heavy.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked quietly. “Were you… were you planning to hide it from me?”

She lowered her gaze, her lashes wet, tears gathering again at the corners of her eyes. “I didn’t know how to tell you,” she whispered. Her voice cracked in the middle of the sentence, barely hanging on.

Jaehyun didn’t push her. He could feel her teetering on the edge, and he knew better than to force her to fall apart again. So he stayed silent, although his mind wouldn’t rest.

Why? Why would she hide something like this from him?

Did she want to end things quietly, maybe cutting it off before it got too complicated? Or was she just scared? Scared of worrying him, of being a burden, of ruining something she thought was precious to him?

But he would’ve known eventually.

No matter how carefully she hid the test kits, no matter how quietly she tried to move through it, he would’ve noticed. Her body changing. The signs. The distance.

Why would she keep something like this from him?

The thought stung deeper than he expected.

“Jae…” Her voice pulled him out of his thoughts, small and hesitant. He hummed low in his throat. “Hmmm?”

She hesitated again, as if weighing whether to let the words out. Then she breathed out, almost trembling.

“I want to keep the baby.”

Jaehyun’s hand froze mid-stroke, as his breath caught before he even realized it. “Sweetheart…” he said softly, unsure of what to say next.

Her eyes flicked up to meet his, full of tears but steady with resolve.

“I know this isn’t what you wanted,” she continued before he could say anything. “I know how much this will ruin you and everything you’ve worked for. I know that. And I don’t blame you if you don’t want this.”

Her lips trembled, but her words stayed firm. “I don’t resent you for thinking that way, Jae. You don’t have to pretend.”

His chest tightened, guilt crawling up his throat. He didn’t even know what to feel. At one point it was a relief that she wanted to keep the baby, or grief for how she said it, like she’d already decided he wasn’t part of the picture.

“You don’t have to be with me,” she said quietly, eyes glistening. “I can do this alone.”

Jaehyun’s head snapped toward her. The world tilted. His heartbeat stuttered and then thundered in his chest.

What did she just say?

Do this alone? Without him?

What did she mean he didn’t have to be with her? That she would keep the baby but leave him out of it? That she would rather disappear than let him carry the burden with her?

His mind spiraled, disbelief and panic tangling together. Jaehyun shut his eyes briefly, trying to steady his breathing, but his fingers tightening on her thighs, trembling against her skin. He exhaled sharply, trying to find his voice through the ache.

“You were planning to leave me?”

She didn’t answer, and her silence hit harder. Jaehyun turned to face her, his expression breaking apart into disbelief and hurt. “How are you gonna raise the baby alone?”

His tone sharpened, no longer the soft whisper of comfort. He wasn’t angry at her but he was terrified, because the words she spit out doesn’t make any sense.

In his mind, there were only two possible outcomes. Either she aborted the baby, although it’s something he could never forgive himself for, or they kept it, and he’d marry her, no hesitation. There was no third option.

No version of this where she carried his child and he wasn’t by her side. What kind of madness was that?

His voice cracked under the weight of it. “You were gonna do this without me? Hide from me? Pretend like I didn’t exist?”

She blinked hard, tears pooling until they spilled. “I can’t do abortion, Jae,” she said, voice trembling. “I’m so scared.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but she continued, words tumbling out fast and broken.

“And I couldn’t drag you into this. Your career, your life… I didn’t want to ruin it.”

Jaehyun exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Baby, that’s not how this should work—”

But she cut him off before he could finish.

“I’ll sign a contract, an NDA, whatever you need,” she blurted out, her hands trembling as she spoke. “Just let me keep the baby. Please, Jae. I’m so stressed just thinking about hurting it. I don’t care what happens to me, I just can’t—” Her voice broke completely. “I can’t do that to the baby.”

Her words hit him like a punch. She was terrified of the world, of him, of everything, yet still determined to face it alone.

Jaehyun’s jaw tightened. His heartbeat was deafening in his ears. “Then we raise them together,” he said, his tone low, steady, leaving no room for negotiation. “I’m not letting you do it alone.”

She looked at him like he didn’t understand, like he couldn’t possibly see the bigger picture she was trying to protect him from.

He leaned forward, his hand gripping hers. “Listen to me. I want this baby. I want you. Stop thinking I don’t. Yes, it wasn’t planned and even terrifying to think of all the possible outcomes, but I’m not walking away from either of you”

His voice wavered but didn’t break. “Do you think I could live knowing you’re out there, carrying my child, struggling alone while I’m pretending to smile for cameras?”

Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

“No,” he said firmly, shaking his head. “I can’t. I’d rather ruin my career than ruin you.”

She shut her eyes tightly, tears spilling over. “No.”

It came out sharper this time. A clean, final cut.

He froze. “Why not?” His voice softened, almost pleading. “I’m the father.”

She looked away. “No. I wish you to continue living your life like this. I don’t plan on ruining your life even if I have the baby.”

Jaehyun sat there, silent, but his thoughts were anything. He couldn’t stop thinking about her and the baby. About everything that could go wrong. If this got out, he knew what would happen. All of it could crumble overnight.

And yet, somehow, that wasn’t what scared him the most. What scared him was her.

He swallowed, his voice rough. “Then what about your life? It’ll ruin yours too. I know exactly how much you’ll struggle! Do you really think I can just sit still and pretend I don’t know?”

The image of her doing this alone. Crying alone. Carrying his child while pretending everything was fine. He hated that she’d already been through weeks of that without him knowing. He hated that she’d even thought she had to.

His mind started replaying the past few weeks, every small thing that suddenly made sense.

Her body had already been changing, hadn’t it?

She’d been sleeping more than usual, curling up on the couch long before midnight, saying she was just tired from work. Her appetite was off too. She skipped breakfast most mornings, claiming she wasn’t hungry, then snacked on crackers in the middle of the night. Sometimes she’d wince quietly, hand over her stomach, but when he asked, she’d smile and say, “Just cramps, don’t worry.”

He should’ve noticed.

Her clothes had gotten looser, her mood softer, quieter.

There were moments when she’d disappear into the bathroom for too long, and he’d joke that she was taking too long fixing her hair. She’d laugh, pretending not to be pale and sweaty, and he’d brush it off like an idiot.

How many times had she looked unwell, and he just assumed she was tired? How many times had she hidden her trembling hands behind a smile, and he let her?

He rubbed his face roughly, dragging his palms over his eyes, guilt burning through him like fire. He should’ve seen something or anything.

He didn’t even know where to start, how to fix this, how to make it right. His career had always been the center of his life— his dream, his purpose, his pride. And now, for the first time, he hated it.

He hated that it was standing between him and her. Between him and the baby he didn’t even know he wanted until now.

What kind of man would he be if he just let her go through this alone? What kind of father?

He glanced at her, sitting small and broken beside him.

She looked too delicate for all of this. Her shoulders were trembling beneath his oversized shirt, her hair messy from all the crying. Her face was pale, eyes swollen, and still she looked so young— too young to be sitting here talking about something as heavy as a pregnancy.

Jaehyun’s throat tightened. She was only twenty-three, still figuring herself out, still glowing with that kind of curiosity and energy he’d always admired. She was brilliant, always had been sharp and witty, with a mind that could outsmart anyone in a room. He used to tease her for how easily she got lost in her thoughts, in her books, in the little dreams she collected. He loved that about her— how full of potential she was, how her bright future still stretched wide open ahead of her.

And now she was here, carrying his child inside her body.

The realization hit him like a wave. He ruined it for her.

He hated that his love had become something that might clip her wings. She shouldn’t have to trade her future for a mistake they never meant to make. She shouldn’t have a baby as a weight she has to drag into the years she was meant to be chasing her dreams.

She was his baby— the one he always wanted to protect from the noise, the pressure, the world that could be so cruel. But now, she was having his baby.

Her hands were trembling against her knees, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. She looked so small, and yet she was carrying a whole new life inside her, bearing the weight of something he couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

He didn’t know how to process it— the fear, the awe, the guilt. What he knew was she shouldn’t have to go through this alone. Not her. Not this delicate girl who still giggled when he teased her, who still made faces when she finds a vegetables she didn’t like on her plate, who still looked at him like he was her whole world.

She reached out instinctively, touching his wrist. “Jae…”

He shook his head. “No, listen.” His eyes were glassy now. “If I have to quit, I’ll quit. I’ll save, invest, whatever it takes. I’ll prepare everything to leave with you. You and the baby come first, always.”

“Stop—” she whispered, “Jaehyun.” Her voice cracked. She grabbed his hands to make him stop. “Don’t say that.”

Tears welled in her eyes again. She pulled her hands free, covering her face. Her voice trembled, raw and quiet. “You’ve worked your whole life for this. I know how much you love doing music. I don’t want to be the one taking it away from you.

Jaehyun moved closer, lowering her hands from her face. “You’re not taking anything away from me.”

She shook her head slowly, her lips quivering. “I know you know the consequences better than I do. It’s not worth it, Jae”

He was quietly staring at her like he was memorizing her face. Then, softly, almost brokenly, he said, “You worth so much to me, don’t say that”

“Where would you even go?” he asked, voice low, heavy with disbelief. “Just vanish with my kid and pretend I don’t exist?”

Her hands trembled, resting on her lap. “You have so much to achieve in your life… I don’t want to be an obstacle in your life.”

He stared at her for a long time that she almost thought he’d stop fighting. But then he leaned forward again, pressing his forehead to hers. His voice was barely above a whisper.

The night grew cold. The cookies were long forgotten on the table. They stayed on the couch, tangled in each other’s arms but miles apart in thought.

Jaehyun fell asleep eventually, head resting against her shoulder. His lashes were still damp, his hand still holding hers even in sleep. She turned slightly to look at him — the man who loved too deeply, too recklessly.

Her thumb brushed over his knuckles. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I love you too much to ruin you.”

She leaned forward, kissed his forehead, and let him sleep.

Outside, the city was quiet. The only sound left was her uneven breathing; the sound of a decision already forming in her chest.

The next few days passed in a blur of soft mornings and fragile normalcy. She smiled more, cooked for him, let him hold her at night but every time Jaehyun turned away, her eyes lingered too long on him, memorizing everything she knew she’d soon have to leave behind.

When he went to the studio, she started preparing quietly. She sorted through her clothes when he wasn’t home only to tell him it wouldn’t fit her anymore when he asked about it, going to her own apartment and started putting away documents and important files into a small folder. She checked for visa requirements, applies for it, do all the things she needs for her visa to be approved, and even looked up flight schedules.

She told herself it wasn’t goodbye yet, but every drawer she emptied made it feel more real.

Meanwhile, Jaehyun was doing the opposite.

He was making too many plans for them. Late at night, she’d wake up to the glow of his phone screen as he scrolled through his financial reports, his brows furrowed, lips pressed tight. He’d call people quietly, his voice low and serious, asking about investment options, property values, contracts.

In the morning, he’d act normal make her breakfast, kiss her forehead, brush his thumb over her wrist before leaving, but there was something new in his eyes now: determination.

He kept trying to talk to her about getting married before her baby bump showed.

“Baby, we should just do it quietly. No one has to know yet. We can figure out the rest later.”

She always smiled faintly, tucking his long hair behind her ear.

“Next time, Jae. Let’s talk about it next time.”

He’d sigh, press his lips to her temple, and drop it for the moment, but he always brought it up again.

She kept giving him the same answer.

“Next time.” “Later.” “We still have time.”

But they both knew time was exactly what they didn’t have.

Every “next time” made his chest feels heavier, every deflection made him hold her longer at night, his arms locked around her waist, his hand resting over her stomach and tell the baby to convince her mama to just marry daddy already. He didn’t know that she’d already booked a flight.

He thought he was buying time to build a new life, but she was buying time to say goodbye.

He told her he was ready to drop everything— the fame, the music, the cameras if it meant being with her and the baby.

“Just tell me where to go,” he said one night, brushing her hair out of her face. “Anywhere you want, I’ll go with you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

“I love seeing you stand on stage, singing your heart out and getting all the love you deserves, Jae.. I want you to see you spark under the beautiful lights directing at you. You shine the brightest when you sing”

She looked up at him, eyes soft but sad. Her fingers traced the line of his jaw, memorizing every bit of him.

“Jae…” she whispered. “I want you to live the life you’ve worked hard on. To stand on stage so bright and alive, singing your heart out, getting all the love you deserve. I want you to keep shining like that. You shine the brightest when you do what makes you happy”

He frowned, shaking his head slightly. “What’s the point of shining if you’re not there to see it?”

She smiled faintly, even though her eyes were glossy. “I always will.” He just held her tighter, pressing his face into her neck. She smelled like jasmine and laundry soap, like home.

After that night, they fell into a rhythm that almost felt normal again. They woke up together, ate breakfast together. He’d watch her every time she got dizzy or tired, hovering close enough to catch her if she stumbled.

He became so protective it made her heart ache.

He bought every supplement that the moms on the blog recommended and kept them lined up neatly on the kitchen counter— both his and her house. When the nausea got bad, he learned how to cook plain foods ranging from variety of rice porridge to soft soups, cuts her fruit with honey, nutrients packed snacks. He even memorized what scents made her queasy and banned them from the house.

Sometimes at night when they staying the night together, he massaged her calves and ankles, rubbing slow circles to ease the soreness. Sometimes, when she was half-asleep, he’d rest his palm gently over her almost nonexistent bump, his thumb brushing back and forth, reverent and quiet because he grows to love the baby even more.

It was the kind of tenderness she’d never imagined could exist. For a brief moment, she almost let herself fall into it. She imagined a version of life where she stayed— where they raised the baby together, cooked breakfast in the same kitchen, listened to his songs while folding tiny clothes.

It felt too good.

Too easy. Too dangerous.

The world would chew him up for this, and she’d be the reason, and she wouldn’t let him pay the price for a thing he never has to burdened with.

So she set her heart again. Harder this time.

A week earlier, she’d gone to the Swiss Embassy for an interview. It was just a set of formal questions, document checks, polite smiles that felt heavier than they should. She remembered sitting across from the officer, answering every question with careful calmness while her stomach churned quietly under the weight of what this really meant.

When she left the building, she looked up at the pale sky and told herself she’d done the right thing. The embassy said they would reach out within a week. She’d nodded, thanked them, and walked away pretending her heart wasn’t breaking with every step.

Since then, she’d been staying mostly at Jaehyun’s place. It was easier that way she haf fewer moments alone with her thoughts. His house had become her safe little lie. She still woke up to his scent, cooked breakfast while he hummed his new melodies, kissed him goodbye before his rehearsals like nothing was wrong.

But today, while Jaehyun was out at rehearsal, she returned to her own apartment for the first time in weeks. She’d been expecting the letter to arrive any day now and something deep inside told her today was the day.

She walked through the quiet lobby, nodding politely to the doorman, and stopped in front of the row of mailboxes. Her fingers hesitated for just a second before unlocking hers.

There it was.

A small, crisp white envelope tucked neatly inside.

Embassy of Switzerland.

Her chest tightened. She held the envelope carefully and made her way upstairs to her unit. The apartment smelled faintly of the old candle she’d forgotten to blow out weeks ago.

She placed the envelope on the table for a moment, staring at it like it might disappear. Then, slowly, she tore it open.

Visa approved.

The words were clean and simple, terrifying in how final they felt. Her fingers trembled as she folded the paper neatly, slipped it between the pages of her passport, and tucked both into the drawer on her wardrobe. The same drawer where Jaehyun once found the test packs.

For a while, she just stood there, staring at nothing. Then she exhaled shakily, wiping her face, and moved to the closet.

If she was leaving, she might as well start now.

She opened her suitcase, pulled the first drawer open, and began to pack her things, in a way someone dismantling a life piece by piece.

The next day, she got ready for work just like always. She tied her hair neatly, put on light makeup, picked the same blazer she always wore to the office. To Jaehyun, nothing looked different. She smiled the same way, kissed him goodbye the same way, told him she’d text when she got there — exactly like every other day.

But when she reached her office, she didn’t go straight to her desk. She walked quietly to the HR department and handed over an envelope.

“It’s my resignation,” she said with a small smile. “One month notice. Personal reasons.”

The HR officer blinked, surprised, but nodded. “We’ll process it.”

She hesitated, then added softly, “Can I ask you for one favor? Please don’t tell anyone the reason. Just say it was personal.”

Her voice was calm, polite, professional— but her fingers were twisting the strap of her bag so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

After that, she went back to her desk and worked like nothing had changed. She answered emails, joined meetings, laughed at her colleagues’ jokes. Every day for that one month, she played the part perfectly. The reliable coworker, the quiet woman who never brought her private life into work.

And every evening, she went home to Jaehyun like nothing had happened. He never noticed the faint exhaustion behind her smiles, or how she lingered a little longer each night when he hugged her goodbye in the morning.

She said nothing.

When her notice period ended, she’d still dress as if she were heading to the office— blouse, trousers, the same bag she always carried, and she’d leave right on time.

But she wasn’t going to work.

She was driving back to her own apartment, the one she hadn’t lived in since Jaehyun got out of his dorm and bought his own apartment. It was half-empty, but it still smelled faintly like her perfume. She started going there every day, quietly sorting through her belongings, deciding what to keep and what to leave behind.

She packed boxes little by little, labeling them under false names and shipping them out through private couriers so Jaehyun wouldn’t notice any missing luggage. She even arranged everything through multiple shipments, spacing them out so it wouldn’t raise attention.

She contacted a real estate agent. They met discreetly at the apartment one afternoon. “I’ll let you know when to list it,” she told the agent. “Not yet. Wait for my call.” The agent nodded, unaware of the weight behind her words.

At home with Jaehyun, everything looked the same. She still smiled when he came through the door. Still cooked his favorite meals, still curled up next to him on the couch while he talked about his studio sessions and music. She laughed when he teased her back. She leaned into his chest when he hugged her, kissed him goodnight like she always did.

Everything looked right.

But her heart wasn’t staying.

One night, they were sprawled across the couch after dinner, the faint light from the TV flickering over their skin. Jaehyun was kissing her lazily— slow and deep like he always did when words weren’t enough. His hand slid under her shirt, not with hunger but with care, resting over the small swell of her stomach.

He pulled back just a little, smiling down at her with that lazy, tender expression that always made her melt. “You know,” he murmured, his thumb tracing light circles against the small curve of her belly, “You’ve been glowing lately,” he murmured against her lips, half teasing, half in awe.

She laughed softly, the sound small and nervous. “You’re imagining things.”

“Maybe.” He smiled, pressing another kiss to her jaw, then down to her neck. “Or maybe I just notice everything about you.”

She looked at him, trying to memorize the way he smiled with the same smile that made her fall in love with him three years ago. That gentle, unassuming grin that felt like home.

He kissed her again, slower, resting his forehead against hers when they both need an air. His voice came out so groggy, “I hired a lawyer,” he murmured. But before she could say anything, his voice dropped, serious and soft all at once.

“Someone who can help us. Make it less of a mess. They said there’s a way to handle everything quietly, no press, no noise. If we move carefully, I can protect my job… and us.”

“I’ve been thinking,” he continued, brushing her hair away from her face. “We don’t have to wait. We can get married soon. Before it shows too much. I’ll make sure everything’s ready, I promise.”

Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

Jaehyun’s eyes softened. He cupped her face, thumbs brushing the tears that threatened to form before they could fall. “So please,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Don’t even think about leaving me. I promise I’ll protect us. Both of you.”

God, he meant it. Every single word.

He wasn’t saying it out of guilt or fear but he was saying it because that’s who he was. The man who always showed up. The man who carried everything on his shoulders, no matter how heavy.

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

Instead, she kissed him back as if she could pour all her love and apology into that one moment. Her hand moved to his hair, her heart aching as she realized how deeply he meant every word, how certain he was of a future she could never let happen.

She gave him an answer just ambiguous enough, neither yes nor no, only a hum between kisses, the kind of silence that sounded like agreement but wasn’t one.

She had already booked her flight.

A one-way ticket to Switzerland, set for the night Jaehyun would be flying back from Los Angeles after his overseas schedule. She’d timed it perfectly. He’d be on a plane when she left. He wouldn’t even realize she was gone until hours later, when she’d already be far away, somewhere he couldn’t follow.

It wasn’t cruelty. It was precision.

She planned it thoroughly so it would hurt less, or at least, so it would hurt cleanly. No scenes. No goodbyes. No begging from him to stay, because she knew she’d never be strong enough to say no to him if he asked for her to stay one more time.

And so, for the last few weeks, she lived as though nothing had happened. She smiled. She lied. She made love, laughed, and dreamed— all while building the quiet exit that would save them both.

Every night, she watched him sleep beside her, hand resting protectively over her belly. Commemorating the last few nights she could feel his gentle touches.

The last night before his departure to L.A, when he came home tired but smiling, she hugged him tighter than usual. Usually she’d wait on the couch, scrolling on her phone or half-watching something on TV, but tonight she came straight to him— arms looping around his waist before he could even take his shoes off.

He laughed softly, surprised. “Hi, baby…”

Suddenly, she tip toed to kiss him, slinging her arms around his neck and deepen the kiss. She was never bold like this; she was shy, gentle, always waiting for him to make the first move.

Her kiss caught him off guard as her lips pressed against his with an unfamiliar confidence, igniting a warmth that surprised and delighted him. He melted into her, ever the gentleman, returning her kiss with a tender yet deep intensity, savoring the moment.

They keep kissing on the doorway, his hand steadying her waist while she clung to him, her fingers curling into his shirt, her breathing uneven. He wrapped his arms around her carefully, stroking her back.

When he pulled back, she leaned in closer, her breath soft against his ear. “I want you,” she whispered, her voice a mix of need and timidness.

“You have me, baby,” he murmured, a smile tugging at his lips, not yet catching the innuendo behind her words.

She shook her head, a shy blush creeping up her cheeks as she buried her face in the curve of his neck. “No…” she mumbled, her voice barely audible. “I want you to touch me.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with longing. She wants to feel him for the last time. Before she left him for good. Before she couldn’t feel his touches anymore.

He hesitated, concern flickering in his eyes. “I don’t think it’s safe for the baby, sweetheart,” he said gently, his voice laced with caution. He wasn’t sure about the risks of intimacy during pregnancy, but the thought of harming her— or their baby made him wary.

She pouted, her voice turning playful yet insistent. “It’s from the baby,” she whined, using their unborn child as her charming excuse.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Already using our baby to get your way, princess?” he teased, his tone warm with affection.

“Babe…” she whined again, her eyes pleading, tugging at his heartstrings. He could never resist her— not when she looked at him like that, not when her happiness was all he ever wanted to give her.

“Alright,” he relented with a soft laugh. “Wait for me in the bedroom. Let me wash up first.”

“No. Now,” she demanded, her voice firm but laced with a playfulness. So he scooped her up effortlessly, her legs dangling as he held her close, their faces inches apart. Her laughter bubbled up, and she peppered his face with quick, playful kisses.

“My baby’s getting impatient, I see” he teased, his eyes sparkling with adoration as he carried her to the bed. Gently, he lowered her onto the soft sheets, her giggles fading into a tender smile. A fleeting thought crossed his mind. What’s gotten into her?, but he brushed it aside, chalking it up to the wild dance of pregnancy hormones.

He leaned over her, his hands framing her face as he kissed her again, slow and deliberate, savoring the taste of her lips. She sighed into the kiss, her body relaxing beneath him, her hands sliding up his arms to rest on his shoulders and circling it behind his neck so she could play with his hair. “You’re sure?” he asked softly, pulling back just enough to search her eyes, his voice thick with concern. “I don’t want to possibly hurt you… or the baby.”

“I’m sure,” she whispered, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw, her touch featherlight. “I promise I’ll tell you if it’s hurt.”

He nodded, his heart swelling with love and a fierce need to make her feel good. He moved with care, his hands gentle as they roamed her body, mapping the familiar curves now softened and rounded by her pregnancy. He undressed her slowly, as his fingers lingering on the swell of her belly, where their child grew. She watched him, her eyes heavy with trust and desire, letting him take the lead as she surrendered to his care.

His fingers brushed along her arms, up her shoulders, tracing the curve of her neck before resting on her cheek. When he looks at her, she can see the care and love that never wavered, no matter how much the world demanded of him.

He kissed her forehead first, then her nose, and finally her lips again in a slow and patient manner like he was memorizing her. His movements were careful, almost hesitant, the same way he’d ever hold her to make sure she felt safe.

He moved with patience and tenderness, taking care of her like she was made of glass. His love wasn’t in what he did but how he slowed down for her, how his hands is always ready to anchor her when she shivered from the pleasure, and how he kept whispering sweet nothings along her name like a prayer.

And she let herself feel every heartbeat, every sigh he let out, every trace of warmth he gave her. She memorized his face, the rhythm of his breathing, the sound of his voice murmuring soft words she could never forget.

Because she knew this was the last time she’d ever have him like this to feel his love so close it almost hurt.

So she held him tighter, letting the weight of their bodies and their love surround her. She wanted to remember it exactly as it was, his gentleness, his devotion, and the way he always put her before himself.

When he whispered her name again, she closed her eyes, letting the tears slip quietly down her cheeks, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

But he did. Of course he did.

He stopped immediately, his movements stilling as his hand moved up to cradle her face. His brows knit together, his voice soft but laced with worry. “Does it hurt, honey? Want me to stop?”

She opened her eyes, blinking through the blur of tears. All she saw was concern and his familiar tenderness that never failed to disarm her.

It wasn’t pain. It was everything else.

But Jaehyun didn’t know. He smiled softly as if to comfort her, brushing his thumb under her eye to wipe the tear away, completely unaware that each one carried a goodbye she couldn’t say out loud.

So she smiled through her tears, forcing her voice to stay steady. “No… It’s okay,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “It just feels so good.”

He let out a quiet laugh, a sound that made her heart ache even more. “I know, baby,” he murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair from her forehead. He pressed a kiss there, light and reassuring, still thinking it was just hormones kicking in.

He started again, picking up the same pace he left earlier to give her the pleasure she’s been craving. His touch was filled with the kind of care and devotion which only came from years of loving someone deeply.

If heaven ever existed on earth, it was this. His warmth. His love.

When they both reached their peak, he stayed there for a long moment, feeling her breathing steady against him, the warmth of her hand still resting on his chest. The world outside could have fallen apart and he wouldn’t have noticed.

She let him believe everything was fine, that they still had forever ahead of them, while she quietly memorized the way his hands felt on her skin and the warmth of his breath against her neck.

Eventually they shifted, finding the familiar rhythm of each other again. She turned onto her side and he followed, curling around her, one arm draped across her waist, his palm settling instinctively where their child grew. She laced her fingers through his and sighed, a small, content sound that eased something deep inside him.

Jaehyun pressed a final kiss to the crown of her head. Her breathing evened out first, soft and slow, and he closed his eyes, letting the calm pull him under.

For the first time in a while, sleep came easy. Two heartbeats, steady against each other, filling the room with a fragile kind of peace.

By the time dawn began to edge its way across the sky, they were still there, wrapped around each other, asleep, as if nothing had ever threatened to pull them apart. And for that brief stretch of time, the world stayed perfectly still.

Jaehyun left for Los Angeles on a Tuesday morning.

It was still dark outside when she woke to the faint sound of him moving around the bedroom— zipping his suitcase, checking his passport, quietly humming under his breath like he always did before a flight. The smell of coffee filled the air, rich and warm, and for a brief second it felt like just another morning.

She watched him from the bed, her hands folded over the barely noticeable swell of her stomach. He was dressed neatly, hair pushed back, the picture of calm professionalism— ready to be pictured by thousands of camera the moment he stepped on the airport. But she could see the weariness beneath his eyes. He’d been running on half-sleep for weeks now, trying to juggle his schedules while still making time to care for her.

He noticed her watching and smiled, that small soft curve that always melted her.

“Did I wake you?”

She shook her head, trying to smile back. “I just didn’t want to miss saying goodbye.”

He sat beside her, brushing her hair out of her face. His hand lingered on her cheek, then trailed down to rest over her stomach. His thumb moved in slow circles as he spoke.

“It’s just a few days. Promise me you’ll rest. Eat properly. Take the supplements I bought, yeah?”

Her throat felt tight, but she nodded anyway. “I will.”

He leaned down and kissed her forehead — light, almost hesitant.

“I’ll call you when I land.”

She nodded again, forcing another smile. She didn’t trust her voice not to crack.

When he left, she followed him to the door. He kissed her before leaving, his hand on her belly, promising to bring back the baby’s first toy. She smiled, waved, said she’d miss him. He turned once, flashed her that boyish grin, the one that had made her fall in love with him in the first place.

She meant it.

“Love you, baby.”

“Love you too,” she managed to whisper back.

She stood there long after he disappeared into the elevator. The echo of the doors closing felt final somehow.

When she went back inside, the apartment already felt emptier and quieter in a way that made her skin crawl. His mug was still on the counter, half-drunk coffee gone cold. His jacket hung neatly by the door. His scent was everywhere— soap, cologne, a trace of warmth that made her chest ache.

She wandered through the rooms slowly, fingertips brushing over everything he had touched. The couch where they’d spent lazy evenings. The kitchen where he’d cooked when her morning sickness got bad. The bed they’d fallen asleep in just last night.

Hours passed. The light shifted from morning gray to golden afternoon, spilling across the floor in quiet patches. She finally sat down at the dining table and unfolded the printed visa approval. The paper shook slightly in her hands. Switzerland.

It felt unreal, but it was her final escape, the only way to protect him from the mess her existence would bring.

By evening, she went home without touching anything of hers in his house. She left everything behind. She wanted him to come home to pieces of her still scattered everywhere, like she’d only stepped out for a moment. Maybe it would soften the blow. Maybe it would make it harder. She wasn’t sure.

On the nightstand beside his side of the bed, she placed an envelope.

The handwriting was steady, though her heart wasn’t.

Jae, You told me you’d give up everything for us. That’s exactly why I have to go. You were born to light up every stage you’re standing on. Don’t let me take that away from you. I’ll be fine. I love you. — Always, Your girl

She folded the letter neatly and slid the ultrasound photo underneath it— the one he’d first discovered from her drawer.

Then she sat on the bed and looked around the room. Every object carried a piece of memory, laughter, arguments, apologies, comfort. She whispered into the still air, “Thank you.”

When she finally stood, she hesitated at the door. Her hand rested on the doorknob, trembling slightly. It wasn’t hesitation about leaving— it was the weight of knowing this would break him. But she turned it anyway.

The door clicked softly behind her. The sound lingered.

She walked down the hall with her suitcase rolling quietly behind her, each step echoing against the walls. The elevator doors opened with a dull chime. She pressed the button for the lobby and watched the numbers count down, her reflection in the metal walls pale and still.

The cab she’d booked was waiting at the curb, engine humming. The driver helped her load her luggage without a word. She climbed into the back seat and whispered, “Incheon Airport, please.”

The drive was long and silent. Every building, every corner felt like it carried a memory of him— the bakery they went to almost every morning for almost 6 months because they were obsessed with the donuts there, the bridge they crossed when he first told her he loved her while holding hands. She pressed her forehead against the cool glass, watching it all fade into the distance.

When the cab finally stopped, she stood for a moment outside the terminal, gripping the handle of her suitcase so tightly her knuckles hurt. She drew in a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and walked inside.

When she reached her gate, she sat down near the window. Planes blinked across the runway, red and blue lights cutting through the dark. Somewhere across the ocean, Jaehyun was already boarding his flight back home. She thought about him sitting there, maybe scrolling through messages, maybe thinking about what did she prepares him for dinner when he landed.

She blinked fast, forcing herself not to cry yet. Not here. Not where anyone could see.

When they called for boarding, she stood. Her legs felt heavy, but she walked forward anyway. She handed over her ticket, smiled faintly at the attendant, and stepped into the jet bridge.

The moment she sank into her seat, everything around her turned into a blur. The hum of conversation, the overhead announcements, the shuffling of passengers — it all sounded distant. She gripped the armrest when the engines began to roar.

As the plane lifted off the ground, the city lights below grew smaller and smaller until they disappeared entirely.

That was when it hit her.

She buried her face in her hands and finally broke. The tears came hard, uncontrollable. Her shoulders shook, her body curling in on itself. She didn’t cry out of fear of what was ahead or regret for what she’d done. She cried because she could already imagine the moment Jaehyun would walk through the door and find her gone— how he would look for her, call her name, wait for a reply that would never come.

She wept for the sound of his laugh, for the way he said her name, for the warmth of his hands over her belly. She wept for the life they could have had if the world had been kinder.

The flight attendant approached quietly and asked if she was okay. She nodded without looking up, pressing the heel of her hand against her eyes, trying to steady her breathing.

When she finally lifted her head, the sky outside the window was ink black, scattered with faint stars. Her reflection looked fragile, her face streaked with tears but calm now.

She exhaled, long and slow, resting her palm against her stomach. “We’ll be okay,” she whispered. “We have to be.”

The engines hummed louder, the clouds swallowed the city beneath her, and for the first time, there was no turning back.

When she already was above the sky, Jaehyun came home.

He was exhausted, jet-lagged, his body still running on Los Angeles time. The flight had been long and noisy; and all he wanted was the quiet of home— to snuggles into her arms, and tell her about the ridiculous jet lag, and to give her the tiny teddy bear he’d bought for the baby.

On the way home, he tried to call and text her but he got no answer back. It was almost late at night, so he thought maybe she falls asleep.

He unlocked the door, still tugging off his shoes, calling out lightly, “Baby? You awake?”.

No answer.

He frowned, expecting her to be asleep. But when he stepped inside, the air felt wrong. Too still. Too quiet.

“Baby?” he called again, louder this time. He moved through the apartment, his chest tightening with every empty corner he passed.

Then he saw it.

The envelope on the nightstand. He reached for it slowly, his fingers trembling before he even opened it. He read it once. Then again. The third time, his eyes stopped seeing words. Everything blurred together.

He sat down heavily on the bed, the letter clutched in his hand. His chest ached, breaths coming too shallow, too fast. The room tilted. He stared blankly at the wall, replaying every conversation they’d had in the past month, every smile, every “next time.”

He hadn’t realized those were goodbyes in disguise.

For hours, he didn’t move. The only sound in the apartment was his breathing— uneven, broken, the quiet unraveling of someone who had just lost something he didn’t know how to live without.

When morning came, he drove to her old apartment, still wearing the same clothes, eyes bloodshot, hair unkempt. The building manager recognized him instantly but said nothing as he passed.

Her door was locked. The sign taped beside it read For Sale.

He stood there for a long time, staring at those two words. Then his knees buckled, and he pressed his forehead against the cold wood of the door.

“Please,” he whispered, voice raw. “Please don’t do this to me.”

But the silence answered back.

After a while, when the numbness started to fade and panic began to crawl up his chest again, he forced himself to move. There had to be someone who knew something. Anyone.

He walked down to the security office, his steps uneven, his voice trembling when he spoke.

“The woman who lived in 459— do you know where she went?”

The old guard looked up from his newspaper, startled. “Ah… she moved out.”

“When? Where?” Jaehyun pressed.

The man frowned, shifting awkwardly in his seat. “A few weeks ago, maybe. She didn’t say where. Said she was going overseas, but I don’t know where exactly.”

That was all. No address. No number. Nothing.

Jaehyun thanked him quietly and walked back out into the street. His hands were shaking so badly that he shoved them into his pockets just to hide it.

He ended up driving to her office next, not even thinking about what he’d say. He waited in the lobby for hours, sitting there with his cap pulled low, ignoring the curious stares of the employees passing by.

Finally, he spotted a familiar face— a woman she’d once mentioned, the one who sat beside her desk, who goes crazy for iced lattes and had a samoyed dog named Leo.

He stood and hurried toward her.

“Excuse me… you work with—” he stopped himself, voice cracking on her name. “With her, right?”

The woman blinked in surprise, recognizing him immediately but too stunned to comment. “Oh… yes, I did. But she left. She resigned about a month ago.”

“Did she say where she was going?”

She hesitated, pity flickering in her eyes. “No. She just told HR it was for personal reasons. She didn’t tell anyone much else.”

Jaehyun stared at her, waiting for her to change her answer, to add something, anything — but she didn’t.

He nodded once, muttered a thank you, and walked out.

The drive back home was a blur. Red lights, gray skies, the sound of the engine washed together into noise.

When he finally reached his apartment, he didn’t even turn on the lights. He dropped his keys somewhere near the door and sank to the floor, staring at the half-empty living room.

He couldn’t stop his mind from spinning. He went through every possibility— her coworkers, her friends. He even searched her name online, scrolled through old texts, reread every message she had ever sent him.

Then he opened Instagram.

He typed her friends’ usernames one by one, sending polite, desperate messages.

“Hey, it’s Jaehyun. Have you heard from her?”

“Please, if you know anything…”

Most didn’t reply. A few read his messages and left them unseen. The ones who answered only said the same thing:

“Sorry. She hasn’t contacted us in weeks.”

He sat there on the couch, staring at his phone screen, thumb hovering over her contact name. Every photo of them together was still in his gallery, still there like proof that none of this should have been possible.

He called her number again. Straight to voicemail.

He tried her email. No reply.

Then he opened her social media, one app after another.

Every account was gone. Deleted. No trace of her whereabouts, no old posts, no comments under his pictures. Even her tagged photos had disappeared as if she’d never existed online at all.

His chest tightened. He checked their shared iCloud account— the one they used for calendars and location sharing. The location bubble that used to show her somewhere in the city was gone. “Location not available,” the screen said.

He refreshed it again. And again. Nothing.

Her last seen marker showed the address of their apartment. After that, blank.

He tried one last thing— .

The blue bubbles that once filled their chat were still there, but her profile picture had vanished, replaced by the default gray icon. When he sent a new message, it didn’t even deliver.

It was like she had erased herself completely.

He went through her drawers, her bags, the trash, every corner of the apartment; searching for any trace, any clue, any tiny sign of where she could’ve gone. Receipts. Notes. Old letters. Anything.

But there was nothing. Just silence, clean and absolute.

He sank to the floor, pressing both hands to his face, his body shaking as the weight of it all finally hit him.

She was gone. Not missing. Not stolen.

Gone.

And no matter how many times he called, searched, begged, or prayed— there was nothing left to reach. The apartment, once filled with warm laughter and music, now echoed only with the sound of his breathing, uneven, empty.

Nobody heard from Jaehyun for almost a week.

At first, the members thought he just needed time. He’d been overworked, maybe jet-lagged— it wasn’t unusual for him to go quiet after long trips. But when his phone went straight to voicemail for days, when the unread messages kept stacking up without a single “seen” mark, concern turned to panic.

It was Johnny who finally couldn’t take it anymore. He grabbed his keys and drove straight to Jaehyun’s apartment.

When he arrived, the hallway outside was silent. He knocked once, then again. No answer. He tried calling and the muffled ringtone sounded from somewhere inside, but no footsteps followed.

Johnny’s heart started racing. He found the pass lock key that Jaehyun wrote him once when Johnny asked to borrow one of his camera when he was abroad, hoping that it still the same one, and luckily, it was.

The moment the door opened, a heavy smell hit him— stale air, spilled liquor, decay of uneaten food.

No lights. Curtains drawn tight. The air was thick and unmoving.

“Jaehyun?” Johnny’s voice cracked as he stepped inside.

The place was a mess. Empty bottles of vodka, whiskey, soju, whatever he could find lined the coffee table and the floor. Some had toppled over, sticky patches of dried liquor staining the carpet. Fast food containers lay scattered, half-eaten and cold.

And there, slumped against the couch, was Jaehyun.

At first, Johnny thought he was asleep— head tilted back, one arm limp at his side, the other clutching a crumpled piece of paper. But when he got closer, he froze.

His friend’s skin was pale, his lips dry, his breathing shallow. The letter in his hand was wrinkled, the ink smudged where it had been held too long.

“Jaehyun!” Johnny dropped to his knees beside him, grabbing his shoulders.

Jaehyun stirred faintly, his eyelids fluttering open. He blinked up at Johnny, eyes unfocused, voice barely audible. “Hyung… She’s gone.”

Johnny swallowed, trying to steady his own voice. “What do you mean she’s gone? What happened?”

But Jaehyun didn’t answer right away. His gaze was fixed on nothing, his pupils glassy. Johnny glanced around again, realizing how bad it was.

“Jesus, Jae,” he muttered under his breath. “How long have you been like this?”

He grabbed Jaehyun’s face gently, forcing him to look at him. “Hey. Talk to me. What happened?”

Jaehyun laughed— a sound so hollow and cracked that it barely resembled laughter. “I should’ve known it,” he said weakly, his voice trembling.

Johnny frowned, gripping his arm. “Known what?”

“That she’d go,” Jaehyun whispered. “She told me not to worry. Said she’d be fine.” His breathing hitched, a painful sound leaving his throat. “And I believed her.”

Johnny’s chest tightened. He had no idea what was happening, but the sight of his friend like this— the strongest one among them, now barely holding on, made his stomach twist.

“Alright,” he said, voice firm now. “Enough. You need to get up. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

He tried to pull Jaehyun to his feet, but the man’s legs gave out almost immediately. Johnny caught him before he hit the floor.

“Jae, hey—” He patted his cheek gently. “Stay with me, alright? Look at me.” But Jaehyun’s eyes rolled back, his body going limp in Johnny’s arms.

Panic shot through him. Without wasting another second, Johnny grabbed his phone, called for help, then half-carried, half-dragged Jaehyun to the hallway while waiting for the elevator.

By the time the paramedics arrived, Jaehyun was unconscious again, his pulse faint but still there. The letter was still clutched in his hand— even as they lifted him onto the stretcher, Johnny had to pry it loose from his fingers.

At the hospital, the doctor panicked at how deathly his condition were. They were checking his condition, injecting shots after shots to stabilize his heart rate and get him to at least a calm state.

The white fluorescent lights buzzed quietly. Machines hummed somewhere nearby. Johnny sat in the chair beside the hospital bed, hands clasped tightly together, staring at the IV tube running into Jaehyun’s arm.

The doctor had said he was severely dehydrated, malnourished, and intoxicated— a combination that could’ve gone very wrong if they hadn’t found him when they did.

Jaehyun hadn’t woken up since they brought him in. His face looked pale against the white sheets, lips cracked, dark circles under his eyes.

Johnny exhaled shakily and rubbed his face with both hands. The letter lay folded on the table beside the bed, the paper still wrinkled. He hadn’t read it. He didn’t need to. He already knew what it said— or at least what it had done to Jaehyun.

He looked at his friend again, voice barely above a whisper. “What happened to you?” The heart monitor beeped steadily, each sound cutting through the silence.

The first few days after he woke up were the hardest.

He didn’t speak much— barely at all, really. The nurses would come in and check his vitals, ask if he wanted to eat, and he’d just nod or shake his head. Johnny stayed with him as much as he could, sleeping on the couch by the window, waking up every time Jaehyun stirred.

The other members came in turns. They brought flowers, coffee, small things to make the sterile room feel less like a cage. But nothing seemed to reach him.

He’d just sit there, staring at the window. Sometimes he’d hold the hospital wristband in his hand, turning it over and over, the paper wrinkling between his fingers. Sometimes he’d whisper her name under his breath, so softly that no one else could hear it.

News spreads fast when you’re famous— too fast and too loud.

Someone had seen the ambulance. Someone else had seen Johnny’s car parked outside the hospital that night. By the next morning, there were grainy photos online, and by noon, Jaehyun’s name was trending everywhere.

“NCT’s Jaehyun reportedly hospitalized due to intoxication.”

“Fans express concern after sudden schedule cancellations.”

“SM declines to comment on Jaehyun’s health condition.”

The headlines stacked one after another, each one louder than the last. Speculation turned into rumor; rumor turned into chaos.

Calls flooded his phone, messages from staff, sponsors, friends, people he hadn’t spoken to in months. He didn’t answer any of them. Johnny kept the phone on silent, turning it face down on the bedside table.

When he was discharged a week later, the doctors told Johnny to keep an eye on him to make sure he ate and he wasn’t alone for too long.

For a while, that’s exactly what they did.

They took turns staying over at his place, cooking for him, dragging him out for air. But Jaehyun barely participated. He moved through the days like a ghost—awake, breathing, but not really living.

Music didn’t help. He tried once, sitting in front of his piano with trembling fingers, but the sound felt wrong, hollow. Every chord brought her back. Every lyric reminded him of her laughter. So he stopped trying.

His absence from events didn’t go unnoticed. Every brand partnership, every scheduled appearance, every project he was supposed to lead— all suddenly on hold. Fans demanded answers. The company’s silence only made things louder.

The members and management tried to contain it. They released short statements — “Jaehyun is resting for health reasons.”

Nothing more. Nothing less.

Inside the dorm, the group decided on one thing together: protect him.

Doyoung changed all the passwords on their shared accounts so Jaehyun couldn’t accidentally scroll through the noise. Johnny blocked every YouTube channel, gossip site, and trending tag that mentioned his name. Mark deleted push notifications from news apps.

They took turns screening calls, telling managers he wasn’t available yet, that he needed more time.

When directors started pushing about canceled brand deals, Taeyong stepped in sharply.

“He’s not coming back until he’s ready,” he said. “If that’s a problem, take it up with me.”

The others followed his lead. No complaints. No resentment. Just quiet solidarity. Whenever they had interviews or individual schedules, fans would ask, “What happened to Jaehyun?”

And every time, they gave the same gentle answer. “He’s resting. Please wait for him.”

They didn’t owe anyone more than that.

And Jaehyun didn’t know the half of it.

He barely used his phone anymore. Johnny had hidden the social media apps entirely. The other members came by every few days, keeping things light— bringing food, chatting about music, telling stories like nothing was wrong.

He didn’t ask what was happening outside. He didn’t have to. He knew the noise was out there. For now, he stayed inside the quiet they built for him. A fragile little world where no one demanded anything, where the only sound was the hum of his air purifier and the low murmur of his friends telling him to eat.

He didn’t know how long he stayed like that— drifting in and out of sleep, avoiding mirrors, forgetting what day it was.

And slowly, painfully, he started to realize: they weren’t just giving him space. They were giving him a reason to keep living.

The studio was quiet when Jaehyun finally spoke. His voice came out low and hoarse, almost hesitant.

“Hey.. I need to talk.” The other members looked up. The air shifted immediately— they could tell it wasn’t something trivial.

“What is it?” Taeyong asked carefully.

Jaehyun exhaled slowly, his hands trembling slightly where they rested on his knees.

“My girlfriend is pregnant.” Silence fell. No one moved.

“And… what?” Doyoung finally said, brows furrowed.

Jaehyun’s eyes dropped to the floor. “But she left me. With the baby.”

“What do you mean?” Johnny asked, his voice sharper than he intended.

“She-” Jaehyun’s throat tightened. “She said she didn’t want to ruin my career. I tried everything; called her, texted, searched her socials, but her accounts are gone. Everything’s gone. I even went to her office, but they said she resigned. I asked her friends, but they don’t know where she is either.”

No one spoke for a long moment. The only sound was the hum of the air conditioner. “Then she did it for you,” Jungwoo said softly. “She thought she was protecting you.”

“Yeah,” Jaehyun said bitterly. “But how am I supposed to live with that? How am I supposed to pretend I don’t have a child out there?”

Haechan frowned, shifting uncomfortably. “Couldn’t she have… I mean,, why didn’t she, you know-”

“She couldn’t,” Jaehyun cut in quickly. “She was scared. And even if she wanted to, I wouldn’t have allowed it.” He looked up, his voice breaking. “That’s too cruel for the baby.”

The words hung heavy in the air.

“I told her I’d take responsibility,” he continued quietly. “I told her I’d marry her, but she said it’d ruin everything. She kept saying she’d raise the baby alone. I didn’t believe her at first, but… she left. She even left me an NDA. It’s all so… planned.”

Yuta rubbed his face, letting out a slow exhale. “So, what are you thinking now?”

Jaehyun swallowed. “I want to quit.”

Every head snapped up. “What?”

“I want to quit,” he repeated, firmer this time. “I can’t just be here, pretending everything’s fine while my baby’s out there without a father and her without a husband. I need to find her.”

Johnny’s voice came out first. rough, disbelieving. “You’re fucking insane.”

“I’m sorry,” Jaehyun whispered.

“I’m sorry but I won’t allow it,” Taeyong said flatly. His tone wasn’t cold, but it carried authority. “You’re not thinking straight.”

“She said she would raise them alone,” Doyoung added quietly. “You have to respect that.”

Jaehyun looked up, eyes wet and desperate. “How am I supposed to respect that? She’s alone raising my kid”

No one answered at first.

Finally, Johnny sighed and crouched in front of him, voice lower, steadier. “Jae, listen. When you leave for her, it only destroys what you’ve built, you know that, right?”

“She is the very reason I built everything I had” Jaehyun shot back, voice cracking.

Jaehyun’s shoulders trembled, his hands clenching into fists. “How can I live like this? How can I leave my baby without a father?”

No one in that room blamed him.

They understood, even though maybe not really. They saw the way his eyes dimmed, how he was barely holding himself together. But they also knew what losing him to guilt would mean, not just to the group, but to him.

So they stayed firm. Not to cage him, but to keep him from collapsing further.

Taeyong stood, exhaling softly. “We’ll handle the schedules. You focus on yourself for now. Don’t do anything drastic.”

Johnny placed a steady hand on Jaehyun’s shoulder. “We’ll figure this out.”

Jaehyun nodded slowly, tears finally spilling down his cheeks. The room stayed silent after that— heavy, raw, but filled with an unspoken promise: they wouldn’t let him fall apart alone.

Weeks blurred into months. Schedules resumed. He went through them like clockwork, smiling for cameras, answering questions, doing interviews; his professionalism intact, his soul elsewhere.

It wasn’t until one evening, months later, that something cracked open again. The conversation about him quitting never really went away.

It lived like background noise— like something everyone pretended not to hear, but always felt humming in the silence between schedules.

At first, they thought it would fade. That time and routine would wear down the edge of his grief. But Jaehyun didn’t change his mind. He did his work, smiled when he needed to, sang with the same precision as always, but there was a distance in him now— a quiet finality in the way he looked at things.

He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t lost anymore either.

He was just certain.

“I won’t be able to keep doing this much longer,” he said once, late at night after rehearsal. His voice was calm, almost gentle. “When the contract ends next year… I’ll stop.”

No one argued this time.

Taeyong rubbed the back of his neck, sighing. “You’ve really thought about it, huh?”

Jaehyun nodded. “Yeah. I’ve been thinking about it every day since she left.”

There wasn’t much left to say.

So they compromised. They agreed to finish the decade together — one last renewal, one final promise to their fans.

Eleven years.

They would do one last comeback, one more world tour, and let Jaehyun go on his own terms. It wasn’t resignation; it was respect.

The decision stayed private, something only the members and management knew. Outwardly, nothing changed. They kept releasing music, filming shows, smiling for the cameras. But underneath, everything felt like a countdown.

During the group’s final world tour, Jaehyun was the most diligent he’d ever been. He made sure every performance was perfect— every smile, every bow, every thank-you to the crowd. There was no exhaustion on his face, only the quiet urgency of someone who understood that this was his last time standing under those lights.

But it wasn’t just him who felt it. The fans did too.

They couldn’t explain how they knew — they just knew. Something had changed. Something unspoken was hanging in the air between songs, in the way the members clung to each other a little tighter during the encore, in the way Jaehyun’s eyes lingered on the crowd longer than usual before he waved goodbye.

The forums started filling with threads:

“Did anyone else notice how emotional Jaehyun looked tonight?”

“He smiled, but it felt different… softer. Like he was saying thank you.”

“He’s not the same since that break he took last year. You can see it in the way he sings.”

And then there were the gentler ones, messages from fans who didn’t pry, who simply understood. He saw them sometimes, late at night, scrolling through his mentions quietly when the dorm was asleep.

It made his chest ache that wasn’t pain, exactly, but something heavier. He’d spent years building this connection, standing on stages that made him feel alive, and now, as he read their words, he realized they understood him more than he ever thought they could.

He was grateful— deeply, painfully grateful.

Yes, there were still the loud ones. The fans who pried, who dug for rumors, who speculated about everything from secret relationships to health issues. But Jaehyun didn’t care anymore.

The noise didn’t matter. The ones who stayed, who saw the cracks in his smile and loved him anyway, they were the ones who kept him steady through every flight, every stage, every sleepless night.

So when he bowed after each concert, he meant it.

When he said, “Thank you,” it wasn’t scripted. It was real. And even though no one else knew it, he was already saying goodbye.

Jaehyun worked harder than anyone. If he was leaving, he wanted to leave something whole.

He recorded two solo albums in that period— quiet, intimate records that sounded more like confessions than performances. Songs about heartbreak, waiting, distance, and love that doesn’t fade.

But the last album sounded different from anything he’d done before— stripped down, honest, almost fragile. The kind of music that doesn’t chase charts but leaves an imprint. It wasn’t about his heartbreak, wasn’t about his yearn, but about his life, his love for music, and the greater, meaningful things in his life.

He was meticulous, spending long hours in the studio, rewriting lyrics, rerecording lines until the sound matched the ache in his chest. He didn’t talk much about what the songs meant. He didn’t have to. The members knew. The producers knew. Everyone who listened knew.

Behind the scenes, he was preparing everything.

He met with financial advisors, lawyers, and managers; arranging investments, closing accounts, finalizing contracts. He quietly pulled his name out of endorsements, told his stylist to donate half of his wardrobe, and began organizing what he would leave behind.

Every night he came home, his apartment was a little emptier. Every morning, he felt a little lighter and a little lonelier.

It wasn’t that he stopped loving what he did. He still loved the music, the fans, the stage; but his heart was somewhere else now. Somewhere far away, where he hoped the person he lost was still waiting.

But he didn’t want to vanish suddenly. He wanted to say goodbye properly on his own stage, in his own way.

So he agreed to one last solo concert.

No special announcement, no grand theme. Just him.

He called it “11:11 Dinner Show.”

The posters were minimalist— a deep red portrait of his back, his name in simple lettering. Fans thought it was a creative choice, but to Jaehyun, it was symbolic. He didn’t want to market it as a farewell. He wanted it to feel like one— subtle, quiet, real.

The concert sold out in minutes.

On the night of the show, the air inside the arena was electric but warm, the kind of energy that came not from hype, but from love that had aged with time. His band was ready, the lights dimmed, and the audience erupted when he walked out.

He smiled, genuine and soft, a little overwhelmed by the sight of it all.

The setlist was a map of his life; songs from when he was still learning who he was, songs from when he almost lost himself, and songs that sounded like peace. Some tracks had the crowd dancing and shouting, others had them swaying quietly, holding up lightsticks like constellations that refused to fade.

By the time the encore came, the chant of his name filled every corner of the dome. The echo rolled like thunder, but there was gentleness in it too. The sound of people who didn’t just admire him, but knew him.

Jaehyun stood center stage, the golden lights soft around him. His breath came out slow and shaky, his chest rising and falling as the music faded behind him.

He raised the mic.

“I don’t really know where to start,” he said with a small laugh. “Usually, I plan what to say, but this time… I just wanted to speak honestly.”

The crowd quieted, listening.

“It’s been eleven years now,” he continued. “Eleven years of standing under these lights, sometimes I still can’t believe that all of this happened to me.”

He looked out at the crowd, eyes glimmering. He paused, swallowing hard.

“I think I’ve shined long enough to say I’ve done my best. Eleven years… that’s a long time to live inside a dream, right? And I’m grateful for every single second I got to spend here.”

The fans screamed his name, voices trembling.

He smiled, the corners of his mouth quivering slightly.

“When I was younger, I used to wonder what would happen if one day I couldn’t do this anymore. If one day the lights went out and the stage got quiet even when I stood there, ready to sing my heart out. It used to scare me. But now, I think… I’d be okay. Because even if I disappear from this stage, the songs will still be here. You can still play them, again and again and again...”

The big screen behind him showed flashes of old performances— his debut smile, his early concerts, his memories with the members. The fans gasped softly, sensing something in his tone.

“That’s why I always tried to give you my best version— every note, every lyric, every little detail. Because maybe I won’t be around forever, but my music will. And when you listen to it, I hope you remember how much I loved this...”

His voice cracked slightly, but he kept going.

“Music made me who I am. It taught me sincerity, discipline, love. If people remember me someday— not as an idol or a celebrity, but as someone who truly loved to sing, that would be enough for me.”

The crowd was silent now, tears streaming, some smiling even through it.

“I’m thankful,” he whispered. “For letting me live this dream. For believing in me when I couldn’t. They weren’t always easy. There were days I wanted to disappear, and nights I couldn’t sleep wondering if I was enough. But all of you made these eleven years the most beautiful part of my life.”

He looked up, blinking rapidly to clear the tears before they fell. “So please… whenever you miss me, just play the songs. That’s where I’ll be.”

The audience broke. Thousands of lightsticks waved in unison, glowing like a galaxy. Up in the VIP seats, the members were clapping, some openly crying. The fans caught glimpses of them, smiling faintly through their tears. They thought the members were moved by how Jaehyun had overcome his slump, by how radiant he looked again.

But the truth was quieter, deeper— the sorrow of watching their brother take his final bow.

And down on the stage, Jaehyun smiled one last time, the lights soft on his face, the microphone trembling in his hand.

“Thank you for loving me,” he said.

The roar of the crowd was deafening when the lights dimmed. The screens behind him faded to black, leaving only a faint, golden glow tracing the outline of his figure. The fans expected one more encore— maybe another upbeat song like Timeless, something to close on a high note.

But Jaehyun didn’t move right away.

He stood still, head bowed slightly, microphone resting against his chest. When the cheers softened into silence, he lifted his eyes toward the crowd. His expression was calm, but his throat was tight.

He took a slow breath, then spoke.

“This…” he started, his voice low but steady. “This is the last song i’ll sing for you.”

The crowd erupted— cheers, whistles, screams, thinking it was the usual concert banter, a routine way to close the night. But there was something different in his tone. He lingered on the words last song like they meant more than they should.

He smiled faintly, the kind of smile that doesn’t quite reach the eyes. He exhaled slowly. The lights dimmed further, leaving only a single spotlight following him as the intro began. Soft piano, delicate melody of Try Again.

He began to sing.

His voice was low and rich but unsteady, trembling in places it never used to. He sang the first verse almost in a whisper, eyes down, as if each lyric weighed more than he could carry.

He took a step forward, walking down the narrow runway that extended into the crowd. Fans reached toward him, holding lightsticks and banners, tears already glistening in their eyes.

Jaehyun smiled at them softly as he sang, but his lips quivered. His eyes glistened beneath the lights. When the chorus hit, his voice cracked not from strain, but from emotion he couldn’t swallow back anymore.

He stopped singing for a moment, letting the fans carry the line. The sound of thousands of voices filled the dome, wrapping around him. He tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and just listened.

Tears slid down his cheeks, slow and quiet at first. He wiped one away with the back of his hand, laughing softly at himself. The mic caught the sound— a small, broken laugh that made the crowd cry harder.

“Ah… sorry,” he whispered between verses, voice shaking. “I didn’t mean to cry.”

The next verse came, and he kept walking— down the aisle, across the smaller side stage, toward the corner where the members sat watching.

In the VIP section, the members were crying too. Johnny had his hand pressed to his mouth. Taeyong’s head was bowed, shoulders shaking. Doyoung mouthed the lyrics along quietly, his eyes never leaving Jaehyun.

The tears came harder then. His shoulders shook as he sang, but he didn’t stop. He turned slowly, facing the sea of light, thousands of fans singing with him, waving their hands gently as if trying to hold him there for a little longer.

He reached the bridge and crouched slightly, both hands gripping the mic, his voice raw now— imperfect but so heartbreakingly real.

He stood there, breathing hard, his entire body trembling from the weight of it all. The tears kept falling, but this time he didn’t hide them. He let them fall freely, one by one, glistening under the soft golden light.

The fans screamed his name. Some cried. Some just stood there, motionless, too overwhelmed to speak. He smiled through the tears, placed his hand over his heart, and whispered into the mic— his voice small but steady, “Thank you”

And as the lights dimmed and the sound faded, Jaehyun stood alone on that stage — tears still on his cheeks, microphone in hand, glowing softly under the last light of his career. To chase the life he sought.

It wasn’t just the end of a concert.

It was the end of his career.

Exactly one week after the concert, the announcement came. It dropped early in the morning, sudden and quiet; the kind of statement that didn’t need teasing or explanation.

SM Entertainment Official Statement:

“After long and thoughtful discussions, Jaehyun has decided to end his activities as a member of NCT and as a solo artist under SM Entertainment. We respect his decision to take a step away from the spotlight and live a more private life. We sincerely thank all fans for supporting Jaehyun throughout his journey, and we ask for your continued love and warm encouragement for his future.”

That was all it said.

No scandals. No excuses.

Just a clean, dignified ending.

The statement spread like wildfire. Within hours, #ThankYouJaehyun was trending worldwide. Fans posted concert clips, old photos, handwritten fan letters. Messages poured in from everywhere — Thank you for the memories. Thank you for growing with us. We’ll wait for you.

And then, later that night, his letter appeared.

To everyone who has been part of my journey, For the past eleven years, I have lived the most extraordinary life. I’ve been loved beyond measure, supported in ways I could never repay, and given the chance to do what I love every single day. There were bright days, and there were heavy ones too. But every moment; every stage, every song, every shared smile was a gift I will carry with me for the rest of my life. I believe I’ve done everything I could as Jaehyun of NCT. And now, I want to take a step back to live quietly, to breathe, to rediscover myself not as a public figure, but simply as Jeong Yuno. I hope you’ll remember me not for the noise or the lights, but for the sincerity in my music and the heart behind my voice. Please don’t worry about me. I’m happy. I’m at peace. And I’ll always be grateful. Thank you for letting me live this dream— and thank you for letting me end it with love. With all my heart, - Yuno

The letter broke the internet for days. It wasn’t long or dramatic. It was very him, soft-spoken, polite, full of gratitude and calm finality.

Fans cried, but there was comfort in his words. It didn’t feel like loss and closure. The members reposted the letter with their own quiet messages:

“Proud of you, bro.” “Once a member, always family.” “Wherever you go, we’ve got you.”

After the official farewell, Jaehyun vanished again, this time for good.

He hasn’t sold his apartment in Seoul yet, but he barely live in it, he withdrew from his public accounts, and left the country quietly to search for his love, only comes back when he needs longer rest. There was no media trail, no appearance at the airport, no new updates.

During fan events, when asked about him, the members smiled and reassured everyone.

“He’s doing well.”

“We still meet up whenever we can.”

“He’s okay. Let’s just wish him the best.”

They never hid him. They spoke of him warmly— as if he was still there, just living a different kind of life and when they said that, the fans only smiled and relieved that he wasn’t lost to darkness, that he was still living, even if they didn’t know what for. His friends— the members, especially Johnny knew what he was doing. They didn’t try to stop him.

He wasn’t chasing fame anymore. He wasn’t chasing music. He was chasing her.

The woman who had once carried his heart, and somewhere out there, the child who carried his eyes.

He never stayed long anywhere. A week here, a few days there. Sometimes a month if something in the air. A view, a song, a scent that made him feel closer to her.

He carried a small worn out notebook filled with scribbled notes, addresses, and dates. Leads from people he trusted, tiny hints of where she might’ve gone.

Sometimes, when he saw a woman with long dark hair pushing a stroller, he froze— his heart leaping before reason caught up. Sometimes, he’d walk into cafés she might’ve liked, just to feel close to her.

He didn’t know where to start, so he went everywhere. Tokyo. Prague. Vancouver. New York. Jakarta.

Everywhere that looked like a place she could’ve chosen to disappear into.

Fans began to notice.

Every few weeks, someone would spot him— blurry photos surfacing online. He was always alone, dressed simply, no entourage, no schedule, no noise. Just a man moving through cities like a ghost, eyes distant, searching for something no one else could see.

The fans notices a worn Prada backpack, the same one fans had seen him carry through airports back in his idol days. It was old but he couldn’t let it go. It had been with him through everything. The tours, the late-night flights, the years of noise and light.

And now it followed him through quiet train stations, small cafés, and unfamiliar cities.

A grainy photo in Florence; Jaehyun sitting by the Arno River, sketchbook open on his lap. Another in Tokyo; walking through Shinjuku at night, his hood up, but unmistakable. Then one from Prague; standing near the Charles Bridge, watching street performers under the fading sun.

They started collecting them.

A small corner of the internet turned into what fans affectionately called “The Jaehyun Atlas.”

A map covered with pins, each one a photo, a sighting, a tiny sliver of his life after fame.

“Found Jaehyun in Italy!”

“Nope, he’s in Connecticut now!”

“Bro’s out here collecting countries like postcards.”

It became a running joke — Jaehyun: Dora the Explorer Edition.

Fans edited memes of him in a little explorer hat, carrying his iconic Prada backpack and a compass, wandering across the globe.

And Jaehyun wasn’t angry about it. In fact, when fans recognized him, usually one or two at a time— he’d smile and greet them back softly.

“Hi,” he’d say in his quiet, polite tone. “You found me.”

Sometimes he’d let them take a photo, sometimes just exchange a few words before walking away. He never seemed bothered, never cold. Just… gentle.

The fans, out of respect, rarely pushed.

They’d post their blurry photos later with captions like, “He looks healthy.”

“He smiled. That’s enough.”

It became a kind of comfort— seeing him alive, moving, living freely after all those years under the spotlight.

They joked about him, yes— about him being a real-life Pokémon, spawning randomly across countries, about his “Prada backpack era” that never ended. But underneath the humor was affection. They missed him. They loved him. And they respected the peace he had chosen.

Meanwhile, Jaehyun lived quietly in between those sightings. He’d book small guesthouses under fake names, write down addresses, check local registries, searching for anything that might lead to her. Hospitals, clinics, embassies, schools… any place that might have a trace of her name or a child’s birth record.

Sometimes he’d follow a lead for weeks, only for it to go nowhere. Sometimes he’d find nothing but silence. And yet, he never gave up.

Each city he left behind became another note in the song he was chasing— the unfinished melody of her voice, the echo of a life that once belonged to both of them.

He wasn’t searching for closure. He was searching for them. And even if the world saw him as the quiet, wandering ex-idol who disappeared to find peace— he knew better.

He wasn’t at peace. Not yet.

credit: divider by @uzmacchiato & @saradika-graphics

The next chapter is actually done, but I'll just give enough gaps between chapters :) Hoped you enjoyed the angsty bit. Also, I thought this series would be perfect as something like of spin-off for my Baby Girlfriend one-shot that I wrote a few months back. Jaehyun's character, her character, their gentle love, you can see it as identical, but it was coincidental tho, it was just me who actually enjoy writing and reading the nurturing-older-boyfriend trope *blush*

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