A year passed.
The world adjusted, albeit reluctantly, to what they now called "the new normal."
For Rhea and Yoongi, it meant more indoor dinners, more hand sanitizer, more deliveries. But it also meant more distance—ironically, even while living under the same roof.
Yoongi's schedule, once paused, returned with vengeance. Virtual concerts. Remote collaborations. Brand deals. Digital fan calls. And now, the company had paired him up with a female artist for a special joint track.
Rhea first saw the article on her feed, right after finishing the laundry.Her name wasn't familiar, but the headline caught her off guard.
"Intimate Studio Sessions?""Late Nights at Min Yoongi's Home Studio?"
She scrolled quickly. Photos, rumors, gossip. She rolled her eyes.Just a song. It's just work. He would've told me if it was something else… right?
Still, the tightness in her chest didn't ease.
Yoongi came home past midnight that night, eyes tired but arms full.
He set a family-sized samgyeopsal spread on the counter and motioned toward it."You said you wanted grilled meat, didn't you?"
Rhea stared at the table. "There's enough here to feed the entire dance line."
He grinned, sheepish. "I wasn't sure what cut you liked. Got all of them."
She didn't say anything for a while. Then she grabbed chopsticks and started plating the lettuce wraps. She ate quietly. He joined her, telling her about a mix-up at the studio and how someone spilled coffee on the interface. She laughed—but it sounded hollow.
Some nights she was distant like that. Quiet. Tired.
Other nights, she was the opposite—bright, teasing, sometimes overly sweet. She'd drape herself over his lap, kiss his face until he giggled, or wrap her arms around his waist and ask him to stay in bed just five more minutes.
Yoongi didn't always know which version of her to expect, but he tried to keep up.
She would snap over little things—like the toothpaste cap, or forgotten laundry. But the next morning she'd make him pancakes with strawberries.
They were both hanging on. Neither saying what felt heavier than silence.
One night, Yoongi sat with Jin and Hoseok on a group call, sipping beer.
"She's… different lately," Yoongi murmured, fidgeting with the tab on the can. "Snappy one moment, crying over a shampoo commercial the next. Then she's dragging me to bed like we're newlyweds."
Jin smirked. "Sounds like hormones to me."
Yoongi blinked. "She gets her period, though."
"Hyung," Hoseok interjected with a laugh, "that doesn't mean anything. She's diabetic, right? That affects everything. You sure she's not pregnant?"
Yoongi paused, the can halfway to his lips.Pregnant?
"No. No way. It's not that easy for her."
Still, the thought lingered.
Later that night, Yoongi came home to find the entirety of a full-sized birthday cake already half-eaten on the counter.
Rhea looked up, fork in hand, cheeks puffed like a chipmunk."I wanted cake."
He chuckled softly. "I can see that."
"I didn't want to wait for my birthday."
"I'd get you one any day, baby."
She dropped her fork and walked over to him, hugging him tighter than usual. For a moment, he felt her press her face to his chest, clinging.
Yoongi kissed the top of her head, the what-if from earlier still echoing.Could she be…?
But he didn't ask.
Not yet.
***
At first, Rhea thought it was her diabetes acting up again.
The dizzy spells. The sudden cravings. The nausea in the mornings. The tears that came with no warning. She chalked it up to stress, to fatigue, to blood sugar fluctuations she hadn't charted properly.
But it lingered.
So she called Selena.
They sat in the waiting room of the OBGYN clinic, masked and quiet, with Rhea fidgeting the corner of her sweater and Selena holding her hand.
They were just there for her diabetes.
But a blood test made referred her to a gynecologist. The one who specialized with mothers who suffers diabetes.
"I thought it was my blood sugar again," Rhea whispered. "I didn't think…"
The ultrasound room was cold. The lights dim. She watched the monitor in silence as the technician slid the wand across her belly.
The gel was cold. The technician kind. But none of it made Rhea feel better.
Her hands stayed folded above her chest, fingers tangled together so tightly they ached. Selena stood beside her, clutching her free hand with a grip that anchored her.
The screen lit up with grainy shadows.
A pause.
A deeper breath from the technician. Then the doctor stepped in.
"There it is," she said, pointing with the cursor. "A four-week-old sac. You're pregnant."
The room tilted for a second. Rhea blinked at the small shape. So tiny. So unfamiliar. So fragile.
Her heart stammered. And then quickened with something close to terror.
Her voice came out quiet, a whisper not meant to be heard.
"What do I do to make her stay?"
The doctor exchanged a look with the technician, then spoke gently. Firmly.
"You need to understand something first, Rhea. You're high-risk."
Rhea nodded. She already knew. Her hands trembled.
"With your history of gestational diabetes and the recent blood sugar fluctuations, this will not be an easy pregnancy. If stress persists, or if we don't control your glucose levels, there's a high possibility of complications. Miscarriage is not off the table."
Selena's grip tightened. Rhea didn't look at her. She couldn't. She was too focused on breathing.
"You will not be able to deliver naturally," the doctor continued. "And I suggest we prepare early for a scheduled C-section. You'll need regular monitoring. A nutritionist. And no emotional strain—none."
Rhea finally turned to Selena. Her friend's eyes were watery, jaw tight, but brave. Brave like Rhea needed to be. She nodded for her. For both of them.
***
They sat in the parked car for a long time. The radio was off. Just the hum of the world outside.
Rhea stared ahead, hands clasped in her lap. Her voice was hollow when she finally spoke.
"Selena… I don't know if I can do this."
Selena didn't push. She waited.
"I'm so scared. Every time I close my eyes, I wonder what I'll do if I lose this baby. If my body fails me again."She paused. Swallowed."And lately… it's like Yoongi's slipping away. He's busy again. Stuck in the studio, not asking about my check-ups, brushing things off with a kiss on the forehead like that fixes everything."
She looked at her hands.
"Now he's working with a new female artist. I don't even know her name. I don't know what they're doing. And I hate that this sounds jealous, but… I feel like I'm being shelved. Like he's holding me less and holding his music more."
Selena turned to her, slow and certain. Her voice was firm but kind.
"Then you tell him. You tell him you're not a goddamn shelf. You're the woman carrying his child. You're the one fighting every day just to stay upright, Rhee. You don't need to whisper anymore. Make him hear it."
Rhea closed her eyes. Let a tear fall.
"I want him to be the first to hear the heartbeat," she murmured."Not through a phone. Not weeks later. I want him there. But how do I ask that when he's already in a world that runs without me?"
Selena reached over and wiped her cheek.
"You remind him that your world is about to carry his. That's something no song could ever hold."
A pause.
"I still can't believe it. Rhee. You're going to be a mom."
Rhea held the small black-and-white ultrasound photo in her lap like it was glass."Don't tell anyone yet. Please," she murmured. "Yoongi doesn't even know. He's still… busy."
He hadn't been home in a week.
Each night, she waited.
Sometimes she set two plates at the table. Sometimes she ate alone, chewing slowly, her eyes darting to the door with every creak or passing car. The articles hadn't stopped. The female artist's face began appearing more and more. Studio sessions. Behind-the-scenes clips. Whispered rumors.
Rhea didn't want to believe it.
But the weight of it pressed down on her chest.
The stress curled into her spine.
And then, on a cold Tuesday evening, she finally broke.
His studio lights were still on when she arrived. The security knew her well and let her in without question. Her heart beat like a war drum in her chest, her palms clammy.
***
[Studio – Late Night, Yoongi's POV]
The loop played again. And again.Verse. Hook. Bridge. It still wasn't right.
Yoongi hunched over the keyboard, jaw tight, eyes dry. He hadn't blinked in too long. The screen swam a little—he wasn't drunk, just... dull around the edges.
His whiskey glass was nearly empty. Neat, no ice. Just like always. A ritual. A hum beneath the chaos.
Behind him, she spoke again—the artist. She had a name, but Yoongi hadn't used it since the first day. Not once during this whole project.
"Do you always drink like that while working?"
Yoongi didn't turn around."Only when I'm not trying to feel anything."It was blunt. She laughed, a little too loud.
"That's a mood," she said, sliding beside him now. "You always like this? Closed off? Brooding genius?"
He didn't answer. He was barely present.
"Do you have someone?" she asked, swirling the whiskey in her glass, her nails clicking against the crystal.
Yoongi's voice was quiet. Flat."I do."
And that was all he said.
She poured herself another. She had stood so close and smelled her perfume. It was sweet. Too soft. It smelled like nothing and irritated him more than he expected.
"I've followed your work for years, you know," she said after her second sip. "I've always wanted to do this. With you."
Yoongi stayed silent, eyes fixed on the DAW screen in front of him.
The track finally felt like it was landing—like the bones were right. He leaned back, stretching his arms, head tipping slightly upward as he cracked his neck with a soft exhale. He closed his eyes.
That's when it happened.
She leaned forward.
He didn't even see her coming—just the sudden warmth of her hand on his cheek and her lips brushing his.
It lasted a second. Three at most.
But it was enough.
The studio door slammed shut behind them with a sharp, violent bang.
Yoongi froze.
He turned, heart already sinking into his stomach.
Rhea.
She was already gone.
***
[Rhea's POV]
She opened the door.
And there it was.
The girl. Kissing him.
Rhea didn't even scream. She didn't cry. She just stood there long enough to watch Yoongi freeze, his lips unmoving, his body still. His eyes widened—not at the kiss, but at her.
Like he had sensed her the moment she stepped in.
"Rhea—" he started.
But she turned. Closed the door with a bang loud enough to shake the hallway.She didn't hear the apologies. Didn't wait for the explanation.
She hailed a cab, whispering her address like a ghost.
By the time Yoongi burst through the apartment door, she was already packing.
"Rhea, wait—stop—let me explain—"
"I saw it, Yoongi," she said, eyes red, tears streaking down her cheeks. "I waited for you. Every night. While you let them print lies, while she kissed you—"
"She kissed me—Rhea, I didn't—please, it wasn't—"
But she wouldn't hear it.
She dragged her suitcase to the door. His hand reached for her, pleading. But she flinched away. Her vision blurred from sobbing. She took the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator.
And then it happened.
Her foot caught the strap of her bag. The weight shifted. She stumbled.
Thud.
She tumbled down the last steps, her body curling inward, instinctively shielding her stomach. The pain hit instantly—a sharp, throbbing cramp in her abdomen. Then a warmth spreading beneath her.
Her eyes widened in horror.
Blood.
Too much.
Too warm.
Too soon.