Yoongi didn't explain.
He didn't have to.
Just one email. No long-winded message. No details.
Subject: Leave RequestMessage: I'm filing my leaves. — M.Y.
No one questioned it.
Some of the HR staff even laughed softly at the email when it pinged their inboxes, whispering among themselves:
"Must be serious if Min Yoongi is taking a break."
The leave was granted. Extended, even. Without hesitation.
Because when the famously workaholic producer asked for time, you gave it to him. And maybe… hoped he was finally choosing himself for once.
Back at home, the transformation happened fast.
Yoongi wasn't the type to wait.
One trip to the baby store turned into a full-on mission. The guest room, once sterile and untouched, now pulsed with soft pinks, cozy rugs, flower-shaped ceiling lights, and a toddler-sized Barbie mansion complete with miniature furniture.
Yoona had stared at it, wide-eyed.
Then screamed with glee and ran straight to the house.
Yoongi grinned, watching from the doorway.
"Worth every won."
The awkward part came that first night.
Flashback to that day:Rhea stood near the front door, Yoona dozing in her arms, her suitcase barely zipped."We'll find a hotel tomorrow. I just… didn't want to surprise Jin unannounced tonight."
Yoongi's brows furrowed. His jaw set. "You're not going anywhere."
"Yoongi—"
"No." His voice softened. "This is your home, too. At least until you find a place. She needs stability. She needs space. She needs… me."
Rhea stared. Unsure.But when he gently lifted Yoona from her arms and cradled her like a porcelain treasure, Rhea knew she couldn't say no.
Present day:
Co-parenting?
Tiring. Rewarding. Confusing.
They slept in separate rooms. Passed Yoona back and forth like teammates in a relay race. Took turns with the 2 a.m. fevers, the snack refusals, the random tantrums in Korean she hadn't even mastered yet.
Rhea was exhausted. So was he.
But every night, he stood by the door of her pink princess room just to watch Yoona sleep—her cheeks puffed out like tiny rice buns, her bunny squished in one hand, her foot dangling off the bed.
Sometimes, he looked at Rhea across the hallway. Sometimes, they didn't say anything.
Sometimes, that silence was enough.
***
The sun filtered in through gauzy white curtains, casting golden halos across the living room floor. The house was unusually quiet for a while—until a tiny pair of feet pattered across the wood, followed by the soft clink of plastic tea cups.
Yoongi crouched low in front of the pastel-pink play table. Across from him sat a tiny girl in a frilly dress, her hair pulled into an uneven ponytail Rhea had quickly tied before heading out for errands.
He poured imaginary tea into a tiny cup and held it up with careful fingers.
"Would Miss Yoona like some jasmine or chamomile?" he asked, voice gentle, eyes wide in play.
Yoona tilted her head. Her gaze was fixed on him—curious, unafraid. Then, without answering, she handed him a small stuffed lion as if to invite him to join their circle.
Yoongi smiled.
She didn't speak much yet, but he could tell—she knew. Maybe not with words, but somewhere deeper, instinctual.
This is him. This is my dad.
She leaned over and patted his hand like a tiny old woman at brunch. He almost cried.
By noon, they'd had three tea parties, two living room dance sessions (to classical music, of course, for 'elegance'), and an epic sticker war on the dining table. Yoongi had ordered an embarrassing amount of toys online—everything pink, plush, and sparkly. Rhea would probably scold him for spoiling her. He didn't care.
In the afternoon, he dragged boxes from the attic, clearing out the spare guest room. By sundown, it had transformed into a toddler dreamland—fluffy rugs, bean bags, wall decals of constellations and forests. He even built a little indoor playhouse with his own hands. It leaned slightly to one side, but Yoona loved it.
She called it "Yonagi-house."
He didn't correct her.
That night, Rhea came home to find the house a whirlwind of soft toys, snack wrappers, and coloring books. Yoongi was sprawled on the couch, Yoona asleep against his chest, a tiny hand curled into his shirt.
She snapped a photo without making a sound.
A few weeks in, the house no longer resembled a minimalist bachelor's hideaway. It looked lived in. Warm. Messy. Full.
Colorful drawings on the fridge. Tiny socks under the coffee table. Music was replaced by soft lullabies and bedtime stories whispered under the dim light of a hallway lamp.
Yoongi and Rhea had dark circles under their eyes and matching yawns in the morning. But they were happy.
Then came the visit.
Selena and Jin arrived mid-morning, arms full of gifts and expressions full of awe.
"She's really—exactly—him," Selena whispered to Rhea, watching as Yoona waddled toward Yoongi in excitement, holding her newest bunny plush. "That nose? Those eyes? The pout? Rhea, even the way she side-eyes you is Yoongi."
Jin chuckled, nudging Yoongi. "You've been replaced as the cutest Min."
"I'm fine with that," Yoongi said, without missing a beat, eyes never leaving his daughter.
They all sat in the living room, toys piled high around them, laughter echoing like music.
And for the first time in a long while, everything felt whole.
The late afternoon sun dipped lower, casting a peach glow over the Min residence. Yoona was giggling in the living room as Jin tried—and failed—to keep up with her imaginative games. Meanwhile, Selena sat on the couch, sipping tea and watching Yoongi and Rhea share a quiet exchange over Yoona's scattered coloring books.
She tilted her head, narrowed her eyes, and blurted, "Wait… have you two ever dated?"
The question hit like a cymbal crash in a jazz lounge.
Yoongi, without missing a beat, calmly replied, "No."
Rhea opened her mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again, but no words came out. Only a flustered blink.
Selena laughed. "Yah! That's the most awkward 'no' I've ever seen." She placed her cup down with theatrical flair. "We'll watch Yoona. You two—go. Go have dinner or whatever adults do when they're clearly repressing their feelings."
Jin's eyes widened. "Wait, what? You didn't say babysitting was part of the visit."
Selena gave him the full force of her puppy-eyed pout. "You love me, right?"
"…Ugh," Jin muttered. Then to Yoongi, "Go now. Before she kidnaps your kid and names her Jinah."
Yoongi didn't need further convincing. He grabbed Rhea's wrist and led her straight out, her coat barely slipping onto her shoulders as he tugged her toward his car.
They sat in the quiet hum of the engine for a moment.
"Where are we going?" Rhea asked, glancing sideways at him.
"You'll see," he said.
They arrived at a quiet, hidden restaurant outside Seoul. Private booths, candlelit tables, jazz humming low in the background. A place Yoongi used to escape to when the noise got too loud.
Dinner was calm. No cameras. No eyes. Just them.
After the last of the dessert plates were cleared, Rhea leaned her elbows on the table. "This is nice," she said softly. "We haven't… done this before."
Yoongi nodded. "Yeah."
A pause.
Then, carefully, he said, "I don't want to co-parent anymore."
Rhea blinked. Her fingers stilled on the glass. "Are you… asking me to move out?"
Yoongi choked on his water, then chuckled. "No. Idiot. I'm asking if you'd like to date again."
Her mouth parted slightly in surprise. Then her face softened, slowly, beautifully, into a smile.
"Fine," she whispered, teasing.
Yoongi leaned back, grinning like a fool. "Good."
Rhea raised a brow. "That easy?"
"You think I've been building dollhouses and throwing tea parties for anyone?"
They laughed quietly, two people rediscovering something they'd never finished.
That night didn't end in grand confessions or dramatic kisses—just in the calm, unshakable peace of two hearts finally moving in sync again.
That night, after Yoona had exhausted her endless imagination and knocked out mid-story, Yoongi knelt beside her bed. He brushed a stray strand of her dark hair away from her tiny face. She stirred, murmured a sleepy nonsense word, and rolled onto her side, clutching her stuffed bunny—one of the twelve Yoongi accidentally ordered in his midnight spree.
He stayed a while, just watching. This tiny person. His tiny person. It still didn't feel real.
Behind him, Selena and Jin peeked into the doorway.
"She's like a little Yoongi," Selena whispered dramatically to Rhea. "But like—cute. Soft. Not grumpy grandpa energy."
"She even has his side eye," Jin added, crossing his arms. "You see that? She looked at me earlier like I owed her money."
They all laughed quietly, careful not to wake the little one.
Selena turned to Jin, nudging him. "She makes me want one."
Jin raised his brows, smirking. "Wanna have one tonight?"
Selena rolled her eyes but blushed anyway. "Let's go before Yoona side-eyes you again in her sleep."
They said their goodbyes with teasing winks and dramatic bows, leaving the house quieter.
Rhea, in her sleep shirt and shorts, was on her way to the guest room when Yoongi intercepted her.
"Where are you going?" he asked, voice low.
She blinked, toothbrush in hand. "To sleep?"
Yoongi raised a brow. "You're sleeping here," he said, gesturing to his room. "We agreed to date."
She laughed. "But we just started."
He scoffed. "What do you mean? We've been together for four years. I'm just gonna blur the part where you disappeared for two whole years and then popped up with a clone of me."
Rhea looked at him—tired, disheveled, but steady. Always steady. After everything… he was still him.
"Fine," she said softly.
She stepped into his room. He took the toothbrush from her, set it aside, and pulled her in.
It was awkward at first, with them just lying there like two pieces of logs on a bed. Not one body turning.
Rhea then chuckles. "I didn't think we'd be this stiff."
Yoongi laughs, breaking the awkwardness. "Then let me scoot over there."
Yoongi adjusted, his arm slipping under her head until it cradled her like muscle memory. The room smelled faintly of his cologne and the fabric softener she remembered from before—the same one he never changed.
Their legs brushed.
Then stilled.
Rhea let out a breath, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's weird, isn't it?"
Yoongi turned slightly to face her, brows furrowed. "What is?"
"This," she murmured. "Being here. After everything."
He was quiet for a moment, then said, "It's not weird to me. Feels like something I waited for."
She blinked at that. His honesty still had a way of undoing her.
"Do you ever think about what would've happened if I stayed?"
"All the time," he said without hesitation.
"And?"
"I'd probably have the same under-eye bags, but maybe I'd sleep more knowing you were next to me." He smiled faintly, brushing his thumb along her arm. "I thought I'd be angry when I saw you again. I tried to be."
Rhea turned to face him now, her forehead nearly touching his. "I was scared."
He nodded slowly. "You had every right to be."
They were quiet for a moment—until Rhea, trying to ease the tension, whispered, "Remember when you used to tickle me at 3 a.m. just to annoy me?"
A slow grin tugged at his mouth. "You snorted when you laughed."
"I did not."
"You did."
She rolled her eyes, smiling into the dark.
Yoongi tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the pad of his thumb lingering on her cheek. "I missed this," he said, voice lower now. Honest. "Us. The quiet. Even the stupid fights."
"I missed you," Rhea said, eyes glossy.
She didn't flinch when he leaned in. And he didn't hesitate this time.
Their lips met—soft, familiar, a little uncertain at first. Then deeper, drawn by memory and ache and something dangerously close to forgiveness.
It wasn't urgent. It wasn't rushed.
It was them.
After everything.
They kissed again, slow at first, like the world had slowed with them. But Yoongi wasn't done. He missed her in all the ways a person can miss someone. Missed her laugh, her warmth, her skin.
The kiss deepened. His hands found familiar curves. And Rhea? She melted. She always did with him. She remembered the last time they'd been like this, she couldn't walk straight the next day.
She braced herself.
Too late.
Yoongi didn't hold back—not his hunger, not his love, not the quiet apology in every touch for the time lost between them.
Rhea surrendered. Because this was why she came back. Because she loved this man. Because she always had.
The next morning
The morning light poured in through the sheer curtains, golden and slow.
Yoongi stirred first, the weight of exhaustion still dragging at his limbs, but the warmth beside him grounded him. A presence he once memorized, now painfully unfamiliar in its nearness.
Rhea shifted under the blanket, hair a soft mess, Yoona's bunny plushie somehow wedged between them. Her eyes barely opened, gaze hazy with sleep and wariness.
Neither of them spoke for a moment.
It wasn't tension—it was something quieter. Something like memory.
Yoongi sat up and ran a hand through his hair, his voice still hoarse.
"I'll get coffee started."
He didn't know what else to say.
She hummed noncommittally, turning her face into the pillow. The silence stretched, but not heavy. Just... real.
Then, as he stood and reached for his shirt, she muttered without looking:
"So is this your plan now? Break my legs so I can't walk again? Or maybe… make another Yoona while we're at it?"
He paused.
Then looked at her.
She cracked one eye open, the ghost of a smirk playing on her lips.
He stared, blinked once—then chuckled. A low, helpless sound that escaped before he could stop it.
"I didn't plan anything," he said, pulling his shirt over his head. "That was... spontaneous. Like her." He nodded toward the hallway, where faint babbling noises hinted Yoona was already awake and plotting chaos.
Rhea exhaled. Rolled to her side, propped up on one elbow.
"You're dating me again, aren't you?"
Yoongi looked at her, unreadable. "If you'll let me."
Her throat tightened. But she smiled, just barely.
"You better be more charming this time."
"I've got a kid now," he said dryly. "Charming's all I have left."
She laughed quietly. And Yoongi?
He kissed her forehead, like muscle memory.
"Forever," he whispered—more question than promise this time.
But she didn't correct him.
Not yet.
Because healing, like love, sometimes returns in awkward mornings, sarcastic jokes, and soft glances over coffee cups.