BLOOM WITH YOU | month 0
After years of heartbreak and disappointment, you and your husband’s dream of starting a family seemed out of reach. But miracle was a beautiful thing.
❧ PAIRING; wonwoo x reader
❧ GENRE; angst, fluff, smut
❧ TAGS/WARNINGS; heavy angst in this chapter, arguing, lots of tears, mention of blood, mention of miscarriages, mention of fertility issues, generally very sad and emotional chapter, wonwoo being a caring hubby :( , penetrative sex, missionary, squirting, creampie, love-making
You always thought your life was the kind people envied. You had the checklist: a career you enjoyed, a loving husband who kissed your forehead every morning, and a circle of family and friends who were there for every celebration and every stumble. It was the life you dreamed of when you were younger, the one where you imagined adulthood to be a smooth, perfect path.
Yet there was a piece of puzzle that seemed to leave the entire picture of your life incomplete, and without it you couldn’t rest.
You’ve been searching for it for three years, but it was buried somewhere deep in the unknown. And the longer you desperately tried to dig through every corner of the earth, the more exhausted you grew — physically and mentally.
Yet still, you didn’t want to stop. You couldn’t give up.
It was midnight, and you were sitting by the window for hours with your knees to your chest, watching the rain pour heavily. You didn’t bother to turn on more lights or even check the time because your mind was elsewhere. You were waiting for something — anything — to break the silence that had grown deafening over the years.
And just then, you heard the sound of the front door opening. Your body stiffened, and your head snapped towards the source of the noise. He was finally home.
You watched your husband step into the house and noticed that he was slightly soaked. He must have walked from the car to the house in the rain without an umbrella, and for a brief moment, you wondered if he had even cared to shield himself.
But your anger was quicker to rise. Three hours. He finished work three hours ago. You were sitting here, waiting, as you did so many nights before, wondering where he was and why he didn’t come home. The excuses were always the same — delays, errands, last-minute shoots.
But a human could only sit and endure for so long before they reach their breaking point, and tonight was it.
You stood up abruptly and made your way towards him. Your bare feet made no sound against the floor, but your furious presence was loud. “Where the hell were you?” you barked.
Wonwoo stopped in his tracks, his wide shoulders sagging as he let out a tired sigh. He placed his keys on the table by the door, but he didn’t dare to meet your gaze. His exhaustion was imprinted onto his face, in the slight droop of his eyelids, the heaviness in his movements. He rubbed the back of his neck as water dripped from his fingers onto the floor.
“I don’t want to do this right now,” he muttered with his deep voice.
Your eyes narrowed and your anger flared hotter. “You don’t want to do this right now?” you repeated as your voice rose.
“You think I wanted to sit here for hours, wondering where you were? You finished work three hours ago. What the hell were you doing?”
“I was driving around,” he admitted after a moment, his voice barely audible over the rain hitting against the glass windows. “I needed to clear my head.”
Your laugh was short and bitter, and filled with disbelief. “Clear your head? Must be nice, having the luxury to escape whenever you feel like it while I sit here drowning in everything that’s wrong with our lives!”
Wonwoo’s head snapped up at your words, and for the first time, he looked at you directly. His eyes were tired, but there was frustration in there too.
“Don’t make this about me,” he said with a sharp tone. “You think this is easy for me? You think I don’t feel the same things you do?”
“Then why don’t you act like it? Why don’t you talk to me instead of running off and leaving me here to deal with it alone?” you questioned as you stood with a defensive posture.
“Because every time we talk, it turns into this,” he shot back, his voice rising slightly. “A fight. Blaming each other for something neither of us can control.”
As the unspoken truth was finally exposed, the silence that followed was immediate and suffocating. Your once-bright vision of starting a family turned into a relentless cycle of pain and resentment. The hope that had once bound you together now only reminded you of what you both couldn’t have.
Three long years of trying had left its mark — never-ending doctor’s appointments, treatments, and reassurances that never felt enough. Your patience had been tested at every social gathering where friends shared pregnancy announcements, and with each passing year, the gap between your expectations and reality widened.
You both endured the isolation and the pain of waiting together, hoping for something that stubbornly refused to arrive. And now, in the wake of another failed attempt, your shared grief threatened to consume what little remained of your hope and connection.
You felt your throat tighten as your anger threatened to give way to tears. But you refused to cry, refused to let yourself appear weak. “You’ve given up,” you said quietly. You tried to sound firm but your trembling voice betrayed you. “You’ve stopped trying.”
Wonwoo’s expression softened slightly as he stepped closer to meet your eyes properly. “I haven’t given up,” he said. “But what do you want me to do? Keep pushing until we destroy what’s left of us? We’re tearing each other apart over something we can’t change.”
You shook your head, and your hands trembled as you tried to hold onto your anger. However, you knew he was right, so his words struck a deep chord within you. Both of you were worn out and, in your own ways, broken. Neither of you could seem to get around the distance left by the dream that once united you together.
In the end, the tears you were holding back finally spilled over.
“You don’t get it,” you said with a whisper. “I feel like I’ve failed. Like I’m the reason this isn’t happening for us. And every time you pull away, it just makes me feel more alone.”
Wonwoo’s face softened further, and he reached out for your hand, but you stepped back. “Don’t,” your voice cracked. “Don’t act like everything’s fine. It’s not fine.”
“I know it’s not,” he said as his hand dropped to his side. “I’m not pretending it is. But I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to fix us.”
The rain outside seemed to grow louder, and the intensifying storm reflected the emotions between you both. You turned away and wrapped your arms around yourself as your body shook with silent sobs. You felt him watching you, felt the space between you that grew wider as each string of hope was cut off.
“It’s not supposed to be this way,” you whimpered. “We had plans. We had dreams. We were supposed to have a family by now, to be happy. But everything feels…broken.”
Wonwoo stood there for a moment, watching you as if he were searching for the right words. Then, slowly, he dropped the bag he was holding and stepped forward. You didn’t hear him move, didn’t feel him until his arms wrapped around you from behind.
His hold on you was warm and strong, and his muscular arms wrapped around your small frame as if he was trying to hold you together when you couldn’t.
At first, you tensed up, taken by surprise, but then you turned around and melted into him, letting your tears soak his chest. “I’m sorry,” he murmured against her hair, “I’m so sorry baby.”
You shook your head as your sobs muffled against his chest. “I’m scared,” you admitted. “I’m scared we’ll never get to start a family like we dreamed. I’m scared we’re never going to be okay again. That we’re never going to be enough for each other.”
He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, feeling his own tears rolling down his cheeks. “But you’re enough for me my love” he said, his voice breaking. “You’ve always been enough for me. I just…I don’t know how to make this better.”
As much as Wonwoo wanted to comfort you with reassurance, he could keep his feelings locked away all the time. This was the honest he could get.
You pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him through your tear-streaked face. His red and glistening eyes met yours, and you saw the pain, the love, the desperation in them. Like your own.
“I don’t want to lose you,” you cried silently.
“You won’t,” he promised as his hands cupped your face. “We’re in this together. No matter what. Remember the promise we made on our wedding day?” he asked, and you nodded slowly,
You went to sleep that night, with your head resting on your husband’s shoulder while his arms were securely wrapped around your waist, thinking back to the day when everything started to fall apart. The memories played over and over like a cruel loop.
How badly you wished it was just a bad dream, a sickening nightmare that you’d shake off upon waking. But it wasn’t. It was real. The pain was too sharp, too vivid to be an illusion. And as much as you wished to escape it, every time you closed your eyes you were forced to face the harshness of it all.
▍1 JUNE 2022 — [3 years ago]
You hummed to yourself as you sliced through a bundle of fresh spring onions. It was a peaceful evening, and you were excited for your husband to come home from his photoshoot. He’d been working so hard lately and you wanted to treat him with his favorite dish — a noce pot of kimchi jjigae.
Cooking has become your comforting hobby lately ever since you found out you were pregnant. While Wonwoo was out for his clients’ photoshoots, you would stay at home to make his favourite meals so he could enjoy them when he returned home.
As you stirred the pot on the stove, your free hand instinctively went to your small, round belly. At twelve weeks pregnant, you had just begun to notice the subtle changes in your body. It was a surprise you didn’t expect, a blessing you both dreamed of.
As you reached for the ladle, a sudden sharp, searing pain shot through your lower abdomen. Your hand flew to your stomach, and you doubled over, gasping for air. The ladle slipped from your hand and clattered onto the floor.
It was just a cramp. That was what you told yourself. The pregnancy books said cramps were normal. You leaned against the counter and tried to breathe through the discomfort. But then it came again, this time sharper, radiating down your lower back. Your knees buckled, and you had to grip the counter to keep yourself upright.
The warmth between your legs came next, and it was unmistakable and terrifying. You staggered back and looked down to see blood staining your leggings. A wave of panic overtook you.
“No, no, no,” you whispered with your trembling voice. Your breathing became ragged, the pain was becoming sharper and incessant. The blood was so red, so graphic against the kitchen tile.
Your phone was on the table, a few feet away. You shuffled toward it with your blurring vision. With your hands shaking uncontrollably, you tapped on Wonwoo’s number and held your breath as the phone rang.
Once. Twice. Six times. No answer.
You knew Wonwoo barely checked his phone while working, but this was urgent. You needed him badly.
Your chest tightened. “Wonwoo, please,” you whimpered, and your voice cracked as the call went to voicemail. You tried again, but the phone rang endlessly. The pain grew worse, and tears blurred your vision almost completely. The world around you felt like it was spinning out of control.
On the third try, he finally answered. “Hey babe, sorry I was busy. What’s up?” Wonwoo said with a casual voice. You tried to speak, but the words were choking inside your throat.
“Babe? Are you okay?” his voice shifted, becoming tense.
“I—” your voice was barely a whisper, and the effort it took to speak felt huge.
Another wave of pain crashed over you that pulled a strangled cry from your lips. You couldn’t hold the phone anymore. Your phone slipped from your hand and fell onto the floor. You tried to pick it up, but your vision darkened around the edges, and before you could say anything more, everything went black.
When you woke, the first thing you noticed was the overwhelming brightness. The sharp light in your eyes made you wince and turn your head. Your body felt unnaturally heavy, and your limbs stiff, and a dull ache throbbed in your abdomen. When the sterile smell of antiseptic hit your nostrils, you realised that you weren’t at home.
“Honey?” Wonwoo’s voice was hoarse, and it was filled with a mixture of relief and anguish.
He was sitting beside your bed with his hand wrapped tightly around yours. His face was pale, his eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with dark circles. His usual calm and confident demeanor was gone. Instead, it was replaced by a fragile, broken man. Something you haven’t seen in a long time since his grandmother passed away a few years back.
You swallowed hard, but your throat was dry. “Wonwoo?” you rasped.
“Hey, I'm here,” he said quickly and leaned closer. “I'm right here baby. You're okay. You're safe.”
You tried to sit up, but the effort made your head swim. “What…what happened?” you asked.
Wonwoo’s face crumpled, and he squeezed your hand tighter as he used his other hand to brush a strand of hair from your damp forehead.
“You called me,” he began. “I-I didn't know what was wrong, but when you stopped talking, I rushed home. You were on the floor, Y/n. There was blood everywhere” his voice cracked as he spoke, and he looked away, swallowing hard.
“I called an ambulance, and they brought you here.”
The air felt heavy after that. Heavy with something unsaid. You could feel it — his silence, the pain etched into every line of his face. Then, your hand instinctively moved to your stomach, feeling dread creeping into your chest.
“The baby,” you whispered with a trembling voice. “Wonwoo…is the baby okay?”
Wonwoo’s breath hitched as he froze. For a moment, he didn’t answer. He couldn’t meet your eyes. Instead, he let out a choked sob, and his body shook as he leaned forward, burying his face in the crook of your neck. His tears were warm against your skin, almost like you could feel his grief soaking into your skin.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m so, so sorry.”
Your heart stopped, and your whole body went cold as the meaning of his words sank in. “No,” you said, shaking your head. Your voice rose in panic and disbelief.
“No, that’s not true. Don’t say that Wonwoo. Don’t you dare say that.”
He pulled back with his face streaked with tears, and tried to cup your cheeks, but you pushed his hands away. “No!” you cried. “The baby’s fine. The baby has to be fine. Tell me the baby’s fine!”
Your hands moved to your stomach, feeling for something — anything — that would prove him wrong. But there was nothing. The flatness of your abdomen, and the emptiness you felt, confirmed the truth you desperately wanted to deny.
“Y/n,” Wonwoo said softly, his voice pleading, “please…”
“No!” your scream echoed through the hospital room. You began to sob uncontrollably, shaking your head as if doing so could erase the reality of what had happened.
“No, no, no! I can’t…I can’t lose the baby!”
Your husband reached for you and pulled you into his arms as you fell apart. You hit his chest weakly with your fists as your sobs muffled against him.
“It’s not fair,” you cried, “why did this happen? Why?”
Wonwoo’s own grief broke free, and he began to cry loudly, his body shuddering as he held onto you. His cries were unfiltered and guttural, the kind of pain that came from losing something that could never be replaced.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered through his tears. “I’m so sorry my love. I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t save you. I couldn’t save our baby.”
▍31 DECEMBER 2024 — [ 5 months ago]
It felt like deja vu, but worse. You sat on the hospital bed as you blankly stared out of the window. You could hear the monitors beeping and the muffled voices of nurses outside the door. To you, it might as well have been the exact one where your heart had broken all those other times.
You were supposed to be celebrating New Year’s Eve with your friends and family, hoping and praying the new year to come would be filled with joy you deserved with your baby. Yet, here you were, in the same room you were in all these years ago — the same white walls and the same faint scent of disinfectant.
The world outside carried on like nothing happened. The snow continued to drift down from the sky, covering everything in white. Somewhere out there, people were laughing, drinking, counting down the hours until midnight. They were making resolutions, clinking glasses, kissing and hugging their loved ones.
But here in this suffocating space, you felt as if time was frozen. There was no celebration, no fresh start. Just loss.
But you didn’t cry. You had no tears left. You didn’t scream or wail or ask why like you did all those other times. The grief settled into your bones so deeply that it didn’t need to be expressed anymore. It became a part of you, as much as your blood and breath.
Across the room, Wonwoo sat in a chair with his face buried in his hands. His body shook as he silently sobbed, and his fingers gripped his hair as though he could somehow pull himself back together. He had always been your rock, the one who always reassured you even when his own voice cracked.
But it all seemed too much to keep himself together. He was completely torn.
“I don’t understand,” he choked out between sobs, “why does this keep happening?”
You didn’t answer. You didn’t move. You just kept staring out at the snow with your hands resting limply in your lap.
This was supposed to be the one. The doctors said this pregnancy was strong, that the baby’s heartbeat was steady, that things looked promising. For the first time in years, you allowed yourself to hope — really hope.
And now, that hope was dimmed. Again.
The door opened softly, and Dr. Jung stepped inside. She was your doctor through all six pregnancies. Each time, she was the one to deliver the devastating news, and each time, her expression had grown wearier. Now, she looked almost as broken as you and Wonwoo did.
Wonwoo wiped his face and sat up straighter. His hands were still shaking as he reached for yours, but you didn’t react to his touch.
Dr. Jung hesitated for a moment before speaking, like she was trying to find the right words. But there were no right words.
“Y/n…Wonwoo,” she began gently. “I’m so, so sorry for your loss.”
Wonwoo inhaled a sharp breath and blinked back fresh tears that threatened to fall. But you didn’t blink.
Dr. Jung shifted in her chair as her hands clasped together tightly. “I know you’ve been through this so many times before,” she continued, her voice laced with sorrow. “And I can’t imagine how much pain you’re in right now. But we finally have some answers.”
Wonwoo’s body stiffened, and his grip tightened on your lifeless hand. “What do you mean?” he asked with his hoarse voice.
Dr. Jung exhaled softly. “The tests we ran after your last miscarriage, and the scans we did earlier this time, have given us a clearer picture. Y/n, your womb has an abnormal structure. It’s something we hadn’t been able to see before with certainty, but now we can.”
The words floated in the air like smoke, curling around and suffocating you. Wonwoo frowned and shook his head as if trying to make sense of the given information.
“What kind of abnormality?” he asked, his voice shaking. “Why didn’t anyone see this before?”
Dr. Jung’s expression softened. “It’s not something that always presents clearly in routine scans. But in Y/n’s case, the shape of her uterus makes it difficult for a pregnancy to progress past a certain point. The risk of miscarriage is significantly higher.”
Wonwoo felt his breath get caught in his throat. He the. turned to you and searched your face, but you were still staring out the window. And for the first time since he had known you, It was hard for him to read what you were feeling. And it broke him.
“There are treatment options,” Dr. Jung continued softly.
“In some cases, surgery can help. But…I need to be honest with you both. Even with intervention, the risk of miscarriage will always be there. It may be lower, but it won’t disappear completely.”
Wonwoo let out a shaky breath as his hands tightened into fists. “So you’re saying...it might never happen for us?”
Dr. Jung hesitated. “I’m saying that it will be much more difficult than for most couples. And I want you both to be prepared for that reality.”
You finally blinked. Your lips parted slightly, but you still didn’t speak.
You should have felt something — anger, sorrow, frustration — but there was only a vast emptiness inside you. You always thought you were cursed the second time it happened, that you were just unlucky, that fate was cruel.
But now that there was a medical explanation, you understood that it was your body. Your own body had been betraying you all these years.
Dr. Jung reached out and placed a hand over your cold one. “I know this is a lot to process. You don’t have to make any decisions right now. Just take the time you need to grieve.”
You slowly turned your head towards the doctor, and your voice finally surfaced after what felt like an eternity. “So, you’re saying I was never meant to be a mother?” you whispered. The words were quiet, but they cut through the room like a knife.
Wonwoo’s face crumpled. “No, honey, don’t say that—”
Dr. Jung shook her head quickly. “That’s not what I’m saying at all. Many women with uterine abnormalities go on to have successful pregnancies. It’s just more complicated, and we would need to explore options very carefully.”
You absorbed the words, but they felt far like they were being spoken through a fog.
Wonwoo reached for your hand again and squeezed it tightly. “We’ll find a way,” he pleaded. “Even if we have to try again, even if it’s hard, we’ll find a way.”
Your eyes met his then, and for the first time all night, you let yourself feel the burden of his sorrow. His hope. His desperation.
“We said that last time,” you murmured.
Wonwoo’s face crinkled, and his body shuddered with another silent sob. He didn’t argue, because he knew you were right. You both said it last time. And the time before. And the time before that.
Dr. Jung sighed softly as she stood up. “I’ll leave you both alone for now. If you need anything, just call.”
She left the room quietly and closed the door behind her. The silence that followed was unbearable.
Wonwoo finally stood up and paced towards the window. He placed a hand against the glass and looked outside at the city below. The sky was glowing with fireworks, filled with explosions of red, blue, and gold painting the night. The world was celebrating the new year that just began.
People were cheering and kissing as they welcomed the new year with laughter and joy. And here you were, drowning in loss and misfortune.
You watched the fireworks for a moment, then turned back to your husband. His shoulders were shaking again while his forehead was pressed against the glass. You should have gone to him, should have wrapped your arms around him.
“I don’t think I can do this again” your voice came out flat and emotionless.
Wonwoo turned to you with his eyes filled with grief. “Y/n—”
“I can’t Wonwoo” you whispered through your cracked voice. “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep hoping just to have it ripped away. I can’t keep watching you fall apart because of me.”
He was in front of you in an instant, kneeling beside the bed as his hands cupped your face. “Baby this isn’t your fault. It’s not because of you.”
Tears finally spilled down your cheeks. “But it is. My body…it’s broken Wonwoo”
His own tears fell freely as he kissed your hands, your forehead, your cheeks, and lastly your pale chapped lips. “You are not broken, my love” he whispered.
“And we will figure this out. Even if it’s different than what we imagined, we will figure it out together, okay? Please don't give up.”
You wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe that there was still something to fight for. But as the fireworks exploded outside, all you could feel was the weight of six losses.
You didn’t know how to carry it anymore.
The sun was warm against your skin, while the gentle breezes swayed your brown locks all over the place. It was a beautiful day, the kind of day that should have made you feel light and at peace. But peace was hard to find for the past few years.
You sat cross-legged on your checkered picnic blanket, your fingers absentmindedly running through your husband’s hair as he lay on his back with his head resting on your lap.
Wonwoo was talking with his deep comforting voice, he was weaving stories from your past. He talked about memories of when you were both younger and happier. He spoke about your first date and how you were nervous as you sat in the tiny café, your hands inches apart as both waited for the other to close the distance. He reminded you of your honeymoon in Singapore, especially when you would both run into the ocean at midnight.
But you weren’t listening.
Your eyes were locked on a family that you noticed walking down the paved path in front of you. A man and a woman were holding hands, and between them were their two children.
The older girl, no more than five, pointed excitedly at something in the distance, and her laughter rang like wind chimes in the warm summer air. The younger boy, perhaps two, held to his mother’s side with his tiny fingers gripping her dress as he looked up at her with wide, adoring eyes.
You felt your chest tighten. It was the kind of family you always dreamed of having for yourself and Wonwoo. But fate had other plans.
Your fingers in your husband's hair came to a halt as your touch grew still.
The familiar suffocating ache settled in your chest, and it made it hard for you to breathe. Your throat felt constricted, and before you could stop it, a single tear rolled down your cheek.
Wonwoo’s voice trailed off. He had been mid-sentence as he told you about some ridiculous thing your neighbour did last week, but when he felt your fingers go still, when he noticed the shift in your breathing, his body tensed.
“Baby?” he called softly, tilting his head slightly to look up at you. But you didn’t respond. Your gaze remained locked on the family with your glassy eyes.
Wonwoo sat up slowly and shifted his weight until he was kneeling in front of you. His hands cupped your face and gently turned you away from the sight before you could spiral again further into pain.
“Hey,” he whispered, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks to wipe away the stray tears that escaped. “Look at me.”
You blinked as your focus shifted to him, but the sadness in your eyes remained. Wonwoo swallowed a hard lump, feeling his own chest tightening. He saw that look too many times before. He had felt that pain too.
The past five months were a battle — a slow, painful process of trying to piece yourselves back together after yet another devastating loss.
Six times. You lost six babies. And this time felt different. It was heavier, as if something inside you shattered beyond repair.
Wonwoo took time off work, just for you. And he planned this picnic in hopes — praying — that it would be a step toward healing. But now, as he looked at the sorrow in your eyes, he knew that no amount of warm sunlight or gentle breezes could erase the pain you carried.
He let out a slow, shaky breath and pressed his forehead against yours. “Please baby,” he murmured. “Talk to me.”
You closed your eyes as more tears slipped free. “I thought I was doing better,” you admitted, your voice barely audible. “I thought I was learning how to live with it.”
Wonwoo tightened his hold on your face a little. “You don’t have to pretend with me, love.”
You exhaled shakily. “I see them, and I wonder if that will ever be us.”
He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. “I wonder the same thing,” he admitted. “Every single day.”
You let out a soft, broken sound — half sob, half sigh. “I hate feeling like this,” you confessed. “I hate how every happy family feels like a reminder of what we’ve lost.”
Wonwoo’s hands trailed down your waist, squeezing gently. “I know baby, I know.”
You then met his sad gaze, and looked for something — reassurance, hope, anything that could ease the ache inside you. “Do you ever think we should stop trying?”
The question was sharp and straightforward that made Wonwoo mentally wince.
Wonwoo’s jaw tightened. He asked himself that question before in the quiet hours of the night when he lay awake, staring at the ceiling, listening to your soft, uneven breathing beside him. He thought about what it would mean to let go of the dream you had held for so long.
But letting go felt impossible.
“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I do know that I don’t want to lose us.”
Your breath hitched. “I don’t either.”
Wonwoo reached for your hands and laced your fingers together. “Then we take it one day at a time. We stop thinking about what’s ahead and just focus on now. On us.”
You looked down at your intertwined hands, and then back up at him. “And if we never get there?”
His throat tightened. He didn’t have an answer for that.
But instead of speaking, he leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. “Then we figure out what ‘there’ looks like for us,” he whispered against your skin.
A fresh wave of tears rolled down your cheeks, but this time, you didn’t try to hold them back. You let yourself lean into him, let yourself be held.
The motion of the crochet hook moving through the soft pink yarn was almost hypnotic. Over and under, loop and pull. You worked in silence as your fingers moved with precision. It was a hobby that you picked up when you were ten, and you often praised yourself at how good you were at it.
You weren’t making anything for anyone in particular. There was no baby waiting for this tiny cardigan. No expectant nursery filled with soft toys and pastel colors. No little hands that would reach for you, no sleepy eyes that would blink up at you in the dead of night.
But still, you crocheted.
The soft yarn draped and pooled over your lap. The cardigan was small and delicate, made for a child who would never wear it. And yet, you kept going, because what else was there to do?
You stopped counting the days since the last you lost your baby, but the grief never truly left you. It was in everything you did, every thought you had.
When you cooked dinner, you thought about how you would have needed to make something different for a toddler. When you went to bed, you thought about how you would have been waking up to cries in the middle of the night.
Even now, sitting in your quiet home, crocheting, you thought about the tiny fingers that would have reached for the soft wool.
A deep sigh left your lips and your hands paused as you traced the fabric with your fingertips. The baby cardigan was almost finished. Just a few more rows, a few buttons to attach, and it would be complete.
The unanswerable question kept lingering in your mind.
Before you could let your thoughts settle in too deeply, you heard the sound of footsteps out in the hallway. The door then creaked open, and you looked up, startled.
It was Wonwoo, standing in the doorway with a wide grin on his face. He was wearing a birthday hat that was slightly crooked on his head, and in his hands, he carried a cake. It was small, homemade, and slightly uneven, with a single candle lit on top.
His voice then began to fill the quiet dimmed room as he began to sing. Wonwoo made his way towards you as he sang, and his eyes were twinkling with love.
“Happy birthday my dear Y/n.”
You blinked in confusion, and then realisation. Your birthday. You forgot — of course you did.
When he reached the end of the song, he knelt in front of you and held the cake out with both hands.
“Make a wish, baby,” he murmured softly.
A lump formed in your throat as you looked at the cake. It wasn’t from a bakery — that you knew was obvious by looking at it. The frosting was unequal, some areas were too thick, and others were too thin. There was a smudge of chocolate near the base where he likely tried to fix a mistake.
He made it himself, and it made you tear up even more.
Wonwoo must have noticed, because he shifted a little in slight embarrassment. “I, uh…I did my best,” he admitted with a sheepish chuckle. “I know it’s not perfect, but—”
“It’s perfect,” you cut him off with a broken whisper, and Wonwoo’s expression softened instantly.
You inhaled shakily as you stared at the candle’s flame. You hadn’t made a birthday wish in years. Not since the first miscarriage. Every year, you wished for the same thing. A baby. A chance to be a mother. A chance to keep what you lost so many times.
But the universe didn’t listen.
Your hands trembled a little as you closed your eyes. And then, for the first time in years, you made a different wish.
You wished for peace. For healing. For the strength to move forward, even when it felt impossible.
Opening your eyes, you leaned forward and blew out the candle. The flame flickered once, then disappeared.
Wonwoo carefully placed the cake on the coffee table before turning back to you. He noticed the tears streaming down your cheeks and frowned. Without hesitation, he reached warm hands for you and he cupped your face, wiping your tears away with his thumbs.
His touch was so tender it made you melt into it. He knew exactly what was making you sad. He always knew. His eyes drifted downward for a moment, landing on the small pink cardigan in your lap.
You saw the way his expression changed — the way his own pain surfaced.
“Woo…” you started weakly. But he didn’t let you finish.
Instead, he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours in a soft, lingering kiss. It wasn’t rushed or desperate. It was slow, full of love, and full of the things neither of you could always say out loud.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and you felt his breath warm against your slightly swollen lips.
“I hate seeing you sad on your birthday,” he murmured. “I just…I wanted today to be a good day for you.”
You let out a shaky breath. “It is a good day” you replied.
He pulled back a little and stared at your face. “You don’t have to say that.”
You gave him a small, sad smile. “But I mean it. You made it a good day.”
His thumb brushed over your cheek which lingered just beneath your eye. “I just want you to be okay.”
You swallowed hard as you glanced down at the cardigan once more. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay,” you admitted. “Not completely.”
Wonwoo’s hold on you tightened. “Then I’ll stay with you until you are. For however long it takes.”
Tears cascaded down your cheeks again, but this time, they weren’t just from sadness. They were from love. From gratitude. From knowing that, even in the darkest moments, you weren’t alone.
Wonwoo exhaled softly, looking at the half-finished cardigan. “Do you want to talk about it?”
You hesitated, but then nodded. “I just…I don’t know why I keep making them,” you said, running your fingers over the fabric. “It’s not like anyone will wear them.”
Wonwoo was quiet for a moment before reaching down and picking up the cardigan. He turned it over in his hands and studied it carefully.
“It’s beautiful,” he murmured.
You let out a soft, breathy laugh. “It’s unfinished.”
“So?” he lifted it slightly and inspected the delicate stitches. “It still matters.”
“Why?” you looked at him with your heart aching.
Wonwoo met your gaze, “because it’s proof that you love them,” he said simply. “All of them. And that matters.”
You stopped breathing for a second. You never thought about it like that. For so long, you crocheted these tiny garments in silence, never daring to say what they truly meant to you. But Wonwoo always understood.
He placed the cardigan gently back in your lap and kissed your forehead. “We don’t have to figure everything out today,” he whispered. “But whatever happens next…we do it together.”
You nodded slowly as your fingers tightened around the soft fabric.
Together. For the first time in months, the word didn’t feel so heavy.
Wonwoo smiled as he brushed another tear from your cheek. “Now, come on. Let’s eat some of this cake before it completely falls apart.”
You let out a genuine laugh and shook your head. “I think it already has.”
Wonwoo gasped dramatically. “Wow. Rude.”
You smiled, truly smiled, and for the first time in a long time, the weight in your chest felt just a little lighter.
Maybe you were okay just yet. But with your husband by your side, maybe you would be.
Your body trembled under the weight of his as he slowly sank himself into you. A low grunt could be heard as he pushed past the tightness he felt around your walls, and another whiny moan when he felt his tip kiss your cervix.
“Fuck” he swore under his breath as he adjusted his position while your legs and arms were wrapped around his broad body.
The weather was getting a little cooler these days, and Wonwoo could feel you slightly shivering beneath him. Grabbing the blanket that was discarded on the side of the bed earlier, he threw it over your naked bodies.
“You okay?” he asked, pulling back slightly to look at you. You slowly opened your eyes and gave him a weak nod.
Wonwoo cupped your face and his thumbs traced over your cheekbones, as if he was reassuring himself that you were real, that you were here, together, despite everything.
“I love you,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. Your lips parted slightly, like you wanted to say it back but couldn't find the words. Instead, you answered him with a kiss.
You bucked your hips upwards to motion him to move, and Wonwoo let out a small hiss as his one hand slowly trailed down to your hip while using the other to support himself upright.
Wonwoo pulled out just enough for the head of his cock to remain buried in, and then in one swift motion, he slammed himself right back in. Your mouth gaped, letting out a loud gasp.
He spread your legs wider and repositioned himself to give him better access. He grabbed both of your hands and pinned them above your head, then leaning in to press his sweaty forehead against yours.
He began to thrust in a sickeningly slow pace, deep enough for you to feel his cock brush against your cervix. Wonwoo wanted you to know, to feel, how much he loved you. With every open mouthed kiss he peppered over your lips, every deep rhythmic thrust, he wanted you to understand that nothing in this world would ever separate you from him. That he’d love you till the world ended.
“I love you so much” he whispered against your lips. Silent tears rolled down in the corner of your eyes, both in pleasure and love. But you couldn’t deny the pang of pain you felt either. It followed you like a shadow in everything that you did.
“I l-love you t-too” your voice broke, followed by a moan you couldn’t contain.
“It’s okay sweetheart, don’t hold yourself back” he reassured as he slowly picked up his speed. You intertwined your fingers tighter with his as he leaned in to bury his face in your neck once again.
“M-More” you cried out in pleasure as you squirmed beneath him.
Wonwoo’s eyes darkened, and his thrusts came to a halt as he pulled out completely. He pushed himself up on his knees, the blanket covering your bodies slipping off his back, and hooked his arms under your legs to pull you down closer.
And before you could comprehend anything, you felt him ram inside your tight hole in one go. You felt the air knock out of your lungs as you held onto his arm for dear life. Wonwoo only gave you a second or two to adjust before he began to pound into you mercilessly, the harsh sound of skin slapping and bed creaking filling your confined bedroom.
His fingers dug into your hips as he tried to maintain his pattern, but your cries and moans fed into his desire to go faster than he already was. The way your breasts bounded up and down, he couldn’t resist the urge to fondle with them. His slender fingers gently pinched at your nipple, causing you to let out a louder moan.
“D-Don’t stop b-baby” you whined.
Wonwoo leaned down and pecked your lips, “I wasn’t planning to sweetheart” he grunted.
Wonwoo knew you were starting to get overstimulated when your moans turned into sobs, and the way you pushed at his arms to beg him for a release.
You felt a tight coil form inside of you, ready to snap at any moment. “P-Please, I c-can’t. Fuck! Baby I-I can’t” you cried as you dug your nails into his biceps.
Wonwoo could feel the way your walls were clenching tighter which made it harder for him to control himself. “Let go baby” he said, pressing an open mouthed kiss on your trembling lips.
And just like that, the coil finally snapped. Wonwoo pulled out just in time as you squirted all over this cock. Your screams filled the room, your hips shuddering as you continued to soak the bed sheets. Your husband watched with his hooded eyes as you unfolded, biting his lip.
It wasn’t often that you’d squirt during sex, but when you did, it was the hottest thing Wonwoo ever saw. And most of the time, he’d lose his sanity completely.
Wonwoo leaned down and gave you a sloppy kiss while his fingers trailed down to your soaked cunt. “Shh, you’re okay baby” he mumbled against your lips as he slowly rubbed your swollen clit in a circular motion.
When you finally calmed down, you let out a small sob, feeling overwhelmed. You never felt so good in a long time.
“You okay?” your husband asked, staring deeply into your eyes with a loving gaze. You gave him a nod and reached your hand out to caress his sweaty face.
With a soft smile and a peck on your lips, Wonwoo spread your legs wide once again. With one hand gripped on his thick shaft and the other resting on your cheek, he gently eased himself back inside you.
Your back arched and your arms flew to wrap around his muscular torso. His thrusts were more relaxed and slow than before, like he wanted you to understand the depth of his love for you.
“I love you” he whispered into your ear.
The world outside didn’t exist at that moment. There was no grief, no shattered dreams, no echoes of what you lost. There was only this — skin against skin, lips tracing, hands rediscovering the familiar dips and curves of each other’s bodies.
Wonwoo trailed kisses down the column of your throat, and paused at the rapid pulse beneath your skin. He lingered there and savoured the proof of life, the reminder that you were still here, still fighting, still capable of loving even after everything.
You let out a shaky breath as your hands roamed over his back, feeling the tension that lived in his muscles for far too long. You pressed soft kisses along his shoulder as a silent reassurance that you weren’t totally broken beyond repair.
This wasn’t just about making love. It was about finding your way back to each other. It was about healing in the only way you knew how.
“We’re okay,” you whispered, your voice trembling but sure.
Wonwoo swallowed hard as he rested his forehead against yours. “Yeah,” he whispered back, his fingers tightening around your waist.
He continued thrusting into you until he felt himself reaching his edge. His moans grew louder the closer he got to his orgasm, his eyes clenching shut as he kept his face buried in your neck.
And then, he finally felt himself snap. His movements stilled as he bursted inside you like fireworks, painting your walls white with his hot sticky cum and filling you up to the brim.
“Fuck!” he dragged on the word as he collapsed over you.
You shut your eyes and and savoured the way his cum still spurted like it was never going to end. And when it did, you felt him slowly pull out. The arousal dripping from your swollen cunt was immediate. But unlike how he always did, Wonwoo didn’t gather his cum with his fingers to push it back in. Instead, he just let it flow.
The hopes of starting a family was dimming, but it didn’t diminish completely. But now, you and Wonwoo knew that you were at a point where you knew you didn’t want to force yourselves into anything. If the universe wanted to answer your prayer, it would.
As much as it hurt, you came to accept that this was what life was. Not every dream is fulfilled, but when you have someone who loves you right next to you, heartbreak and disappointment is a little easier to overcome.
And with Wonwoo by your side, sticking to his promise he made during your wedding, life wasn’t all that miserable. In the end, he was your happiness. He was your answer to your questions. He was your everything, and right now, that mattered to you the most.
a/n; I don’t know what to feel about the smut, it’s lowkey shit but hey I gave it a shot!
