When The Quiet Breaks, Glass Empire, (No. 9)

It had been two weeks since the fight.

Nova hadn’t raised her voice again. She hadn’t cried. She hadn’t left.

But something had gone silent inside her.

She moved through the house like a shadow present, but not fully there. The softness in her eyes had gone flat. Her voice had lost the warmth it used to hold, even when she was annoyed. She spoke to Haesoo only when necessary, and even then, her words were clipped, functional. Never cruel, just distant. Always distant.

She ate because he asked her to. Quietly. Mechanically. She never asked for food herself. Never said she was hungry. Sometimes she’d take the plate he made and finish it in silence, other times she’d nibble at the edges until he stopped watching. But she never enjoyed it. That much was clear. Every bite looked like a task she was forcing herself through, something to check off so he wouldn’t hover.

Haesoo didn’t push. Not anymore.

He hovered from a careful distance, watching her move around the house like she was walking through fog. He noticed the way she kept her hands pressed low on her stomach more often now, like it grounded her. He noticed how her books piled up again science texts, old field reports, pregnancy manuals she barely read. He noticed how she went to bed early and always faced the wall.

She was twenty-two weeks along now. Almost twenty-three. Her bump had started to show clearly, rounding gently beneath her clothes. She still dressed the same loose shirts, dark leggings, hair always pulled back but her movements had slowed. She got tired faster. Her back ached more.

Haesoo hated how careful everything felt. Like they were living around each other, not with each other. Like every word might crack the thin layer of ice they were skating on.

Most mornings, she’d wake before him, shower in silence, and sit on the couch with a book by the time he came downstairs. She’d be sipping Coke Zero or water, a bowl of plain rice or fruit barely touched beside her.

He’d greet her softly.

She never looked up.

By the time Nova was 24 weeks along, the tension had dulled into routine. Their lives moved in parallel lines—never colliding, never confronting. Just existing.

That afternoon, she was curled up on the couch in an oversized sweater, one hand absently resting on her stomach, the other holding a worn book she didn’t seem to be reading anymore. Her eyes drifted over the pages, but nothing stuck. Still, she turned each page like she was trying to find something in the quiet.

Haesoo stepped into the room, holding his journal.

He’d spent the past few weeks finishing the songs for his upcoming album. Writing had helped—it gave him something to pour the ache into, something to focus on while she drifted further away. But now that the songs were done, all he wanted was for her to read them.

Not because he needed approval.

Because he needed her.

Nova glanced up when he stopped in front of her, but said nothing.

“I finished them,” he said softly, holding out the book.

She blinked, then slowly reached for it. Her hand brushed his as she took it, cool and featherlight. “Okay,” she said, voice barely above a whisper.

No kiss. No smile. No warmth. But she took it.

He sat on the armrest, waiting, watching her eyes scan the page.

She made small marks as she read. A word here. A line break there. She crossed out one chorus entirely and rewrote it underneath in neater handwriting, more in rhythm with the melody she remembered him humming.

Fifteen minutes passed in silence.

Then she closed the journal, placed it on his lap, and leaned back into the cushions. “The second verse in track three drags. Tighten it. Everything else is good.”

She didn’t look at him when she said it.

But she’d read every word.

That was the closest thing to affection he’d gotten in weeks.

And somehow, it felt like a beginning.

Haesoo looked down at the journal in his lap, her edits still fresh in blue ink. His fingers curled around it, thumb brushing the edge of a page she’d rewritten. She hadn’t said much—but she read them all. That meant something. He told himself it did.

He stayed perched on the armrest, not ready to leave yet. His eyes flicked to her—she was staring at the ceiling now, her hand resting on the curve of her stomach, distant but still here. Still real.

“I love you,” he said quietly.

Nova didn’t flinch.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t even turn her head.

Her voice came out even. Empty. “Keep it to yourself.”

She stood a second later, brushing past him on the way to the kitchen. Like he hadn’t said anything at all.

Haesoo stayed frozen on the armrest, throat tight. That one sentence stung more than if she’d screamed. More than if she’d said she didn’t love him back.

Because it wasn’t rejection.

It was indifference.

And somehow, that was worse.

Nova didn’t drink from the glass.

She just stood there, staring into it like it held every answer she never got.

Then she turned to him.

Her voice wasn’t loud. It was calm. Tired. And that made it hurt more.

“You only cared if your child ate,” she said. “You never even cared about how I was feeling.”

Haesoo flinched, but she didn’t stop.

“You got upset that I went to the bookstore that morning—not because I needed air, not because I was spiraling and no one noticed. You were scared for the baby. Not me.”

Her eyes lifted to meet his, and they were sharper than anything he’d been prepared for. No anger. Just cold, clear truth.

“I followed everything you asked. I brought security. I stayed close. I even bought your favorite tea so we could sit together when I got home.”

A breath caught in her throat, but she forced herself to keep going.

“And when I tried to make you smile—when I did aegyo just to break the tension you wouldn’t talk about—you told me to stop. Like I was some embarrassment. Like I was pathetic for trying.”

Haesoo opened his mouth, but no words came.

Nova blinked, once. Slowly.

“I wasn’t asking for much. Just to be seen. Just to feel like I mattered even a little.”

The silence between them turned solid.

Then she turned back around, her voice almost a whisper now.

“Don’t say you love me if you never learned how.”

The silence swallowed him.

Haesoo stood there, stunned, throat tightening around every word he wanted to say but didn’t know how to form. She was right. Every part of what she said was true, and that was what made it unbearable.

Still, he stepped closer.

“I didn’t know how,” he admitted, voice breaking. “I thought I did. I thought taking care of the baby meant I was taking care of you too. But it didn’t. I see that now.”

She didn’t look at him, but he could see her shoulders rise with each breath.

“I didn’t mean to humiliate you. I didn’t mean to make you feel small. I was overwhelmed and scared and instead of leaning on you, I pushed you further away.”

He moved slowly, reaching out—not to touch her, but just to be close enough that she could if she wanted to.

“I never stopped loving you, Nova. I just… forgot how to show it when things got hard. I thought protecting the baby was enough. I didn’t realize I was making you feel invisible.”

His voice dropped.

“I don’t want to keep failing you. But if I already have… if I already lost you, just tell me. I’ll leave. I’ll take care of everything. You won’t have to worry about me getting in the way again.”

Nova finally turned, her expression unreadable.

Not angry. Not hurt.

Just done.

“Go to Korea,” she said quietly. “Work on your album. Do your promotions. Let’s just take a break.”

Haesoo’s face crumpled.

“A break?”

Nova nodded, setting the glass down on the counter. “We’re not fixing anything like this. Not if you’re always watching me eat like I’ll fall apart. Not if I can’t breathe without feeling guilty for being sad.”

She wasn’t raising her voice, but it hit harder than if she had.

“You do your job. I’ll do mine. And maybe later, if we’re still standing… we’ll figure out if there’s anything left.”

Haesoo stood frozen in place.

He didn’t argue.

He didn’t beg.

He just nodded once, slowly, like his body had caved in around the words he couldn’t say.

Haesoo left the next morning.

Nova was still asleep, curled on the far edge of the bed with her hand resting lightly over her stomach, her breathing shallow but steady. He didn’t wake her. Just stood in the doorway for a moment longer than necessary, like maybe if he stared hard enough, he’d memorize what it felt like to still be part of her world.

Then he walked out.

A Week Later – Korea

Haesoo’s schedule was packed the second he landed. Photoshoots, interviews, rehearsals. But none of it filled the silence that followed him everywhere.

He texted Nova every morning. Sometimes just a simple “Did you eat?” or “How are you feeling today?” Other times, longer messages she never opened.

Days passed.

No reply.

He tried Poppy instead.

Haesoo: Is she okay?

Poppy: She’s working. Can’t text right now. I’ll check on her when I get home.

But the follow-up never came.

Sometimes, hours—or days—later, he’d get a short message.

Poppy: Sorry, forgot to text. She’s fine.

Fine.

That word started to feel like a placeholder. Something people used when they didn’t want to say the truth out loud.

Still, he kept texting.

Even when she didn’t answer.

Haesoo had been in Korea for three months. It was the longest they’d ever been apart since their relationship began, and every day had felt like walking through fog.

When he finally returned, bags slung over his shoulder and a tired kind of hope in his chest, the house was silent.

Too silent.

“Nova?” he called out as he stepped inside. No answer.

He checked the living room. Empty. The kitchen lights were off. The bedroom untouched.

Her things were there—her coat still hanging by the door, her slippers by the edge of the rug, a half-full water bottle on the table—but she wasn’t.

His chest tightened.

He pulled out his phone and called Poppy.

She answered on the third ring. “Haesoo?”

“Yeah. I just got back.”

“Everything okay?”

“Nova’s not here.”

There was a pause. Then she said, “I’m out of the country right now, but I talked to her earlier today. She said she was at home.”

Haesoo ran a hand through his hair. “She’s not. She’s not answering either.”

“Maybe check with security?” Poppy offered gently. “She probably just stepped out.”

He hung up and walked outside, approaching the guards by the front gate.

“Nova?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

One of them nodded. “She left not long ago. Said she was just going to grab food—drive-through. Didn’t seem like she’d be gone long.”

The second added, “We didn’t escort her since it was a quick errand. She insisted. Just wanted something fast.”

Haesoo stared at the road stretching beyond the gate.

So she’d just gone out.

But why did it still feel like she was slipping away?

His heart was already uneasy, but when the call finally connected and a voice not Nova’s answered, his blood turned to ice.

“Hello?” he said quickly.

“Are you related to the patient?” the voice asked in a rush, background noise crackling through. “She’s in labor. She came in by herself not long ago. Said things escalated fast.”

Haesoo’s knees buckled slightly. “What? What hospital?”

“We don’t have time to explain

she’s crowning. We’re taking her in now. She needs to push.”

And then the line went dead.

For a second, Haesoo just stood there, staring at the phone like it had betrayed him.

Then he moved.

He was already sprinting back into the house before the panic fully hit, grabbing his keys, nearly tripping over his luggage, yelling back at security to track down which hospital admitted her.

Nova was having the baby.

Alone.

And he wasn’t there.

Not yet.

But he would be.

Even if he had to tear through the whole city to find her.

By the time Haesoo reached the hospital, he was breathless, his chest tight, heart pounding like it might give out. He didn’t wait for a nurse—he rushed straight to the front desk, demanding her name. The staff recognized it instantly.

“She’s in labor,” one of them said, motioning for him to follow. “She’s stable. This way.”

Every step down the corridor felt like a punishment. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. The only thing that kept him moving was her name.

The nurse opened the door and stepped aside. Haesoo walked in.

Nova was lying on the bed, pale and sweating, hair stuck to her forehead. Monitors beeped softly in the background. Her hands were gripping the sides of the bed, but her expression softened the moment she saw him.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered before he could speak. “Everything happened so fast.”

Haesoo crossed the room in seconds and dropped to his knees beside her, taking her hand in both of his.

“I don’t care,” he said, voice shaking. “I’m here now.”

She didn’t cry. She just held his hand tighter.

And for the first time in months, neither of them said anything else.

They didn’t need to.

Nova winced as another contraction built, her grip tightening around Haesoo’s hand. But even through the pain, her mind was clear focused.

“Haesoo,” she breathed out, forcing herself to stay calm. “You need to call Asher.”

He blinked, startled. “Now?”

“Yes. Tell him it’s happening. He needs to handle everything—secure the perimeter, get the team in place, clear the cameras if he hasn’t already.”

“Nova”

“I’m not asking,” she said firmly, her eyes locking with his. “There can’t be any leaks. No footage, no names, no press. No mistakes.”

Haesoo didn’t argue. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone with shaking hands, and called Asher.

As it rang, Nova’s body tensed again, a harsh breath escaping her lips. But her gaze never wavered.

She was still protecting everything even now.

Even in labor.

Asher was in a briefing room at HQ, seated at a long glass table, flipping through surveillance reports when his phone rang. He glanced at the screen.

Haesoo.

He answered immediately.

“Where is she?” Asher said before Haesoo could speak. His voice was clipped, controlled—but Haesoo could hear the shift underneath.

“The hospital,” Haesoo said quickly. “She’s in labor. She told me to call you. She wants the perimeter secured. She said no footage, no press, no mistakes.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Asher stood. “I’m already moving. Send me the hospital’s coordinates. I’ll take care of it.”

“You’re not going to ask how she is?”

“I’ll see for myself when I get there,” he replied, already striding out the door. His voice softened just slightly. “She made it this far. That means she’s fighting. I’ve got her back. Focus on being there for her.”

The call ended, and Asher was already dialing into his private team line.

“This is Asher Vale. I want a full lockdown on sector 9D. Get the decoys in place. Sanitize any digital trails. No names, no files, nothing leaks. I want a full ghost protocol on that hospital in the next ten minutes.”

He didn’t have to say Nova’s name.

They knew who he meant.

And they moved fast because when Asher spoke like that, it meant the world had just shifted again.

The monitors beeped steadily in the background, but the tension in the room was anything but calm. The doctor stepped closer, pulling on gloves.

“She’s coming,” he said firmly. “Nova, we need you to push.”

Nova’s body was trembling, her face pale and damp with sweat. Her hair clung to her temples, her eyes dark with a mix of pain, exhaustion, and defiance.

Haesoo was at her side, holding her hand tightly, his free hand brushing the hair from her face. “You’ve got this. You’re almost there.”

Nova let out a harsh breath, then gritted her teeth and nodded once. “Okay.”

Another contraction hit, and she pushed hard. A cry tore from her throat, involuntary and raw.

“You’re doing great,” the nurse said quickly. “Again, Nova. One more.”

Haesoo leaned closer, his voice low and steady. “You’re the strongest person I know. Just a little more.”

Nova’s grip on his hand tightened as she bore down again, muscles straining. Every part of her was burning, breaking but she didn’t stop. She wouldn’t.

She didn’t scream this time.

She growled.

And then

“I see the head!” the doctor called. “She’s almost here!”

Nova pushed one final time, her entire body arching with the force of it. The pain was blinding—cutting through every bone and nerve—but she didn’t falter. Not when she heard the urgency in the doctor’s voice. Not when she felt Haesoo squeezing her hand like he was holding onto more than just her fingers.

Then

A sharp cry pierced the room.

It was small, shrill, but alive.

The doctor caught the baby and gently lifted her into view, coated in warmth and life, her tiny fists clenched and waving in protest at the cold.

“It’s a girl,” the doctor said, breathless but smiling.

Nova collapsed back onto the bed, chest rising and falling rapidly, eyes glazed with tears she didn’t have the strength to wipe away. Her lips parted, trembling.

Haesoo looked down at her, stunned then looked to their daughter, his own eyes glistening. “She’s perfect.”

The baby was placed on Nova’s chest, skin to skin. She was warm. So small. So loud.

Nova didn’t speak.

She just stared.

Then slowly, she brought one hand up to touch her daughter’s back. Her voice cracked when she finally whispered, “Hi, Noa…”

And for the first time in what felt like years, Nova smiled.

It was weak. Shaky.

But real.

Nova’s fingers curled protectively over Noa’s back as she lay on her chest, the newborn’s tiny cries fading into soft, uneven breaths. The warmth between them was grounding—almost enough to distract from the tears in Haesoo’s eyes.

Nova tilted her head, catching the way his shoulders were shaking, silent tears running down his face as he looked at them like he couldn’t believe any of it was real.

She exhaled, voice barely audible. “Your birthday gift.”

Haesoo blinked through the tears, looking at her.

Nova gave the faintest smile, her thumb brushing over Noa’s blanket. “She was born on your birthday.”

He laughed softly, choked and trembling. “You’re kidding…”

Nova shook her head once, tired but certain. “You’re gonna have to share the spotlight now, Jeon.”

Haesoo let out another breath, moving closer to the bed. “That’s the best thing that’s ever happened to my birthday.”

She looked at him, eyes heavy but soft. “Happy birthday, Haesoo.”

Then she turned her gaze back to Noa safe, warm, real resting against her heart like she’d always belonged there.

And for a moment, everything else faded.

Just them.

Just this.

Haesoo leaned down, eyes still wet, and pressed a tender kiss to Nova’s forehead—then another to her lips, soft and lingering, like he didn’t want to let go.

“I love you,” he whispered against her mouth, voice thick with emotion. “I never stopped.”

Nova didn’t look away.

She held his gaze, tired but clear, and let the silence stretch just a little before her lips curved faintly.

“Me too,” she murmured.

No more, no less.

But it was enough.

He let out a breath that sounded like a laugh and a sob all at once, resting his forehead against hers as Noa shifted gently between them, still nestled on Nova’s chest—three heartbeats, finally steady.

The nurse gently lifted Noa from Nova’s chest, wrapping her in a soft hospital blanket.

“She’s just going to get cleaned up,” the nurse said kindly. “You’ll have her right back.”

Nova nodded, watching quietly as Noa was taken to the counter by the sink where a small basin had already been prepared.

She turned her head toward Haesoo, who was still standing beside her, stunned and frozen in place.

“Film it,” she said softly.

Haesoo blinked. “What?”

Nova nodded toward the nurse, who was unwrapping Noa, her tiny arms flailing. “Her first bath. You’ll want to remember this.”

It was the way she said it gentle, not demanding. Like she was handing him something fragile and important.

Haesoo fumbled for his phone, quickly switching to the camera. His hands were still shaking, but he moved closer, capturing every moment as the nurse carefully supported Noa’s head and lowered her into the warm water.

The moment she touched the water, Noa let out a little squeak, then settled, blinking up at the lights with curiosity no one expected from a newborn.

“She likes it,” Haesoo whispered, half to himself.

Nova smiled faintly from the bed. “Of course she does. She’s dramatic like her dad.”

Haesoo laughed under his breath, never taking the camera off their daughter. “I’m filming everything,” he said, voice unsteady. “Every second.”

And he did.

Asher pushed through the hospital doors, still wearing his jacket from the flight, his expression tense. The moment he caught sight of Haesoo in the hallway, he rushed over.

“Where is she?” he asked, breathless. “Where’s Nova?”

Haesoo gestured toward the room behind him, unable to speak. Asher stepped in—and stopped cold.

Nova was sitting upright in the hospital bed, looking pale but calm, her hair a little damp from sweat, eyes tired but alert. And cradled in her arms was the smallest bundle he had ever seen.

Noa.

Wrapped in a soft blanket with her eyes barely open, her tiny face turned toward Nova’s chest like she already knew exactly where she belonged.

Asher’s breath hitched.

Nova looked up. “You’re late.”

He let out a broken sound that wasn’t quite a laugh. “I flew halfway across the world. Cut me some slack.”

She didn’t answer, just gently adjusted Noa in her arms, and that’s when Asher took a shaky step forward.

“She’s… tiny,” he whispered, crouching slightly as if afraid he’d startle her. “She’s so…”

His voice cracked, and the tears came without warning. He covered his mouth with one hand, trying to hold himself together, but the sight was too much Nova, alive. Noa, breathing. The family they never thought would happen, right in front of him.

Nova tilted her head. “You crying?”

Asher let out a quiet sob-laugh and wiped at his face uselessly. “Shut up.”

“You are,” she teased, softer now. “You’re crying over a baby.”

“She’s not just any baby,” he muttered, still blinking fast. “She’s ours.”

Nova didn’t argue. She just looked down at Noa and back up at him. “Yeah. She is.”

And for the first time in a long time, the room felt whole.

Haesoo stood by the bed, one hand gently resting on the edge of Nova’s blanket while the other hovered near Noa, still taking in the surreal sight of their daughter. His voice was quiet.

“Are you sure it’s okay for you to leave this soon?”

Nova didn’t hesitate. “They’ll notice soon. My body’s already healing faster than it should. I can’t risk anyone seeing that.”

Haesoo looked at her, concern carved into his expression. “But what if something happens?”

“If Noa is fine, then everything’s fine,” she said firmly. “We leave today. I won’t stay somewhere I can’t control.”

He nodded slowly, still clearly worried, and shifted his attention back to Noa. But before he could say anything else, Nova’s voice dropped lower, more serious.

“Don’t send any pictures to anyone.”

Haesoo looked up. “I wasn’t going to”

“Even the members. Even your family,” she interrupted softly. “Just in case someone leaks it. We keep her private until I say otherwise.”

“I understand,” he said, his voice small. “I promise.”

Nova exhaled, her fingers gently brushing Noa’s tiny hand. “Good. Because she doesn’t get to be a headline. Not her.”

Nova leaned her head back against the pillow, eyes heavy, her body still weak from everything but already recovering faster than it should.

“Take her,” she murmured to Haesoo, nodding toward Noa.

Haesoo hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“I’m tired,” Nova said, her voice soft but edged with steel. “But listen to me don’t hand her over to anyone. Not for a second.”

Haesoo blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone.

“If they want to run a test or take her anywhere,” she continued, “you go with them. You don’t leave her side. I’ve seen enough documentaries. They switch babies. Or run things they don’t tell you about.”

Haesoo nodded immediately, already wrapping Noa gently in the soft hospital blanket, instinctively holding her close. “I won’t let her out of my sight.”

Nova’s eyes softened at the sight. “Good. She’s not just any baby.”

He met her gaze. “She’s ours.”

Nova’s eyes were already drifting shut, her breathing starting to slow. The pain was gone, her body healing on its own now, but the exhaustion sat deep in her bones.

“Wake me up when it’s time to leave,” she murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

Haesoo adjusted the blanket around her shoulders and brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “I will.”

She didn’t respond just gave the faintest nod before her body finally relaxed, surrendering to sleep. Noa rested quietly in his arms, and Haesoo stood there for a long moment, holding their daughter, watching Nova breathe.

Then he whispered, mostly to himself, “I’ll get us home.”

Two hours later, the door cracked open quietly. Asher stepped in, hair slightly tousled, phone in hand and eyes already scanning the room.

“Everything’s ready,” he said, voice low. “Car’s downstairs, paperwork’s handled, and the staff signed NDAs. Let’s move fast.”

Haesoo stirred in the chair, still holding Noa. He gently leaned forward and reached out, brushing his fingers along Nova’s shoulder.

“Nova,” he whispered. “Time to go.”

Nova blinked awake, her lashes fluttering as she turned toward the sound of his voice. She sat up slowly, rubbing her face with one hand and squinting into the dim light.

“I don’t know about you guys,” she muttered, her voice hoarse, “but I feel like a car hit me, came back, and ran me over again.”

Asher cracked a small smile. “Then it’s a normal birth.”

Nova grunted, sliding her legs off the side of the bed. “Next time I’m driving the car.”

Nova pushed the blanket off and stood carefully, wincing as she straightened up.

“Let me shower,” she said, brushing her hair back from her face. Her voice was low, but firm tired, but still in control.

Haesoo nodded and gently handed Noa over to Asher, who looked down at the newborn in his arms like he was holding the most fragile thing in the world.

“I’ve got her,” Asher said softly.

Haesoo walked over to Nova, placing a steady hand on her back to guide her. “Lean on me if you need to.”

Nova didn’t argue. She let him lead her to the bathroom, one slow step at a time, her fingers curling around his wrist for balance. The moment the door closed behind them, the world felt quieter like for just a second, it was only the two of them again.

Nova slowly peeled off the hospital gown, pausing when she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Her stomach, though still soft and tender, was already beginning to shrink back, the skin tightening far faster than it should’ve. She ran her fingers across it and muttered under her breath, “Yup… we have to go. My stomach’s already shrinking back.”

She stepped carefully into the shower, turning on the warm water. The steam began to rise, fogging up the glass as she steadied herself against the wall.

A moment later, she reached out toward Haesoo, her voice quiet but unwavering. “Let me hold your arm I’m lightheaded.”

Haesoo moved in immediately, rolling up his sleeve and offering his forearm without a word. Nova’s fingers curled tightly around him as she stood beneath the water, letting it run over her. Her head lowered slightly, breath shallow from the exhaustion, but she didn’t let go.

He didn’t say anything. He just stood there, holding her steady, silently promising that she wasn’t alone.

Nova stepped out of the bathroom in an oversized T-shirt and a pair of soft cotton shorts, her damp hair sticking to her neck and shoulders. She looked half-asleep, dragging her feet toward the bed before flopping down with a tired sigh.

“Yeah, I’m not brushing my hair,” she muttered. “I’m too tired for that.”

Haesoo, who had just finished strapping Noa securely into her car seat, glanced over at her and walked toward the bed. “Sit,” he said gently, holding out the brush. “I’ll do it for you.”

Nova raised a brow but didn’t protest. She shifted slightly and turned her back to him, letting her hands rest in her lap.

“Be gentle,” she murmured.

“I know,” Haesoo replied, settling behind her. “I always am with you.”

He started brushing slowly, untangling each knot with care, his touch steady and quiet the kind of softness that didn’t need to be earned. Nova closed her eyes, letting herself lean into the moment.

When Haesoo finished brushing her hair, he set the brush aside and knelt in front of her to help her put on her sneakers. Nova sat quietly, her eyes unfocused, shoulders slumped with exhaustion. He tied the laces gently, like he was afraid she might shatter.

Asher had already arranged everything by the time they were ready to leave. Security was waiting, stationed at every corner of the hospital’s private wing. No press. No doctors asking questions. Just a silent, efficient exit.

He gave Nova a quick glance as he entered the room, noting the paleness in her face and the dark circles under her eyes. Without a word, he reached for the car seat where Noa was nestled, swaddled and sleeping.

“Let’s go,” he said quietly.

They didn’t use the front lobby. Asher led them through the staff corridors and out a secured back exit where a black SUV was already waiting with tinted windows and the engine running.

Nova leaned heavily against Haesoo as they walked, her steps slow and unsteady. Haesoo kept one arm tightly around her, supporting her with every step. She didn’t speak. She just focused on breathing, on staying upright, on not falling apart.

Asher walked ahead with the car seat, looking back every few steps to make sure they were keeping pace.

The door was held open for them.

Once inside, Haesoo helped Nova into the backseat, keeping her close as she curled slightly toward him, her body already sinking into sleep. Asher secured the car seat beside them, then closed the door without saying a word.

The ride home was quiet. Heavy. Protective.

And just a little bit broken.

During the ride home, the car was quiet, the kind of quiet that settles when everyone is too tired to fill the space. Nova leaned against Haesoo’s shoulder, barely keeping her eyes open, her body worn out and aching from the delivery. In the front seat, Asher held the baby’s car seat carefully, as if guarding something sacred.

They arrived home just past sunset, the sky streaked in fading gold. Asher carried the car seat with quiet focus, careful not to jostle the sleeping newborn nestled inside. Haesoo opened the door and helped Nova out of the car, her steps slow and heavy, like her body no longer felt like her own.

Inside, the house was still and dim. Haesoo guided Nova to the couch, easing her down gently. She exhaled shakily, leaning back, one hand resting over her stomach as she stared blankly at the ceiling.

Asher stepped in behind them, setting the car seat on the floor beside the couch. “Where’s the bassinet for downstairs?” he asked, glancing around.

Nova didn’t look at him. “I couldn’t build it,” she said quietly. “I didn’t fix the nursery either… It’s all in boxes. I didn’t have the patience.”

There was no guilt in her voice, just exhaustion. She wasn’t apologizing she was admitting a fact, like saying she hadn’t watered a plant she never wanted to grow in the first place.

Haesoo crouched beside her, brushing a damp strand of hair from her face. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “We’ll figure it out.”

Asher nodded and turned toward the hallway. “I’ll bring up one of the fold-out mats and some blankets for now.”

Nova closed her eyes. “Just don’t wake her.”

Noa stirred faintly in the car seat, then settled again. Haesoo looked between them his daughter asleep, and Nova unraveling one breath at a time and knew that nothing would be easy from here. But he also knew he wasn’t leaving. Not again.

Noa’s soft whimpering quickly turned into a full-on cry, sharp and urgent in the quiet house.

Nova groaned from the couch, her eyes barely open. “She’s crying already?”

Haesoo was already reaching for the car seat. “She’s probably hungry.”

Nova sat up slowly, wincing as she adjusted. “They gave her a bottle at the hospital. I don’t even know how to feed her. What if she doesn’t want” She stopped herself, swallowing the rising panic.

Haesoo gently cradled Noa and handed her over.

Nova stared at the tiny bundle, her arms unsure, then steadied herself. “Pass me a blanket… and her. I’m going to see if she latches. I mean” she let out a nervous breath, “how hard can it be?”

She didn’t sound convinced.

Haesoo handed her the blanket and knelt beside the couch, ready to help if she needed it. Nova tucked the blanket around herself and held Noa close, awkward at first. Her hands shook slightly as she tried to position the baby.

Noa squirmed, fussed… then settled.

Nova blinked. “She’s… doing it?” Her voice was small, like she didn’t quite believe it.

Haesoo smiled gently. “Yeah. You’re doing it.”

Nova looked down at her daughter feeding, peaceful, alive and for the first time since the birth, her shoulders eased just a little.

Nova leaned back slightly, careful not to disturb Noa as she fed. Her voice was dry, low.

“Can you get me something to drink?” she asked, eyes still on the baby. “They didn’t want to give me water at the hospital… just ice chips. Like that was gonna fix anything.”

Haesoo was already up, grabbing a bottle of cold water from the kitchen. “Here,” he said, unscrewing the cap and handing it to her.

Nova took it with her free hand and drank like she’d been parched for days. After a long sip, she sighed. “Finally. I felt like a desert.”

Haesoo smiled. “You’re home now.”

Nova didn’t answer just kept her eyes on Noa, brushing her fingertip gently along her daughter’s tiny cheek.

Haesoo glanced toward the stairs. “How hard can it be?”

Nova didn’t look up. “Famous last words.”

A few minutes later, he returned from the nursery, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah… no. Security can handle it.”

Asher smirked from where he was scrolling on his phone. “Told you. It’s a structural hazard up there.”

Nova adjusted Noa in her arms and said dryly, “Congratulations. You’ve both been defeated by boxes.”

Haesoo sank onto the couch beside her with a sigh. “I’m emotionally supporting the build.”

Asher added, “And I’m managing the delegation process.”

Nova raised an eyebrow. “Which means you’re going to go yell at security until it magically gets done.”

“Exactly,” Asher said, already on his way out the door.

Noa finished eating, her tiny mouth slowing as she drifted into sleep. Nova shifted slightly and said, “Pass me a burping cloth.”

Haesoo froze. “What does it look like?”

Nova turned her head, blinking at him. “Really? I gave you, like, five books to read in Korea about babies.”

He scratched the back of his neck, sheepish. “I skimmed…”

“Give me the bag,” she sighed.

Haesoo brought it over, and Nova reached in, pulling out a small, soft cloth. She draped it over her shoulder, adjusted Noa, and began to gently burp her.

“You need to do this after she eats,” Nova said, glancing at him. “Sometimes she burps right away. Sometimes it takes work. But if you don’t, she could throw up and choke on it.”

Haesoo nodded quickly, absorbing every word. “Got it. Burp her. No throw up. No choking.”

Nova smirked faintly. “You’re lucky she’s cute.”

Haesoo gave a small smile, watching her cradle Noa like she’d done it a hundred times.

Then Nova looked at him again, more serious this time. “You really do need to read more.”

“I will,” he said quickly. “I promise. I’ll catch up.”

“You’re already behind,” she muttered, adjusting Noa’s position gently as she finally let out a soft burp. “She’s not going to wait for you to figure it out.”

Haesoo swallowed and nodded. “Then I won’t make her wait.”

Nova gently patted Noa’s back, her movements slow but steady. She looked over at Haesoo, exhaustion clouding her eyes.

“I sent you to Korea to focus,” she said softly. “Not just on the music, but… everything. I gave you a bunch of books about newborns.”

Haesoo looked sheepish. “I read… most of them.”

Nova arched a brow. “Most?”

“I might’ve skimmed a few.”

She let out a quiet laugh, barely more than a breath. “You were supposed to know what a burp cloth is.”

“I thought it was just… a towel?”

Nova shook her head with a tired smile and reached for the diaper bag. “This is a burp cloth,” she said, pulling one out and laying it on her shoulder. “After she eats, you burp her. If you don’t, she can throw up and choke.”

Haesoo nodded quickly. “Okay. Got it. Burp her.”

Nova rested her cheek lightly on Noa’s head. “It’s okay. Just read them when you can. I’m too tired to explain everything from scratch.”

“I will,” Haesoo said, moving a little closer. “I want to be good at this.”

She didn’t say anything, but the way she leaned into him just a little said enough.

Nova’s eyelids were heavy, her voice soft as she shifted Noa in her arms.

“Take her,” she murmured, glancing at Haesoo. “I’m so tired… and I’m scared I’ll fall asleep holding her.”

Haesoo was already beside her, arms outstretched. “I’ve got her,” he said gently.

Nova carefully handed Noa over, her movements slow and precise. The second her arms were free, she sagged back into the couch, barely keeping her eyes open.

Haesoo cradled their daughter against his chest, rocking her softly. Nova watched for just a moment, then whispered, “Wake me if she needs anything.”

He nodded. “Sleep. I’ll take care of her.”

And for the first time since the hospital, Nova allowed herself to close her eyes.

Two hours later, Noa’s sharp little cry pierced the quiet of the living room.

Nova stirred immediately, sitting up with a wince. Her voice was groggy but alert. “Did you check her diaper?”

Haesoo blinked, startled out of his half-sleep. “No…”

Nova held out her arms. “Here—give her to me. And pass me a diaper and the wipes. Watch how I do it.”

He quickly handed her Noa and grabbed the baby bag. Nova spread out a blanket on the couch and laid Noa down gently.

“Okay,” she said softly, unfastening the onesie. “Always wipe front to back. Be fast but gentle, and have the new diaper ready before you take the old one off. Babies do sneak attacks.”

Haesoo knelt beside her, watching closely as Nova worked with quiet precision.

“You’ll get the hang of it,” she murmured, fastening the fresh diaper. “Just don’t forget the wipes again or she’ll scream like you ruined her life.”

He nodded quickly. “Got it. Wipes first.”

Nova glanced at him. “And double check that it’s not backwards.”

Haesoo grinned sheepishly. “Noted.”

Nova adjusted Noa in her arms and gently guided her. The baby latched immediately.

“She’s eating again?” Haesoo asked, surprised.

Nova didn’t look up. “Babies eat every two to three hours. Sometimes more.”

He went quiet.

“That’s why I told you to read the books while you were in Korea,” she added, her voice tired but not harsh. “I need your mom here, Haesoo. I can’t do this alone. I’m already running on nothing… I’m going to crash.”

Haesoo moved closer, guilt settling in his chest. “I’ll take care of everything. Just focus on resting, okay?”

Nova didn’t respond at first she was too focused on keeping her arms steady. But after a moment, she gave a small nod, eyes fixed on Noa as she fed.

Asher came down the stairs just as security carried the bassinet into the living room.

“They finished the whole nursery,” he announced, then turned to the team. “Good job.”

Nova looked up from the couch, Noa still in her arms. “Thank you,” she said genuinely. “Asher, can you order them food? Something good.”

“Already on it,” he said, pulling out his phone. Then he looked over at Haesoo. “Did you feed her yet?”

Haesoo blinked. “She hasn’t asked for food.”

Asher gave him a look. “She just gave birth, Haesoo. And she’s breastfeeding. That’s going to drain her of everything. You don’t wait for her to ask you bring her food. Now.”

Haesoo stood up fast. “Okay, okay. I’ll make something.”

Nova leaned her head back against the couch cushion, eyes half-closed. “Something salty,” she mumbled. “No more hospital food.”

Asher muttered under his breath as he walked off, “I swear, I’m raising both of you.”

Nova waited until Asher disappeared into the hallway with his phone, presumably placing the order for security. She turned her head toward Haesoo, her voice low and mischievous.

“Haesoo,” she whispered, “Asher left. Coast is clear.”

Haesoo glanced over, already suspicious. “What are you plotting?”

“Order me fried chicken and soda. Extra crispy. And don’t tell Asher.”

He tried not to laugh. “Nova—he just yelled at me for not feeding you properly. You want to get caught sneaking fried chicken?”

“I gave birth,” she said, eyes narrowing playfully. “I deserve a reward. Now hurry before he comes back.”

Haesoo pulled out his phone, grinning. “If we get caught, I’m blaming you.”

“Good,” she said smugly. “I’ll say I overpowered you. Which, let’s be honest I did.”

Nova watched as Haesoo gently laid Noa into the bassinet, careful not to wake her. The baby shifted once, then settled, her tiny fists curling near her face.

“I’m going to the guest restroom,” Nova mumbled, already pushing herself off the couch.

“Wait—” Haesoo started, but she was already on her feet.

She took one step, then swayed. Her legs buckled before she even reached the hallway.

“Nova—!” Haesoo caught her just as she stumbled to the floor.

“Yeah,” she muttered, blinking up at the ceiling. “I’m seeing stars. Wow. Pretty.”

Haesoo crouched beside her, heart racing. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Nova’s voice was dazed but amused. “Okay. I get it. I’m grounded.”

“You’re not grounded,” Haesoo said, lifting her carefully into his arms. “You’re recovering. Big difference.”

“Feels the same from down here,” she whispered, resting her head against his chest.

Haesoo settled her back on the couch, tucking a pillow behind her. Nova winced, holding her side as she adjusted.

“I know,” she muttered, half under her breath. “Break my bones to speed things up.”

Haesoo paused, giving her a sharp look.

Nova blinked innocently. “Kidding. Not kidding. I’d do it.”

He sighed, brushing a few strands of hair from her face. “You’re not allowed to break anything. You just gave birth.”

She smirked tiredly. “That was hours ago.”

“Nova.”

“Fine,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But if I’m still seeing stars tomorrow, all bets are off.”

Asher walked in with two agents from HQ, their presence crisp and clinical. He gave Haesoo a look that said don’t panic, then turned to Nova.

“They’re only here to confirm the birth,” he said calmly. “Standard procedure. Don’t freak out.”

Nova didn’t look convinced, but she stayed seated as the nurses stepped forward. One of them gently took a vial of her blood, murmuring about postnatal protocols and nutritional baselines.

A few minutes later, one of the nurses returned with the results. “You’re malnourished,” she said plainly. “Your iron is low. B12. You need vitamins, hydration, and rest. Especially now.”

Nova scoffed. “That’s bullshit. I’ve been eating.”

“You’ve been snacking,” the nurse replied, not unkindly. “But it’s not enough. You just gave birth. And you’re breastfeeding. Your body needs more support.”

Nova rolled her eyes but didn’t argue further. “Fine. Give me the damn vitamins then.”

Asher muttered under his breath, “Finally. Someone other than me telling her what to do.”

Haesoo stood a little off to the side, his jaw tight. Hearing the word malnourished made something twist in his chest. He looked at Nova — pale, visibly exhausted, still trying to stay upright like she could take on the world even now.

He stepped closer, voice quiet but heavy with guilt. “I wasn’t here,” he said, more to himself than anyone. “Three months… and I wasn’t here.”

Nova glanced up, surprised by the sudden softness in his tone. “It’s not your fault.”

“Maybe not,” Haesoo murmured, “but I should’ve known. I should’ve been here to help.”

Asher didn’t say anything, just gave him a short nod of understanding.

The nurse, still focused on her chart, added gently, “She needs support now. Physically and emotionally.”

Haesoo reached for Nova’s hand and squeezed it, a silent promise settling in his chest.

“I’m here now,” he said. “For both of you.”

HQ nodded professionally. “We’ll send over a kit with supplements and calorie-dense shakes,” one of them said. “They’re easy to mix, safe for postpartum recovery, and fortified with everything you’ll need while breastfeeding.”

Nova rolled her eyes. “So basically baby formula but for me.”

The agent didn’t crack a smile. “Exactly.”

Asher snorted under his breath.

Haesoo glanced between them all, still holding Nova’s hand. “You’ll take them, right?”

Nova sighed. “Fine. If it means I won’t black out trying to pee, I’ll drink your fancy shakes.”

HQ gave a final nod. “We’ll have everything delivered today.” And just like that, they turned and left the house, leaving behind only silence and the soft cooing of Noa in the bassinet.

As soon as the door closed behind HQ, the tension dissolved.

Asher burst out laughing. “Baby formula for you? You’re unbelievable.”

Nova leaned her head back against the couch, eyes half-lidded. “I wasn’t even joking. If they put it in a juice box and added caffeine, I’d be thrilled.”

Asher wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “I mean—look at you. Five hours post-birth and already negotiating your vitamin intake like it’s a weapons deal.”

Haesoo smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from Nova’s face. “If it helps you feel stronger, I’ll make sure you drink it.”

Nova cracked one eye open. “Only if you don’t tell Asher when I sneak in a Coke with it.”

“Too late,” Asher grinned, raising both hands. “I hear everything in this house.”

Nova shifted on the couch, still cradling Noa in her arms. “Asher,” she said without looking up, “Poppy’s coming back tomorrow.”

Asher, mid-sip of water, raised a brow. “Yeah?”

“She’s landing in the afternoon. Can you pick her up?” Nova’s voice was soft, but tired. “I don’t want her taking a taxi. Just bring her straight here.”

Asher gave a short nod. “Of course. I’ll be there.”

Nova glanced up at him then. “She doesn’t know anything yet. Just that Noa’s here. Be nice.”

Asher gave a small grin. “I’m always nice. Especially when it’s for you two.” He leaned in slightly and added, “I’ll bring her home safe. Promise.”

Asher glanced at the time on his watch and sighed. “Alright, I’m heading out. I have to submit the paperwork to HQ before it piles up.”

Nova looked up, half-asleep, Noa nestled against her chest. “You’ll bring her paperwork too?”

“Yeah,” Asher said, already heading toward the door. “Once I get everything processed, I’ll bring Noa’s documents back here. Birth records, ID tags, the whole boring stack.”

“Thanks,” Nova murmured, eyes already drifting shut.

Asher paused at the door. “Rest. I’ll handle it.” Then he slipped out, the door closing quietly behind him.

Haesoo looked over from where he was folding one of Noa’s blankets. “You okay?”

Nova slowly pushed the blanket off her legs, her voice flat. “No seriously. I need to use the restroom.”

He was already by her side before she could try standing again. “Okay, okay wait for me. Don’t move yet.”

Nova raised a brow. “It’s not a hike, Haesoo.”

“You fell earlier.”

“Fine. You win. Just help me up.”

He gently wrapped an arm around her back and supported her as she stood, her body still shaky. “You sure you don’t want me to carry you?”

Nova gave him a tired look. “If I fall again, then you can carry me.”

Haesoo returned with the pink duffle bag slung over his shoulder and gently opened the bathroom door. “Come on,” he said quietly, offering his arm. Nova took it without a word, leaning against him as he helped her inside. He waited outside while she shut the door behind her.

A moment later, her voice echoed out, dry and exhausted. “That is fucken nasty.”

He winced, but smiled faintly. “You okay?”

“No,” she replied bluntly. “But I’m surviving.”

A few minutes passed before the door opened again. Nova stepped out slowly, changed and moving carefully. In her hand, she held a small pink onesie printed with little stars.

Haesoo’s eyes softened. “That’s the first one I picked…”

Nova gave a small nod. “I was going to make this her first outfit at home,” she said, her voice quieter now. “I want her to wear it today.”

Haesoo reached for it gently. “Then let’s put it on her.”

Haesoo carefully guided Nova to the sofa, his arm steady around her waist. She moved slowly, still a bit unbalanced, and sank into the cushions with a soft sigh. Cradling the tiny onesie in her lap, she glanced toward the bassinet.

“We can change her when she wakes up to eat,” she murmured, voice heavy with exhaustion.

Haesoo sat beside her without a word, his shoulder brushing against hers. Nova leaned into him immediately, her head resting against his shoulder like it belonged there.

“I’m so tired,” she whispered, eyes already slipping shut.

“I know,” he said softly, wrapping his arm around her. “Just rest. I’ve got you.”

Nova mumbled, eyes still closed, “No… I’m waiting for the chicken.”

Haesoo let out a quiet laugh, brushing his fingers through her tangled hair. “Of course you are.”

She didn’t move, still leaning on him like her bones had given up. “Tell me when it gets here,” she added, barely above a whisper. “Then I’ll sleep.”

“You’re unbelievable,” he murmured, smiling. “But okay. I’ll wake you up for the chicken.”

Twenty minutes later, the front door opened quietly as security slipped in and set the food down on the coffee table. The rich, greasy scent of fried chicken filled the room.

Haesoo gently shook Nova’s shoulder. “Hey… it’s here. Your chicken.”

Nova stirred, eyes fluttering open as she inhaled. “Finally.”

Haesoo stood, heading toward the kitchen. “I’ll get plates.”

Still half-asleep, Nova sat up slowly, muttering, “Don’t forget napkins. And soda. I earned this.”

Nova sat cross-legged on the couch, a drumstick in one hand, her eyes closed as she took slow, deliberate bites. Haesoo watched her while chewing on his own piece, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“You’re tired,” he said softly.

Still chewing, Nova nodded. “I couldn’t sleep anymore. It was uncomfortable… like I was carrying a watermelon. So much pressure.”

She opened one eye and looked at him. “I don’t even know how she fit in there.”

Haesoo reached over and grabbed a napkin, wiping a bit of sauce from her chin. “You’re kind of amazing, you know that?”

Nova sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder. “Remind me of that when she wakes up screaming in two hours.”

Haesoo noticed her chewing had slowed to a crawl, her eyes barely open as she worked through another bite. Her head was still leaning on his shoulder, heavier now, like she was slowly giving in.

“Just sleep, Nova,” he murmured, brushing her hair back gently. “You’re barely awake.”

Nova let out a stubborn hum. “No… I’m still eating.”

“You’re chewing like a zombie,” he said, trying not to laugh.

“Let me be a tired zombie,” she mumbled, taking another tiny bite with her eyes closed. “Chicken’s still good.”

When they finished eating, Nova slowly pushed herself up from the couch, brushing crumbs off her oversized shirt. She padded toward the kitchen sink, but before she could turn on the faucet, Haesoo was already up behind her.

“Nova,” he said, his voice sharp with concern. “What are you doing? You should’ve asked me.”

“I’m just washing my hands,” she said, waving him off. “Relax.”

“You’re still weak. You almost collapsed earlier.”

Nova glanced back at him, eyes tired but stubborn. “I’m fine. If I fall, I’ll just get up. Don’t worry, I’m not holding Noa.”

Haesoo didn’t look convinced, hovering close in case she swayed. But she turned back to the sink with a quiet huff, rinsing her hands like nothing was wrong—like she hadn’t nearly passed out twenty minutes ago.

“Still,” Haesoo muttered, “you better let me carry you next time.”

Nova didn’t respond, but a small smirk tugged at her lips.

Nova sank back onto the couch with a quiet sigh, pulling her knees up and resting her cheek against the cushion. Haesoo finished cleaning up in the kitchen, then quietly walked over to the bassinet. He leaned in, scooped Noa into his arms, and returned to the couch beside her.

Noa’s tiny fingers instinctively wrapped around his thumb, holding tight.

Nova reached for her phone and snapped a few pictures, smiling as she captured the moment.

“You really like holding her,” she murmured, voice soft but teasing.

Haesoo looked down at Noa, then at Nova. “She keeps grabbing me like I belong to her.”

“You do,” Nova said, stretching her legs out. “And I finally have freedom. Now that she’s got you…” she smiled faintly, “…I found my replacement. I’m off duty.”

Haesoo laughed under his breath, shifting Noa closer to his chest. “She’s already got you beat in cuteness.”

Nova raised a brow. “Watch it, Jeon.”

But her smile didn’t fade. Not once.

When they finished eating, Nova slowly pushed herself up from the couch, brushing crumbs off her oversized shirt. She padded toward the kitchen sink, but before she could turn on the faucet, Haesoo was already up behind her.

“Nova,” he said, his voice sharp with concern. “What are you doing? You should’ve asked me.”

“I’m just washing my hands,” she said, waving him off. “Relax.”

“You’re still weak. You almost collapsed earlier.”

Nova glanced back at him, eyes tired but stubborn. “I’m fine. If I fall, I’ll just get up. Don’t worry, I’m not holding Noa.”

Haesoo didn’t look convinced, hovering close in case she swayed. But she turned back to the sink with a quiet huff, rinsing her hands like nothing was wrong—like she hadn’t nearly passed out twenty minutes ago.

“Still,” Haesoo muttered, “you better let me carry you next time.”

Nova didn’t respond, but a small smirk tugged at her lips.

Nova kept her eyes closed, her voice low and lazy. “I’m already thinking about my return to HQ. I haven’t hit someone in months.”

Haesoo glanced at her, amused but concerned. “That’s what you miss?”

“I need to get back into the game,” she murmured. “I feel soft.”

He looked down at Noa, then back at her. “You literally just gave birth.”

“Exactly,” Nova said, cracking one eye open. “I need to balance it out. One minute I’m feeding a baby, the next—bam, tactical takedown. Keeps me sharp.”

Haesoo shook his head, laughing. “You’re impossible.”

Nova smiled faintly. “You say that like it’s new.”

Nova leaned back into the couch, a soft, amused smile tugging at her lips. Her eyes drifted to the ceiling, lost in thought. For the first time in what felt like forever, she felt something close to freedom. Real freedom. The kind she hadn’t tasted since meeting Haesoo — since all the late-night check-ins, the guilt-laced goodbyes before missions, and his quiet, lingering looks that always made her hesitate at the door.

But now?

She glanced at Noa nestled in Haesoo’s arms, tiny and perfect, her whole hand wrapped around just one of his fingers.

He won’t even notice I’m gone.

Not like before.

With Noa, she could go harder. Stay longer. Push past limits without worrying if he was waiting up or breaking down without her. She had given him something to hold onto — something that wasn’t her.

Her smile deepened, almost wicked with relief.

Across from her, Haesoo watched her closely. The shift in her expression wasn’t lost on him — that flicker of satisfaction, the way her eyes glittered with unspoken plans. His gaze narrowed slightly, not in judgment, just… wondering.

“What?” Nova asked, catching him staring.

Haesoo shook his head slowly, holding Noa a little closer. “Nothing,” he said. “You’re just… smiling like you’re about to disappear.”

Nova gave him a wink. “Maybe I am.”

Haesoo’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean maybe?” he asked, eyes flicking between her and Noa. “She isn’t you.”

Nova took a slow sip of her soda, eyes glinting with something sharp. Calculating. Free. She let the fizz settle on her tongue before swallowing, then leaned back with a smirk tugging at her lips.

“Even better,” she said, voice light. “She’s my replacement.”

The words hung between them.

Haesoo stared, processing, but Nova didn’t flinch. Her eyes glistened — not with emotion, but anticipation. She was already planning. Already moving.

She tilted her head, resting it against the couch cushion while keeping her gaze locked on him. “You won’t miss me,” she added, almost sing-song. “You’ll have her. Perfect trade, if you ask me.”

Haesoo tightened his grip on Noa, jaw flexing. “You really think that’s how it works?”

Nova just smiled and took another sip. “It’s how it will work.”

Nova reached for the tablet on the coffee table, her fingers moving with familiar precision as she turned it on and began scrolling.

Haesoo watched her, his voice laced with suspicion. “What are you doing?”

She didn’t look up. “Looking at my competition.”

“Nova…”

“I think I can bounce back in a month,” she said, eyes still fixed on the screen. “I just need to train. Get my stamina back up. I’ll be fine.”

Haesoo shifted, holding Noa closer. “You just gave birth.”

Nova finally looked at him, eyes clear and focused. “Exactly. Which means I need to move fast. My body doesn’t get to rest like other people’s. You can stay with her when I go on missions.” She gestured casually toward the baby, then leaned back. “Asher can help you if you need it.”

Haesoo blinked. “You’re serious?”

She nodded once. “Always am.”

Nova leaned back into the couch, her soda still in hand, a wicked little smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. She glanced at Haesoo cradling Noa, then stretched her arms overhead with a satisfied sigh.

“Finally,” she muttered under her breath, eyes gleaming. “Freedom.”

Haesoo shot her a look. “You make it sound like you were in prison.”

Nova grinned wider. “I was. Locked up with you for months, dealing with hormones, swollen ankles, and a baby playing kickboxing in my ribs. But now” she nodded at Noa, “I found my replacement. I can go back to breaking people.”

Haesoo shook his head, amused and mildly concerned. “You’re not normal.”

“Never claimed to be.”

Nova stood, stretched like a cat, then said casually, “I’ll be back.”

She disappeared upstairs and came down a few minutes later in sleek black activewear, her hair tied up, a towel tossed over one shoulder. Haesoo looked up from the couch, startled.

“You’re not serious,” he said. “You barely gave birth.”

Nova slipped her feet into her trainers. “It’s fine. I’m just going to stretch. Move a little. My body’s been still too long I need to feel like myself again.”

Haesoo stood, concerned. “Can I come down with you? We can take Noa.”

Nova paused at the door, then shook her head. “No. You stay with her.”

Her voice was gentle, not dismissive just firm. “She needs you. And I need a minute to not be needed.”

She didn’t wait for a reply, just gave him a quick smile and disappeared into the hallway.

Two hours later, the sound of soft footsteps echoed up the stairs. Nova appeared, drenched in sweat, her tank clinging to her skin and hair sticking to her forehead. She looked pale but alert, her jaw set like she was chasing something only she could see.

Haesoo stood the moment he saw her. “She’s hungry.”

Nova didn’t even pause. “Give her formula,” she said, brushing past him. “I’m going to shower.”

He watched her go, worry flickering in his eyes. There was something fierce about the way she moved, like she was trying to outrun the part of herself that had slowed down and was now clawing to return stronger.

Asher stepped inside holding a slim folder marked with HQ insignia. “Here’s Noa’s paperwork,” he said, glancing around. His eyes landed on Haesoo, who was seated on the couch with a bottle in hand, gently feeding Noa.

“Where’s Nova?”

Haesoo didn’t look up. “Shower. She worked out for two hours… told me to give her formula.”

Asher blinked. “Worked out?”

“Yeah,” Haesoo said quietly. “Squats. Abs. Ran twenty kilometers. Said she wants to go back to missions. That she found her replacement.”

Asher dropped the folder on the table with a thud. “She just gave birth today.”

Haesoo finally looked up, his expression unreadable.

Asher scoffed, shaking his head. “She played us. She had the kid so you wouldn’t hold her back. Now you can’t follow her into missions. She knew exactly what she was doing.”

Haesoo’s grip tightened around the bottle. Noa’s tiny hand rested against his chest, and for a long second, he didn’t say anything. Then, quietly:

“She smiled when she said it. Like it was freedom.”

Asher exhaled. “Of course she did. You were the only thing that ever made her hesitate. Now she’s got someone to anchor you and no one to anchor her.”

They both went quiet. The only sound in the room was Noa’s soft sucking, steady and innocent.

Asher let out a humorless laugh, rubbing the back of his neck like he was only just starting to connect the dots. “We were so stupid.”

Haesoo looked over, eyes narrowed.

“We walked straight into her trap,” Asher said, voice low. “Nova’s always ten steps ahead, you know that. She knew exactly what this meant.”

Haesoo didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

“She knew,” Asher continued, “that if she had a kid — your kid — you wouldn’t risk your life the same way. You’d hesitate. You’d think twice before stepping into fire because now you’ve got something to lose.”

He motioned toward the sleeping baby in Haesoo’s arms.

“She gave herself a free pass. No leash. No backup. No questions. You’d stay behind, and she’d be free to go harder than ever.”

Haesoo looked down at Noa, at her little fist curled against his shirt. His jaw clenched.

“She trapped herself too,” he finally said.

Asher paused. “What?”

Haesoo’s voice was quiet but steady. “You think Nova can walk away from this?” He brushed a thumb gently over Noa’s cheek. “You think she doesn’t feel anything? That she could hold her and not care?”

Asher didn’t respond.

Haesoo looked up, eyes burning with a truth Asher hadn’t considered. “She’s not running from us. She’s running from how much she cares. And she’s scared that one day it’ll slow her down.”

Asher let out a sharp breath, pacing near the kitchen. “She loves Noa,” he said, glancing at Haesoo. “Don’t doubt that for a second.”

Haesoo held the baby closer, frowning.

“But she loves her freedom more,” Asher continued, his tone flat, almost resigned. “And you were holding her back, Haesoo. She knew it. That’s why she did this. Now she’s sure you won’t stand in her way.”

Haesoo didn’t respond. He didn’t have to. The pieces were falling into place on their own.

Asher shook his head, voice dropping. “A Reyes will always outsmart everyone. She played the long game. And we let her.”

Before Haesoo could reply, soft footsteps came from the stairs.

Nova appeared, wearing fresh clothes and her hair damp from the shower. She looked between the two of them, a slow, knowing smile curving her lips.

“War is about deception, isn’t it, Asher?” she said, grabbing a towel to dry her hair. “You taught me that.”

Asher stared at her, jaw tight. Haesoo didn’t move, Noa asleep in his arms.

Nova’s gaze flicked to the baby, then back to them. “I didn’t trap anyone. I just planned ahead.”

Asher’s voice cut through the silence, low and sharp. “How long have you been planning this?”

Nova didn’t even blink. She stretched her arms above her head, completely unbothered. “Well,” she said, dragging the word out, “when I found out I was pregnant, my first thought was the same as last time — I can just have an abortion again.”

Haesoo flinched.

Nova glanced at him, then back to Asher. “But then… the thought flickered. If I have a kid, Haesoo won’t follow me. And you, Asher — I’ve seen it. You’ll protect her. You’ll make sure she’s safe.”

She tapped her temple. “When I dream, I see the future. And in one of those dreams, I saw my chance — crystal clear.”

She smiled. “So I took it.”

There was no apology in her tone. No hesitation. Just raw, unapologetic strategy.

“I guess that’s why I’m the best,” she said, eyes gleaming. “Because even when I’m losing, I’m still playing to win.”

Haesoo stared at her like he didn’t recognize the person in front of him.

His voice came out quiet. “So all of this… me, Noa — we were just moves in your game?”

Nova didn’t answer. Not directly. She didn’t need to. The way she leaned back on the couch, completely relaxed, said enough.

Asher ran a hand through his hair and let out a dry, humorless laugh. “You really are something else.” He looked at her like she was both brilliant and terrifying. “You played us.”

Nova just smirked.

Haesoo took a step back. “You said you needed me. That you couldn’t do this alone.”

“I couldn’t,” she said, calm and cold. “Not physically. But emotionally? I’ve always been alone, Haesoo. You just didn’t see it.”

His jaw tightened.

Asher muttered, “You love Noa, I know you do… but you love control more.”

Nova tilted her head, eyes sharp. “I love freedom. And now I have it. She’s safe. You’re anchored. I’m free.”

Haesoo’s voice cracked. “And you don’t feel even a little guilty?”

Nova didn’t flinch. “War is about deception, remember?”

Asher looked away, disgusted. “You always win, don’t you?”

Nova let out a breath of laughter. “I don’t always win. I just make sure I never lose.”

And Haesoo, for the first time, realized he might never catch up to her not really.

Nova’s body shivered — just for a second — then split into three.

It wasn’t new. Asher and Haesoo had seen this before, but it still unsettled them. The air shifted, pressure dipping as the two other Novas stepped forward from the shimmer like reflections turned real. One leaned against the wall, arms crossed and grinning. The other sat on the edge of the dining table, casually sipping from Nova’s soda.

“Told you it would work,” one of them said, voice identical to hers but more playful, laced with arrogance. “We played them like a song.”

The other nodded, laughing. “Now we’re unstoppable. See, when we went into the multiverse, we started asking the right questions. How do we keep our freedom? How do we keep them from holding us back?”

Her eyes flicked to Haesoo, soft but cutting. “And then it hit us. Noa.”

“Bingo,” the first one finished. “A baby meant we couldn’t lose. Not really. Not when they’d never let anything happen to her. Not when they’d stop chasing us. Not when it gave us the perfect excuse to disappear.”

Original Nova sat quietly in the center, the storm behind her eyes controlled for now.

It wasn’t just strategy. It was truth. Cold. Calculated. And terrifying in its brilliance.

Because they hadn’t just won.

They made sure they couldn’t lose.

Nova tilted her head, eyes gleaming as she looked at the two versions of herself.

“It was fun looking weak in front of them, right?” she said with a slow smirk, her voice like velvet laced with venom.

The Nova on the table let out a low laugh. “Pathetic. Limping around, crying in the bathroom, pretending like we couldn’t handle it.”

The other one rolled her eyes. “Oh, and the emotional breakdowns? Iconic. Really sold it.”

“They ate it up,” Nova said, stretching her legs across the coffee table. “Fragile. Exhausted. Just a girl who needed help. They forgot who I was.”

One of the other Novas leaned in, voice low and razor-sharp. “That’s the trick, isn’t it? Let them see what they want to see.”

Nova’s smile never wavered. “And while they’re busy trying to save you… you set the whole board on fire.”

Haesoo felt the floor shift beneath him — not literally, but something in the air. The realization of just how far ahead she had been. How deep the act had gone.

Asher stood frozen, eyes locked on all three of her. He knew. He had always known what she was capable of — but this?

This was war.

And she had already won.

All three Novas began crying on cue — eyes welling, shoulders trembling, soft gasps breaking through their lips like perfectly timed chords in a symphony of sorrow.

The real Nova didn’t even blink as tears streamed down her face.

The Nova by the window sniffled, wiping beneath her eye. “They told me I was too cold… so I learned how to cry.”

The third Nova crumpled onto the floor, voice cracking with precision. “They said no one would follow someone who couldn’t feel, so I studied what pain looked like… and made it beautiful.”

The real Nova let out a shuddering breath. “HQ said emotional manipulation is the most powerful strategy. And they were right. Sympathy makes men hesitate. Guilt makes them retreat.”

All three spoke in eerie harmony, each word a dagger laced in silk.

“We are HQ’s greatest success.”

“We don’t need weapons.”

“We are the weapon.”

They smiled through their tears.

And Haesoo or the first time understood that the girl who once crawled into his bed and whispered she loved him… had always known how to break hearts in a way no bullet ever could.

The room shifted.

The three Novas stepped toward each other, slow and in sync, like dancers returning to center. No words passed between them. No countdown. Just a rising pressure in the air magnetic, heavy and then they merged.

A flicker of light. A pulse.

And suddenly, there was only one.

Nova stood still in the middle of the room, blinking as if nothing had happened. Calm. Unbothered. Powerful.

Asher took a sharp breath, eyes narrowing. “You merged faster than last time.”

Nova turned slightly toward him, amused. “I’ve had practice.”

Haesoo didn’t speak at first. His hands were clenched at his sides, jaw tight, trying to understand what he just saw who he was looking at now. The room felt different. She felt different.

“You weren’t faking it all, right?” he asked quietly, searching her face for a trace of the girl he knew the one who cried when no one was watching, who used to whisper that she hated being strong all the time.

Nova tilted her head. “I never said it was fake. I just learned to use it.”

Asher ran a hand down his face. “Shit. We were never ahead, were we?”

“No,” Nova said simply, walking past them toward the sofa. “You were exactly where I needed you to be.”

She sat, legs crossed, and picked up her drink like it was any other day.

“This is just the beginning.”

Haesoo stared at her like she was speaking another language — like the person in front of him wasn’t the same girl who used to trace circles on his palm when she couldn’t sleep. His voice was low. “You planned everything?”

Nova didn’t even flinch. “I just moved the pieces around to my liking,” she said, sipping her drink. “I got you to California, didn’t I?”

Asher stood frozen, watching her like she might combust — or already had.

She glanced at Haesoo, eyes glinting. “Then I saw how possessive you were. Jealous. Clingy.” Her lips curved into a slow, wicked smile. “And I got pregnant. Just like that, the perfect plan.”

Haesoo’s voice cracked. “Was anything real?”

Nova’s expression didn’t waver. “You were. That’s why it worked.”

Silence flooded the room. Asher exhaled like he’d been punched. Haesoo looked like he might fall apart and set the whole house on fire trying to put himself back together.

Nova? She just leaned back on the sofa, her game finished. The queen had never left the board.

Nova tilted her head, watching the way Haesoo’s breath hitched — like he didn’t know whether to scream or hold her. Her voice was light, too casual for the weight in the room.

“You’re welcome,” she said, almost playfully. “For the gift.”

Haesoo’s eyes flicked toward the bassinet, then back to her, searching for the girl he used to know underneath the smirk and steel.

Nova didn’t flinch. “She’s yours now. My part’s done.” She stretched her legs out on the coffee table like a queen retiring after war, a half-smile tugging at her lips. “Congratulations, Dad.”

And just like that, she leaned back as if she hadn’t just detonated the ground beneath him.

Asher stared at her, the weight of her words slow to settle. “Nova… I thought you loved him.”

Nova’s smile didn’t falter. She looked toward Haesoo, eyes cool but unreadable. “I do,” she said calmly. “But love isn’t enough when it becomes a leash.”

Haesoo’s jaw tightened.

Nova’s voice dropped an octave, and she mimicked his tone with eerie accuracy, “Don’t leave me. I can’t sleep without you. I can’t eat. I can’t breathe.”

Then she sat up, her expression sharper now, unapologetically calculated. “So I gave him something else to love. A softer tether. A distraction. A reason to stay behind.”

Her eyes flicked to Noa’s bassinet. “I just found a replacement.”

Haesoo looked like he’d been punched. His voice was quiet, but heavy. “So that’s what this was? A leash for me?”

Nova didn’t flinch. “No. It was a release for both of us. I’m not leaving you, Haesoo — but I needed a reason you’d believe. Something that would finally let me go without you chasing after me or waiting up every night.”

He swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice steady. “You think I’m just gonna stay behind like some… babysitter?”

Nova looked at him plainly. “You love her. You’re good with her. You’re safe. And for the first time since we met, I have space to move again. You’re happy. I’m happy. So why are we fighting?”

Haesoo’s jaw tightened. “Because you lied.”

“I protected the only thing that ever slowed me down,” she said, calmly. “You.”

He looked away, chest rising and falling. “And what am I supposed to do with that?”

Nova gave the faintest shrug. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

Haesoo’s voice was strained. “So this was your plan the whole time?”

Nova exhaled slowly, then shook her head. “I didn’t get pregnant on purpose. It just happened… and by the time I found out, I was already too far along.”

Haesoo stared at her, waiting — needing more.

She met his eyes, unapologetic. “I didn’t choose it, but I adapted. I moved the pieces around to my liking. That’s what I do. That’s what I’ve always done.”

He took a small step back, like the air had shifted. “You used her.”

“I used the situation,” she corrected, calmly. “There’s a difference. I didn’t plan it, Haesoo but once it was real, I saw what it could mean. For me. For you. For everything I couldn’t do while being dragged down.”

She folded her arms. “And you can pretend to be hurt, but deep down? You’re happy. You love her already. So do I. We both got something out of it.”

Haesoo’s voice dropped. “You’re not even sorry.”

“I don’t apologize for surviving,” she said. “And I won’t start now.”

Nova tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly as she looked at Haesoo. “Ungrateful,” she said. “I gave you a gift.”

Her voice wasn’t angry — it was calm, matter-of-fact, like she couldn’t understand why he didn’t see it the same way.

“I could’ve disappeared. You know that. But instead, I left you something to hold on to. Someone.”

She gave a small, amused smile, cold at the edges. “You should be thanking me.”

Haesoo stared at her, eyes dark with disbelief. “A gift?” he repeated, voice tight. “She’s a child, Nova. Not some… consolation prize you drop off so you can disappear again.”

His hands clenched at his sides, jaw working. “You think I wanted a replacement for you? I wanted you.”

Asher stood off to the side, arms crossed, watching her with a mix of disappointment and reluctant admiration. “You really played us,” he said quietly. “Used our instincts against us. You love that baby — I know you do — but you also calculated this.”

He shook his head with a bitter exhale. “You always win, don’t you?”

Nova didn’t respond right away. Just sat back like a queen who’d already claimed the board.

Nova shrugged, leaning back as if it was all obvious. “Well, you wouldn’t stop nagging me,” she said. “And I knew the moment I found out I was pregnant you’d never let it go. You’d fall for her instantly, bond with her like it was the only thing that mattered.”

She glanced at Haesoo, tone casual but cutting. “So I took my chance. Played the card. And if you don’t like it…” she gave a small, cold smile, “we can get divorced. No hard feelings.”

Haesoo just stared at her.

For a second, he didn’t even breathe — like the words hadn’t registered, like she hadn’t just dropped a bomb and brushed it off like it meant nothing. Then his jaw clenched, and his voice came low, tighter than before.

“You really think this is a game?” he asked, barely above a whisper. “That she’s just a… card you played?”

His eyes dropped to the floor for a beat — not in defeat, but in disbelief. Then he looked back up, hurt burning behind his usual calm.

“I didn’t bond with her because I was manipulated into it. I bonded with her because she’s mine. Ours. And no matter how twisted your reasons were… she didn’t ask for any of this.”

He shook his head once, slowly. “You talk about freedom like I chained you. Like love was some kind of trap.”

A pause. Then, quieter, “Was it really that unbearable to be loved?”

Nova leaned back, arms folded, eyes sharp with that calm fire only she could carry.

“You see, Haesoo,” she said slowly, “you didn’t let me reach my potential. You kept holding me down without even realizing it. Always asking me to stay. Acting like I had a way out — like I could just walk away without hurting you. But you never left. No matter how many times I pushed, you stayed.”

Her gaze dropped briefly to Noa, then back to him. A smirk curled on her lips.

“I just outsmarted you. Moved the board until every piece landed where I wanted. Now you have something to hold onto. And I…” she gestured vaguely, like freedom was already in her hands, “I finally don’t have to feel guilty for chasing what I was meant to become.”

She smiled faintly, mockingly. “Call it manipulation. I call it strategy.”

Haesoo’s breath caught, his expression breaking for a second like he’d just realized the person in front of him was no longer the woman he thought he knew. Or maybe she always had been — and that was the problem.

“You can think anything you want from me,” Nova said coolly, tilting her head as she looked between them. “But it’s your fault for trusting me… when you knew exactly what I was.”

Haesoo flinched. “Don’t put this on me. I trusted you because I saw the good in you — the parts you never showed anyone else.”

Nova didn’t blink. “And that’s where you messed up. I never needed you to see the good. I needed you to stay out of my way.”

Asher took a step forward, his voice low but biting. “You really think this is some kind of win? Manipulating the one person who would’ve followed you to the ends of the world?”

Nova leaned back like she was bored. “Exactly. He would’ve followed me and that was the problem.”

Haesoo’s face went pale, his voice barely above a whisper. “So everything was calculated. Me. Noa. All of it.”

Her lips curled into a faint smile. “Not everything. But I adapted. That’s what I do. That’s why I survive.”

Haesoo looked at her like she’d slapped him, all the air draining from his lungs. “Don’t say that.”

Nova raised an eyebrow. “Why not? You’re both acting like I committed a crime. Would you have preferred I ended the pregnancy? Would that have made you feel better?”

Asher’s jaw tightened. “That’s not what this is about and you know it.”

She crossed her arms, tone sharper now. “No, I don’t. I made a decision. I carried her, gave birth to her, and now you have someone to love. Someone who gives you purpose. And somehow I’m still the villain?”

Haesoo’s voice broke. “You used her.”

Nova’s eyes didn’t flinch. “I did what I always do. I survived. I planned. I protected my freedom and gave you a family in the process. Sounds like a win-win to me.”

As Nova stood there, defiant and unyielding, the room thickened with silence.

Haesoo’s face was pale, lips parted like he wanted to say something — anything — but the words wouldn’t come. His arms were still wrapped protectively around Noa, but his eyes were locked on Nova like he didn’t recognize her.

“You think I’m happy?” he finally said, voice low and rough. “I’m holding her because I have to. Because you won’t. Because if I don’t, who will?”

Nova didn’t flinch. She just tilted her head slightly, unreadable.

Asher looked between the two of them, his voice sharper than before. “You’re not thinking straight. You’re running on adrenaline and ego and pain. You want to punish us for loving you?”

“I’m not punishing anyone,” Nova said, her smile tight. “I’m taking control.”

“You call this control?” Asher snapped. “You’re hemorrhaging inside and out. And you’re about to go to war like that?”

Haesoo finally stood, still holding Noa. “You want to disappear again? Fine. Go. Just don’t pretend it’s about freedom when it’s really about fear.”

That hit.

Nova’s gaze flickered just for a second before the wall came back up. She gave them a thin smile, and turned toward the stairs without another word.

Haesoo flinched as Nova’s tears spilled, perfectly timed like a switch had been flipped. Her voice wavered just enough to sound genuine — maybe it was.

“See that’s the issue, Haesoo,” she said, stepping closer. “You always think I run away because I’m scared. Like I’m some broken little thing that needs saving.”

Her eyes welled with more tears, her breathing shaky now, but her posture never faltered — still straight, still calculated. “Does this make you feel better?” she asked, voice cracking. “Watching me cry? Wanting to protect me again? Does it help you pretend I’m someone you can keep?”

Haesoo’s jaw tensed. He didn’t answer.

Asher stood frozen nearby, uncertain if he was watching a breakdown or a performance. Maybe both.

Nova’s lip trembled. “You only feel needed when I’m weak. That’s what you want, right? That’s why you stayed even when I told you not to.”

She wiped her cheek with the back of her hand and looked away.

“I’m not weak, Haesoo. I’m just done pretending to be.”

Asher’s voice softened, stepping in before things could spiral again.

“Okay, Nova,” he said gently, hands raised like he was approaching a wild animal on the verge of bolting. “We won’t push you. Just… don’t go.”

She didn’t look at him.

“You’re going to die out there if you do back-to-backs right now. You just gave birth. Your body’s not ready. I don’t care how strong you are biology doesn’t care either.”

Nova’s jaw twitched, eyes still wet but colder now.

“It’s fine,” Asher added, slower this time. “You didn’t plan it. You were already pregnant. You didn’t trap anyone. You had a baby… for Haesoo, maybe. And he’s happy. You gave him something he never thought he’d have.”

He stepped closer, voice dropping.

“You don’t need to prove anything right now. Just don’t go. Please.”

Nova didn’t respond not yet but something in her shoulders faltered. Like she heard him. Like a part of her wanted to believe it might be okay to stay.

Nova stood by the couch, arms crossed tightly, her voice rising not in volume but in strain — like it took effort to stay composed.

“Haesoo needs to apologize,” she said. “You’re both acting like I did something awful. Like I don’t love Noa.”

She looked between them, eyes sharp and watery all at once.

“I just gave Haesoo something to hold onto while I’m gone. Something real. And instead of thanking me, you’re treating me like I’m evil.”

Her lips twitched like she was fighting back something anger, maybe, or grief.

“I didn’t abandon her. I didn’t abandon him. I just… I needed space to breathe. And now I’m the villain?”

She let out a cold laugh, but it cracked halfway.

“Typical.”

Haesoo’s grip on the bottle tightened as he looked at Nova, Noa nestled peacefully in his other arm. His expression wasn’t angry — it was hollow. Like the ground under him had shifted, and he wasn’t sure where to stand.

“You think this is about thanking you?” he asked quietly. “Nova, I never asked for something to hold onto. I asked for you.”

Asher stood off to the side, arms crossed, jaw clenched. His voice was lower, more controlled.

“She’s not the villain,” he said, mostly to himself. “But she is rewriting the story to make herself the hero.”

He looked at Nova then, eyes sharp. “You’re not evil. But you are disappearing again. And the worst part is… I think you convinced yourself it’s selfless.”

Haesoo swallowed hard, his gaze locked on the baby in his arms, then slowly back to her.

“You say you love her,” he said, “but love isn’t a parting gift. It’s not something you hand off like a shield. She’s not just mine, Nova. She’s ours.”

His voice broke at the end, just a little.

“And you’re leaving like she’s your excuse to be free.”

“You’re never going to be happy, are you, Haesoo?” she said, eyes flashing. “You get to have your stupid career, your spotlight, your fans screaming your name — but not me, right? Not Nova.”

He opened his mouth, but she stepped closer, not letting him speak.

“I’m the one who’s supposed to stay home. Who sacrifices. Who gives birth and stays quiet and claps for you from the sidelines while you chase everything. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“That’s not fair,” Haesoo said, his voice low. “That’s not what I—”

“No?” she snapped. “Because it sure feels like you only love me when I’m sitting still. When I’m not threatening your peace by doing what I was born to do.”

Asher watched them both from the corner, jaw tight, silent but clearly tense.

Nova let out a shaky breath, not backing down. “You don’t get to call it love if it only works when I’m small.”

Nova sat down hard on the edge of the sofa, her fingers trembling as she raked them through her hair. Her eyes were glassy, rimmed with exhaustion and anger, but her voice was sharp when it came out.

“God, I fucking hate my life.”

The room went still.

Asher’s face twitched, like he wanted to step in but didn’t know how. Haesoo took a small step forward, his chest tightening at the sound of her voice not just the words, but the weight in them.

“Nova…” he started gently, but she held up a hand without looking at him.

“No. Don’t,” she said. “Don’t try to fix it. I’m tired of pretending I’m okay just so everyone else can sleep at night.”

Silence hung between them, and for a moment, all they could do was watch her the girl who had always been unstoppable now sitting there, looking like she was unraveling from the inside out.

Nova’s voice cut through the silence like glass.

“I don’t know what’s worse—HQ or you.”

Haesoo flinched. He didn’t say anything at first. His mouth opened slightly, then closed again as he watched her, unsure whether to defend himself or just let her speak.

She was pacing now, hands gesturing sharply, her tone bitter. “At least with HQ, I know what to expect. Orders. Missions. Pain. I can handle that. But you” she turned to face him “you made me believe I could have peace. Like I could be normal. Like I could belong somewhere.”

Haesoo swallowed hard. “You do belong. With me. With us.”

“No,” she said quietly. “I belong to the world. To the chaos. And you” her voice cracked just slightly, “you keep asking me to be someone I’m not.”

Asher leaned against the wall, jaw tight but silent, letting them spiral. Letting them face it.

And Nova, still burning, added under her breath, “Don’t act like you didn’t know who I was when you fell for me.”

Nova’s voice was low but seething, like something sharp was curling just beneath the surface.

“You see, Asher?” she said, eyes fixed on him but meant for Haesoo. “He’s never going to accept who I am. I always have to shrink, bend, rip myself apart to fit what he needs. I have to change me—who I was born to be. And for what?”

She laughed, bitter and broken. “For love?”

Haesoo’s throat tightened. “Nova—”

“I’d rather die instead,” she snapped, turning away before he could reach her. “I’d rather die than spend one more day being less than what I was made to be.”

Asher stepped forward carefully. “Nova, no one’s asking you to be less.”

Her head tilted, eyes glassy with restrained fury. “Aren’t they?” She looked back at Haesoo. “You don’t want me. You want the version that stays. That gives up missions, that forgets who she is because she’s now your wife and a mother.”

Her voice dropped, quiet but lethal. “I was never made to stay. And you fell in love with the girl who never would.”

Haesoo looked like he wanted to speak, but the words just didn’t come. Not this time.

Nova’s expression hardened, jaw tightening as her gaze swept over both of them.

“I’m going to the room,” she said flatly. Her tone left no room for argument.

She walked over and gently lifted Noa from Haesoo’s arms. The baby stirred but didn’t cry, nestling easily against her chest.

“I can still be her mother,” Nova added coldly, “even if I can’t be what either of you want.”

Then she turned and walked away, her steps sharp, controlled, the door clicking shut behind her like a final line drawn.