Bundle Of Joy
It's a one shot short story....
The night hung heavy over their small cottage, the flickering oil lamp casting long shadows across the walls. Wangji sat on the edge of their bed, his heart splintering with each sob that wracked his husband's slender frame.
Wuxian knelt on the floor, his back pressed against the wall, knees drawn to his chest as tears carved paths down his cheeks. His cries echoed off the wooden walls-the same walls that had witnessed eight years of his silent prayers, eight years of whispered hopes, eight years of crushing disappointment.
"Wuxian." Wangji's voice was soft as summer rain. He rose and crossed the room, lowering himself beside his husband. "Why do you keep crying and worrying yourself over nothing? How many times must I tell you-you are married to me. Not to the villagers. Not to my family. Me."
Wuxian shook his head violently, fresh tears spilling. "You don't understand."
"I understand everything." Wangji's large, calloused hand-the hand of a farmer who tilled the earth and brought forth life from soil-reached out to cup Wuxian's wet cheek. "I understand that you are my husband. I understand that I chose you. I understand that when the time comes-and it will come-you will bear my children. But tonight, right now, I need you to come to bed. Please, baby. Stop crying."
Wuxian's breath hitched. "How can I sleep?"
"Because I'm asking you to."
"No." Wuxian pulled away, his voice rising. "How can you expect me to be at ease when I've become a laughingstock? When I can no longer walk freely through the village? When I hide my face whenever the other husbands and wives gather? When I cannot go to the market without receiving some barbed comment?"
Wangji's jaw tightened.
"Do you know what they said to me yesterday?" Wuxian continued, his voice cracking. "That I am a fruitless tree. That you should cut me down and plant something useful in my place. Your own mother-" He choked on the words. "He said it too."
"Mother says many things."
"He's right." Wuxian slammed his fist against his thigh. "Your mother is right. My siblings are right. Everyone is right. What kind of omega cannot give his alpha a child after eight years? Even those married after me have two, three children now. They look at me with pity-no, worse, with triumph. As if my failure confirms something they always suspected about me."
Wangji reached for him again, but Wuxian flinched away.
"Do you know the insult I receive every day? 'Barren Wuxian.' 'The empty omega.' 'Wangji's unfortunate choice.'" His voice dropped to a whisper. "They say you must have offended the gods. That no alpha as strong and prosperous as you should be cursed with a husband like me."
"Is that what you think of yourself?" Wangji's voice hardened. "A curse?"
"I think-" Wuxian pressed his palms against his eyes, as if he could physically stop the tears. "I think I'm tired. I'm so tired of everything. Why me? Why is God punishing me like this? For over eight years-not even a miscarriage, Wangji. Nothing. As if my womb doesn't exist. As if I'm not even a real omega."
Wangji's composure cracked. He crawled forward and gathered his weeping husband into his arms, holding him despite Wuxian's weak protests. "Stop. Stop saying these things."
"Let me go."
"No." Wangji's embrace tightened. "I will never let you go. Don't you understand that yet? After eight years, do you still not understand?"
Wuxian went limp against him, his sobs subsiding into shuddering breaths. "They want you to take another spouse. A beta, another omega-someone who can give you children. Your mother threatens it every time I see him."
"My mother threatens many things."
"He's serious this time. He's already looking."
Wangji was silent for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was quiet but absolute. "Let him look. He will search until the day he dies and find no one. I will not take another spouse. I will not set you aside. I will not-"
"She's your mother."
"And you are my husband." Wangji pulled back just enough to meet Wuxian's red-rimmed eyes. "The day we married, I made vows before the village, before our families, before the gods. I meant every word. I did not say 'until you bear me children.' I did not say 'unless you prove fertile.' I said forever. I said always. I said only you."
Wuxian's lower lip trembled. "But-"
"No buts." Wangji pressed their foreheads together. "I love you. I will love you forever. No matter how many years I have to wait, I will wait. You are not just the vessel for my children-you are my partner, my heart, my home. Do you understand?"
Fresh tears slipped down Wuxian's cheeks, but these felt different-warmer, less bitter. "I don't deserve you."
"You deserve everything." Wangji kissed his eyelids, his temples, the corner of his mouth. "Now please, baby. Come to bed. Let me hold you. Let me chase away these shadows, at least for tonight."
Wuxian nodded weakly, allowing himself to be guided to the bed. Wangji tucked the blankets around them both, pulling Wuxian against his chest, one hand stroking slow circles on his back.
"Sleep," Wangji murmured. "I have you."
---
The Weight of Years
The village of Gusu slumbered in the curve of the mountain, its thatched roofs clustered together like mushrooms after rain. Here, everyone knew everyone. Here, secrets were impossible and privacy a forgotten luxury. Here, Wuxian had learned that love could coexist with cruelty, that family could wound deeper than strangers.
He had been promised to Wangji before he could walk.
The story was told so often it had become legend: how his mother, frail after a difficult pregnancy, had held her best friend's hand and whispered, "If it's a son, let him marry your youngest. Let our blood mingle." How Wangji's mother had wept and sworn it would be so. How his mother had died hours later, never knowing he'd birthed an omega son who would one day carry her promise forward.
Wuxian grew up knowing his future was already written. It should have been comforting-the certainty, the stability. Instead, it felt like wearing clothes that didn't quite fit, always aware of the seams pulling in the wrong places.
Wangji was two years older, already tall and serious even as a child. While other boys roughhoused in the fields, Wangji studied farming techniques with his father. While others chased after omegas and betas with adolescent awkwardness, Wangji tended the family plots with quiet dedication. By the time he reached marrying age, he was the most sought-after alpha in Gusu-rich, handsome, hardworking, and maddeningly unavailable.
Because he belonged to Wuxian.
Wuxian remembered their wedding day with painful clarity. The white powder dusting his hair, the ceremonial robes weighing down his shoulders, the weight of every villager's gaze as he walked toward his future husband. Wangji had looked at him-really looked at him-and something in his stoic face had softened.
"You're beautiful," Wangji had murmured, so quietly only Wuxian could hear.
Wuxian had blushed to the roots of his hair. He'd been sixteen, barely of age, terrified and hopeful in equal measure.
The early years had been good. Better than good-they'd been idyllic. Wangji proved a gentle husband, patient and attentive. Their cottage, though modest, filled with warmth. Wuxian learned to cook Wangji's favorite dishes, to tend their small garden, to manage their household. In return, Wangji showered him with quiet affection-a flower left on his pillow, a special treat from the market, a hand pressed to the small of his back as they walked through the village.
The first year passed. Then the second. Then the third.
At first, no one worried. These things took time, the older women said knowingly. Some couples waited. It was normal.
The fourth year brought whispers.
The fifth year brought open speculation.
By the sixth year, Wuxian couldn't walk to the well without hearing someone mention his "condition." By the seventh, his mother-in-law's visits had shifted from affection to barely concealed disappointment. By the eighth, he'd become a cautionary tale-the omega who couldn't do the one thing omegas were meant to do.
Wangji's mother, Madam Lan, had once loved him like a second son. Now she looked at him as if he'd personally betrayed her.
"You promised my friend you would care for her child," he'd said last month, his voice ice. "I didn't know caring for him meant allowing him to ruin my son's future."
Wuxian's own siblings offered no refuge. His elder brother, an alpha with three children, refused to speak of it. His beta sister sighed dramatically whenever he visited. His omega brother-the one closest to him in age-had become the cruelest.
"You're an embarrassment to our family," he'd said flatly during their last gathering. "Everyone whispers about the Wei family's barren omega. As if our parents' blood produced something defective."
Wuxian had fled that gathering in tears. Wangji had found him hours later, huddled in the forest, and carried him home without a word.
That had been three weeks ago. Tonight's breakdown was simply more of the same-the endless cycle of hope and despair, the daily accumulation of small cruelties, the weight of expectations slowly crushing him.
---
The Vomiting
Just as Wangji thought Wuxian had finally calmed, his husband stiffened in his arms.
"Wuxian?"
Wuxian lurched upright, one hand clapped over his mouth. He scrambled off the bed and stumbled toward the bathing chamber, barely reaching the basin before he was violently ill.
Wangji was behind him in an instant, gathering Wuxian's hair away from his face, rubbing his back in firm circles. "It's alright. I'm here. Let it out."
Wuxian heaved until there was nothing left, then slumped against the basin, trembling. "I don't know what's wrong with me. For over a week now, I've been vomiting endlessly. As if I don't have enough problems."
Wangji's brow furrowed. "A week?"
"Sometimes in the morning. Sometimes at night. It comes and goes." Wuxian wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Probably the stress. My body is finally giving up."
"Don't say that." Wangji helped him to his feet and, without warning, swept him into his arms. Wuxian yelped and grabbed his neck.
"Wangji! I can walk."
"I know." Wangji carried him back to bed anyway, settling him against the pillows with exaggerated care. "You're pale. When did you last eat properly?"
Wuxian looked away.
"That's what I thought." Wangji tucked the blankets around him. "Tomorrow, we're going to the clinic."
"The clinic? For a little vomiting? The villagers will have a festival with that news."
"Let them." Wangji stretched out beside him, pulling Wuxian close. "I don't care what they say. I care about you. If you're sick, we find out why. End of discussion."
Wuxian opened his mouth to argue, but another wave of nausea rolled through him. He swallowed hard, pressing his face against Wangji's chest.
"I'm scared," he whispered.
"I know."
"What if something's really wrong with me? What if-"
"Then we'll face it together." Wangji's hand resumed its slow stroking. "Always together. Now sleep. Whatever tomorrow brings, we'll face it tomorrow."
---
The Morning
Wuxian woke to the worst pain he'd ever experienced.
For a disoriented moment, he didn't understand what was happening. Then a cramp seized his lower abdomen, so fierce he couldn't breathe. He gasped, clutching his stomach, and beside him, Wangji snapped awake instantly.
"Wuxian? What is it?"
"I-" Another cramp, worse than the first. Wuxian cried out, curling in on himself. "Wangji, it hurts. It hurts so much."
Wangji was already moving, pulling on clothes, gathering Wuxian's things. "Can you stand? We need to get to the clinic."
Wuxian tried. His legs gave out immediately. Wangji caught him, lifted him, carried him out the door without pausing to lock it.
The morning mist still clung to the village paths as Wangji ran, his precious burden in his arms. A few early risers stared as they passed. Wangji ignored them all, focused entirely on reaching the small clinic at the village's edge.
"Help!" He burst through the doors. "Please, someone help my husband!"
Nurses materialized, taking Wuxian from his arms, wheeling him away on a gurney. Wangji tried to follow, but gentle hands held him back.
"You must wait here, Alpha. Let the doctor examine him."
Wangji paced the small waiting area like a caged animal. Minutes stretched into eternities. The sun rose higher. Other villagers arrived for their appointments, saw him, and immediately began whispering among themselves.
He didn't care. Let them whisper. Let them gossip. Let them do whatever they wanted, as long as Wuxian was alright.
The whispers must have traveled fast, because within the hour, his parents arrived. His mother's face was pinched with disapproval; his father's was carefully neutral.
"What happened?" Madam Lan demanded.
"I don't know yet. He woke in pain."
"Probably just omega troubles. Omegas are delicate."
Wangji's jaw tightened. "He's not 'delicate.' He's my husband and he's suffering."
Before his mother could respond, the Wei family arrived-Wuxian's elder brother, his beta sister, his omega brother. They clustered together, speaking in hushed tones, occasionally glancing at Wangji with expressions he couldn't read.
"What are you all doing here?" Wangji asked flatly.
His omega brother-in-law shrugged. "News travels. We came to see if our disgrace of a sibling has finally done himself in."
Wangji took a step forward. His brother-in-law flinched back.
"That's enough." Wuxian's elder brother stepped between them. "This isn't the time."
"When is the time?" Wangji's voice was cold enough to freeze the river. "When exactly is the appropriate time to discuss how you've all treated him? How you've abandoned him, mocked him, made him feel worthless? When, exactly?"
Silence fell. Even his mother looked away.
The clinic door opened. The doctor emerged, and Wangji's heart stopped.
The doctor was smiling.
"Mr. Wangji." He extended his hand. "Congratulations."
Wangji stared at him. "Congratulations? My husband is in pain. He's been vomiting for a week. He-"
"Your husband is three months pregnant."
The world stopped.
Wangji heard the words, but they didn't make sense. They couldn't make sense. Eight years. Eight years of nothing, and now-
"Pregnant?" His voice came out strange, hollow. "You're certain?"
"Very certain. The vomiting, the abdominal pain-all normal in early pregnancy. Though I'd like to keep him overnight for observation, given the severity of his symptoms." The doctor's smile widened. "You're going to be a father, Mr. Wangji."
Behind him, the families erupted.
"Pregnant! After all this time!"
"Finally! The Wei family name is saved!"
"Our parents would be so proud!"
Wangji heard them as if from very far away. He was still processing. Pregnant. Wuxian was pregnant. After eight years of tears, eight years of heartbreak, eight years of his beautiful husband believing himself worthless-
"I need to see him."
The doctor nodded. "Of course. This way."
Wangji walked past his chattering relatives, past Wuxian's suddenly celebratory siblings, past his mother's stunned face. None of them mattered. Only one person mattered.
Wuxian lay in a narrow clinic bed, pale against the white sheets, one hand pressed to his still-flat stomach. When he saw Wangji, his eyes filled with tears-but this time, they were different.
"Wangji." His voice broke. "Wangji, did you hear? I'm-we're-"
Wangji crossed the room in three strides and gathered him carefully into his arms. "I heard. I heard everything."
"What if something goes wrong? What if-"
"Shh." Wangji kissed his hair, his forehead, his closed eyelids. "Nothing is going to go wrong. You're going to be fine. Our baby is going to be fine. And everyone who ever made you feel less than-they're going to see you thriving. They're going to see how loved you are."
Wuxian sobbed against his chest-but they were tears of relief, of joy, of a hope so long denied it felt foreign.
"I love you," Wuxian whispered. "I love you so much."
"I love you too." Wangji held him tighter. "Always. Forever. No matter what."
---
The Months That Followed
Word spread through Gusu like wildfire. By evening, everyone knew: the barren omega was pregnant. The fruitless tree had finally blossomed. Wangji's patience had been rewarded.
The same villagers who'd whispered cruelties now offered congratulations with manufactured warmth. The same omegas who'd schemed to take Wuxian's place now smiled through gritted teeth. The same family members who'd disowned him now flocked to his bedside with gifts and well-wishes.
Wuxian watched it all with weary eyes.
"They're not sincere," he told Wangji that night, back in their own bed. "They're just happy because now they don't have to feel guilty about how they treated me."
"Probably." Wangji lay beside him, one hand resting protectively on Wuxian's stomach. "Does it matter?"
"It should. It does. But-" Wuxian covered Wangji's hand with his own. "I'm too happy to care. After all these years, I'm finally pregnant. Let them pretend. Let them celebrate. None of it changes what they did, but none of it changes this, either."
Wangji kissed him softly. "That's my wise husband."
The pregnancy progressed normally-at first. Wuxian followed every instruction, ate every recommended food, avoided every listed danger. He visited the clinic regularly. He rested when tired. He let Wangji fuss over him endlessly.
And he was happy. Genuinely, deeply happy, for the first time in years.
The villagers noticed. Some were genuinely pleased. Others-particularly the omegas who'd hoped to replace him-watched with barely concealed jealousy.
"That bitch," one muttered as Wuxian passed in the market, one hand resting on his growing belly. "First he gets the best alpha in the village. Now a child. Why do the gods favor him?"
"Maybe the child won't survive," another whispered back. "These things happen."
They didn't say it loudly enough for Wuxian to hear. But the universe heard. And the universe, cruel as it could be, seemed to listen.
---
The Loss
Nine months came and went. Wuxian's belly grew round and full. He prepared the nursery with loving care-tiny clothes, a hand-carved cradle, soft blankets woven with hope. Wangji watched him with eyes full of adoration, counting down the days until he'd hold their child.
The pains started in the morning.
Wuxian ignored them at first. False labor, the older women said, was common. He continued his day, tidying the house, preparing Wangji's lunch. But by midday, the pains had intensified, radiating through his back and abdomen with alarming force.
"Wangji," he gasped, but Wangji was at the farm. No one else was nearby. The villagers, ever watchful, ever nosy, were strangely absent when he needed them.
He managed to reach the neighbor's house. The neighbor, seeing his state, sent his son running for Wangji while he helped Wuxian toward the clinic.
Wangji ran faster than he'd ever run in his life. His cutlass lay abandoned in the field. His crops could rot for all he cared. His husband needed him.
By the time he reached the clinic, his mother was already there, arguing with the doctor.
"What do you mean he can't push? Other omegas push! It's what they're made for!"
"Madam, please-" The doctor's face was strained. "He doesn't have the strength. The baby is positioned wrong. We need to operate, or we could lose them both."
"Operate? On my son-in-law? Absolutely not. He can push. Make him push."
"He can't."
Wangji pushed through the crowd. "Doctor. Do the operation."
His mother whirled on him. "Wangji! Have you lost your mind? Operations are dangerous! The baby could-"
"I don't care about the baby."
The words fell like stones into still water. Everyone stared.
Wangji met his mother's eyes without flinching. "I care about my husband. If we lose the baby, we lose the baby. It will break our hearts, but we will survive. If I lose Wuxian-" His voice cracked. "I won't survive that. Doctor, do whatever you need to do. Save my husband."
The doctor nodded once and disappeared back through the doors.
The wait was the longest hour of Wangji's life. His mother sat rigidly beside him, radiating disapproval. Wuxian's family arrived, their earlier joy replaced by anxious silence. The villagers gathered outside, hungry for news, for drama, for anything to break the monotony of their small lives.
When the doctor finally emerged, his face told the story before his words could.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Wangji. We lost the baby. Your husband-" He held up a hand as Wangji lurched forward. "Your husband is alive. It was close-very close-but he'll recover. His womb is undamaged. In time, you can try again."
Wangji sagged against the wall, relief and grief warring in his chest. Wuxian was alive. That was all that mattered. That was everything.
His mother didn't see it that way.
"That useless omega!" He slammed his hand against the reception desk. "Eight years with no child, and now this! He couldn't even carry to term! Why did I ever agree to this match? Why did I let sentiment ruin my son's life?"
Wangji straightened. "Mother."
He ignored him. "He should have died with the baby. At least then Wangji could marry someone capable. Someone who could actually-"
"Mother."
This time, his voice stopped him cold. Wangji had never spoken to his mother like this-like he was a stranger, an enemy, someone he no longer recognized.
"You will leave. Now. And you will not speak of my husband that way again. Ever."
Madam Lan's mouth opened and closed. "Wangji, I'm your mother. I only want what's best-"
"What's best for whom? For me? Or for your reputation? For the grandchildren you demand? For the perfect family you imagined?" He shook his head slowly. "I don't know who you are anymore. But you're not welcome here. Not today. Not until you can treat my husband with the respect he deserves."
His mother stared at him, wounded fury in his eyes. Then he turned and walked out without another word.
Wuxian's family lingered awkwardly for a moment before making their own excuses and slipping away. Only Wangji remained, waiting until the nurses allowed him to see his husband.
Wuxian lay in the same bed where he'd received the happiest news of his life, now shattered. His eyes were open, staring at the ceiling, dry and empty.
"Wuxian." Wangji took his hand gently.
"I killed our baby."
"No. You didn't."
"My body killed our baby. I'm useless. I'm worse than useless. I'm a grave."
"Stop." Wangji climbed onto the bed, gathering his husband close despite the tubes and monitors. "Stop. Listen to me. This is not your fault. Some pregnancies don't survive. It happens. It's tragic and cruel and unfair, but it is not your fault."
Wuxian shook in his arms, silent tears finally falling. "I wanted this baby so much. I wanted to give you-"
"You gave me yourself. That's all I've ever wanted." Wangji held him tighter. "We'll grieve together. We'll heal together. And if you want to try again, we'll try again. But right now, all that matters is you recovering. All that matters is you staying alive."
They held each other as the sun set and the stars emerged. They held each other through the night. They held each other as the village gossiped and speculated and moved on to other dramas.
They held each other, and somehow, that was enough.
---
The Miracle
Seven months after the loss, Wuxian discovered he was pregnant again.
The news should have brought joy. Instead, it brought terror. Every twinge, every cramp, every moment of nausea sent him spiraling into panic. He visited the clinic obsessively. He followed every instruction with religious devotion. He barely slept, barely ate, barely functioned under the weight of his fear.
The villagers, predictably, made it worse.
"Did you hear? The barren omega is pregnant again."
"How long before that one dies too?"
"He probably ate the first one. I heard some omegas do that-eat their own young when they're jealous of the attention."
"Wuxian is a witch."
"A baby-eating witch."
Wuxian heard them. He always heard them. He ran home crying more days than not, and Wangji would hold him and rage internally at people who had nothing better to do than torment his already suffering husband.
But this time, something was different. This time, when Wangji asked who had hurt him, Wuxian wiped his tears and said, "It doesn't matter. I will give birth to this one. God won't let me cry forever. Their mockery will turn to praise. You'll see."
Wangji looked at his husband-at the stubborn set of his jaw, the fire in his eyes-and fell in love all over again.
"That's right," he said softly. "They will eat their words. And I'll be right here, watching them choke on them."
The pregnancy progressed carefully. Wuxian did everything right. He ate well, rested often, avoided stress as much as possible in a village that thrived on gossip. He visited the clinic monthly, then weekly, then daily as his due date approached.
At seven months, the doctor delivered concerning news.
"Mr. Wuxian, based on my examinations, I don't believe you'll be able to deliver naturally. Your body simply doesn't have the strength for labor. You'll need another operation."
Wuxian's heart dropped. "Another operation?"
"It's the safest option. I can schedule it for your ninth month. We'll deliver the baby surgically, and with proper care, you should both recover well."
Wuxian nodded numbly and went home to tell Wangji.
Wangji listened, held him, and then said something unexpected.
"Forget what the doctor said."
Wuxian blinked. "What?"
"Forget it. We're not doing an operation." Wangji cupped his face in both hands. "You are going to give birth to this baby naturally. Just like the Hebrew women in the scriptures. Just like Sarah when she bore Isaac. Just like Hannah when she bore Samuel. You are going to push this baby out, and you are both going to be fine."
"Wangji, the doctor said-"
"I don't care what the doctor said. I care about what you said-that God won't let you cry forever. That your suffering will turn to praise. I believe that. And I need you to believe it too."
Wuxian stared at him, tears streaming down his face. "What if you're wrong?"
"Then I'll be wrong, and we'll face whatever comes together. But I'm not wrong. I can feel it." Wangji pressed their foreheads together. "This time is different. This time, everything will be different."
---
The Birth
Nine months. Labor began at dawn.
Wuxian gripped Wangji's hand as the contractions rolled through him, wave after wave of pain that stole his breath and blurred his vision. Wangji never left his side, never stopped whispering encouragement, never let go.
At the clinic, the doctor prepared for surgery. Wuxian stopped him.
"No operation."
The doctor stared. "Mr. Wuxian, we discussed this. Your body can't-"
"My body can do this." Wuxian's voice was steel despite the pain. "My body has carried this baby for nine months. My body will bring this baby into the world. I don't need an operation. I need you to believe in me."
The doctor shook his head. "This is foolishness. You're choosing death."
"Then let me choose it. But I won't die. I won't."
The doctor left in frustration. The nurses stayed, uncertain what to do. Wuxian ignored them all, focusing inward, focusing on the life fighting to emerge.
Hours passed. Wangji paced the waiting area, praying to every god he knew. His parents arrived, then Wuxian's family, then a crowd of villagers hungry for news. The doctor emerged periodically with updates that grew increasingly incredulous.
"He's still pushing. I don't understand it. He should have collapsed hours ago."
Wangji allowed himself a small smile. "That's my Wuxian."
And then-finally, impossibly, miraculously-they heard it.
A baby's cry.
The sound cut through the waiting area like sunlight through clouds. Everyone froze. Then, as one, they surged toward the doors.
The doctor emerged first, his face a study in wonder. "A baby boy. Healthy. Perfect. And the father-" He shook his head, laughing. "Wuxian is fine. They're both fine. He did it. He actually did it."
The waiting area exploded.
Villagers cheered. Family members wept. Someone ran out to buy white powder and returned to dump it over Wangji's head in the traditional celebration. Wangji stood in the center of it all, barely registering any of it, focused entirely on the door he was about to walk through.
When he finally reached Wuxian's room, his husband lay exhausted but radiant, a tiny bundle in his arms. Their son. Their miracle.
"Wangji." Wuxian's voice was hoarse but happy. "Look. Look what we made."
Wangji crossed to the bed and looked down at the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen: his husband, glowing with triumph, holding their perfect child. The baby had a tuft of dark hair and Wuxian's button nose and tiny fists that waved aimlessly.
"He's perfect," Wangji whispered.
"He needs a name."
Wangji thought for a moment. "What about A-Yuan?"
Wuxian's face lit up. "A-Yuan. Our A-Yuan." He looked at the baby, then back at Wangji. "Thank you. For never giving up on me. For waiting eight years. For loving me when I couldn't love myself."
Wangji leaned down and kissed him, gentle and reverent. "Thank you for this." He looked at their son. "Thank you for our bundle of joy."
---
Epilogue: One Year Later
A-Yuan's first birthday party was the largest gathering Gusu had seen in years.
The same villagers who'd once mocked Wuxian now brought gifts and praise. The same omegas who'd schemed to replace him now cooed over the healthy, laughing baby in his arms. The same family members who'd disowned him now jostled for position, eager to be seen with the couple who'd defied all odds.
Wuxian watched them all with a small, knowing smile.
"Does it bother you?" Wangji asked quietly, appearing at his elbow. "Their hypocrisy?"
"A little." Wuxian shifted A-Yuan to his other hip. "But mostly, I just feel sorry for them. Imagine living your whole life celebrating people's failures and resenting their successes. What kind of existence is that?"
Wangji slipped an arm around his waist. "A sad one."
"Yes." Wuxian leaned into him. "A very sad one."
A-Yuan babbled and reached for his father, and Wangji took him gladly, swinging the giggling baby into the air. Wuxian watched them-his husband, his son, his family-and felt something he'd thought lost forever.
Peace.
"You know," he said thoughtfully, "when I was suffering, I used to wonder why God was punishing me. Why I had to wait so long when everyone else seemed to get everything so easily. But now-" He touched A-Yuan's tiny hand. "Now I think maybe the waiting was the point."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, if I'd gotten pregnant in our first year, I wouldn't appreciate this the way I do. I wouldn't understand how precious it is. I wouldn't know-really know-that a child is a gift, not an entitlement." He looked at Wangji. "And I wouldn't know, beyond any doubt, that you love me for me. Not for what I could give you. Just... me."
Wangji's eyes softened. "I've always loved you for you."
"I know that now. I didn't before." Wuxian leaned up and kissed him softly. "But I know it now. And I'll spend the rest of my life being grateful for it."
A-Yuan, impatient with being ignored, grabbed a fistful of Wangji's hair and yanked. Wangji winced; Wuxian laughed.
"Our son," Wangji said dryly, "has your temperament."
"Is that a complaint?"
"Never." Wangji disentangled A-Yuan's grip and kissed the baby's forehead. "It's exactly what I wanted."
They stood together, the three of them, as the party continued around them. The sun shone. The village celebrated. And somewhere, in a place beyond pain and grief and waiting, two mothers who'd made a promise decades ago smiled down at the family their love had created.
The fruitless tree had blossomed at last.
And its fruit was sweeter than anyone could have imagined.
---
THE END
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