A Lifetime

Seungcheol Choi thought he already had everything — a successful career, a loving wife, and a future filled with quiet happiness.

But the day his son was born was also the day he lost the love of his life.

Left to raise his child alone, Seungcheol devoted himself entirely to being a father. For years, he convinced himself that the two of them were enough. Love, he believed, was something that belonged to his past.

Until Jeonghan Yoon entered their lives.

A gentle daycare teacher with a warm smile and a heart big enough to care not only for Seungcheol’s son, but for the broken pieces Seungcheol thought would never heal.

Falling for him wasn’t part of the plan.

Neither was being loved back.

But sometimes, life takes everything away — only to give you a new kind of happiness you never thought you deserved.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

The elevator doors opened with a quiet chime, and Seungcheol stepped out slowly, the weight of the entire day settling heavily on his shoulders. Mabigat ang bawat hakbang niya habang tinatahak ang mahabang hallway papunta sa penthouse. Each step felt slower than the last, exhaustion clinging to him like a second skin.

When the door finally closed behind him, he was greeted by silence.

The penthouse was dim, illuminated only by soft, warm lights left on around the living area. Tahimik. Payapa. Pero ramdam na ramdam ang pagod sa buong katawan niya. The stillness wrapped around him, a quiet reminder of how late it was — and how many nights had already passed just like this.

He loosened his tie as he made his way upstairs, his movements slower now, heavier. Without stopping to change or rest, he walked straight toward one particular room.

The door opened gently under his hand.

And just like that, the exhaustion faded.

There, on the bed, his five-year-old son lay curled up — small arms wrapped tightly around the person beside him. Jeonghan.

His boyfriend.

His partner.

His son’s dada.

Both of them were fast asleep, breathing softly, their bodies naturally leaning toward each other as if comfort came instinctively.

Seungcheol glanced at the clock on the bedside table.

11:30 PM.

Three weeks since he last came home early enough to see them awake.

Work had been relentless — back-to-back meetings with the board, endless discussions with employees, negotiations with clients. May mga international calls pa na inaabot ng madaling araw. There were nights he barely left his office, surviving on coffee and deadlines, convincing himself that everything he was doing was for them.

Still, the guilt lingered.

Slowly, he walked closer to the bed, careful not to make a sound.

His chest tightened — then softened.

His son was hugging Jeonghan tightly, small fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt as if afraid to let go. At si Jeonghan naman, nakayakap din sa bata, one arm protectively wrapped around him, his face calm and peaceful even in sleep.

The sight made Seungcheol’s heart swell.

Ito ang pahinga niya.

Without changing, without even taking off his watch, he carefully lay down beside his son, moving slowly so he wouldn’t wake them. He rested on his side, close enough to feel their warmth, his eyes lingering on their sleeping faces.

Gusto niya muna silang pagmasdan.

He missed them.

Even though they slept side by side every night, even though they still shared breakfast every morning, iba pa rin ang pakiramdam kapag nauuwi siya nang maaga — when he would find them awake, waiting for him, excited to spend a little family time before bed.

Yung kwentuhan.

Yung tawanan.

Yung simpleng yakap ng anak niya at halik ni Jeonghan sa pisngi niya.

Those small moments meant more than any success, any deal, any achievement.

Tonight, all he could do was watch them sleep.

Seungcheol reached out carefully, brushing his fingers through his son’s hair before letting his hand rest lightly over Jeonghan’s arm.

“I’m home,” he whispered softly, even though neither of them could hear.

Seungcheol carefully slipped his right arm around the two people beside him, drawing them closer without disturbing their sleep. Maingat ang bawat galaw niya, as if afraid the moment might disappear if he moved too fast. His fingers slowly found Jeonghan’s face, his thumb gently brushing against his boyfriend’s cheek in a soft, familiar caress.

He let himself linger there, memorizing the warmth.

Jeonghan had always been a light sleeper. Kahit kaunting ingay o galaw lang sa paligid, agad siyang nagigising. So when the mattress dipped slightly and the bed shifted, his senses stirred. And when he felt the familiar touch — warm, careful, and achingly gentle — and heard the quiet whisper he had been waiting for all night, tuluyan nang nagising ang diwa niya.

Jeonghan slowly opened his eyes.

The first thing he saw was Seungcheol.

Without hesitation, he lifted his hand and held the one resting against his cheek, his fingers naturally intertwining with Seungcheol’s as if they had done it a thousand times before.

“Hi, love,” Seungcheol whispered softly, his voice low and affectionate.

Jeonghan looked at him, eyes still heavy with sleep but filled with warmth. The softness in his gaze never changed — not even after long nights, not even after waiting.

He noticed it immediately.

The exhaustion in Seungcheol’s eyes.

The heaviness behind his gentle smile.

“Hello, love,” Jeonghan murmured quietly. “Kumain ka na?”

Seungcheol shook his head slightly.

“Hindi pa. Mamaya na lang after I shower,” he answered, his thumb still absentmindedly tracing small circles on Jeonghan’s skin. “Sleep ka na ulit, love. You should rest.”

Jeonghan frowned a little, tightening his hold on Seungcheol’s hand.

“Sasabayan kita kumain,” he said softly. “Inantay talaga kita. Ilang gabi na tayong hindi nagkakasabay.”

The simple words did more than any comfort could.

The tension in Seungcheol’s chest loosened. His shoulders relaxed just a little, and the exhaustion he had been carrying all week suddenly felt lighter.

He shifted closer, their foreheads almost touching.

“I miss you, love,” he admitted quietly. “Miss ko na kayo ni Dion.”

There was a hint of sadness in his voice — quiet, controlled, but real.

Jeonghan’s expression softened even more. He reached up and brushed a strand of hair away from Seungcheol’s forehead, his touch slow and reassuring.

“I know,” he whispered. “Miss ka na rin namin.”

He glanced briefly at the small figure sleeping between them.

“Dion tried his best kanina to wait for you,” Jeonghan continued gently. “Kaso hindi na niya talaga kinaya yung antok.”

A small smile formed on his lips.

“He said aagahan na lang daw niya gumising bukas. Gusto ka raw niyang yakapin at bigyan ng goodluck kiss bago ka pumasok sa work.”

Seungcheol let out a quiet breath.

For a moment, he couldn’t speak.

His chest tightened — not from stress this time, but from guilt.

His five-year-old son was trying to stay awake for him. Trying to wake up earlier just to see him.

All because he kept coming home late.

Seungcheol smiled, but the emotion behind it was heavy.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, more to himself than to Jeonghan.

Jeonghan immediately shook his head.

“Hey,” he murmured, squeezing his hand. “We understand, love. Ginagawa mo ‘to para sa amin. Dion knows that. And I know that.”

He moved closer, pressing a gentle kiss against Seungcheol’s temple.

“We’re proud of you.”

The words settled deep.

Seungcheol closed his eyes for a second, letting the warmth of Jeonghan’s presence sink in — the steady hand holding his, the quiet reassurance, the calm he always brought with him.

When he opened his eyes again, his gaze softened.

“Still,” he said quietly, glancing at their sleeping son, “I’ll try to come home earlier tomorrow.”

Jeonghan smiled.

Jeonghan tightened his hold on Seungcheol’s hand, his thumb gently brushing over his knuckles as if he could feel the weight his boyfriend had been carrying for weeks.

“Love,” he began softly, his voice calm and steady, “alam kong sobrang busy mo ngayon. You don’t have to force yourself to come home early kung ang kapalit naman nun ay may trabaho kang hindi matatapos.”

He shifted a little closer, their foreheads almost touching again.

“Our son and I understand you,” he continued. “Matalino ang anak natin, Cheol. He knows how hard you’re working for us. Hindi siya magtatampo, and he would never hold this against you.”

Jeonghan’s fingers moved up, gently cupping Seungcheol’s cheek.

“And after this busy season? I know you. Babawi ka. You always do.”

He smiled softly, the kind of smile that always made Seungcheol feel safe.

“Kaya kung ano man yung iniisip mo, whatever guilt or worries you’re carrying, you can let them go, okay? You’re doing your best. And for us, that’s more than enough. Proud kami sa’yo. Mahal ka namin.”

The words settled quietly between them.

Seungcheol let out a deep breath.

Parang unti-unting nawala ang lahat ng bigat sa dibdib niya. The overthinking, the guilt, the pressure he kept putting on himself — all of it faded, dissolved by the warmth of the person in front of him.

His eyes softened.

“I love you,” he whispered.

It was simple, but it carried everything he couldn’t put into words.

Jeonghan’s heart skipped, warmth spreading through his chest at the sincerity in his voice.

“I love you too, love,” he answered softly.

He leaned forward.

Seungcheol met him halfway.

The kiss was slow and gentle — not hurried, not desperate. Just warmth. Just reassurance. Just the quiet comfort of knowing they were still here, still choosing each other, even in the middle of busy days and long nights.

They stayed like that for a moment, foreheads resting together afterward, breathing the same air.

Between them, their son slept peacefully, unaware of the quiet love surrounding him.

A small, complete family.

After a while, Seungcheol exhaled softly.

“Quick shower lang ako, love,” he murmured, finally feeling the hunger and exhaustion settling back into his body.

Jeonghan nodded, giving his hand one last squeeze.

Slowly, they both sat up. Seungcheol carefully fixed Dion’s blanket, tucking it gently around him. Inayos naman ni Jeonghan ang mga dinosaur stuffed toys sa paligid ng bata, making sure his favorites were within reach in case he woke up looking for them.

They shared a fond look before leaning down together, pressing soft kisses on their son’s cheeks.

“Good night, baby,” Jeonghan whispered.

Then they quietly stepped out of the room, closing the door halfway.

Magkahawak kamay silang naglakad sa hallway, their fingers naturally intertwined, the silence between them comfortable and warm.

When they reached their bedroom, Seungcheol headed straight to the bathroom while Jeonghan walked toward their closet. He quickly picked out a soft set of sleepwear for him, familiar with his preferences even without asking.

Pagkatapos, maingat niya itong inilapag sa ibabaw ng kama.

From inside the bathroom, the sound of running water soon filled the room.

Jeonghan glanced toward the door before raising his voice slightly.

“Love! Punta na ako sa kitchen. Iinitin ko na yung pagkain natin!”

The shower paused for a moment.

“Okay, love!” Seungcheol called back, his voice louder over the sound of water. “Sunod ako agad after this. I love you!”

Jeonghan couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking his head as warmth spread across his face.

“I love you too,” he murmured to himself as he walked toward the door.

Jeonghan stood by the stove, quietly watching the pot in front of him. Hinihintay na lang niyang kumulo nang tuluyan ang sinigang na baboy na niluto niya kanina. It was a familiar recipe, one he had perfected over time.

Paborito ito ng mag-ama.

And tonight, he knew Seungcheol needed it more than ever. After long days and longer nights at work, nothing comforted him better than something warm, homemade, and prepared with care.

When the broth finally reached a rolling boil, Jeonghan immediately turned off the heat.

The rich aroma of tamarind, vegetables, and tender pork slowly filled the entire kitchen, the sour and savory scent wrapping the space in warmth.

He took out two bowls and carefully ladled the steaming sinigang into them.

The smell spread even stronger.

“Mm, bango!”

Jeonghan smiled even before turning around.

Seungcheol had just entered the kitchen, hair slightly damp from his shower, dressed in his sleepwear. He walked straight toward Jeonghan without hesitation, as if drawn by both the food and the person preparing it.

Before Jeonghan could say anything, Seungcheol’s arms wrapped around his waist from behind, pulling him close. He buried his face into the side of Jeonghan’s neck, breathing in deeply.

“Love,” Jeonghan said softly, trying not to spill the soup, “umupo ka muna doon. Mamaya na po maglambing. Alam kong gutom ka na.”

But Seungcheol only shook his head.

A small, almost pouty sound escaped him as he pressed his face deeper against Jeonghan’s neck, tightening his hold.

Napailing na lang si Jeonghan, a fond smile forming on his lips as he continued preparing their meal. Hinayaan na lang niya ito, kahit nahirapan siyang gumalaw dahil sa yakap ng nobyo.

It took him longer than usual to scoop the rice and finish setting the bowls, especially with Seungcheol still attached to him like he had no intention of letting go.

But the moment Seungcheol noticed that everything was ready, he finally released him and quickly took over.

“I got it,” he murmured.

He carried the dishes to the dining table, then pulled out a chair for Jeonghan before sitting beside him. As soon as they settled, he picked up his spoon and took a sip of the hot broth.

His eyes immediately lit up.

“Ang sarap mo talagang magluto, love!” he exclaimed. “Kuhang-kuha mo yung gusto kong linamnam at asim ng sinigang.”

He took another spoonful, this time followed by a satisfied hum.

Jeonghan watched him with quiet amusement and warmth.

Masaya na siyang makita itong kumakain nang ganito. If a simple meal could ease even a little of Seungcheol’s exhaustion, then all the effort was worth it.

They ate slowly, the conversation flowing naturally between bites.

Seungcheol talked about his meetings, the endless reports, and a client who almost gave him a headache. Jeonghan shared small stories from his day at home and Dion’s little moments that he knew Seungcheol would want to hear.

Every now and then, Seungcheol would lean closer to steal a quick kiss from Jeonghan’s lips.

“Cheol,” Jeonghan laughed softly at one point. “Kumain ka muna.”

“I am,” Seungcheol replied, grinning, before kissing him again.

His free hand rested on Jeonghan’s thigh, absently tracing small circles — quiet, unconscious affection that never seemed to leave him.

After finishing their meal, they worked together to clean up.

Seungcheol washed the dishes while Jeonghan wiped the counters and put everything back in place. Tahimik lang silang dalawa, but the silence was comfortable — the kind that came from routine and familiarity.

When the kitchen was spotless, they headed upstairs together.

Their nighttime routine followed naturally — brushing their teeth, changing the lights, making sure everything was in order before finally settling into bed.

As soon as they lay down, Seungcheol moved closer.

Without thinking, he slipped into his favorite sleeping position — his head resting on Jeonghan’s arm, his face buried into the crook of his neck, arms wrapped tightly around his waist.

His usual position.

The one he always chose whenever he needed comfort.

Jeonghan chuckled softly and adjusted his arm around him, his fingers gently combing through Seungcheol’s hair.

“Good night, love,” he whispered. “I love you.”

Seungcheol lifted his head slightly, just enough to press a soft kiss against Jeonghan’s lips.

“Good night,” he murmured. “I love you more, love.”

Then he settled back into the warmth of Jeonghan’s neck, holding him close.

Within minutes, his breathing began to slow — the tension of the day finally melting away in the quiet safety of home.

Seungcheol let out a soft groan as he slowly stirred awake, the sharp sound of the alarm clock breaking the quiet morning air. Still half-asleep, he reached toward the bedside table, quickly turning it off before it could ring any longer.

Ayaw niyang magising si Jeonghan.

The room fell silent again.

They were still close — bodies naturally pressed together — but their positions had changed sometime during the night. If Seungcheol had fallen asleep with his head buried in Jeonghan’s neck, this morning it was Jeonghan who was resting comfortably against him.

Now, Jeonghan’s head lay on his arm, his face tucked into the crook of Seungcheol’s neck, his arm loosely draped over his waist.

Ganito naman talaga sila.

Somewhere in the middle of the night, they always shifted — unconsciously finding each other again, adjusting until they fit just right.

And no matter how many mornings passed like this, neither of them ever grew tired of it.

Seungcheol glanced at the clock.

7:00 AM.

His schedule wouldn’t start until 10. Mostly international calls and meetings with new investors — important, but manageable. For once, he wasn’t rushing out the door before sunrise.

May oras pa siya.

Oras para sa kanila.

His gaze softened as he looked down at the man sleeping peacefully in his arms.

Jeonghan’s face was calm, relaxed, almost glowing in the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. Sobrang payapa ng itsura nito — angelic, gentle, the kind of face that could make anyone’s worries fade with just one look.

Seungcheol carefully lifted his free hand and brushed away a few strands of hair that had fallen across Jeonghan’s forehead.

His touch was slow, gentle.

His fingers traced lightly along Jeonghan’s cheek before he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss against his lips.

Once.

He paused.

Then twice.

Then three times.

Four.

A quiet smile formed on his face as he continued, his kisses wandering — the corner of Jeonghan’s mouth, his cheek, his nose, his temple — until he was practically covering his entire face with small, affectionate pecks.

He couldn’t help himself.

After a few seconds, he heard it.

A small, sleepy sound.

Then a quiet laugh.

Jeonghan shifted slightly in his arms, his nose scrunching as another kiss landed on his cheek.

“Love…” he murmured softly, voice thick with sleep but laced with amusement.

Well, he was used to this.

Sanay na si Jeonghan na ganito siya ginigising ng nobyo niya.

His eyes fluttered open slowly, and the first thing he saw was Seungcheol’s wide, fond smile.

“Good morning, love.” Seungcheol press one more kiss on his forehead.

Jeonghan chuckled softly, still half-asleep, his arm tightening around Seungcheol’s waist.

“Good morning din, love,” Jeonghan murmured softly, his voice still thick with sleep as he leaned forward to press a gentle kiss against Seungcheol’s lips.

For a moment, they simply looked at each other.

There was something quiet and familiar in the way their eyes met — warmth, comfort, and the kind of affection that didn’t need words.

Then their lips found each other again.

This time, the kiss lingered.

Slow at first, unhurried and soft, filled with the kind of tenderness that only came from mornings like this — no rush, no distance, just warmth and presence. Seungcheol’s hand came up to cradle Jeonghan’s cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against his skin as he deepened the kiss just a little.

Jeonghan responded naturally, one hand sliding to the back of Seungcheol’s neck, pulling him closer.

What began as a simple good morning slowly melted into something deeper — familiar, comfortable, and full of longing that had quietly built over the past few busy weeks.

Their breathing began to grow uneven.

The kiss grew slower, warmer, less careful.

Jeonghan barely noticed when their positions shifted.

One moment they were lying side by side — the next, Seungcheol had moved over him, careful but instinctive, as if his body already knew where it wanted to be.

Jeonghan found himself looking up at him, slightly breathless.

Seungcheol hovered above him, one arm wrapped securely around his waist, holding him close. Nakapwesto siya sa pagitan ng mga hita ni Jeonghan, their bodies naturally fitting together.

“Cheol…” Jeonghan whispered, half a warning, half a breath.

But there was no real resistance in his voice.

Seungcheol only smiled faintly before leaning down again, this time letting his lips trail slowly from Jeonghan’s jaw down to the side of his neck.

His kisses were slower now, lingering — warm, unhurried, and affectionate rather than rushed.

Jeonghan’s fingers tightened slightly against his shoulders, a soft breath escaping him as he tilted his head just enough to give him more space.

Jeonghan let out a soft gasp.

“Aah—!”

The sound slipped from his lips when he felt Seungcheol’s teeth graze lightly against the sensitive skin of his neck, followed by a slow, soothing swipe of his tongue.

“Love… ah…” Jeonghan breathed out again, his fingers tightening slightly against the sheets as Seungcheol’s lips moved lower, lingering over his collarbone, leaving warm, open-mouthed kisses that sent shivers down his spine.

Seungcheol paused for a moment, lifting himself just enough to look at him.

There was something different in his eyes now — darker, heavier, filled with quiet longing that had been building over the past few weeks of distance and exhaustion.

Slowly, he pushed himself up and pulled his shirt over his head.

Jeonghan’s breath hitched.

No matter how many times he had seen him like this, the sight still left him in awe — the broad shoulders, the defined lines of his body, the quiet strength that always made him feel safe and wanted at the same time.

Seungcheol stepped off the bed briefly, removing the rest of his clothing without breaking eye contact.

Jeonghan could only watch, his chest rising and falling a little faster now, warmth creeping across his skin under the weight of that gaze.

When Seungcheol returned, he moved back onto the bed, settling near Jeonghan’s legs.

His hands found the hem of Jeonghan’s shirt, slowly lifting it over his head and tossing it somewhere across the room. The rest of his sleepwear followed, discarded just as carelessly, forgotten the moment skin met skin.

The air between them felt warmer now. Closer. Heavier.

Jeonghan swallowed softly.

When he looked back up, he saw it clearly — the way Seungcheol’s eyes had darkened, filled with quiet intensity.

Without a word, Seungcheol gently guided his legs apart, settling himself between them.

His touch was slow, deliberate — not rushed, not rough — just steady and sure, as if he was taking his time to remind Jeonghan that he was here.

That he wasn’t going anywhere.

Jeonghan’s fingers curled into the sheets as Seungcheol leaned down again, pressing warm kisses along his inner thigh, moving slowly, patiently.

A shaky breath left him.

And right then, with the morning sunlight barely filling the room and the day not even fully begun yet, Jeonghan already knew—

Mukhang mapapagod siya ngayong umaga.

But judging by the way his heart was racing and the warmth spreading through his chest, he wasn’t complaining.

His face was buried deep into the pillow, hips raised, back arched beautifully as heavy breaths spilled from his lips. Ganito ang lagay ni Jeonghan ngayon—messy, wrecked, and completely open—while Seungcheol kept moving behind him, thrusting in and out with a steady, punishing rhythm.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the bedroom, loud and obscene.

“Oooh—aaah!” Jeonghan cried out when Seungcheol hit that spot again, the one that made his toes curl and his vision blur.

“Fuck, love… you’re so tight. Shit.” Seungcheol’s voice came out rough, almost feral.

He tightened his grip on Jeonghan’s waist, fingers digging into soft skin as he drove himself deeper. Mas diniinan niya, mas binilisan, each thrust pushing forward with intent, stretching the slick heat that welcomed him so eagerly.

They were both drenched in sweat. This was already their second position. Thirty minutes in, and they had been devouring each other nonstop—kisses turning into bites, touches turning into desperate need.

Jeonghan was a complete mess.

All he could do was moan, shout, and take everything his boyfriend gave him.

“AAAAAH!” Jeonghan screamed when Seungcheol’s palm suddenly slapped his ass.

Mahapdi. But it only made the heat coil tighter inside him.

“Love, shit… ang sarap mo talaga.” Seungcheol groaned, voice thick with want as he leaned down, licking a slow stripe up Jeonghan’s sweaty back, all the way to the shell of his ear. “You feel so fucking good.”

Jeonghan shuddered.

“Sagad ko pa, love? Hmm?” Seungcheol whispered darkly against his ear. “You want me deeper? Isagad ko pa?”

Jeonghan’s fingers clenched the bedsheets, knuckles turning white. “Y-yes, love… yes,” he managed, breathless and wrecked.

Seungcheol smirked behind him.

He adjusted his position slightly, and then slammed back in—harder, deeper, faster. Each thrust made the bed creak loudly. Each movement pushed obscene sounds out of Jeonghan’s mouth.

Only moans, desperate cries, and the wet sound of their bodies meeting echoed in every corner of their room.

“Love—I’m gonna cum,” Jeonghan whimpered, voice breaking.

Seungcheol felt it—the way Jeonghan tightened around him, squeezing him so perfectly it almost made him lose control right then.

Without warning, he pulled out.

Jeonghan gasped at the sudden emptiness.

Seungcheol quickly flipped him onto his back. Now Jeonghan lay spread open on the bed, legs parted wide, chest heaving, eyes hazy with pleasure.

“You look so fucking pretty like this,” Seungcheol muttered.

And then he pushed back in.

Both of them groaned loudly as he bottomed out again, filling him completely.

“AAAah! Love—!” Jeonghan cried, hands gripping Seungcheol’s arms tightly.

“Yeah?” Seungcheol panted, thrusting deep and slow this time before building the pace again. “You cumming, love?”

Jeonghan nodded desperately, unable to form proper words.

“Cum for me. Give it to me,” Seungcheol urged, voice low and commanding. “Balutin mo tite ko ng katas mo. I want to feel you.”

He started pounding into him faster, harder, chasing that sweet spot mercilessly.

Jeonghan’s eyes rolled back when Seungcheol hit it again and again. His mouth fell open, broken moans spilling out uncontrollably.

“Cheol—ah! Cheol—!”

A few more brutal thrusts and Jeonghan’s body trembled violently. He came hard, hips lifting off the bed as pleasure ripped through him. His inner walls clenched tightly around Seungcheol, warm and slick.

Seungcheol groaned at the feeling. “Fuck—fuck, I can feel it.”

He didn’t stop.

Instead, he thrust even faster, chasing his own release now.

Jeonghan was limp beneath him, overstimulated, trembling. Ilang beses na siyang nilabasan. His body was sensitive, almost too much—but he couldn’t bring himself to push Seungcheol away.

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes from the overwhelming sensation.

He sobbed softly. “Love… too much…”

His hair was disheveled, skin flushed, sweat trailing down his neck and chest. He looked utterly ruined—and Seungcheol loved it.

Seungcheol leaned down and kissed him deeply. Jeonghan kissed back weakly, still craving him despite everything.

“Konti na lang, love,” Seungcheol whispered against his lips. “Stay awake for me, okay? You’re doing so good. You’re taking me so well.”

He buried his face into Jeonghan’s neck, inhaling his scent, hips still moving relentlessly.

Jeonghan wrapped his arms around Seungcheol’s neck, clinging to him, soft moans spilling out with every thrust.

Seungcheol’s pace grew erratic.

“Fuck, Han!”

A few more deep, desperate thrusts and he finally came, groaning loudly as release tore through him. He held Jeonghan tightly as he spilled inside him, hips pressing flush to make sure he was fully buried.

They stayed like that for a moment.

Breathing heavy. Bodies tangled. Hearts racing.

Seungcheol slowly lifted his head and pressed a softer kiss to Jeonghan’s lips.

“Still with me?” he murmured.

Jeonghan gave a weak, sleepy smile. “Yeah… I’m here.”

Seungcheol brushed damp hair away from his boyfriend’s face. “You did so well for me.”

Jeonghan let out a tired laugh. “Grabe ka… you’re insatiable.”

Seungcheol grinned, kissing his forehead this time.

“Only for you, love.”

The room fell quiet, filled only with heavy breathing and the lingering heat between them.

When the heat between them finally faded and their breathing slowly evened out, Seungcheol leaned in once more and pressed a deep, lingering kiss on Jeonghan’s lips — slow, unhurried, full of warmth rather than urgency.

He then shifted, settling beside him and pulling him close, one arm wrapped securely around Jeonghan’s body.

“Love,” Jeonghan murmured, still a little breathless, his voice soft as Seungcheol’s fingers gently combed through his hair, “we better start preparing na… kasi mamaya mangangatok na si Dion.”

Seungcheol chuckled quietly, burying his face briefly against Jeonghan’s temple.

“Wait lang, love,” he replied lazily. “Five minutes.”

He tightened his embrace, as if refusing to let go of the moment just yet.

They stayed like that — warm, tangled, and content — until a small, familiar sound broke the quiet.

Tok. Tok.

“Dada! Daddy! Wake up!”

The small voice from the other side of the door was followed by a tiny giggle.

Both of them laughed at the same time.

“Ayan na,” Jeonghan said with a smile, already moving to sit up.

“That’s our cue,” Seungcheol added fondly.

They quickly got dressed, exchanging soft smiles and light touches as they did, before Seungcheol finally walked to the door and opened it.

Standing there was Dion, clutching his favorite dinosaur plushie tightly against his chest, eyes bright and full of excitement.

“Good morning, baby,” Seungcheol greeted warmly.

He immediately scooped his son up into his arms, showering his cheeks with exaggerated kisses.

“Mwa! Mwa! Mwa!”

Dion burst into laughter, squirming happily.

“Good morning, daddy!” he replied in his high, cheerful voice, returning a quick kiss to Seungcheol’s cheek.

He then looked around, brows knitting together slightly.

“Where’s dada?” he asked, scanning the room for Jeonghan.

Seungcheol smiled and gently adjusted Dion in his arms.

“Naliligo na po si dada, baby,” he explained softly. “Let’s wait for him sa living room muna. Daddy and Dion’s time muna, okay?”

Dion’s face instantly lit up.

“Okay, daddy!” he said excitedly. “Let’s play na!”

Seungcheol laughed, pressing one more kiss to his son’s temple before carrying him out of the room.

Seungcheol carried him carefully toward the living room, setting him down on the rug where his toys were scattered.

They quickly fell into easy laughter — building dinosaur battles, making silly voices, listening to Dion’s animated stories about school and his latest bonding moments with Dada.

Seungcheol listened attentively, nodding and reacting with exaggerated gasps whenever Dion added dramatic details.

“Daddy, you have work today?” Dion suddenly asked, pausing mid-play.

Seungcheol inhaled quietly before answering.

“Yes po, baby. Pero mamaya pa naman. We still have time to play before Daddy goes to work.”

Dion hesitated, clutching his plushie tighter.

“Are you going home late again later, Daddy?” he asked softly. “I miss you na po kasi. I know you’re busy and you’re doing it for my future and for Dada… but it’s been so long since I got to sleep beside you.”

The words were gentle, innocent — but they hit hard. Seungcheol felt his chest tighten.

Without hesitation, he pulled Dion into his lap and wrapped his arms around him tightly.

“I miss you too, my little dinosaur,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to his son’s hair. “And I’m sorry if Daddy has been coming home late. Madami lang talagang ginagawa sa work.”

He rubbed Dion’s back soothingly.

“But mamaya? I won’t be late. Dada and I will sleep beside you tonight. Ako ang magbabasa ng favorite mong story before you sleep.”

Dion’s head lifted slightly.

“Really?”

“And tomorrow,” Seungcheol continued with a small smile, “we’ll go to the park. Picnic date tayong tatlo.”

“Promise, Daddy?” Dion asked, looking straight into his eyes.

“Promise po.”

He sealed it with another tight hug.

Soon, laughter filled the living room again as they resumed playing.

That was the scene Jeonghan walked into after finishing his shower.

His heart melted instantly.

Seeing his two favorite people like that — happy, close, complete — made everything feel right.

When Dion noticed him, he immediately ran over.

“Dada!”

Jeonghan bent down and picked him up effortlessly, kissing his cheeks.

“Good morning, my baby.”

“Good morning, Dada!” Dion replied brightly, kissing him back.

Seungcheol walked over and wrapped his arms around both of them from behind.

For a moment, they simply stood there — three bodies in one embrace.

Complete.

After a while, Jeonghan laughed softly.

“Okay, okay. Maligo na kayong dalawa. I’ll cook breakfast.”

“Yes, Dada!” Dion cheered.

Seungcheol leaned down to kiss Jeonghan quickly.

“Yes, Boss!” he teased.

Jeonghan rolled his eyes fondly. “Go.”

And just like that, their home filled with the sounds of running water, small giggles, and the comforting rhythm of another ordinary — yet deeply cherished — morning together.

February 4

It was Dion’s sixth birthday.

The morning sun was bright, the sky clear, and inside the car was nothing but laughter.

Seungcheol was behind the wheel, one hand steady on the steering wheel while the other occasionally reached over to squeeze Jeonghan’s hand resting on the passenger seat. Sa likod naman ay si Dion, comfortably strapped in his car seat, hugging his favorite dinosaur plushie while happily kicking his small legs.

The entire car was filled with playful noise.

“Daddy, slow ka mag-drive!” Dion cheered from the back.

Seungcheol chuckled. “Baby, this is already fast.”

“Hindi po!” Dion protested dramatically. “Mas mabilis pa yung dinosaurs!”

Jeonghan laughed softly beside him, turning slightly to look at their son.

“Dinosaurs again?” he teased. “Akala ko astronaut ka na ngayon?”

“I can be both!” Dion declared proudly.

Seungcheol and Jeonghan exchanged amused glances.

“Future scientist,” Seungcheol whispered jokingly.

“Future makulit,” Jeonghan whispered back.

Dion, of course, heard none of it as he continued narrating an imaginary dinosaur battle happening outside the window.

Soon enough, the car slowed down as they reached their destination.

The laughter inside gradually quieted.

Seungcheol parked the car before stepping out first. He walked around to the passenger side and opened the door for Jeonghan with a small smile.

“Okay, let's get you out, baby!”

Meanwhile, Seungcheol opened the trunk and carefully took out the things they brought — a small birthday cake, flowers, balloons, and a food container Jeonghan had prepared earlier that morning.

Simple things.

But important.

Jeonghan gently unbuckled Dion from his seat and helped him climb down.

The place around them was quiet.

Peaceful.

Rows of stone markers stood across the wide field.

A cemetery.

Dito nila palaging sinisimulan ang birthday ni Diion.

Every year.

Every February 4.

Without saying anything, Seungcheol walked beside them, carrying their things. Dion naturally slipped his small hands into both of theirs.

Magkahawak-kamay silang tatlo habang tinatahak ang tahimik na daan.

The breeze was gentle. The world around them calm.

Soon, they stopped in front of a small mausoleum.

Seungcheol pushed the door open slowly.

Before either of them could say anything, Dion suddenly ran inside.

“Mommy!”

His small voice echoed inside the space as he knelt excitedly in front of a grave.

Jeonghan and Seungcheol followed quietly behind him.

The name engraved on the stone was simple.

Sooyoung “Joy” Park – Choi

Dion’s mother.

Seungcheol’s first wife.

Dion carefully placed his dinosaur plushie beside the flowers he brought, his small hands resting on the cold marble.

“Mommy,” he said happily, “today is my birthday!”

Behind him, Seungcheol stood silently, his expression soft but distant for a moment — memories flickering quietly in his eyes.

Jeonghan gently reached for his hand.

And Seungcheol held it.

Tight.

There was a time when Seungcheol believed he was one of the happiest and luckiest men in the world.

At a young age, he had already built something most people spent a lifetime chasing — a successful business that continued to grow beyond expectations. May sarili siyang kompanya, respected by investors, trusted by clients, and admired by people in his industry.

But more than the success, more than the money or reputation, what truly made him feel complete was the life waiting for him at home.

A warm house.

A loving wife.

And a baby on the way.

Joy, seven months pregnant, his wife filled their home with laughter, plans, and quiet excitement about the future. Halos araw-araw nilang pinag-uusapan kung ano ang magiging itsura ng anak nila, kung kanino ito magmamana, kung gaano kakulit o kabait ang magiging ugali nito.

Seungcheol had never been the type to believe in luck.

But when he looked at her — glowing, happy, carrying their child — he felt like the universe had given him everything.

Wala na siyang mahihiling pa.

Everything he needed was already there.

Until the moment it was taken away from him.

That day, Seungcheol was in Singapore.

The decision to leave had been something he struggled with for days. He had a series of important business meetings scheduled with international investors and long-time clients. These were people who had flown in specifically to meet him — negotiations that could expand his company even further.

But his heart wasn’t in it.

Labag sa loob niyang umalis ng Pilipinas, lalo na’t naging maselan ang pagbubuntis ng asawa.

Kailangan siyang bantayan, alagaan, siguraduhing hindi napapagod o nai-stress.

But Joy had insisted.

“I can cancel the meeting,” he had insisted the night before his flight. “There will be other opportunities.”

But his wife only shook her head stubbornly.

“Cheol, ang dami mo nang investors na hindi nasipot dahil sa pagbubuntis ko,” she told him gently but firmly.

“Nahihiya na ako sa kanila.”

“Let them wait.”

“Cheol.”

Her tone had softened, but her eyes remained determined.

“I’ll be fine. Seven months pa lang naman. Hindi pa ako manganganak.”

He still refused.

Until she got angry.

“Aalis ka,” she said firmly. “This company is your dream. Hindi pwedeng lahat ihinto mo dahil lang buntis ako.”

Before leaving the house, he made sure everything was prepared.

Pinagbilinan niya ang mga kasambahay nila at ang driver.

“If Joy starts feeling something,” he said firmly, “call the hospital immediately. Then call me.”

“Sir, don’t worry po,” the driver assured him. “Aalagaan po namin si Ma’am.”

Seungcheol hesitated one last time at the door.

Joy only waved him off with a teasing smile.

“Go already, babe. Your son and I will be fine.”

He kissed her forehead before leaving.

A decision he would spend the rest of his life regretting.

Because while he was sitting inside a luxurious conference room in Singapore, discussing numbers and investments, his phone suddenly rang.

At first, he ignored it.

Then it rang again.

And again.

Until he finally excused himself from the meeting and answered.

“Hello?”

The voice on the other line was shaking.

“Sir… naaksidente po ang sasakyan niyo.”

Seungcheol felt his heart drop.

“What?”

“Nasalpok po ng ten-wheeler truck yung sasakyan. Yung driver… at yung dalawang kasambahay…”

The caller’s voice faltered.

“Dead on the spot po sila, sir.”

For a moment, the world stopped.

“And my wife?” Seungcheol demanded, his voice suddenly hoarse.

“She’s alive, sir… pero nagla-labor na po siya. Delikado po ang lagay niya. Pati yung baby…”

Seungcheol didn’t hear the rest.

His mind had already gone blank.

He walked straight back into the meeting room, grabbed his coat, and left without another word.

His secretary, who had overheard enough to understand the situation, immediately followed him.

Within minutes, they were already booking the earliest flight back to the Philippines.

Inside the car heading to the airport, Seungcheol kept the phone pressed against his ear, speaking to the doctor who had just arrived at the hospital.

“Please,” he said, his voice breaking for the first time in years. “Do everything you can to save them.”

He didn’t care about the cost.

He didn’t care about anything else.

“Do whatever is best for my wife and child.”

At the same time, he called both his parents and Joy’s parents, asking them to go to the hospital immediately while he was still on the plane.

The flight back felt like the longest hours of his life.

Every minute felt heavier than the last.

He prayed.

Something he hadn’t done in years.

But when the plane finally landed in the Philippines, the first thing he saw when he turned on his phone was a call from his parents.

He answered immediately.

“Dad? How is she?”

There was silence on the other line.

Then his mother’s voice.

Broken.

“Seungcheol…”

His heart stopped.

“She made it through the delivery,” she whispered. “She held your son…”

The world blurred.

And then came the words that shattered everything.

“But Joy didn’t make it.”

His wife died.

She died after giving birth.

After holding their son for the first — and last — time.

Seungcheol didn’t even remember how he got to the hospital.

The flight.

The drive.

The frantic rush through the city.

Everything felt like a blur.

One moment he was stepping out of the car, the next he found himself walking down the long hallway of the hospital.

Each step felt heavy.

Parang may nakadagan sa dibdib niya na hindi niya maalis. His legs moved forward, but his heart felt like it was dragging behind him, refusing to accept what was waiting at the end of the corridor.

Then he saw his father.

Running toward him.

Seungcheol forced his face to remain calm. Blank. Controlled. Kahit sa loob niya ay parang durog na durog na ang buong pagkatao niya.

His father reached him first.

Without a word, the older man pulled him into a tight embrace.

“Magpakatatag ka, anak,” his father whispered, voice shaking slightly.

Seungcheol said nothing.

Hindi niya kayang magsalita.

Hindi niya alam kung ano ang sasabihin.

His throat felt tight. His chest hollow.

His father placed a hand on his shoulder and gently guided him further down the hallway.

When they turned the corner, Seungcheol immediately saw them.

His wife’s parents.

They were sitting outside one of the hospital rooms, crying openly — shoulders shaking, faces buried in their hands.

And in that moment, whatever fragile hope Seungcheol had been holding onto completely shattered.

Hindi ito panaginip.

This was real.

The closer he got, the heavier his chest became.

When he finally stood in front of them, his mother-in-law slowly stood up. Her eyes were swollen, her hands trembling.

She held his arm.

“Pasok ka na, anak,” she said between sobs. “Kanina ka pa niya inaantay.”

Seungcheol’s hand trembled slightly as he reached for the door.

With a heavy heart, he slowly pushed it open.

Then stepped inside.

And quietly closed it behind him.

For a moment, the room was silent.

Too silent.

Then his eyes landed on the hospital bed.

His heart shattered again.

There she was.

His wife.

Lying motionless on the bed, her entire body covered with a white hospital sheet.

Seungcheol’s vision blurred as tears began to fill his eyes.

His breathing grew uneven.

Slowly, with trembling hands, he reached forward and pulled the sheet down just enough to reveal her face.

And there she was.

Pale.

Still.

Her skin marked with bruises and cuts, dried blood tracing faint lines along her face.

Lifeless.

The moment reality truly sank in, Seungcheol collapsed beside the bed.

He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly against his chest as if he could somehow bring warmth back into her body.

His tears fell freely now.

All the sobs, all the cries he had been holding back since the phone call finally broke loose.

“Joy… babe…” his voice cracked.

His mind replayed their last moments together before he left for Singapore.

The way she hugged him tightly at the door.

The kisses she pressed against his lips before he left.

Her teasing smile.

“I’ll wait for you,” she had said.

But this—

This was what he came home to.

A situation he had never imagined.

Never wished for.

“Please… babe… Joy…” he sobbed, holding her tighter.

“Please wake up.”

His voice broke again.

“Don’t leave me… don’t leave us…”

His forehead pressed against hers.

“Please… wake up for me… for our son… hindi ko kayang wala ka, Joy… please…”

The room echoed with nothing but his broken sobs.

“I’m sorry,” he cried. “I shouldn’t have listened when you told me to leave. Hindi sana ako umalis… mas pinilit ko sana yung sarili ko na manatili na lang sa tabi mo…”

His shoulders shook violently.

“Hindi sana nangyari ’to sa’yo… sa inyo…”

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”

For a long time, the only sounds inside the room were Seungcheol’s quiet begging and desperate cries.

Until suddenly—

The door opened.

Seungcheol looked up.

A doctor stood by the entrance, his expression solemn but professional.

“Mr. Choi?” the doctor asked gently.

Seungcheol slowly released Joy and wiped his face, though the tears continued falling.

He stood up and walked toward the doctor.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” the doctor said carefully. “But there are some things we need to discuss regarding your son.”

The word son made Seungcheol freeze.

“My… son?”

The doctor nodded.

“Yes, sir. Your wife was already in active labor when the accident happened.”

He paused briefly before continuing.

“Unfortunately, the impact of the collision caused severe trauma. The vehicle was crushed from the side, and your wife’s abdomen was pinned between the seat and several metal fragments from the interior of the car.”

Seungcheol felt his stomach twist.

The doctor continued in a steady, professional tone.

“There were sharp objects embedded in her abdomen due to the force of the crash. That put both her life and the baby’s life in immediate danger.”

Seungcheol clenched his fists.

“We performed an emergency procedure to deliver the baby as quickly as possible,” the doctor explained. “Your son was born prematurely and suffered from oxygen deprivation during the accident.”

Seungcheol swallowed hard.

“Right now, he is in the neonatal intensive care unit. He is alive, but he is still under observation. His condition is fragile.”

Silence filled the hallway.

Then Seungcheol spoke.

“Can I see him, doc?”

The doctor nodded gently.

“Yes, sir. You can.”

He gave a small, reassuring smile.

“He might want to hear his father’s voice.”

Seungcheol nodded slowly.

But before following the doctor, he turned back toward the hospital room.

He walked to the bed again.

Carefully.

Gently.

He pulled the white sheet back over Joy’s face, his hand lingering there for a moment.

“I’ll be back,” he whispered softly.

“Let me take care of our son first.”

Seungcheol followed the doctor through another quiet hallway of the hospital.

Everything around him felt distant — the fluorescent lights above, the faint beeping of machines behind closed doors, the quiet footsteps of nurses passing by.

Parang wala siyang marinig ng maayos.

His mind was somewhere else.

Still inside that hospital room.

Still beside Joy.

“Mr. Choi,” the doctor called gently.

Napahinto siya sa harap ng isang glass window. On the other side was a dimly lit room filled with incubators and quiet medical machines.

“This is the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit,” the doctor explained in a calm, professional tone. “Before you enter, you’ll need to wear protective equipment.”

Seungcheol nodded silently.

A nurse approached him and helped him put on the protective gear — a sterile gown, gloves, shoe covers, a hair cap, and a medical mask.

His hands trembled slightly habang isinusuot ang mga iyon.

Hindi niya alam kung handa na ba siya.

But he stepped inside anyway.

The air inside the NICU was warm and sterile.

Machines softly hummed around the room. Small monitors blinked quietly beside several incubators.

Then the nurse guided him to one corner.

“Your son is here, sir.”

And that’s when Seungcheol saw him.

His chest tightened painfully.

Inside the transparent incubator lay a very small baby.

His son.

Napakaliit.

His skin looked fragile and slightly reddish, his tiny chest rising and falling weakly with the help of a ventilator tube placed gently in his mouth.

Several thin tubes and wires were attached to his body.

A heart monitor displayed the baby’s heartbeat in steady but delicate rhythms.

An IV line was connected to his tiny arm, providing fluids and medication.

Small sensors were placed on his chest and foot to monitor his oxygen levels.

Everything about the scene screamed fragile.

Delicate.

Breakable.

Seungcheol felt his knees weaken.

His son looked so small inside the incubator.

So helpless.

The nurse spoke softly beside him.

“Your son is currently receiving respiratory support because his lungs are still underdeveloped,” she explained gently. “The accident and the premature delivery put a lot of stress on his body.”

Seungcheol nodded slowly, though his chest felt painfully tight.

“We’re closely monitoring his breathing, heart rate, and oxygen levels,” the nurse continued. “For now, the most important thing is that he remains stable.”

Seungcheol stepped closer.

His hands hovered near the incubator.

“May I..?” he asked quietly.

The nurse nodded.

“You can place your hand through the access port.”

She carefully opened a small round port on the side of the incubator.

Seungcheol slowly slid his hand inside.

His fingers trembled as he looked at his son.

So small.

So fragile.

He carefully placed one finger on the tiny palm of the baby.

“Baby…” his voice cracked.

“Don’t leave me, okay?”

His throat tightened as tears blurred his vision again.

“Wag mo ding iiwan si daddy… please…”

His voice trembled with every word.

“Kasi hindi ko na kakayanin kapag ikaw mawala pa sa’kin…”

His finger gently brushed the baby’s tiny hand.

“Daddy will do anything for you, anak…”

His shoulders shook slightly.

“Please don’t leave me, okay?”

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then suddenly—

The baby’s tiny fingers moved.

They curled weakly around Seungcheol’s finger.

A soft, unconscious squeeze.

Like a silent answer.

Like a promise.

Seungcheol gasped quietly.

His tears fell freely again behind the mask.

“Good boy…” he whispered shakily.

“That’s it… stay with me, okay?”

He stayed there for a long time, watching the small rise and fall of his son’s chest, memorizing every tiny detail.

Because right now—

This tiny child was the only thing left of Joy.

After leaving the NICU, Seungcheol didn’t return to the waiting area.

Instead, he found himself walking toward the hospital chapel.

The quiet room welcomed him with dim lights and rows of wooden pews.

No one else was inside.

He slowly walked toward the front and sat down.

For a moment, he simply stared at the cross at the altar.

Then he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped tightly together.

His shoulders trembled.

“Why?” he whispered hoarsely.

His voice echoed softly inside the empty chapel.

“Why did you let this happen?”

His eyes closed tightly as tears slipped down again.

“They didn’t deserve this…”

His breathing grew uneven.

“My wife… she didn’t deserve that kind of death.”

His fingers tightened together.

“She was kind… she was good… she was excited to become a mother…”

His voice broke again.

“And my son… he hasn’t even seen the world yet.”

Seungcheol lowered his head.

“Kung may kasalanan man… ako na lang sana.”

His voice shook.

“Ako na lang sana yung kinuha mo.”

He swallowed hard, chest aching.

“But please…”

He squeezed his hands tighter.

“Don’t take my son too.”

His shoulders trembled.

“He’s all I have left.”

His voice turned into a quiet plea.

“I’ll do anything… kahit ano…”

“Just let him live.”

The chapel fell silent again.

Only the sound of Seungcheol’s quiet sobs filled the room.

A broken father praying desperately…

For the only piece of his wife that remained.

Three years had passed since that day.

Three years since everything fell apart.

And three years since a small, fragile life was placed into Seungcheol’s arms — the only piece left behind by the woman he loved.

Tatlong taon na rin ang anak niya.

In those three years, Seungcheol learned how to live again — not for himself, but for his son.

At first, it wasn’t living.

It was surviving.

Each morning felt heavy, each night even heavier. The house that once echoed with laughter now felt unbearably quiet. Every corner reminded him of what he lost — the empty side of the bed, the untouched belongings, the silence that replaced her voice.

But then there was his son.

Small. Helpless. Innocent.

And completely dependent on him.

So Seungcheol forced himself to stand up every day.

Pinilit niyang maging matatag.

Pinilit niyang huminga kahit parang ang hirap na.

He poured everything he had into his child — every ounce of love, every bit of strength, every piece of himself that was still capable of giving.

His son became his reason.

His purpose.

His anchor.

He remembered the promise he made — not in words spoken out loud, but in the quiet of his grieving heart.

Hindi niya pababayaan ang anak nila.

No matter what happened, he would protect him.

He would raise him well.

He would love him enough for the both of them.

And so Seungcheol changed his life.

He became a full-time father.

The man who once spent most of his time building an empire shifted his world entirely, choosing to stay home instead. His office became his house, his meetings reduced to calls and virtual conferences. He chose to work from home, not because it was easier, but because it allowed him to be present.

Gusto niyang tutok siya sa anak niya.

Every milestone mattered.

Every small moment became something he held onto — first words, first steps, small laughs that slowly filled the emptiness in their home.

There were days he still had to leave, moments when responsibilities demanded his presence outside. On those days, he entrusted his son to their grandparents — people who loved the child just as deeply.

But every time he stepped out of the house, a quiet worry followed him.

Because after everything he had lost, the thought of losing his son too was something he could not bear.

Sa loob ng tatlong taon, iyon ang buhay niya.

A routine built around love, responsibility, and quiet healing.

He never allowed himself to look beyond that.

In his mind, they were enough.

Siya at ang anak niya.

That was all he needed.

That was all he deserved.

Love, for him, had already come and gone.

And he convinced himself that it would stay that way.

He stopped looking.

Stopped hoping.

Stopped imagining a life where someone else could walk into their home and fill the spaces he had learned to live with.

Because for three years, Seungcheol chose to hold on to what remained—

Instead of risking what little he had left.

“Make a wish before blowing the candle, baby,” Jeonghan said softly, holding the small cake steady in front of Dion.

The candlelight flickered gently, reflecting in the child’s bright eyes.

Dion closed his eyes, his small hands clasped together as he made his wish. Tahimik ang paligid, only the soft rustling of leaves and the quiet hum of the wind accompanying the moment. Then, with a deep breath, he leaned forward and blew the candle.

As the flame disappeared, a soft breeze followed.

Warm. Gentle. Familiar.

The kind of breeze they always felt whenever they visited her.

As if she was there.

Watching. Smiling. Remembering.

Seungcheol’s hold on Dion tightened just a little.

“Happy birthday, baby,” sabay na sabi nila ni Jeonghan, their voices filled with warmth as they both leaned in to kiss Dion’s cheeks.

Dion giggled, his face lighting up.

“Thank you, Daddy and Dada!” masigla niyang sagot, before kissing them both back.

Jeonghan carefully set the cake aside and began preparing the food they brought, placing portions neatly onto Dion’s plate. Lunch time na rin, and he made sure their son wouldn’t go hungry. His movements were gentle, practiced — the kind that came from someone who had already grown used to taking care of them.

Seungcheol watched him quietly.

His gaze soft.

Full.

He still couldn’t believe it sometimes.

Na sa kabila ng lahat ng sakit na pinagdaanan niya, may taong darating pa pala para buuin ulit siya.

The first time he met Jeonghan, he already felt it.

Something about him.

Something calm. Safe. Trustworthy.

He remembered that day clearly — standing by the classroom door, hesitant, guarded, unsure.

“Ako na po bahala kay Dion, sir,” Jeonghan had said gently. “Your son and his classmates are in good hands. Makakaasa po kayo sa’kin.”

And somehow, without explanation—

Seungcheol believed him.

He had always been strict when it came to his son. Protective. Careful. Hindi siya basta nagtitiwala. He never hired a nanny, never relied on anyone else to raise Dion.

He did everything himself.

Every feeding, every sleepless night, every cry.

Mag-isa niyang hinarap ang lahat.

The grief. The exhaustion. The silence.

There were nights when Dion would cry endlessly, and Seungcheol would hold him close, whispering comfort with a voice that was barely holding itself together. Mga gabing dapat dalawa silang nagpapatahan sa anak nila — but he was alone.

Siya lang.

Until Jeonghan came.

At first, it was just simple trust.

Then it became familiarity.

Then comfort.

Dion, who used to be distant and shy around others, slowly opened up to him. He laughed more. Stayed longer. Became comfortable in a way Seungcheol had never seen before.

And Jeonghan?

He never complained.

Even when Dion stayed longer than usual. Even when Seungcheol arrived late. Even when responsibilities stretched beyond what was expected.

He stayed.

Smiling. Patient. Gentle.

That was when things started to change.

At first, Seungcheol ignored it.

He told himself it was nothing.

But every day, the feeling grew.

Stronger. Deeper. Harder to deny.

And it scared him.

Because it felt wrong.

Parang pinapalitan niya ang isang taong hindi kailanman mapapalitan.

So he pulled away.

He stopped picking Dion up from school. Hinayaan niyang ang mga magulang na lang nila ang sumundo sa bata. He stopped replying to Jeonghan’s messages. Avoided him whenever he could.

But distance didn’t erase anything.

If anything, it made everything clearer.

The feelings stayed.

And so he found himself back where it all began—

Standing in front of her grave.

He apologized.

For moving forward.

For feeling something again.

For loving someone else.

That night, she came to him in his dreams.

Not angry.

Not hurt.

But smiling.

Letting him go.

Giving him permission to live again.

To love again.

To build a new life—

Not just for himself, but for their son.

After that, Seungcheol stopped running.

He went back.

And this time, he didn’t hold back.

He pursued Jeonghan with everything he had.

And to his surprise—

Jeonghan felt the same.

It wasn’t one-sided.

It was mutual.

Gentle. Steady. Certain.

Habang nililigawan niya si Jeonghan, ganon din naman ang ginagawa nito sa kanya. It was never just him giving — it was always both of them meeting halfway.

And what made him fall even harder—

Jeonghan never once made Dion feel like he wasn’t his.

He loved him.

Truly. Fully.

Like his own.

That was all Seungcheol needed.

So when they finally became a couple, he didn’t hesitate.

He asked Jeonghan to move in.

Mabilis. Oo.

But for Seungcheol, it felt right.

Because for the first time in years—

He wasn’t just surviving anymore.

He was living.

And until now, nothing had changed.

Kung sino ang Jeonghan na nakilala niya noon—

Ganon pa rin hanggang ngayon.

Warm. Gentle. Constant.

The one who stayed.

The one who chose them.

The one who became a home to both him and his son.

Jeonghan felt Seungcheol’s gaze lingering on him, warm and steady, kaya napatingin siya dito with a small, knowing smile.

“What do you want to eat, love?” he asked softly, still focused on arranging the food.

Seungcheol shook his head lightly as he stood up. “Ako na lang kukuha, love. Kanina ka pa busy sa pagluluto ng mga dinala natin.”

He walked over and prepared a plate — a little more than usual. He knew Jeonghan hadn’t eaten yet, too busy taking care of both him and Dion. So without saying anything, he made sure there was enough for both of them.

Pagbalik niya, umupo siya sa tabi ng mag-ama.

Before Jeonghan could even react, Seungcheol scooped a spoonful of food and gently brought it to his lips.

Jeonghan blinked, slightly surprised.

“Cheol—”

“Open,” Seungcheol said softly, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

And just like that, Jeonghan gave in.

He opened his mouth and accepted the food, shaking his head with a quiet laugh.

From that moment on, everything fell into a rhythm.

Jeonghan fed Dion.

Seungcheol fed Jeonghan.

And in between, Seungcheol managed to feed himself.

Simple. Domestic. Warm.

A quiet kind of happiness that didn’t need anything grand.

Hanggang sa matapos silang kumain.

Afterward, Jeonghan began cleaning up — gathering the containers, wiping small spills, fixing everything with the same gentle care he always had. Meanwhile, Seungcheol and Dion stayed behind, sitting in front of Joy’s grave.

Soft voices filled the mausoleum.

Dion happily shared everything — his little achievements, the stars he earned at school, the new things he learned to write, count, and read. His voice echoed with excitement, as if he truly believed his mother was listening.

And maybe she was.

Seungcheol listened quietly, occasionally adding small details, his hand resting gently on Dion’s shoulder.

Time passed gently.

Until it was time to go.

Jeonghan stepped out first, giving them space — just like he always did. Tahimik siyang naglakad pabalik sa sasakyan, trusting the moment between father and son.

Ganito palagi.

He never interrupted.

Never took that moment away from them.

Because from the very beginning, he understood — Seungcheol had loved someone before him.

And Jeonghan never once felt threatened by that.

Hindi siya naging sakim.

He never questioned his place. Never doubted Seungcheol’s love. Because Seungcheol made sure — every single day — that Jeonghan felt chosen, loved, and certain.

That there was no competition.

Only continuity.

Only love that grew.

When Jeonghan reached the car, the cool air greeted him. Seungcheol had already prepared it earlier, turning on the air conditioning before they left.

A small gesture.

But very him.

Not long after, Seungcheol and Dion returned.

“Are you excited, baby?” Jeonghan asked warmly as he helped adjust Dion in his seat.

“Yes, Dada!” Dion answered brightly, his smile wide and full of excitement.

Seungcheol leaned over before starting the engine and placed three quick kisses on Jeonghan’s lips.

Soft. Familiar. Playful.

Then he started the car.

Because the day wasn’t over yet.

They were heading somewhere Dion had been looking forward to — a place filled with lights, laughter, and joy. His birthday wouldn’t be complete without it.

As they drove, Seungcheol reached for Jeonghan’s hand, intertwining their fingers naturally. He lifted it slightly and pressed a soft kiss on the back of it.

“I love you, love,” he said quietly.

Jeonghan felt his chest tighten — not in pain, but in warmth.

“I love you too, love,” he replied, leaning in to kiss Seungcheol’s cheek.

From the backseat, a small giggle broke through.

They both turned.

Dion was watching them, eyes sparkling.

“I love you, our baby dinosaur,” sabay nilang sabi, their voices filled with affection.

“I love you too, Dada and Daddy!” Dion replied happily.

And in that moment, as laughter filled the car once again, Seungcheol felt it clearly—

After everything he lost…

After everything he endured…

He was whole again.

Not because the past disappeared.

But because someone came into his life—

And chose to stay.

November 24

Tonight marked three years.

Three years since Jeonghan said yes. Three years since he became everything Seungcheol never thought he would have again — his light, his companion, his home, his partner… and Dion’s dada.

And tonight, they were seated in Mendokoro Ramenba, their favorite ramen place. The warm aroma of broth and noodles wrapped around them, familiar and comforting — just like the life they built together.

Originally, Seungcheol had planned something more extravagant. A reservation at Antonio's, something grand, something worthy of celebrating three years.

But he already knew.

Jeonghan wouldn’t like it.

Masyadong mahal.

And Jeonghan was never the type to want something like that.

So instead, he chose this.

Something simple.

Something meaningful.

Something them.

“Happy anniversary, my love,” Seungcheol greeted softly, handing over a bouquet of white roses.

Jeonghan’s face lit up instantly.

“Happy anniversary din, love. Mahal na mahal kita!” he replied, his smile wide and sincere.

That alone made Seungcheol’s heart flutter, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks.

“Mahal na mahal din kita, Jeonghan,” he answered, his voice just as gentle.

Their food arrived not long after, steam rising from their bowls as they started eating. Conversation came easily — stories from the past, memories from when everything was still new.

From the awkward beginnings.

To the quiet confessions.

To the way they slowly, surely fell into each other.

“Grabe, ang kulit mo talaga noon,” Jeonghan laughed. “Hindi ka sumusuko.”

“Eh kasi worth it ka,” Seungcheol replied, smiling.

Napailing si Jeonghan pero hindi maitago ang ngiti.

They laughed at old memories, teasing each other, reliving moments that once felt uncertain but now felt like destiny.

When they finished eating, they left the restaurant together, hands brushing, shoulders touching — comfortable in a way that only time could build.

They had planned to continue their celebration at a hotel where they checked in.

And as for Dion—

He was safe, back at the penthouse with both sets of grandparents. They had volunteered to take care of him for the night, something that surprised Jeonghan.

Ngayon lang nangyari na sabay-sabay ang mga lolo at lola nito na magbantay.

But he didn’t question it much.

Not when Seungcheol seemed unusually… thoughtful.

As they drove, Jeonghan noticed something.

The road.

It wasn’t leading to the hotel.

“Love, saan pa tayo pupunta? Akala ko sa hotel na tayo?” he asked, brows slightly furrowed.

Seungcheol only smiled, reaching for his hand and pressing a kiss against it.

“Sa lugar na special sa’tin, love. Trust me, okay?”

There was something in his voice.

Something soft. Something certain.

So Jeonghan nodded.

He trusted him.

Always.

Not long after, the car came to a stop.

Jeonghan looked outside—

And froze.

The daycare.

The very place where everything started.

Where they first met.

Napalingon siya agad kay Seungcheol, confusion and surprise written all over his face. But before he could even ask, Seungcheol leaned in and kissed him softly on the lips.

Then he stepped out, walked around, and opened the door for him.

Hand in hand, he led Jeonghan toward the small playground in front of the school.

And there—

A small setup waited.

A soft cloth spread on the ground, surrounded by candles and flowers. A small basket sat to the side, filled with food.

A picnic.

Simple.

Intimate.

Perfect.

Jeonghan’s eyes softened, his chest tightening in the best way possible.

Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around Seungcheol and kissed his face repeatedly.

“Love—” Seungcheol laughed softly, unable to stop smiling.

He wrapped his arms around Jeonghan’s waist, holding him close, letting him do as he pleased.

“I love you… thank you,” Jeonghan murmured, his face buried against Seungcheol’s neck.

“I love you too, love. Halika, upo na tayo,” Seungcheol said gently, guiding him down.

Once seated, Seungcheol opened the basket, pulling out light snacks — nothing too heavy, since they had already eaten.

Just enough to share.

Just enough to stay.

“What are we doing here, love?” Jeonghan asked softly, chewing the fries Seungcheol had just fed him.

“I just wanted to surprise you,” Seungcheol replied.

Simple words.

But Jeonghan noticed.

The slight tension.

The hint of nervousness.

“Thank you, love… sorry, wala akong gift or surprise man lang sa’yo,” Jeonghan said, his voice quieter now.

Seungcheol immediately reached for his hand, squeezing it gently.

“Love, it’s okay,” he said softly. “You being my lover, my partner, and Dion’s dada… that’s already the best gift I could ever have. So don’t feel bad, okay?”

He leaned in and kissed him.

Soft.

Reassuring.

Jeonghan wanted to say something more—

But Seungcheol didn’t give him the chance.

Instead, he kissed him again.

And again.

Until the lingering sadness faded—

Replaced by warmth, love, and the quiet certainty that he was exactly where he was meant to be.

After thirty minutes of quiet lambingan and sharing small bites of food, the night softened even more around them.

Now, Seungcheol was lying comfortably, his head resting on Jeonghan’s lap. The gentle glow of candles reflected on his face as Jeonghan slowly ran his fingers through his hair — soft, steady, comforting.

Walang kahit anong ingay kundi ang mahinang hangin at ang tahimik nilang paghinga.

Seungcheol just stared at him.

Like he always did.

Like he could never get enough.

Hindi nagtagal, he pouted slightly — a silent request.

Jeonghan chuckled under his breath and leaned down, pressing a soft kiss on his lips.

“Parang ang sweet mo today, love,” he teased, lightly pinching Seungcheol’s cheek.

Seungcheol frowned, still pouting. “What do you mean by that? Lagi kaya akong sweet sa’yo.”

Napatawa si Jeonghan, shaking his head before kissing him again.

“I know, love. It’s just… you’re being extra sweet today. Extra clingy,” he said, smiling.

Seungcheol’s expression shifted instantly.

“Hindi mo ba gusto, love? Nagsasawa ka na ba? Naiirita ka ba sa pagiging clingy ko?” sunud-sunod niyang tanong, his voice softer now, almost unsure.

Jeonghan didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he leaned down and kissed him again — longer this time, gentler.

“Gusto ko, love. Gustong-gusto ko,” he murmured against his lips. “Hindi ako magsasawa sa’yo. Kahit kailan.”

Another kiss.

Slow. Reassuring.

Seungcheol visibly relaxed, his hand finding Jeonghan’s and intertwining their fingers.

For a moment, they stayed like that.

Quiet.

Content.

Then, after a pause, Seungcheol spoke again — softer this time.

“Love…” he started, eyes still fixed on Jeonghan. “Minsan ba… nagsisisi ka?”

Jeonghan frowned slightly. “Saan?”

“Sa pag-iwan mo sa pagiging daycare teacher,” Seungcheol continued, his voice careful. “Sa pag-alis mo sa work mo… para maging full-time dada ni Dion. Para sa’min.”

There was something vulnerable in his tone.

Something afraid.

Jeonghan’s expression softened immediately.

He shook his head.

“No,” he answered simply.

But Seungcheol didn’t look convinced.

“Kahit konti? Kahit minsan?” he pressed, his grip tightening slightly on Jeonghan’s hand. “Kasi alam ko… mahal mo yung ginagawa mo before. You loved teaching. You loved those kids.”

Jeonghan smiled faintly.

“I still do,” he admitted. “Mahal ko pa rin yun.”

Seungcheol’s gaze dropped for a second.

But before his thoughts could spiral further, Jeonghan gently cupped his face, making him look back up.

“But I never regretted leaving,” he said softly.

“Not even once?”

“Not even once,” Jeonghan repeated, more certain this time.

He brushed his thumb across Seungcheol’s cheek.

“Because what I have now…” he continued, his voice warm, steady, “mas mahalaga. I didn’t lose something, love. I gained something.”

Seungcheol stayed quiet.

Listening.

“I became Dion’s dada,” Jeonghan went on, a small smile forming. “I get to wake up beside you. I get to take care of both of you. I get to be part of your life — araw-araw.”

His voice softened even more.

“Hindi ko ipagpapalit yun kahit saan.”

Seungcheol’s eyes glistened slightly.

“Pero paano yung sarili mo, love?” he asked quietly. “What if… may gusto ka pang gawin? What if may namimiss ka?”

Jeonghan shook his head again, this time with a small laugh.

“Love, hindi ko pinabayaan yung sarili ko,” he said gently. “Pinili ko kayo. There’s a difference.”

He leaned down, resting his forehead against Seungcheol’s.

“And I’ll choose you… again and again.”

Silence settled between them.

But it wasn’t heavy.

It was full.

Seungcheol swallowed before speaking again.

“Thank you, love,” he whispered. “For choosing us. For staying. For loving Dion like your own. For loving me kahit… ang dami kong baggage.”

Jeonghan immediately shook his head.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Hindi mo kailangan magpasalamat sa pagmamahal ko, love.”

But Seungcheol insisted.

“Still… thank you,” he murmured.

Jeonghan smiled, brushing his fingers through Seungcheol’s hair again.

“Alam mo kung bakit madali kitang piliin?” he asked.

Seungcheol looked up at him.

“Bakit?”

“Because you do the same,” Jeonghan answered simply. “You love me. You take care of me. You make me feel like I belong.”

He leaned down and kissed him again.

Soft.

Certain.

“Hindi lang ako ang pumipili sa inyo, love,” he added quietly. “Pinipili niyo rin ako.”

Seungcheol smiled.

Finally at ease.

As he tightened his hold on Jeonghan’s hand, closing his eyes for a moment—

Knowing that this kind of love…

Was something he would never let go.

And this time, he knew—

He would never let him go.

Seungcheol’s heart pounded loudly against his chest as he slowly slipped his hand inside the pocket of his pants. His fingers wrapped around something small… something he had been carrying for so long.

Something he had been waiting for the right moment to give.

Jeonghan didn’t notice.

He was too busy staring up at the sky, eyes reflecting the soft glow of the moon and the scattered stars above. Tahimik siyang nakangiti, lost in the beauty of the night.

Seungcheol looked at him for a second.

Memorizing him.

Then he moved.

He sat up… and carefully shifted, positioning himself in front of Jeonghan. Hindi siya tuluyang lumuhod — instead, he settled lower, enough to make the moment feel intimate, close, real.

Jeonghan blinked, confused.

“Love?” he called softly.

But before he could ask anything else—

Seungcheol pulled out a small red velvet box.

And opened it.

Jeonghan gasped.

His hand flew to his mouth, eyes instantly filling with tears.

Inside the box was a simple yet elegant ring — a thin platinum band, clean and timeless, with a single round-cut diamond resting at the center. It wasn’t overly flashy, but it shined beautifully under the candlelight, reflecting every bit of sincerity Seungcheol had poured into choosing it.

It was perfect.

Just like the love they shared.

“L-love…” iyon lang ang nasabi ni Jeonghan, his voice breaking.

Seungcheol took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, though his own eyes were already glassy.

“Alam ko nagtataka ka kung bakit dito kita dinala,” he started softly. “This place… it’s special to us. Dito ako unang umamin sa’yo. Dito kita tinanong kung pwede kitang ligawan. Dito mo sinabi na gusto mo rin ako.”

A small, shaky smile formed on his lips.

“Dito tayo madalas mag-date noon… dito mo ako sinagot. Lahat ng ‘firsts’ natin… dito nangyari. Even our first family picnic with Dion… dito rin.”

He paused, then raised a brow playfully.

“Well… except sa first time natin mag-love-making,” he added.

Jeonghan let out a tearful laugh, shaking his head.

But Seungcheol’s expression softened again.

Serious.

Full.

“Love… alam ko marami pa tayong haharapin. Marami pa akong kailangang patunayan. Marami pa tayong pagdadaanan na hindi madali,” he continued, voice trembling slightly. “Pero alam ko… kakayanin natin. Kasi kasama kita. Kasi hindi mo ako iniwan.”

His grip on the box tightened.

“Pinili mo ako… at pinili mo si Dion.”

His voice broke a little more.

“You loved him like your own. You became his dada… not because you had to, but because you wanted to. You stayed for him. You cared for him. You loved him… the way I prayed someone would.”

Tears started falling freely now.

“And you loved me… kahit hindi ako buo noon. Kahit marami akong dala. Kahit ang dami kong takot.”

He let out a shaky breath.

“But because of you… I became whole again.”

Seungcheol looked straight into his eyes.

“Hindi ko man maibabalik ang nakaraan… pero gusto kong buuin ang present at future ko kasama ka.”

His voice softened into something almost like a whisper.

“I want to wake up beside you every day. I want to raise Dion with you… as our son. I want to grow old with you. I want to love you… for the rest of my life.”

He inhaled deeply.

Gathering every ounce of courage left in him.

“Jeonghan Yoon… my love,” he said, voice steady despite the tears. “Will you marry me?”

Silence followed.

But it wasn’t empty.

It was full of emotion.

Jeonghan couldn’t speak.

His tears kept falling, his chest rising and falling as he tried to process everything. His heart felt like it was about to burst.

Then finally—

“Yes, Seungcheol,” he said, voice breaking. “Yes… yes! I will marry you.”

Seungcheol let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

Relief.

Happiness.

Love.

All at once.

With trembling hands, he took the ring and gently slid it onto Jeonghan’s finger.

It fit perfectly.

As if it was always meant to be there.

And then—

He kissed him.

Deeply.

Their lips met with urgency, but not desperation — it was filled with years of love, patience, and longing finally settling into certainty. Seungcheol cupped Jeonghan’s face, thumbs brushing away his tears as he kissed him again and again, slower this time, savoring every second. Jeonghan held onto him tightly, pulling him closer, their breaths mingling as their kiss deepened — soft bites, gentle pulls, quiet sighs slipping between them.

It wasn’t just a kiss.

It was a promise.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested against each other, both breathless, both smiling through tears.

Seungcheol leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss on Jeonghan’s forehead.

“I love you, Jeonghan.”

Jeonghan smiled, eyes still shining.

“I love you, Seungcheol.”

One year after their wedding.

7 PM.

The soft sound of the door closing echoed as Seungcheol and Dion finally arrived home — their home. The one they moved into before the wedding. The one they built together.

Tahimik ang paligid, only a dim light from the living room welcoming them.

“Dada?” Dion called softly, looking around.

But no answer came.

Wala siya sa kusina. Wala rin sa garden — the two places Jeonghan usually stayed when waiting for them.

Seungcheol already knew.

He glanced toward the hallway.

“Nasa kwarto si dada mo,” he murmured.

These past few days hadn’t been easy. Jeonghan had been feeling unwell — constant headaches, dizziness, loss of appetite, always sleepy… and the mornings… the sound of him throwing up.

Hindi mapakali si Seungcheol.

He had been asking him to get checked, but Jeonghan kept brushing it off.

“Go to your room muna, baby. Mag-wash ka muna, okay? Then punta ka sa room namin ni dada,” he said, kissing Dion’s cheek.

“Okay, Daddy!” the child replied and ran off.

Seungcheol placed Dion’s things in the laundry basket before heading to their room.

There, he found him.

Jeonghan, peacefully asleep on their bed.

Just like always.

A sight that never failed to soften him.

He walked closer and pressed a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“Nakauwi na po kami ni Dion, mahal ko,” he whispered before heading to the bathroom to freshen up.

When he came out—

Jeonghan was already awake, leaning against the headboard, smiling softly at him.

“Hi, mahal.”

Seungcheol didn’t waste a second. He sat beside him, and Jeonghan immediately climbed onto his lap, arms wrapping around him.

Three soft kisses landed on his lips.

Then another.

And another.

Until their lips met deeper — slow, familiar, filled with warmth. No rush, no urgency. Just love, steady and certain, their breaths mingling as they stayed close, savoring the moment.

When they pulled apart, Jeonghan buried his face into Seungcheol’s neck, inhaling his scent, pressing himself closer.

Seungcheol tightened his arms around his waist.

“How are you, mahal ko? Kumusta ka? Kumusta pakiramdam mo?” sunud-sunod niyang tanong, gently rubbing his back.

“Ganon pa rin, mahal… nahihilo pa rin ako. Kanina, sinuka ko ulit yung kinain ko,” Jeonghan murmured.

Seungcheol frowned.

“Pacheck-up na tayo bukas, please. Isang linggo ka na ganyan, nag-aalala na talaga ako.”

Jeonghan slowly pulled away, a small smile forming.

“Kalma ka lang, mahal… normal lang naman daw ito.”

“Anong normal dyan?” Seungcheol said, brows furrowing. “Lagi kang nahihilo, pagod, walang gana kumain, nagsusuka—”

Jeonghan chuckled softly.

Then, without a word, he reached for the drawer beside the bed and pulled out a slim, rectangular box.

He handed it to Seungcheol.

“What’s this, mahal?” he asked, confused.

“Please don’t frown,” Jeonghan said softly, his eyes already starting to water.

Seungcheol’s expression immediately softened.

“Okay, okay… hindi na,” he whispered, pulling him closer, calming him before slowly opening the box.

Inside—

A small white stick, simple and unassuming.

But on its tiny screen—

Two clear lines.

Positive.

For a moment—

Nothing.

Seungcheol just stared.

Back and forth.

From the test… to Jeonghan.

Then slowly—

His eyes widened.

“M-mahal…” his voice broke.

He cupped Jeonghan’s face and started kissing him everywhere — his cheeks, his forehead, his nose, his lips — laughter and tears mixing all at once.

“Is this real? Totoo ba ‘to?” he asked breathlessly.

Jeonghan laughed, nodding.

“Oo, mahal. Totoo. Buntis ako.”

Seungcheol let out a shaky laugh, pulling him closer again.

“Kaya pala… kaya pala ganon yung pakiramdam mo,” he whispered.

Jeonghan nodded.

“Normal lang daw yun… kaya ako nahihilo, nasusuka…” he explained softly. “Si Joshua yung nagsabi sa’kin na mag-test ako. Siya din bumili nito. Ginawa ko… and then… positive.”

Seungcheol laughed again, overwhelmed.

He kissed him again.

And again.

“I love you… I love you… I love you,” he repeated, his voice breaking. “Thank you, mahal… thank you.”

Jeonghan smiled through his tears, holding him just as tight.

But then—

The door opened.

“Daddy! Dada!”

Dion ran in, already in his pajamas.

But then—

He slowed down.

His small eyes focused on Jeonghan.

Carefully, he walked closer… and placed his hand on Jeonghan’s stomach.

“Dada… okay lang po ba yung baby?” he asked softly.

Both Seungcheol and Jeonghan froze.

“B-baby?” Seungcheol asked.

Dion nodded.

“Sabi po ni Mommy Joy sa panaginip ko kagabi,” he said innocently. “Sabi niya wag daw po akong makulit kay Dada… kasi may baby na daw po sa tummy niya. Dapat mabait ako… aalagaan ko si Dada at si baby.”

Silence filled the room.

Tears welled up in both their eyes.

Seungcheol swallowed.

“Is she happy, anak? Your mommy… is she happy?”

Dion smiled brightly.

“Yes, Daddy. Super happy po si Mommy. Sabi niya… maging masaya lang daw po tayo lagi… at mahalin mo si Dada ng sobra-sobra.”

Jeonghan covered his mouth, tears falling.

“Sabi din niya… aalis na daw po siya. May pupuntahan daw po siya na malayo… kasama yung mga angels. Pero wag daw po tayo mag-alala… kasi masaya daw po siya para sa’tin.”

That was it.

Seungcheol pulled them both into a tight embrace.

“I love you… I love you both,” he whispered.

And in that moment—

A gentle breeze passed through the room.

Warm.

Familiar.

The same breeze they always felt.

They didn’t say it out loud—

But in their hearts, sabay silang nagpasalamat.

To her.

For everything.

For letting them live.

For letting them love again.

Not long after, they pulled away, wiping their tears.

“Let’s eat dinner na,” Seungcheol said softly.

“Ano gusto niyo kainin?”

“Sinigang na baboy!” Dion answered excitedly.

Jeonghan chuckled.

“And… pwede bang bumili ka din ng Spanish bread?” he added shyly.

Seungcheol smiled.

“Of course, mahal. Kahit ano gusto mo.”

And just like that—

Life continued.

Not perfect.

Not without pain.

But full.

Because love didn’t end for Seungcheol.

It changed.

It grew.

It found its way back to him—

Through a gentle man who chose him, a child who loved him, and a family that never stopped holding him together.

And now, with another life on the way—

Their story wasn’t ending.

It was only beginning again.

Because sometimes, love doesn’t come all at once.

Sometimes, it comes in pieces.

In second chances.

In quiet healing.

In the kind of moments that slowly build—

Into something that lasts…

A lifetime.

Notes:

hi :) thank you for reading my first au 🥰💞

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A Lifetime

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