Side Story Chapter 8

In the video playing on the screen, Saejun was shown grabbing onto a chair, standing up, and walking a few steps before plopping back down. He had pulled himself up before, but this was the first time he’d walked this much. Why was he growing so fast? Could it really be this surprising, this moving, just to see a baby walk?

Yaein watched Taeheon, who had lost his words, and chuckled softly.

“Look here, Taeheon.”

“…Why the camera?”

He awkwardly turned his head.

“So, we can show this to Saejun later when he grows up. ‘Do you know how your dad was? Every time you did anything, he almost cried,’ I’ll say.”

“…”

“And if he ever gives you a hard time, I’ll show him proof of how much you loved him while raising him.”

“My face looked that obvious?”

Taeheon rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding the camera.

“You didn’t know?”

It wasn’t often she got to see her always-confident, smooth-talking husband look this shy. Delighted, Yaein moved the phone even closer.

Taeheon’s face filled the screen, framed by the little red recording dot.

“Cute.”

The word slipped out, full of honest admiration. Taeheon thought to himself how perfectly the word “blinded by love” applied. Across his whole life, the only person who had ever called him “cute” over and over was his wife. Before and now.

“Is Saejun asleep now?”

“Yeah. Just before you got home.”

Usually, once he came back and cleaned up, it was time to check in on their son. Lately, Saejun had often been awake when he got home, but today, since he was late, it looked like he’d only be able to peek at the sleeping boy.

Moving carefully so his footsteps wouldn’t wake him, Taeheon approached the crib.

A tiny, miraculous life lay sleeping inside.

His sleeping face looked just like Yaein’s. Taeheon fought the urge to stroke his plump cheek, worried he might disturb the boy’s sleep.

Eventually, he quietly retracted his outstretched hand.

He was reminded of the long hours he used to spend just watching his wife sleep. Never once had it felt boring.

Yaein came in behind him and gently rested her head on his shoulder.

“You know, someday,” she whispered.

“Yeah?”

“I think it’d be nice if Saejun had a sibling.”

Taeheon thought of Yaein’s own sibling—the one he had brought down himself.

“I used to wish I had a brother or sister I could lean on.”

Even after all she’d suffered from her half-sister trying to drag her down, Yaein still tried to see the good in what she hadn’t had.

“I don’t know if Saejun would feel the same… maybe I’m just thinking about myself too much.”

She smiled softly.

“What about you? Would you mind having a second child?”

Mind? The thought of another small child who looked like his wife made his heart swell so much it was dizzying.

His heart tickled with joy. But then the memory of how much Yaein had suffered during her pregnancy came back to him—how she couldn’t eat, the way she was wheeled into surgery…

That tickle in his heart turned into a heavy pang.

Yaein, who once said she would gladly die if it meant saving the baby, had terrified him back then.

“Aside from worrying about your health, I’d love it.”

But even so, he didn’t want to say no. Not like before.

“I’ll be fine. You’ll take care of me.”

She wouldn’t leave him behind.

Now he knew.

Yaein was taking care of him, too.

“Right?”

Yaein lightly tapped the tip of Taeheon’s nose. 

“I’ll do everything I can.” 

“You sound so serious.” 

“When it comes to you, I’m always serious.” 

As Yaein tucked her head in slightly, Taeheon followed the movement and kissed her repeatedly. The scent rising from the nape of her neck brought him a strange mix of reassurance and sweet excitement. 

“I know you’ll protect me.” 

There was something so comforting about hearing that she knew—that she believed in him. 

“Yeah.” 

He didn’t want to ever let her down. Taeheon nodded. He’d grown surprisingly used to this softer, gentler version of himself, a far cry from the man who had stormed into Serin’s apartment like a force of nature. 

“I feel safe now.” 

Yaein whispered as she softly ran her fingers through his hair. It was as if she was reassuring him.

Taeheon wrapped an arm around her waist. Despite the wide bed, they clung to each other as if they were one. 

It was a restful sleep. There was no chill. 

*** 

Taeheon looked into the camera. 

The sturdy camera, set up on a tripod, was aimed squarely at the studio. 

Inside the brightly colored space, Saejun—dressed in hanbok—was playing with a ball. 

When he started to lose interest in it and crawled off in another direction, Yaein waved at him. 

“Saejun! Look over here!” 

She lifted Taeheon’s hand along with hers. Saejun, delighting in the attention, broke into a wide grin. 

The shutter clicked at just the right moment. 

The photographer gave a thumbs-up to Saejun. 

“Wow, great shot. What a cute baby. Handsome too, just like mom and dad!” 

Saejun giggled uncontrollably at the exaggerated gestures and cheerful praise—he loved people. 

“Now, let’s have Mama and Papa join. You said this would go up in your living room, right?” 

Yaein, who had been tidying Saejun’s outfit, looked up. Her hair, styled nicely for the shoot, tumbled down in graceful waves. 

“Yes, it’s our first family photo.” 

They were at the studio to take Saejun’s first birthday photos, about a month in advance. A family portrait for the living room wall was part of the plan. 

“Please take good care of us.” 

“Of course! Introduced by President Park, wasn’t it? I’ll do my best. But with such good-looking subjects, I think any photo will come out like a work of art.” 

Joking lightly, the photographer positioned Yaein and Taeheon. 

Parents on each side, child in the center. Saejun, seated in a chair to match their height, let out a long yawn. 

“Saejun, are you sleepy?” 

Yaein asked, and Saejun nodded exaggeratedly. 

“Sweepy…” 

His drowsy mumble made Yaein feign surprise—it was so adorable. 

“You can say you’re sleepy now too?” 

They say kids grow fast, and once he started speaking, his vocabulary had been expanding quickly. 

Pleased by the praise, Saejun puffed up and stomped his little feet on the chair. 

“Daddy!” 

He suddenly wobbled, and in a flash, grabbed onto Taeheon. 

Taeheon gently lifted him up. Settled in his father’s arms, Saejun burst into laughter. He especially loved being picked up by Taeheon, likely because of the exhilarating lift from his dad’s height. 

“Mommy can carry you too.” 

“But your arms hurt.” 

“Still…”

The child was growing by the day—so much so that holding him for a while now left their arms aching. 

It felt like just yesterday that he was in the NICU after being born prematurely, and now people said he was shooting up fast like his dad. 

One day, even Taeheon might struggle to hold him. 

Yaein briefly imagined that far-off future, then turned her eyes to the camera again. 

“Okay, here we go.” 

The photographer clicked the shutter. 

The family behind the viewfinder smiled naturally, without needing to be told. 

It was picture-perfect. 

*** 

“You like them that much?” 

Taeheon glanced at the passenger seat as he asked. 

Yaein was too focused on the preview photos they’d received from the studio, scrolling through them on her phone. 

She looked like she did when they first got the ultrasound—unable to tear her eyes away. 

“You came out so handsome. Saejun too. You both look amazing.” 

“Who looks better, between the two of us?” 

At the sudden question, Yaein widened her eyes and looked over at him. 

Taeheon arched his brow playfully. 

“Seriously…” 

Yaein poked his shoulder lightly. 

“Your mom’s definitely going to love these too. I should send them to her ahead of time.” 

Yaein nodded, beaming. 

It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say Gyeongju had taken care of half the preparations for the first birthday party. 

Beyond introducing them to the photographer, she’d rolled up her sleeves to help with the traditional baby outfit and return gifts too. 

Taeheon had even joined in when they were choosing the favors. 

Yaein’s mind went back to how Gyeongju had smiled and said it was her first time preparing a doljanchi, and Taeheon gently rubbed the corner of his mouth, recalling it. 

“How about we have dinner together after Saejun’s birthday party?” 

“With your mom?” Yaein asked. 

“She’s done a lot for us.” 

Yaein had already been thinking they should do something to show their thanks afterward. 

She just hadn’t expected Taeheon to bring it up first. 

Surprised at first, her face quickly shifted into a proud smile. 

“You’ve really gotten close to her, haven’t you?” 

Just as Yaein had grown closer to Gyeongju while caring for Saejun together, Taeheon also talked to her more these days—though always about Yaein or the baby. 

Was that what you’d call “getting close”? 

If his wife said so, he had no reason to argue. 

“Gwandma…” 

Perhaps tired from the photo shoot, Saejun stirred in his car seat, murmuring groggily. 

“Saejun, you miss Grandma?” Yaein turned to look over the back seat. 

Gyeongju adored him, and since they’d spent so much time together, Saejun had grown attached as well. 

He had even said “grandma” right after “mommy” and “daddy.” 

“How about we eat some yummy food with Grandma later, Saejun?” 

Saejun laughed and wriggled his shoulders toward Yaein. 

He was such a smiley baby—like he’d been born laughing and had lived that way every day since. 

Taeheon loved anything that made Saejun smile. And every day, the list of things he loved grew longer. 

“Look how excited he is. Mom’s going to be happy to hear that.” 

“Yeah.” 

As they pulled into the parking garage, a soft shadow passed over Yaein’s face, making her look even more vivid and beautiful. 

Taeheon quietly looked at her— 

At the thin, shimmering layers of moments being added one by one to their lives. 

At the fleeting glimpse of a happiness that, ever so slowly, was starting to feel familiar.

***

As soon as you step into the living room, the first thing you see is Taeheon and Yaein’s wedding photo. 

Yaein stood with her arms folded, staring up at the large, framed picture. 

Looking at it now, she couldn’t help but remember the time she’d stood in front of it for a long while before walking out the door with her suitcase. 

“Should we take it down?” 

Taeheon had approached without her noticing and asked softly. 

“Now that we’ve taken a new family photo.” 

“Why? You look great in that tuxedo.” 

“But my expression’s not so great.” 

“You should’ve smiled like they told you to, then.” 

At Yaein’s playful tease, Taeheon smiled quietly. 

It was agreement—and a little regret. 

There’s always regret in the things that have passed. 

But you can’t live trying to erase every stain from life. 

Yaein lowered her arms and wrapped one around Taeheon’s. 

“I used to feel a little sad looking at it… but now, I really like that photo. It’s our wedding.” 

Those two people, looking somber and expressionless, were the beginning of all this happiness. 

“If I hadn’t married you, I never would’ve known what this kind of happiness felt like.” 

No one can go through life completely spotless. 

Sometimes, sadness is the doorway to a better place. 

We never truly know what we’re becoming. 

What a dangerous, glorious journey life is. 

“So, thank you, Taeheon.” 

Yaein remembered Taeheon’s words—that he was grateful she had taught him a love he wouldn’t have known otherwise. 

And now she wanted to give that same feeling back to him. 

“Let’s keep looking after each other.” 

“From now on… forever?” 

As he kissed her wedding ring, Taeheon asked softly. 

Yaein answered without hesitation. 

“Forever.”

*** 

The sunlight streamed in at an angle, settling on the photo frames in the living room. 

White light glimmered across the glass. 

The wedding photo—Yaein in her dress, Taeheon in his tuxedo—hung beside a family photo of the two grinning brightly with their newborn child between them. 

Below them hung a picture of Saejun’s first birthday in traditional hanbok, and another of Gyeongju in hanbok, holding Saejun. 

The peaceful stillness in the living room was soon broken by cheerful chaos. 

A little boy ran across the room. 

“Let’s go to the amusement park! Hurry!” 

“Saejun, wait! You’ll trip if you run like that!” 

“I’ll go catch him.” 

“Would you? I’ll grab the lunchboxes.” 

Even as the conversation continued, light danced along the curtains. 

And perhaps it always would. 

< The End >