Jo's POV

The past few days had been heavy, like walking through a fog I couldn't shake. Taehyung and I both tried to act normal, clinging to routines and mundane tasks as if they could patch the cracks forming between us. But the weight of unspoken words, the shared grief, and the helplessness we felt gnawed at the edges of our relationship.

At breakfast, I noticed Taehyung staring at his coffee, stirring it absentmindedly. I wanted to say something, to break the silence, but the words caught in my throat. What could I say that wouldn't make it worse? I knew he was hurting too, but I didn't know how to console him when I could barely manage my own emotions.

When he left for work, his goodbye kiss lingered on my cheek. "I'll see you later," he murmured, offering me a faint smile. I nodded, returning the gesture, but it felt hollow.

At school, I tried to focus on my students, to lose myself in their chatter and boundless energy. But even here, where I'd always found solace, the emptiness followed me. My movements felt robotic as I walked around the classroom, offering encouragement and help where it was needed.

"Miss Jo, are you okay?"

The small voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I turned to see little Hana, her big brown eyes wide with concern. She stood beside my desk, clutching a toffee in her tiny hand.

"Yes, sweetie. I'm fine," I replied, forcing a smile.

Hana didn't seem convinced. She tilted her head, studying me with a seriousness that only children could manage. Then, without a word, she handed me the toffee. "This is for you," she said.

Her gesture was so pure, so kind, that it pierced through my heart. "Thank you, Hana," I whispered, my voice trembling.

Hana beamed and then, to my surprise, wrapped her arms around my leg in a brief, tight hug before skipping away, giggling.

I watched her go, my chest tightening. The simplicity of her affection, the innocence of her gesture—it was everything I longed for. The ache for a child of my own became unbearable in that moment. My throat burned as I fought back tears, but they spilled over anyway.

I excused myself from the classroom, leaving my assistant to take over. In the empty hallway, I leaned against the wall, covering my face with my hands. The reality of our situation hit me all over again, raw and relentless.

When I got home earlier than usual, I was surprised to find Taehyung's car in the driveway. I stepped inside to see him sitting on the couch, looking just as startled to see me.

"You're home early," I said, trying to keep my voice even.

Taehyung hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, I thought I'd come home and change before we go to the doctor. Remember?"

The doctor. I had completely forgotten about the follow-up appointment amidst everything else swirling in my mind. "Right," I murmured, nodding.

He studied me for a moment, his brows furrowing slightly. "Jo..."

I looked up at him, my expression betraying the storm inside me. He let out a soft sigh and stood, walking over to me. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around me in a gentle embrace.

For a fleeting moment, the chaos in my mind quieted. His touch was warm, steady—a reminder that I wasn't alone, even though it felt that way sometimes. I rested my head against his chest, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat.

"We'll get through this," he whispered, his voice soft but resolute.

I wanted to believe him. I wanted to hold onto that sliver of hope, but the fear of more heartbreak kept me from fully embracing it. I nodded against his chest, unable to find the words to respond.

After a moment, Taehyung pulled away, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "I'm going to freshen up," he said, heading to the bathroom.

I watched him go, my heart heavy with conflicting emotions. The house felt eerily quiet, the ticking of the clock on the wall amplifying my unease.

As I sat on the edge of the couch, staring at the floor, a thought crept into my mind that I couldn't shake: What if the doctor had more bad news for us today? What if the faint glimmer of hope we were clinging to was extinguished entirely?

The sound of the water running in the bathroom brought me back to the present, but the questions lingered, gnawing at the edges of my resolve.

---<>---

The waiting room felt more stifling than the last time we were here. Every ticking second seemed amplified, the weight of anticipation pressing down on my chest. Taehyung sat beside me, fidgeting slightly, glancing at the digital queue board as though willing it to speed up. A few patients were ahead of us, and the wait stretched interminably.

"I'm just going to use the restroom quickly," Taehyung said, standing up. He leaned down, brushing a soft kiss against my temple. "Do you need anything from the snack machine?"

I shook my head silently, unable to muster the energy to say much. He gave my hand a gentle squeeze, his eyes searching mine for reassurance before walking away.

I exhaled shakily, shifting in my chair. It was only after Taehyung left that I noticed the elderly woman seated beside me. Her presence had been lost in my distracted thoughts until she spoke.

"You've got a handsome young man there," she said warmly, a baby nestled securely in her arms. "I bet the two of you would have beautiful kids."

Her comment jolted me. My head snapped toward her, and for the first time, I took in the soft lines of her face, the kind smile she wore, and the way her hands cradled the infant so gently. Her words hit me like a blow to the chest. Beautiful kids.

Suddenly, the room felt smaller, and every sight and sound seemed sharper—the soft coos of the baby in her arms, the pregnant women waddling in and out of the clinic, the distant hum of conversation. My eyes welled with tears, and I clenched my hands tightly in my lap, trying to keep it together.

"Oh, honey, are you all right?" the woman asked, her voice laced with concern.

I shook my head quickly, unable to speak. A single tear slipped down my cheek, betraying the storm within me. The woman reached out, placing a gentle hand on my arm. Her touch was warm and comforting, and the maternal gesture unraveled me further.

Without thinking, I leaned in, craving the solace only a motherly presence could offer. She didn't hesitate, shifting the baby slightly to stroke my head with her free hand. The simple, soothing motion was enough to loosen the words caught in my throat.

"I want a child so badly," I whispered, my voice breaking. "But I don't know if I'll ever be able to have one."

Her hand stilled for a moment, then resumed its rhythmic stroking. "Oh, my dear," she said softly. "Don't lose hope. You can have a child—you just need to keep trying and believing. My own daughter struggled for years, and there were times she felt like giving up. But they kept trying, almost every day when the timing was right."

She paused, her smile deepening as she looked down at the baby in her arms. "And this little joy came into our lives after all that effort."

Her words settled into my heart, repeating themselves like a mantra. They kept trying and trying. I glanced at the baby, who was now squirming slightly, his tiny fingers curling and uncurling. The sight was both beautiful and agonizing, a reminder of what I yearned for but didn't have.

I wanted to ask more, to know every detail of how her daughter overcame her struggles, but before I could, Taehyung returned. His gaze flickered between me and the woman, his brows knitting slightly.

"Are you okay?" he asked gently, crouching down beside me.

I nodded, brushing away the remnants of my tears. "I'm fine," I said quietly. "I was just talking to this kind lady."

Taehyung smiled politely at her, and she returned the gesture with a knowing look. "You've got a lovely wife here," she said. "Take good care of her, and I hope you both get to see a beautiful baby of your own soon."

"Thank you," Taehyung replied, his voice soft.

A few minutes later, our number was called. We stood, and I glanced back at the woman one last time. She gave me a reassuring smile, her gaze filled with encouragement.

Inside the doctor's office, the atmosphere was clinical but not unkind. The doctor greeted us with a professional yet warm smile. "Jo, Taehyung, it's good to see you again. Let's take a look at where we are now."

She performed a few preliminary tests before sitting down with a chart in hand. I watched her closely, every flick of her pen and furrow of her brow magnified in my anxious mind.

"Well," she began, looking up at us, "the situation hasn't changed much, but that doesn't mean we don't have options. I'd like us to start with a more natural approach for now. I'll prescribe some medications to support ovulation, and we'll focus on timing and some specific exercises to improve your chances. Let's try this for a month or two, and if we don't see any progress, we'll explore other methods."

Her words were measured, careful, but I clung to the sliver of hope they offered. A plan. We had a plan.

Taehyung squeezed my hand under the table, his silent way of telling me he was here, that we were in this together.

On the drive home, I stared out the window, my thoughts swirling. The doctor's words echoed in my mind, but one phrase stood out above the rest: keep trying.