52 | Jisoo

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"I can't believe she's pregnant," Lisa  says, her face marred with worry

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"I can't believe she's pregnant," Lisa says, her face marred with worry. "This can't be happening, can it?"

I nod and lean back on her sofa. In the last couple of days, I've found myself staying away from home more and more often. Taehyung is doing his best to reassure me, but his words fall flat when he hovers around Irene constantly.

Grandma was right. It only took him a few days to start worrying about her wellbeing, and I can't begrudge her that - not when I know it isn't about her, but rather about their child. It still doesn't make it any easier to watch.

"Yep," I say, popping the P. "You're going to be an aunt soon. Congrats."

Lisa frowns and tilts her head. "Yeah, you... too?"

My eyes widen for a moment, and then I flinch. Lisa looks away, speechless for once. There are no elaborate schemes, no jokes. Not this time. This isn't a situation we can make light of.

"Grandma told me she'd let me go if I want to. She'll let us get a divorce. I guess Operation Happily Ever After failed, huh?"

Lisa sits up in shock. "Are you serious?"

I nod and stare down at my nails. "She told me that she just wants me to be happy, but I can't tell if it was just a way of asking me to do the right thing and divorce him."

Lisa shakes her head. "No one but Taehyung and you get to decide that."

I nod. "I agree, but there's some truth to what she told me. I spent my entire life loving your brother, and what for? In the end, she's still standing between us."

Lisa sits up and frowns, her phone in hand. "Someone disabled my security system."

Moments later, Taehyung walks in, his stride confident and his expression unyielding as he approaches me.

"Taehyung!" Lisa warns, but he ignores her and shoots her a withering warning look.

He reaches for me and lifts me into his arms, one hand around my back and the other underneath my knee. I instinctively lay my head on his shoulder and breathe him in, my heart instantly at ease. No matter what we're going through, he's always home to me.

"Enough," he tells me as he walks outs, his grip tight. "I've given you a few days to process what happened, but that's as much as I'll give you. You're done running, beautiful. No more avoiding me. That's not how we deal with our problems, remember?"

I look up at him as he carries me back to our home. He's only gotten more and more handsome with age, and with each passing year, I've fallen for him harder. But is my love enough? Is it enough to see us through the struggles we're about to face? The media attention, the ridicule, the co- parenting.

I tense as we walk into our house, worried Irene might see us. I'm his wife, yet I still feel like I'm doing something wrong by being in his arms in our own home. Is this how I'll always feel?

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