🍄Chapter 6: Call Me Momma
The room was still. Soft daylight poured in through the sheer curtains, casting delicate shadows across the crisp white sheets of the hospital bed.
Jiwoo stirred, her lips slightly parted, her throat dry. She glanced to the side, eyes landing on a jug of water and a glass placed on the side table a bit too far from her reach. With a faint sigh, she slowly shifted her body and attempted to rise.
Before she could even fully push herself up—
"Wait, Miss Jiwoo," came a warm yet gentle voice.
Startled, she looked up to see Seojun moving toward her with swift yet careful steps. He reached the table, poured her a fresh glass of water, and handed it to her with quiet concern in his eyes.
Jiwoo gave a grateful smile. "Thank you."
As she brought the glass to her lips and took a slow sip, her gaze wandered—and then stilled.
Near the door, a small figure stood, peeking into the room with wide, hopeful eyes. The boy— looked at her with such open-hearted innocence, his little fingers gripping the edge of his shirt, his lower lip slightly trembling as if waiting for permission.
Jiwoo's heart did something strange. It squeezed, a soft ache blooming in her chest that she couldn't explain.
Jiwoo's POV
As I drank the water, my eyes landed on the little boy standing near the doorway. He was watching me with those large, puppy-like eyes that seemed to glimmer with some unspoken hope. I don't know what it was, but something about him tugged at my soul.
There was a warmth—an almost instinctive pull. A strange but comforting ache bloomed in my chest. I didn't understand it. I didn't know why I suddenly wanted to scoop him up and hold him close, why I wanted to protect him, kiss his cheeks, and whisper that everything would be alright.
Do I… know him?
Maybe it was because I didn't have a mother either. Maybe I was just projecting. But it felt like more than that. It felt like my heart knew something my mind didn't.
"Hey, little one," I called softly, my voice kind and welcoming. "Do you want to come here?"
The boy's eyes lit up like stars.
Without waiting for further encouragement, he ran toward me, and Seojun immediately moved to help him up onto the bed. The moment he was near enough, he threw his little arms around my waist and nuzzled against me with a joyful giggle.
I couldn't help but chuckle, my hand gently patting his back.
"What's your name, cute boy?" I asked with a wide smile.
The boy pulled back just a little to look up at me, his face beaming. "My name is Taehyun! I'm a good boy!" he declared proudly, as if trying to convince me to keep him.
My heart melted on the spot.
"You are a good boy," I whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.
He giggled and held me even tighter.
"By the way," I said, smoothing his hair back, "my name is Jiwoo."
"I know, Momma!" he chirped, eyes crinkling with joy as he kissed my cheek in return and buried his face in my shoulder.
I froze for just a heartbeat—but not out of discomfort.
It didn't feel wrong.
In fact, it felt… right. So strangely right that it scared me.
Before I could say anything, Seojun's voice cut through the moment, tense and clearly worried.
"Baby… I told you not to call her Momma," he said gently but firmly, stepping forward, his eyes flickering between us.
I looked up at him, reading the concern etched into his features.
"It's okay, Mr. Kim," I said softly, brushing Taehyun's hair with my fingers. "If this good boy wants to call me Momma, I really don't mind."
Taehyun's arms tightened around me again, making me laugh at his overflowing cuteness.
"And," I added with a teasing tilt of my head, "you can stop calling me Miss Jiwoo, too. We're almost friends now, aren't we?"
Seojun hesitated. "But…"
"It's fine," I interrupted, my eyes twinkling. "He's just a child, and it's a harmless nickname. I'm not uncomfortable. Honestly, I think I like it."
His brows furrowed, clearly torn between relief and lingering anxiety. "Still, I wouldn't want you to feel—"
"Mr. Kim," I said again, shaking my head, "You just called me Miss Jiwoo again."
He sighed, and a small smile tugged at his lips. "Alright then. Just Jiwoo."
I smiled warmly at him, feeling strangely comfortable . "And for you, just Seojun."
Our eyes met—and for a moment, everything else faded. There was something in his gaze. Something deeply buried. Pain. Longing. Love?
I looked away first, flustered, only to find Taehyun still curled up against me like he had no intention of moving.
"Looks like I've been adopted," I murmured playfully.
Seojun chuckled softly, a hint of emotion laced in his laugh. "He's stubborn when he wants something."
Taehyun looked up and pouted. "I want Momma."
And for once… I didn't want to correct him.
----------
A soft hush had settled over the hospital room as the day drifted into late afternoon. The golden light filtering through the blinds gave the space a warm, almost nostalgic hue. Jiwoo sat on the edge of the hospital bed, her arms gently wrapped around Taehyun, whose soft breaths warmed the space between them as he lay sleeping against her chest.
His tiny fingers clung to her like she was something he never wanted to let go of.
Seojun entered quietly, holding a folder in one hand from the hospital discharge desk. The moment he saw the two of them—Jiwoo holding his son with such tenderness—his steps faltered, and for just a second, his world stilled.
She looked… complete like that.
"Ah, you're ready to go?" Jiwoo whispered, not wanting to wake Taehyun. "He fell asleep while telling me all about how he wants to be the class monitor and how he shares his tteokbokki only with his best friend."
A gentle smile tugged at her lips, and Seojun found himself smiling too—softly, helplessly.
"I see," he said, walking toward them and carefully taking Taehyun from her arms. "That boy can talk someone's ears off when he feels safe."
"He's precious," Jiwoo murmured, watching as Taehyun shifted a little in his father's hold but didn't wake. "It's strange… how attached I feel to him. Like I've known him far longer than just today."
Seojun's smile faltered for a heartbeat, but he quickly masked it. "He has that effect on people."
They left the hospital together, stepping into the warm glow of the Parisian evening. The city was buzzing softly, its charm painted in soft oranges and purples as the sun dipped below the rooftops. Jiwoo instinctively reached into her bag to check for her phone and book a cab, but Seojun stopped her.
"I'll drop you," he said simply, opening the passenger-side door of his black sedan with one hand while balancing Taehyun gently on his shoulder.
Jiwoo blinked. "Oh, that's really not necessary. I can—"
"No arguments," Seojun said, smiling sideways. "We're friends now, right?"
She paused, then chuckled softly. "Right."
The car ride was quiet, peaceful. Taehyun remained asleep in the backseat, and soft instrumental music played over the speakers. Jiwoo stared out the window, her fingers lightly tracing the cool glass, her heart oddly unsettled—but not in a bad way.
It was as if she were waiting for something she couldn't name.
Eventually, the car pulled to a smooth stop in front of her apartment. Jiwoo glanced back at Taehyun, still fast asleep, then turned toward Seojun.
"Thank you," she said sincerely, her hand on the car door. "For everything today. And… I'm sorry. For all the trouble I caused."
Seojun leaned an elbow on the steering wheel, tilting his head slightly as he met her gaze. "Jiwoo, we're past that. You didn't trouble me. Not even for a second."
Their eyes met—and for a moment, the air between them shifted.