Touch Therapy: Where Hands Go, Bodies Beg-Chapter 264 - 265: Nesting Week

Yura woke up before the sun did.

Not because she wanted to.

Because the baby decided her bladder was a punching bag and her ribs were a ladder.

She lay there for a moment, eyes open in the dark, listening to the soft, even rhythm of Joon-ho's breathing beside her. The apartment was quiet in the way it only got when the world outside hadn't started demanding things yet.

Her hand drifted down automatically to her belly, fingers spreading over the curve. The skin felt warm and stretched, like it belonged to someone else, and also like it had always belonged to her. Under her palm, there was a slow, stubborn pressure.

"Are you awake?" she whispered.

Joon-ho didn't answer. He only shifted, half-asleep, and his arm tightened around her waist like his body refused to let her go even while his brain was offline.

Yura smiled into the dark.

Then the baby kicked, sharp and sudden, like a tiny complaint.

Yura hissed softly. "Okay. Okay. I heard you."

She tried to roll, slow and careful. The movement woke him more than her whisper did.

Joon-ho blinked, confused, and then his hand was on her belly too, protective, familiar. "Pain?"

"No." Yura exhaled. "Just… your child practicing taekwondo."

He made a sound that was half a laugh, half a groan. "My child?"

"Our child," she corrected, but her voice was soft, amused.

He pushed himself up on an elbow, hair messy, eyes still heavy. In the low light, his face looked younger, less polished than the version of him the world saw. "Do you need water?"

"I need to pee."

He was already moving before she finished. That reflex in him—instant, automatic, like he'd been training for this and didn't know it.

Yura watched him shuffle out of bed in loose sweatpants, grab the bedside lamp and dim it down to a warm glow. He turned just enough so it didn't stab her eyes.

"You're not a nurse," she said, voice teasing.

He yawned. "I'm a doctor."

"That's worse."

He paused and looked at her like he wanted to argue, then gave up and held out his hand instead. "Come."

Yura took it. His palm was warm. Callused in the right places. She stood slowly, waiting for her body to catch up, then let him guide her like she was precious.

Which she was.

In the bathroom, she closed the door on him out of habit. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

"Don't fall," he said through the door, immediate worry in his voice.

She rolled her eyes even though he couldn't see it. "I'm peeing, not climbing a mountain."

"Still."

Yura smiled, leaning her forehead against the cool tile for a second, letting the reality of it settle. One month. That was what they kept saying.

One month until everything changed.

When she came out, Joon-ho was sitting on the edge of the bed, awake now, elbows on his knees. The lamp made his shoulders look broader, the lines of his body more real.

He looked up at her with the kind of attention that used to make her feel like a woman being studied.

Now it made her feel like a home being guarded.

"Do you want to sleep more?" he asked.

"I want to…" Yura hesitated, searching for the right word, then sighed. "I want to make sure everything is ready."

Joon-ho's mouth twitched. "Everything is ready."

Yura lifted a brow. "Is it?"

He opened his mouth, then closed it. He looked away like a man caught in a lie.

Yura leaned down and pinched his cheek. "Doctor Kim. Don't lie to a pregnant woman."

His hand caught hers and held it against his face. "Okay. Not everything."

"Mm."

"We bought most of it," he insisted. "The crib is assembled. The diapers are stacked like a wall. We even have those tiny socks."

Yura's lips curved. "You mean the ones you held like they were a rare artifact?"

He sighed. "They're smaller than my thumb."

"And that shocked you."

"It did."

Yura sat down carefully, then patted her belly. "What's not ready?"

Joon-ho looked at her for a long moment, then admitted, "Me."

The honesty made the room feel quieter.

Yura's teasing faded. She reached out, fingers brushing his wrist. "Why?"

He gave a short laugh that didn't sound amused. "Because I've handled emergencies. I've been on call at three a.m. I've done surgery with people yelling. I've watched patients crash."

He swallowed, and his throat bobbed.

"But this…" He glanced at her belly again, then back to her eyes. "This is my whole life. If something goes wrong—"

"Joon-ho." Yura's voice snapped softly, not angry—anchoring. "Stop."

He went still.

"You're spiraling."

He exhaled hard, like he hadn't realized he was holding his breath.

Yura leaned closer, her forehead nearly touching his. "We can be scared. But we don't get to torture ourselves."

His eyes flickered, guilt and fear mixing. "I'm trying."

"I know."

She kissed him—slow, gentle, more reassurance than romance. His hand slid to the back of her neck, holding her like he needed the contact to stay steady.

When she pulled back, she whispered, "Today we do practical things. No doom thinking."

He nodded once, obedient.

Yura smirked. "And you will listen to me."

"Yes, ma'am."

The word made her laugh, and the laugh made him soften too.

They didn't go back to sleep.

Instead, they moved through the apartment like two people preparing for a storm they couldn't see yet.

Min-kyung came over mid-morning with two paper bags and the energy of a commander.

"I brought food," she announced, stepping into the entryway. "And I brought… judgment."

Yura blinked. "Judgment?"

Min-kyung's gaze swept across the living room. Her eyes landed on the neatly stacked baby supplies, the folded blankets, the tiny bottles lined up like soldiers.

Then she looked at Joon-ho.

He straightened automatically, as if he was facing an audit.

"Good," Min-kyung said, not unkind. "You look like you've been working."

"I have," Joon-ho said quickly.

Min-kyung held up one finger. "But."

Yura sighed. "There's always a but."

"There is," Min-kyung agreed. She set the bags on the counter. "Where is the hospital bag?"

Yura opened her mouth.

Joon-ho opened his mouth too.

Neither of them spoke.

Min-kyung's expression went flat in a way that made both of them feel twelve years old.

Yura put a hand on her belly like it was a shield. "We were going to do it today."

Min-kyung leaned forward, elbows on the kitchen island. "Yura. You are one month away. The baby does not care about your schedule."

Joon-ho cleared his throat. "We have a list."

"A list is not a bag," Min-kyung replied.

Yura groaned. "Okay. Okay. Commander Min. What do you want?"

Min-kyung's eyes softened slightly, but her voice stayed firm. "I want you to sit. Feet up. And I want him to pack while you supervise."

Joon-ho looked offended. "I can supervise myself."

Min-kyung pointed at him with a chopstick she had pulled from a bag. "No. You can spiral. She supervises."

Yura's lips twitched. "She's right."

Joon-ho stared at his girlfriend like she had betrayed him.

Yura smiled sweetly. "I'm pregnant. I'm allowed."

So Joon-ho packed.

And Yura watched like a queen overseeing a clumsy knight.

He started with the baby clothes.

Min-kyung snorted. "Why are you packing six outfits?"

Joon-ho didn't look up. "What if there's… accidents."

Yura's cheeks warmed. "There will be accidents."

Min-kyung leaned closer. "Two outfits. Three if you want to feel safe. The hospital has laundry solutions."

Joon-ho hesitated, then reluctantly put the extras aside. "Okay."

He packed diapers.

Min-kyung stared. "You don't need diapers. The hospital has diapers."

Joon-ho frowned. "But what if they run out?"

Min-kyung's deadpan stare returned. "It's a hospital. Not a convenience store."

Yura tried not to laugh. She failed.

Joon-ho shot her a wounded look. "You're enjoying this."

"A little," Yura admitted.

He packed a blanket.

Min-kyung approved.

Then he reached for a small speaker.

Yura blinked. "What's that for?"

Joon-ho shrugged, suddenly embarrassed. "I read that… music helps."

Min-kyung's expression shifted—less judgment, more quiet respect. "That's fine."

Yura's chest softened. She watched him place it carefully into the bag like it mattered.

Then he packed snacks.

Min-kyung raised a brow. "For you?"

"For me," he said quickly. "If I faint, I'll be useless."

Yura laughed again, and this time she reached out and squeezed his arm. "You won't faint."

"You don't know that," he muttered.

Min-kyung folded her arms. "If you faint, I will slap you awake."

Joon-ho looked genuinely alarmed. "Is that allowed?"

"Everything is allowed when Yura is giving birth," Min-kyung said.

Yura watched the two of them, heart tugging. It was strange, how pregnancy didn't just change her body—it changed the shape of her relationships. People rearranged themselves around her without being asked.

Like instinct.

Like love.

When the bag was finally packed and zipped, Joon-ho sat back like he'd completed a battle.

Min-kyung nodded once. "Good."

Yura lifted her chin. "See? We're responsible."

Min-kyung's lips curved. "You're getting there."

Joon-ho exhaled, then looked at Yura. "Okay. What's next?"

Yura glanced at Min-kyung, then at the list they'd taped on the fridge.

Her eyes caught on one item and her expression sobered.

"Emergency contacts," she said.

Joon-ho's face tightened. "We already have them."

"Not written," Yura said quietly. "Not clear."

Min-kyung's voice softened for the first time. "I can help."

So they sat at the kitchen table with a pen and paper, writing names and numbers like it was a ritual.

Yura's mother. Joon-ho's mentor. The hospital. The driver. Mirae. Harin. Even Ji-hye's contact—because Yura refused to pretend Ji-hye wasn't part of their world, even if she was far away right now.

Joon-ho hesitated when they wrote Ji-hye's name.

Yura saw it and said, "She'll want to know."

Joon-ho's jaw flexed. Then he nodded. "Yeah."

Min-kyung watched them with quiet eyes, like she understood the complicated shape of their life better than anyone else.

After lunch, Mirae came in like a breeze, sunglasses on her head and a big tote bag slung over her shoulder.

"I heard there's a military operation happening here," Mirae announced. "I came to witness."

Min-kyung didn't look up from the table. "We're packing and planning."

Mirae dropped her bag and moved straight to Yura, hands hovering like she wasn't sure where she was allowed to touch. "How do you feel?"

Yura smiled. "Big."

Mirae's eyes glittered with fondness. "You're… glowing."

Yura snorted. "That's sweat."

Mirae laughed, then leaned down and kissed Yura's forehead. "I brought something."

She pulled out a small camera from her tote—one of those instant ones. Yura's eyes widened.

"Mirae—"

"I'm not posting," Mirae said immediately, serious. "This is for you. Private. No staff. No managers. No fans."

Joon-ho's shoulders eased.

Mirae looked at him. "I'm not a monster."

Joon-ho cleared his throat. "I didn't say you were."

"You thought it," Mirae said, then grinned. "It's okay. I forgive you."

Harin arrived later with a notebook and a stack of printed papers like she was ready to run a board meeting.

"This is the birth plan," Harin announced.

Yura blinked. "There's a birth plan?"

Harin nodded solemnly. "There is now."

Joon-ho looked alarmed. "Why does it have bullet points?"

"Because chaos needs structure," Harin replied.

Min-kyung leaned over and scanned the pages. "You even included parking instructions."

Harin looked proud. "I did."

Yura's chest tightened again, in that sweet painful way that made her want to cry and laugh at the same time.

She looked at the three women in her kitchen—each of them strong in a different way, each of them showing up for her without being asked.

Then she looked at Joon-ho, who stood slightly behind her chair like he didn't want to interrupt, but also didn't want to be far.

Yura reached back and caught his hand.

He squeezed her fingers immediately, like he'd been waiting.

Mirae raised the camera. "Okay. Everyone together. Just one."

Min-kyung groaned. "I hate photos."

"You're in it," Mirae said sweetly. "Because you care."

Min-kyung muttered something that sounded like a curse, but she moved closer anyway.

Harin adjusted her hair quickly, then rolled her eyes at herself.

Yura leaned into Joon-ho's chest as he bent down behind her, his arms wrapping around her shoulders carefully, like he was hugging both her and the baby.

The camera clicked.

The flash popped.

For a moment, the room was bright.

Then it was normal again, but different. Like the light stayed inside them.

Later, when everyone had left and the apartment quieted again, Yura stood by the window and watched the city below. The streets looked the same as always—cars, people, neon signs that didn't care about her life changing.

Joon-ho came up behind her, slow, cautious, and pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

"You okay?" he murmured.

Yura nodded. "I'm… full."

"Full?" he repeated.

She turned her head, smiling faintly. "Full of love. Full of fear. Full of… everything."

Joon-ho's arms wrapped around her from behind, hands splayed over her belly. His palms were warm, grounding.

"I'm scared," he admitted again, quieter than before.

Yura leaned back into him. "Me too."

He held her tighter. "Promise me you'll tell me if something feels wrong."

"I will."

"And if you feel pain—real pain—"

"I will tell you."

"And if you want to yell at me—"

Yura laughed softly. "I will do that too."

Joon-ho exhaled, a shaky sound that made her realize how much he'd been holding in.

Yura reached up and touched his cheek. "Hey."

He hummed.

"You're going to be a good dad."

Joon-ho's eyes closed for a second at the word like it hit him in the chest.

He opened them again and whispered, "I want to be."

"You will," Yura said, steady. "Because you care too much. That's the whole problem."

He gave a small, helpless smile. "Yeah."

They stood like that for a while, watching the city.

Then Yura shifted—and froze.

Joon-ho noticed instantly. "What?"

Yura breathed in slowly.

There was a tightness low in her abdomen, not sharp, but firm. A wave that rose and held and then eased slightly.

Yura's hand went to her belly.

Joon-ho's grip tightened. "Yura."

She swallowed. "It's… probably nothing."

Another wave came, stronger this time.

Yura's lips parted.

Joon-ho went still, every muscle in him turning alert. "Tell me exactly what you feel."

Yura breathed, trying to stay calm. "Pressure. Like… a cramp, but deeper."

Joon-ho's face sharpened into doctor mode, but his eyes betrayed him—too bright, too human. "When did it start?"

"Just now."

He glanced at the clock, then looked back at her. "Okay. Okay. We time it."

Yura nodded, trying to keep her voice steady. "Okay."

Joon-ho guided her to the couch like she was fragile glass and knelt in front of her, phone in hand, timer ready.

"Breathe," he said softly. "Just breathe."

Yura's eyes met his.

And in them, she saw the storm he'd been preparing for—finally arriving.

Another wave rolled through her.

Yura gripped his hand.

Joon-ho pressed his forehead to her knee, just for a second, like a prayer.

Then he looked up, voice low and steady even as his fingers trembled around hers.

"Okay," he said. "We're ready."

Outside, the city kept moving.

Inside, their world began.