20 - Ultrasound

Soyoon is practically glowing with excitement, but I feel like a lead weight is pressing down on my chest.

The waiting room is quiet except for the occasional rustling of magazines and the soft murmur of conversation from the reception desk. Soyoon sits beside me, her hands resting on her stomach as if she's already carrying life inside her.

"Can you believe it? In a few minutes, we'll see our baby for the first time."

I force a nod, but my stomach twists uncomfortably. Something about this doesn't sit right with me. Maybe it's the fact that none of this was planned, or maybe it's because I still don't know if I even believe she's pregnant.

A nurse calls her name, and we both stand. Soyoon practically bounces as we follow the nurse into the dimly lit ultrasound room. The doctor is a kind-looking woman in her fifties, her voice gentle as she instructs Soyoon to lie back on the examination table.

The cold gel is applied, and the doctor moves the ultrasound wand over Soyoon's abdomen. The screen flickers to life with shades of black and white, but I don't know what I'm looking at. Neither does Soyoon, but she's staring at the screen with wide, expectant eyes, her lips slightly parted in awe.

But the doctor is quiet.

She moves the wand again, pressing slightly harder.

"Is there... something wrong?" I ask, my voice carefully controlled.

The doctor doesn't answer right away. Instead, she frowns slightly and adjusts the wand again.

"Ma'am, are you sure that you're pregnant?" she asks finally, her tone neutral but her words sharp.

Soyoon blinks, taken aback. "Yes, of course! I missed my period, and the test was positive."

The doctor hums but says nothing. She scans the screen a little longer, then sighs, pulling back slightly.

"Ma'am, I'm afraid you're not pregnant."

Soyoon stiffens. "W-what? That can't be right. The test—"

"The ultrasound clearly shows that there is no fetus," the doctor explains gently. "However, we did find a small ovarian cyst. It's nothing serious, but it likely caused your period to stop and led to a false positive pregnancy test. This sometimes happens when hormone levels fluctuate due to the cyst."

I barely register Soyoon's sharp inhale. My mind is spinning, but I keep my expression unreadable.

"What does that mean?" Soyoon asks, her voice suddenly smaller.

"It means that with a short course of medication, the cyst should dissolve completely. You'll be able to try again for a baby once it's gone, if you choose to."

The room is silent. I glance at Soyoon, but her face is blank, her earlier excitement completely drained away.

The doctor gives her a kind smile. "I'll prescribe the medication, and you can schedule a follow-up in a few weeks."

Soyoon nods slowly, but she's barely present.

I thank the doctor and help Soyoon sit up. She doesn't say a word as I help her clean the gel from her stomach, nor as we step out of the examination room and back into the waiting area. She follows me to the car in a daze, sliding into the passenger seat without a sound.

I start the engine but freeze when I hear it—soft, broken sobs.

I look over and see her turned toward the window, shoulders shaking. She tries to cover her face with her hands, but it does nothing to muffle her cries.

I hesitate for a moment before reaching out, resting a hand on her back. "Soyoon..."

She doesn't flinch away, but she doesn't look at me either.

"I really wanted this baby, Jungkook." Her voice is thick with grief. "I really thought... I really believed..."

She breaks off into another sob. I exhale, unsure what to say. I never wanted this pregnancy to be real—but that doesn't mean I wanted her to be hurt like this.

I hesitate for only a second before pulling her into my arms. She clings to me, shaking, and for the first time in a long time, I see her vulnerable. She's not angry, not bitter—just broken.

"I'm sorry," I say quietly.

We sit there like that for a while, her tears soaking into my shirt. Eventually, her sobs slow, and she pulls back, wiping at her eyes.

She lets out a humorless laugh, shaking her head. "Maybe... maybe this is a sign. That we were never meant to have a future together."

I stay silent, watching as she exhales deeply.

"I'll sign the papers." She looks at me, her eyes tired but determined. "I won't fight it anymore. We both know this marriage has been over for a long time."

Relief and guilt settle in my chest at the same time.

She sniffles once more, forcing a small smile. "Maybe one day, we'll look back at this and realize it was for the best."

I nod. "Maybe."

With that, I finally turn the key, the engine roaring to life.

And for the first time in a long time, it feels like the road ahead is finally leading somewhere new.