"When was the last time you went to the doctor?" Now that I am involved, I need to make sure he's taking care of himself and out children. I can't -and won't- stress him like I did before. 
                          
"A few days ago. Do you want to come with me on the next appointment?" Kihyun asks me, his voice a little cheerful although it is still somber. 
                          
"Definitely. I want to be involve in our children's life. I want to be there and help you as they develop," I say, picking up the ultrasound and folding the picture in half. Then I slip it into my back pocket and go around my desk so that I can be in front of Kihyun. 
                          
He's shock when my hand touches his. It is more embarrassing for me to hold his hand right this second than when I was touching his body and he was moaning to my lips kissing his naked body. 
                          
There is some type of vulnerability showing up in the both of us. We are admitting that we need each other. No more 'I am above him' mentality. He is the bearer of our children and I am the giver.
                          
His eyes slowly scan me until they are fixated on mine. "For a second I thought you we're saying that you'll be there for my entire pregnancy," he sadly chuckles, but his eyes don't move. 
                          
"You heard right." 
                          
A small twitch. A hidden grim. "You won't leave?" Throat scratchy, voice squeaky. 
                          
"Just because I was really mean to you doesn't mean I'm a total monster. I do take responsibility seriously. Although, I am not implying that our relationship will go further than that of a co-parenting system." 
                          
Kihyun nods rapidly, looking down and processing what I was saying to him. I realize what I said to him came out a little bit more harsher than I intended. It's hard to get rid of my gestures and my cruel context when that is the only thing that I was comfortable with it. 
                          
I know I know. I'm so horrible. I'm so horrible for feeling comfortable in something that is uncomfortable for Kihyun. I was indulging myself in the pity and satisfaction in making Kihyun suffer and that is what I hate most about myself. 
                          
I'm trying to change, although there is a part of me that doesn't want to let go. Probably because that part of me was doing it because I didn't want to show my true feelings for him so I did what I knew best: to fuck with his soul and made him afraid of me. 
                          
Pathetic, right. 
                          
"I completely understand. I will inform you of my next appointment. May I be excused," he pleads, quickly removing his hands from me and stuffing them inside his back pocket. 
                          
Something about the way he said the first two sentences changed the way I was looking at him. It made me regret that I said that I didn't want more than a parent relationship. There was hurt in his eyes. No longer terrified; there was an assertion of calmness yet he was done with me. With my indecisiveness. 
                          
Was I gentle or was I rude. Was I in or was I totally out from forming a relationship with him that was based on good intentions, and us getting along, rather than just a relationship that was strictly for the sake of our children. 
                          
"Kihyun, you don't have to address me as your boss right now," I explain for the second time. My brain was getting tired. My muscles heavy; a nap sounded good. 
                          
"It doesn't seem like you're addressing me as the other father of our children. I can't let my guard down when that is all I do with you. You make me... be afraid of you sometimes." 
                          
There it is. I am the fear in his entire being. I knew it. He knew it. But hearing from his mouth, the words invading my mind and telling me that I am horrible is like a clock, ticking, every single second, announcing the time that I can't even let my guard down.  Show him the real me. What if I am the real me? The me that I hold on to is probably long gone, buried deeply into the forgetting piece of my heart.