21
“Are you sure you can work today?”
I asked Toop the following morning as we sat together for breakfast.
Before we could even sit down, he showed symptoms similar to yesterday, acting as though he were experiencing my pregnancy symptoms instead of me.
Concerned, I could not help but ask.
While scooping some rice porridge into his mouth, he nodded in response.
Still, I could not shake the worry from my mind—he seemed fine at home, but the moment he was on set, things changed.
“What about you?
Will you be okay alone at home?”
“I’ll be fine, but I’m thinking of finding something to do.”
“Like what?”
I slid my phone over for him to see.
“They say yoga is good.
I was thinking of trying it out.”
“Wait for me.”
“What?”
“Wait until I have time.
I’ll join you.
Same goes for those parenting prep courses—I’ve found two or three places we could check out.”
“About that…”
“Or do you not want me to come along?”
“That’s not it.”
I quickly shook my head at his stern face.
Why would I not want him there?
If possible, I would like him to be with me for every milestone.
The only reason I had planned to do things alone before was that there was a distance between us.
But now, hearing him say these things felt almost too good to be true.
“I’ll wait until you’re free,”
I said, smiling softly and accepting his offer.
“If you get bored, you can go out with Thian.”
I nodded again in agreement.
“I was also thinking of trying my hand at baking with Miss Lek.”
“Didn’t you feel nauseous last time?”
“I did, but Miss Lek can bake so many things. There must be something I can handle without feeling sick.”
Toop furrowed his brow slightly but said nothing.
Lek was delightful, and her older brother, Yai, was just as kind.
They were both such great neighbors.
“Do what you want, but I already told you I don’t like my wife getting too close to others.”
“It’s almost like you’re jealous,”
I teased, keeping my eyes on my bowl and scooping another spoonful of porridge.
“You already know, and yet you do it anyway.”
“What did you say?”
Caught off guard, I looked up at him.
His eyes widened slightly before he sat up straighter.
“I said you make good porridge.”
“But I—”
It did not sound like something I had heard before, but his stern look made me too weary to press him further.
When Toop left for work, I found myself sinking into a sense of loneliness.
For nearly three hours after he left for the set, I busied myself with little things here and there.
I did not feel like driving out because I felt strangely tired.
After spending an hour drawing comics—something I love—I went downstairs for a snack I craved and then sat to read a book I had bought the day before.
It was nice, really.
But deep down, I knew it would have been even better if Toop were here.
He had been so much kinder lately—more than before.
Could it be because of the baby?
Was that why I felt this way?
I wondered if he felt the same.
Did he think about me as often as I thought about him?
Did he find himself scrolling through pictures of me on his phone like I did with him?
Perhaps this was just another symptom of pregnancy.
“He’s- back already?”
While alternating between reading and scrolling through photos of him, the sound of the front gate opening made me put everything down.
The only other person with a remote for the gate was Toop, so who else could it be?
But it was not even halfway through the day yet.
What could have brought him back so soon?
“Oh! Mr. An.”
Before I could step outside the house and head toward the main gate, someone stepped out of the car and greeted me—it was Toop’s manager, adjusting his glasses.
“Manager. What’s going on?”
I asked while walking down the stairs, my eyes drawn to the car parked out front—the manager’s car.
Through the window, I caught a glimpse of someone sitting very still in the front passenger seat.
“Mr. An,”
The manager, who seemed on the verge of tears, stopped me mid-step as I was heading toward the vehicle.
I turned to look at him instead.
“What’s wrong?”
Normally, when I encountered the manager—who had been working with Toop for ages—he was always in good spirits.
But this time, his somber tone was worrying.
“Is it about- Mr. Toop?”
I guessed, and his face twisted as though he was about to cry.
“He-”
Before I could say more, his gaze shifted toward the car.
“Today’s worse than yesterday, Mr. An. The whole set was at a standstill because the moment Toop tried to stand, he nearly passed out. Worse still, I took him to the doctor before bringing him home. The doctor said it’s stress-related exhaustion, but I think it’s…”
As the manager vented his frustrations, his words heavy with concern, the car door on the passenger side opened, abruptly cutting our conversation short.
“Mr. Toop.”
“I’ll help, Mr. An,”
the manager said, rushing over to join me.
However, before he could reach us, I had already cracked the car door open a bit more.
And that was when my eyes met Toop’s.
For a moment, it felt like déjà vu, as though I had been transported back to the other day when I had walked out to get him.
“Anshan,”
Toop called my name, his voice tinged with confusion, his face pale.
“Let’s get you inside,”
I said, suppressing the multitude of things I wanted to say to him.
Right now, he needed rest.
Perhaps after he felt better, I would insist on a more thorough check-up.
“Mr. Toop,”
I called again.
“Can you move a little closer to me?”
“Huh?”
I blinked at him, then glanced at the manager, who was catching up to us.
Was he- my husband really feeling so unwell?
“Take my hand. I’ll help you inside,”
I offered, stepping closer to where he sat in the car.
Toop’s tired eyes met mine.
He leaned forward slightly, but instead of taking my hand to climb out, he surprised me by pulling my hand to his cheek and holding it there.
“Oh”
The sound did not come from me, but from the manager, who stood frozen, jaw agape at the sight.
As for me, all I could do was swallow hard.
Toop’s behavior had been strange lately—very strange.
And today, it felt even more peculiar.
After holding my hand against his cheek for a while, he finally climbed out of the car and let me help him into the house, much like the other day.
He did not look ill and seemed content, even happy, as he rested his cheek against the back of my hand.
Not just the manager, who was now sitting in the living room looking bewildered, but I, too, could not make sense of it all.
“If he’s not seriously sick but just experiencing sympathy pregnancy symptoms, has anyone ever had it this extreme?”
I muttered to myself while arranging snacks on a plate in the kitchen to welcome the manager.
Meanwhile, Toop sat in the living room with a cool towel on his forehead, chatting with his manager.
I could not shake the feeling that something was truly wrong with him.
I wanted to believe he was not ill, but how could I dismiss the idea of sympathy pregnancy when he would feel better the moment we were together?
Was it not said that the more love there was, the more intense the symptoms could be, or maybe it did not apply to every couple the same way?
Even though he had been kinder, more considerate, and gentler than before, there was still a gap between us.
We were not in love—not really.
“Mr. An,”
I was standing there, tangled in my thoughts about Toop’s peculiar condition, when a voice called from behind.
I turned to see the manager, who had followed me into the kitchen.
“I just finished preparing the snacks,”
I told him with a smile.
However, the typically cheerful manager, who always seemed calm even when dealing with Toop’s demanding and temperamental moments, looked unusually stressed.
“Manager, if this is about Mr. Toop—”
“It is about Mr. Toop, Mr. An,”
he interrupted, his tone low and somber as he adjusted his glasses.
“I can’t see a way forward anymore.
But Mr. An…”
“Y-Yes, Manager?”
I stammered, responding quickly as his intense gaze fixed on me.
“Yesterday, I had a conversation with Miss Thian, and I’ve been reflecting on what she said.
Combined with the fact that Toop’s condition was the same today, I think it’s possible.”
“What’s possible?
What do you mean, Manager?”
I felt a sudden chill running through me.
The resolute look in his eyes only heightened my anticipation.
What had he and Thian discussed?
What was this possibility, and how did it pertain to my husband, who I had no idea what he was doing?
“M-Manager!”
I exclaimed, wide-eyed and taken aback.
Currently more puzzled as to what the manager wanted when he suddenly knelt down right in front of me.
“Mr. Anshan!”
The manager shuffled closer and grabbed my hand.
“What are you doing? Please, get up,”
I urged him, but he shook his head vehemently.
His eyes, visible through the frames of his glasses, seemed to glisten with unshed tears.
Moved by his desperation, I stopped trying to pull my hand away.
“I won’t get up until we’ve discussed this properly, and I won’t budge unless you promise to help.
I’m completely out of options, Mr. An.”
“Oh, come on, whatever it is, just stand up first.
I promise I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
Despite my assurance, he clung to my hand, his shoulders trembling as though he were on the verge of breaking down.
I had always seen him as a lively person that I never imagined this was how he acted when he was serious.
“Do you mean it, Mr. An?”
“I want you to come to the set and support Mr. Toop.
Be his emotional anchor.
Can you do that?”
“Huh?”
His request left me wide-eyed and startled.
Before I could process or respond—
“No!”
A sharp, commanding voice cut through the moment.
Both the manager and I turned in unison toward the kitchen doorway, where the speaker stood.
Toop was looking at me and the manager.
“Why not Toop! Ah, I must apologize for raising my voice like this, Mr. An, and for my rudeness earlier in touching your hand without permission.”
I offered the manager a faint smile as he stood up and then turned to berate Toop in earnest.
His tirade came to an abrupt halt when he noticed his hand still gripping my wrist and hurriedly let go.
“Doctors said it’s stress and exhaustion, but every time he comes home and sees you—even for a minute—he’s suddenly fine.
It happened yesterday, the day before too.
If what Miss Thian and I discussed is possible, wouldn’t it be better to bring Mr. An to the set?”
“I said no, and that’s final.”
“You’re just being possessive of your wif—oh, uh.”
Before he could finish his heated accusation, the manager turned back to me with a sheepish look.
“Once again, I apologize, Mr. An.”
After a quick bow that startled me slightly, he turned to continue his verbal assault on Toop, whose expression had darkened as he stepped closer.
This was the first time I had seen them argue so fiercely.
“I said no, and I mean no.”
“Toop!”
The manager, who was either extremely cheerful or impeccably polite in any other scenario, now sounded exasperated, as though on the verge of leaping at his client.
But he ultimately took a deep breath to regain his composure.
“The shoot is already on a tight schedule, and you’re in this state.
Can’t you at least try?
If Mr. An comes with you tomorrow and you don’t improve, I’ll inform the production team about your health.
We’ll discuss rescheduling or find some way to avoid halting everything.
Do you understand that-!”
“If it’s such a hassle, then return the payment and cover the damages.
Let’s just end this already.”
“Mr. Toop,”
I interjected, placing a hand on his arm as he stood near me while the manager stood across from us.
However, when Toop turned to me, his stern expression only deepened, causing my heart to sink.
“What?
Do you want to go there again?”
“I-”
“Mr. An agreed to help in any way beneficial to you but look at how you’re behaving!”
“Ma-manager,”
I stammered, unsure how to de-escalate the situation and steer their conversation toward reason rather than clashing emotions.
Toop held his chin high, and the manager seemed on the brink of snapping.
“No matter what, I won’t accept this.
You should leave.”
“Toop!”
The manager’s shout echoed in frustration, but Toop stood firm, arms crossed.
Fearing things would spiral further out of control, I stepped in again.
“Please, let’s settle this later.
For now, Manager, perhaps you could head—”
“I already said you’re not going, Anshan.
That’s final.”
I looked up at him, my taller husband, whose icy tone and stern gaze were filled with disapproval.
I did not even get a chance to explain my reasoning when—
“What’s your problem, Toop!”
The manager’s voice cut through once again.
“My wife is pregnant. How could I let him go somewhere uncomfortable like that!”
His shout was louder this time, startling the manager into a pause.
As for me, my eyes widened, my face heated.
I had not expected Toop to say it like this.
“P-pregnant? Mr. Anshan is pregnant?”
Toop wasted no time confirming.
“Yes, pregnant.
Anshan is pregnant.
And yet you still—!”
“Mr. Anshan is pregnant.”
The manager seemed entirely uninterested in listening to Toop’s loud explanations.
Instead, he turned and clasped both of my wrists firmly in his hands.
“Mr. An, is it true that you’re pregnant!”
Though startled, I nodded.
“Yes.”
“Finally! Such wonderful news, and you’re only just telling me now, Toop.”
He turned to berate Toop, his previous tension replaced with a beaming smile.
Unlike a moment ago when his face was grim, his usual boisterous energy had returned as he shook my hands enthusiastically, overflowing with joy.
However, before long, my hands were pulled away—by Toop, who now stood with a stern expression.
My husband, the other parent of the child I was carrying, freed my wrists from the manager’s grip.
“Such a possessive guy,”
the manager teased, grinning.
As for me, I found myself standing slightly behind Toop, shielded by his tall frame.
He said nothing but remained steadfast, one hand protectively brushing against my waist as if to prevent the manager from getting too close again.
Although confused by the dynamic between the two, I could not help but secretly smile at their actions as they bickered.
As for the promise I had made to the manager…