✴︎ ──── The secret i couldnt tell you
╰┈➤ you and sunghoon are going through a divorce but then finds out your pregnant.
✴ husband!sunghoon x preg!reader ✴ Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, divorce, marriage in crisis, arguments, secret pregnancy, morning sickness, crying, guilt, miscommunication.
The divorce papers had been sitting untouched on the dining table for six days. Every morning, you walked past the cream-colored envelope with your eyes fixed anywhere but there, convincing yourself that if you ignored it long enough, maybe the end of your marriage would disappear with it. It never did. The signatures waited patiently beneath the flap, yours written with trembling hands, his clean and effortless, just like everything Park Sunghoon ever did. Five years of marriage had somehow been reduced to ink on paper, and neither of you had found the courage to send them to the lawyers. Perhaps it was fear. Perhaps it was denial. Or perhaps, deep down, neither of you was ready to admit that the love you had fought so hard for was slipping through your fingers.
Sunghoon hadn't always been this distant. Before becoming the CEO of PARK Group, he had been the kind of husband who insisted on driving you everywhere because he claimed the roads were "full of idiots."
He'd leave little sticky notes inside your handbag just to make you smile during work, surprise you with late-night convenience store dates after exhausting weeks, and hold your hand whenever the two of you crossed the street, even though you constantly teased him for it. Somewhere between endless board meetings, overseas investors, and the pressure of keeping a billion-dollar company alive, those little gestures disappeared.
At first, you told yourself it was temporary. Then weeks became months, and months became years, until the silence between the two of you became louder than any argument you'd ever had.
The front door unlocked just after eleven that night. You heard the familiar click of expensive leather shoes against the marble floor before his coat landed over the back of a chair.
"You're still awake?" he asked quietly, surprised to find the television still glowing in the dark living room.
You looked up from the untouched mug of tea in your hands and forced a tired smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. "I couldn't sleep."
He nodded as if he understood, although the truth was neither of you understood each other anymore. He loosened his tie, rolling his shoulders with a wince. "The meeting ran longer than expected. I tried calling."
A bitter laugh escaped before you could stop it. "You always have a meeting, Sunghoon." His expression hardened ever so slightly. "I'm doing this for us."
"No," you whispered, standing from the couch. "You keep saying that, but somewhere along the way, there stopped being an 'us.' It's just you... and your company."
The argument didn't explode all at once. It built slowly, quietly, through years of missed dinners, forgotten anniversaries, and conversations cut short by another ringing phone. You couldn't even remember what had started this one. Maybe it was the fact that he'd canceled yet another weekend away because an investor had flown in unexpectedly. Maybe it was because he'd answered three work calls while you were trying to tell him about your day. Or maybe it was because you were simply exhausted from feeling like you came second to a company that would still exist long after the two of you had fallen apart.
"I don't even recognize you anymore," you said, your voice trembling despite your attempts to stay composed. "Do you know what the worst part is? I don't think you recognize yourself either."
Sunghoon stood across the kitchen island, still dressed in his tailored charcoal suit. He looked just as tired as you felt, his tie hanging loose around his neck and the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled to his forearms. He opened his mouth to respond before closing it again, rubbing a hand over his face in frustration.
"You think this is easy for me?" he asked quietly. "Do you think I enjoy leaving before you're awake and coming home after you've gone to bed? I'm trying to keep everything together."
"And what about us?" you whispered. "Who's keeping us together?"
The next morning, the divorce papers were drafted.
Neither of you cried when the lawyers handed them over.
Neither of you protested.
It almost scared you how calm everything had become.
The screaming had stopped.
It felt like your marriage had simply... run out of emotion.
For the next week, the penthouse became nothing more than a place the two of you happened to share. Sunghoon slept in the guest room. You stayed in the master bedroom. Meals were eaten separately. Conversations were reduced to polite questions that sounded more appropriate between strangers than husband and wife.
"Have you seen my watch?"
The first morning, you barely thought anything of it. Stress could make people sick. Anyone going through a divorce would feel exhausted. But when you found yourself gagging at the smell of breakfast three days in a row, a tiny voice in the back of your mind began whispering something you refused to believe.
Standing in the pharmacy after work, you stared at the pregnancy tests for what felt like forever. Your fingers hovered over the shelf before finally grabbing one and shoving it into your basket as quickly as possible. You prayed nobody you knew would see you.
The drive home felt endless.
Your hands wouldn't stop shaking.
You locked yourself inside the bathroom before finally opening the small box, reading the instructions three separate times because the words refused to register. The timer on your phone counted down three agonizing minutes while you paced back and forth across the marble floor.
Relief flooded your body.
A second line appeared so faintly you almost convinced yourself you were imagining it.
You picked up the test with trembling fingers, staring at it as if it might somehow change if you looked hard enough.
You slowly slid down against the bathroom wall until you were sitting on the cold floor, your knees pulled tightly against your chest.
A sob escaped before you could stop it.
It wasn't because you didn't want the baby.
It was because the timing felt impossibly cruel.
Only a week ago, you and Sunghoon had agreed your marriage couldn't be saved.
Now there was another heartbeat growing inside you.
One that belonged to both of you.
Tears blurred your vision as you instinctively rested a hand against your stomach. It was too early to feel anything. Too early to even look pregnant. Yet knowing that your child was there made everything feel different.
A sharp knock at the bathroom door made you jump.
Sunghoon's voice was muffled through the wood.
"You've been in there for a while."
Your heart leaped into your throat.
Quickly wrapping the test in tissues, you hid it beneath spare towels inside the cabinet before splashing cold water across your face.
"I'm okay," you called back, though your voice cracked.
The door opened as soon as you unlocked it.
Sunghoon frowned the second he saw you.
You immediately shook your head. "It's nothing."
"It doesn't look like nothing."
He took a hesitant step toward you, his usual guarded expression replaced by genuine concern. Carefully, almost instinctively, he reached out and brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The gentle touch caught you off guard. He hadn't touched you like that in months.
"You don't look well," he murmured. "You've barely eaten this week, and every morning I hear you getting sick."
"You've been saying that every day."
His brows knitted together. "Maybe we should go to the hospital."
The answer came far too quickly.
His eyes searched yours, confusion flickering across his face.
You forced a smile that felt painfully fake.
For several long seconds, he simply looked at you.
"If you start feeling worse..." His voice was quieter now. "...please tell me."
You nodded even though you had no intention of doing that.
As he turned to leave, he paused at the doorway without looking back.
"I know things between us are... complicated right now."
"But that doesn't mean I stop caring about you."
The bedroom fell silent after he walked away.
The tears you'd been desperately holding back finally spilled over again.
Because hearing those words only made your secret feel heavier.
And for the first time since seeing those two pink lines...
You wondered how long you could keep it from him.
The following morning, you woke before the sun had fully risen. A dull ache settled behind your eyes while another wave of nausea rolled through your stomach, forcing you to sit up abruptly. You barely made it to the bathroom before gripping the edge of the sink, your breathing uneven as you waited for the feeling to pass.
When it finally did, you leaned against the cool marble countertop, staring at your reflection. You looked exhausted. The dark circles beneath your eyes had become impossible to hide, and your cheeks had noticeably lost their color. You quietly opened the cabinet beneath the sink, pulling out the pregnancy test one last time before slipping it into your pocket. A few hours later, you found yourself sitting alone in your obstetrician's office, nervously twisting the sleeve of your sweater while waiting for your name to be called.
"Mrs. Park?" the nurse smiled warmly.
You stood, following her into the examination room. Everything happened so quickly after that—blood tests, questions about your health, and finally the ultrasound. You hadn't expected to cry, yet the moment the tiny image appeared on the monitor, your vision blurred.
"There," the doctor said gently, pointing toward the screen. "It's still very early, but everything looks healthy."
The word echoed in your ears.
Your hand instinctively rested against your stomach as tears silently rolled down your cheeks. You couldn't stop staring at the tiny flicker on the monitor. It didn't look like much to anyone else, but to you, it was everything.
The doctor handed you a small black-and-white ultrasound photo before smiling kindly. "Congratulations. Judging by the measurements, you're just over eight weeks pregnant. Morning sickness and fatigue are completely normal. Try not to skip meals, even if eating feels difficult. If your symptoms become worse, give us a call."
You nodded absentmindedly, clutching the ultrasound picture so carefully it felt as though it might disappear if you held it too tightly.
On the drive home, your eyes drifted toward the passenger seat where the envelope rested. You couldn't stop imagining what would happen if Sunghoon saw it.
Only because he felt obligated?
That question had haunted you since the moment you found out.
You knew your husband better than anyone.
Park Sunghoon never walked away from responsibility.
If he learned about the baby now, he'd tear up the divorce papers without a second thought.
Not because the two of you had fixed your marriage.
Not because the hurt had magically disappeared.
Because he would convince himself that staying was the right thing to do.
You refused to let your child become the reason someone stayed in a loveless marriage.
You wanted your baby to grow up in a home filled with love, not guilt.
By the time you reached the penthouse, you'd made up your mind.
The pregnancy would remain your secret.
When you stepped inside, the house was unusually quiet.
Sunghoon's shoes were by the front door, meaning he'd gotten home before you for once. You slipped the ultrasound into your handbag before walking farther inside.
The smell of food drifted from the kitchen.
Sunghoon stood at the stove wearing a simple white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. His suit jacket was tossed over one of the dining chairs, and an apron—one you'd bought him years ago as a joke because he insisted he was a "great cook"—was tied around his waist.
He looked over his shoulder when he heard you.
He glanced back at the pan.
A small, awkward smile appeared on his face.
"But you haven't been eating."
Your heart squeezed painfully.
"I thought... maybe soup would be easier."
You didn't know what to say.
For months, you'd begged him to come home before dinner.
Now, when your marriage was already hanging by a thread, he was standing in the kitchen making soup because he was worried about you.
The irony hurt more than it comforted.
"I didn't ask you to do this," you said quietly.
He turned the stove off before facing you completely.
Silence settled between the two of you.
His eyes slowly wandered across your face, lingering on the exhaustion you could no longer hide.
"You've been saying that every day."
He walked closer until only a few feet separated you.
"You've been getting sick every morning."
"Did you at least go to the doctor?"
You looked down at the floor.
"They said I need more rest."
Sunghoon let out a quiet sigh before reaching for your handbag.
The word escaped much louder than you intended.
Confusion immediately crossed his face.
"...I was just going to put it on the table."
You tightened your grip around the strap.
"I just... have something important inside."
He slowly lowered his hand.
"I'm not trying to invade your privacy."
Another silence followed.
This one heavier than the last.
Finally, he gave you a small nod.
"The soup's ready whenever you're hungry."
He turned away, pretending not to notice the tears gathering in your eyes.
The moment he disappeared into his office, you rushed upstairs.
Locking yourself inside the bedroom, you pulled the ultrasound from your bag before carefully sliding it into the back of your bedside drawer beneath a stack of old photographs from your honeymoon.
Your fingers lingered on the picture.
"I'm sorry," you whispered, though you weren't sure whether you were apologizing to your baby...
Or to the man sleeping only a few rooms away.
The days that followed settled into a strange routine. The arguments had disappeared, but they hadn't been replaced with happiness. Instead, there was a quiet understanding between the two of you, as though you were both too exhausted to keep hurting each other. Sunghoon still left for work early, though not as early as before. Some mornings, you'd find a glass of water and your vitamins sitting on the kitchen counter without a word. Other days, he'd send a simple text asking if you'd eaten lunch. They were such small gestures—ones that would've seemed insignificant months ago—but now they only made your chest ache. He was trying. It was simply too late.
Morning sickness, however, wasn't nearly as forgiving.
You had barely managed two spoonfuls of breakfast before the familiar wave of nausea forced you to excuse yourself. The bathroom door had barely clicked shut before you were kneeling on the cold tile floor, one hand gripping the edge of the bathtub while the other instinctively rested against your stomach. By the time the nausea finally settled, your eyes were watery and your breathing uneven.
A gentle knock echoed through the room.
His voice was careful, almost hesitant.
"You've been in there for almost twenty minutes."
You quickly splashed cold water over your face before unlocking the door.
A small laugh escaped you despite yourself.
"You know I didn't mean it like that."
His eyes searched your face, lingering on the redness around your eyes.
"You've been getting sick every morning for weeks."
He sighed quietly before reaching out. His hand hovered near your cheek for a second, silently asking permission before gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch was so familiar that it almost broke you.
"I hate seeing you like this," he admitted softly. "I know we're... where we are right now, but that doesn't mean I stop worrying."
"Because I don't know what else to say."
For a long moment, neither of you spoke.
Then, to your surprise, he opened his arms ever so slightly.
He hadn't hugged you in months.
When you didn't pull away, he slowly wrapped his arms around you, careful and gentle, as if he were afraid you'd disappear if he held you too tightly.
You closed your eyes for just a second, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne.
"I've missed this," he whispered.
But missing someone wasn't always enough to save a marriage.
That evening, the two of you sat together in the living room for the first time in weeks. The television played quietly in the background, though neither of you was paying attention. Sunghoon had rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt, his laptop balanced on his knees while he answered a few emails.
You were reading a book you hadn't turned a page of in almost fifteen minutes.
The silence wasn't awkward anymore.
"I spoke to the lawyer today," Sunghoon suddenly said, closing his laptop.
Your fingers tightened around your book.
"He asked if we'd decided on a date."
"...that I wanted to wait."
His gaze stayed fixed on the coffee table.
"I don't know if waiting changes anything."
"But rushing into it doesn't feel right either."
He let out a tired laugh.
"Because despite everything..."
"...I still come home looking for you."
The confession stole the air from your lungs.
"I still wonder whether you've eaten."
"I still catch myself reaching for my phone whenever something funny happens because you're the first person I want to tell."
His smile was bittersweet.
"I don't think people stop loving each other overnight."
A lump formed in your throat.
Tears threatened to spill, but you forced them back.
"I don't know if I know how to find us again."
For the first time in months, there were no raised voices.
Just two people admitting that neither of them knew how to repair what they'd broken.
At that exact moment, your stomach lurched.
You shot to your feet so quickly that your book fell to the floor.
"I'll... I'll be right back."
You hurried upstairs, pressing a hand over your mouth before disappearing into the bathroom.
Sunghoon watched you go, worry etched across his face.
A few seconds later, the sound of retching echoed faintly through the hallway.
His first instinct was to go after you.
Instead, he stopped outside the bathroom door, resting a hand against the wood.
"...I'm here if you need me."
You squeezed your eyes shut on the other side, fresh tears sliding down your cheeks.
"I know," you whispered so quietly he couldn't hear.
Outside, your phone began ringing from where you'd accidentally left it on the coffee table downstairs.
The screen lit up with a familiar name.
You'd told him you'd seen a doctor because of stress. Seeing your doctor call twice in less than a minute made him wonder if something was wrong.
There was a brief pause before a warm voice spoke on the other end.
"Good evening, Mrs. Park. This is Dr. Han calling from Evergreen Women's Clinic. I wanted to follow up regarding the symptoms you mentioned during your appointment. Have the morning sickness and dizziness improved at all?"
"Oh... am I speaking to Mr. Park?"
"I'm terribly sorry. I assumed Mrs. Park had already told you."
His grip around the phone tightened.
The doctor fell silent for a second, clearly realizing she'd made a mistake.
"It's regarding her pregnancy," she answered carefully. "Considering she's approaching her ninth week, nausea, fatigue, and food aversions are perfectly normal. We were also hoping to schedule her next prenatal appointment before the end of next week."
Everything around him seem to disappear, except you.
Sunghoon couldn't take his eyes off you.
The words from the phone call echoed endlessly inside his head.
Morning sickness... nine weeks... prenatal appointment... both mother and baby are healthy.
His hand was still wrapped around your phone, his knuckles turning white from how tightly he was gripping it. You stood frozen at the foot of the staircase, every bit of color draining from your face the moment you realized he knew.
The silence stretched until it became unbearable.
"You were pregnant..." he whispered, his voice so quiet it barely reached you. "This whole time."
You swallowed hard, unable to look him in the eye. "...Yes."
A hollow laugh escaped him, though there wasn't an ounce of humor behind it. He looked away for a moment, blinking rapidly as he tried to compose himself, but the hurt was written all over his face.
"So every morning..." he began, "when I heard you getting sick... when I kept asking if you were okay... when I asked if you wanted me to take you to the hospital..." He looked back at you, his eyes glossy with unshed tears. "You already knew."
"I found out after we agreed to the divorce."
"And you decided not to tell me."
"It feels pretty simple to me."
His voice wasn't loud, but it was enough to make your chest tighten.
"You looked me in the eye every single day and lied."
"No?" His eyebrows pulled together. "You told me it was stress. You told me you were fine. You let me think something was wrong, and every time I asked, you pushed me away."
"I didn't know what else to do!"
The words escaped before you could stop them.
Your breathing grew uneven as tears blurred your vision. "What was I supposed to say? 'By the way, I'm carrying your baby while we're signing divorce papers?'"
The tears you'd been holding back finally spilled over.
"I thought about telling you every single day."
You covered your mouth, trying to steady your breathing.
"I even picked up my phone so many times..." you admitted through sobs. "I wrote messages... I deleted them... I practiced what I'd say if you came home early... but every time I looked at the divorce papers, I couldn't do it."
Sunghoon's expression softened for only a second before the hurt returned.
"So you chose for both of us."
He shook his head, running a frustrated hand through his hair.
"You decided I didn't deserve to know I was going to be a father."
"I decided I didn't want you to stay because you pitied me!"
Your words hung heavily between you.
"I know you, Sunghoon," you whispered, wiping your cheeks. "You would've canceled everything. You would've torn up those divorce papers before I even finished speaking."
His answer caught you off guard.
"You just proved my point."
"No." He stepped closer, stopping a few feet away. "I would've torn them up because my wife had been carrying something this huge all by herself."
"You would've stayed because of the baby."
"I would've stayed because I still love you!"
His voice cracked for the first time.
The confession echoed through the house.
Sunghoon looked away, taking a shaky breath before speaking again, this time much quieter.
"Do you really think I've spent these past few weeks sleeping in the guest room because I stopped loving you?" He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "I slept there because every time I looked at you, I was reminded that I'd failed you. I convinced myself that maybe you'd be happier without me."
"I never stopped loving you either," you admitted. "But loving someone isn't always enough when all you do is hurt each other."
Another long silence settled between you.
Sunghoon glanced at the phone still sitting on the coffee table before quietly placing it down. When he looked back at you, his eyes were red.
His voice was barely above a whisper.
"The first doctor's appointment."
"You hearing our baby's heartbeat."
A fresh wave of guilt crashed over you.
"I didn't want to do it alone."
Your shoulders shook as another sob escaped.
"I was scared that if I told you, I'd never know whether you stayed because you loved me... or because you felt responsible."
Sunghoon closed the distance between you, but he didn't touch you.
"I can't change the mistakes I've already made," he said quietly. "I can't take back the nights I chose work over you or the arguments that pushed us here."
"But don't ever believe that our child would be a burden to me."
He paused, fighting back tears of his own.
"Or that loving you was ever an obligation."
For the first time in months, neither of you was pretending to be okay.
There were no walls left.
Just two broken people standing in the middle of the home they'd built together, finally admitting how deeply they'd hurt each other.
The divorce papers were still waiting on the dining table.
Neither of you looked at them.
Not because everything had suddenly been fixed.
But because, for the first time in a very long while, they no longer felt like the only possible ending.
