Midnight

Midnight

By Jaewon

Summary:

Irene is eight months pregnant and her cravings have been wild lately. When she wakes me up in the middle of the night demanding snacks, her dramatic, bratty side comes out full force in this fluffy, romantic comedy moment that reminds me why I love her so much.

---

The bedroom was dark and peaceful, the only sound being the soft hum of the air purifier in the corner and Irene’s steady breathing beside me. At least, it was peaceful until a small but insistent poke landed on my shoulder.

“Baby…” she whispered, voice sweet but already carrying that familiar edge. “Are you awake?”

I groaned softly, cracking one eye open. The clock on the nightstand glowed 2:17 AM. I had only been asleep for a couple of hours after a long day. Irene was lying on her side facing me, one hand resting on her very round eight-month belly. Even in the dim light from the city glow outside the windows, she looked beautiful — messy hair, oversized sleep shirt stretched over her bump, and those big eyes that always got me in trouble.

“Yeah… what’s wrong? Is the baby kicking again?” I mumbled, reaching out to rub her belly gently.

She shook her head, scooting closer until her bump pressed against my side. “No… well, yes, but that’s not it. I’m hungry.”

I smiled sleepily and pulled her closer, kissing her forehead. “There’s fruit on the counter and some yogurt in the fridge. I can get it for you.”

Irene pouted. That full, dramatic pout she had perfected over the years. “Not that kind of hungry. I want something specific.”

I already knew where this was going. Her cravings had been getting more creative — and chaotic — as the pregnancy progressed. Last week it was kimchi jjigae at 3 AM. The week before that, it was peanut butter on rice cakes with pickles. I braced myself.

“What do you want, love?”

She bit her lip, looking almost guilty for a second before the demand came out. “Samgyeopsal. And those spicy tteokbokki chips. And… ice cream. The mint chocolate one. But not just any — the one from that convenience store two blocks away because the supermarket kind tastes weird now.”

I stared at her in the dark. “Irene… it’s two in the morning.”

She sat up slowly, one hand supporting her lower back the way the doctor taught her. Her expression shifted from cute to dramatically tragic in record time. “I know what time it is! But the baby wants it. I can feel it. He’s kicking like he’s protesting right now because his dad won’t get his mom the food she needs.”

The baby wasn’t even kicking that hard. I could tell from the way her belly moved. But Irene had entered full bratty pregnant wife mode.

“Baby, we have snacks in the pantry,” I tried reasoning. “Can’t it wait until morning? I’ll make you a big breakfast with all your favorites. Promise.”

Her eyes widened like I had suggested something horrible. She gasped dramatically, hand flying to her chest. “Tomorrow morning? You want me to suffer until morning? With your child kicking my ribs because he’s craving samgyeopsal? I’m carrying him for nine months and you can’t even go get me snacks?”

She was really laying it on thick now, scooting away from me on the bed and crossing her arms over her bump. The bratty side was in full swing.

“Irene…” I said, trying not to laugh because I knew it would make it worse.

“No, it’s fine,” she continued, voice dripping with theatrical sadness. “I’ll just sit here hungry and uncomfortable while you sleep peacefully. Don’t mind me. I’m only growing a whole human inside me.”

I sat up, rubbing my face. She was impossible when she got like this, but I loved her for it. The way her lower lip jutted out, the little huffs she made, how she rubbed her belly like she was comforting our son from his mean father. It was equal parts adorable and exhausting.

“Fine,” I sighed, swinging my legs out of bed. “I’ll go. But you’re staying here.”

Her face lit up instantly, the drama disappearing like it had never existed. “Really? You’re the best husband ever.” She leaned over and kissed my cheek, then my lips, then my cheek again. “But… can you bring me back here so I can eat while you watch? I like eating in front of you. It makes the food taste better.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You want me to watch you eat at 2 AM?”