A/N Disclaimer: I do not own Mystic Messenger.
Hey, everyone! I'm not dead, but I'm not doing so great...which is where I got the idea for this story. There is discussion of illness in this story, but I hope you still enjoy it. It means a lot to me, even if it is short and not as happy as I intended for my Jumin fics. I wanted to have a few shorter fics and one longer fic for October since it's Jumin's birthday month, but it just wasn't working out that way. This is probably all that I will post for the foreseeable future. Please read and review!
"You are certain she will be all right?" Jumin demands for the umpteenth time.
The doctor merely smiles, knowing that the man's concern is speaking for him. "She will be. More people than you would think have her symptoms. As long as you stick to the treatment plan that I have provided, she will recover. It may take only a few days or it may take several months. She's going to need you."
Jumin straightens himself and nods sedately. "She'll have me."
The doctor reaches up and claps his hand on Jumin's shoulder. "Call me if anything drastically changes." With that, he leaves the apartment and leaves Jumin to his fretting.
As he turns to reenter his shared room with his wife, his phone rings. Glancing down at the caller ID shows Assistant Kang. He gazes longingly toward the door of his room before deciding it would be best to take the call. After all, everyone has been worried about Min-Jung. "Jumin Han," he answers blandly.
"Ah, Mr. Han. How is Min-Jung?" Jaehee's crisp voice comes through the phone tinged with dregs of worry.
Jumin rubs his hand up and down his face a few times, stabilizing himself to answer. "She's going to be okay, but she's going to need constant care until this passes."
"Oh dear," Jaehee sighs. "Mr. Han, there is a significant amount of work that needs to be done at the office. Perhaps you could hire a nurse to take care of her while—"
"No," Jumin declares curtly. "She's my wife, and I will be the one taking care of her. Work can wait."
"Mr. Han, I don't need to remind you of how much work we have at the office. I cannot handle it all on my own. Perhaps the other members of the RFA could help share the burden of caring for her? That way you could still work and have your mind eased."
Jumin contemplates her offer. It's not actually a bad thought, but he still can't quite bring himself to willingly abandon Min-Jung in her hour of need. Especially because of something he helped to create. "I will consider it, Assistant Kang." He pulls the phone away and hangs up on his assistant, finally striding across the room and opening the door to the bedroom.
His heart cracks a bit as his eyes alight on his wife. She looks so small covered in the blankets, the IV towering over her. It certainly doesn't help that she's lost several pounds over the past week. Elizabeth the 3rd is sitting sentry near Min-Jung's feet, a mild look of sadness on her white face. Jumin's legs carry him to her side, and he sinks down onto the bed next to her.
The movement jostles Min-Jung awake. Her eyelids flutter open, and the brown irises are clouded as they alight on Jumin. "Jumin? Are you okay?"
He huffs a laugh. "I should be asking you that."
"'M fine," she murmurs. But as she finishes speaking, her eyes widen and she sits up quickly, reaching for the container next to the bed and emptying the nothing in her stomach. Jumin swiftly moves into action and holds her hair back from her face until the gagging passes. When she finishes, looking decidedly weaker than she did when he entered, she sets the container back on the floor and lets her body slump against the pillows. "Maybe I'm not fine," she rasps.
Jumin clenches his fists. The doctors assured him that there is nothing more he can do for her. It's just something that happens to some people. She was given some medication, but the trick is to get her to keep it down long enough to work. She hasn't been entirely successful with that so far. The IV fluids should keep her from being dehydrated, but all they can is wait for it to pass. "What do you need from me?" he asks, barely suppressed anguish lacing his voice.
Her eyes slit open and glance at him. Even through all the pain and nausea, she smiles at him. "You've done plenty, Jumin. Just be with me. I'll be fine eventually. It can't last forever, right? It at least has to end when the baby gets here."
"There's quite a while between then and now. You're only seven weeks," Jumin reminds.
"It's funny, actually."
"What's funny?" he asks, not particularly seeing the humor in her current circumstances.
"Two weeks ago, I was so concerned about getting enough good food for the baby, and now all I can do is hope to keep down half a breadstick for more than ten minutes," she explains with a wry smile.
He cracks a small grin of his own, remembering how much research she was doing into proper nutrition just two short weeks ago, how she was bouncing around the apartment just brimming with more excitement than he knew she could have. That was before last week hit and everything changed. "I wish I could make it stop."
"It'll be over before you know it," she assures.
He isn't entirely certain how she manages to look so reassuring to him when she's so ill, but he can't help but believe her words, even when faced with the reality of how sick she appears. She wouldn't lie to him about something so serious. "I'll be right here."
"Of course, you will," she agrees. "But don't you have work to do?"
"Work can wait," he declares, allowing for no arguments. "You're more important."
Min-Jung smiles at him. "I'm sure Jaehee would appreciate if you would come in and do some work, though. Or work from here? I'll be fine for a little bit on my own."
He skeptically looks down at her; she's literally incapable of getting out of bed and thinks she'll be fine on her own? "I don't think that's wise. However…"
"However?" she presses when he doesn't continue.
"The other RFA members are open to helping you," he grumbles. "But I did this to you. It's my responsibility."
That actually pulls a real laugh from her lips. "Jumin, I asked you to do this to me. It's hardly your fault when it was a joint decision. And some people just get sick, dear. It's part of life. I promise you that all this will be worth it in the end when we get to hold our baby."
He can see it; he can see her holding their baby in the hospital—exhausted but overjoyed. Happy as can be. The months of struggles ahead of them seem to melt away when he imagines that amazing end. "If you're sure you'll be okay with them."
"They should be able to handle getting me food and water and helping me walk to the bathroom. I'd, of course, prefer you to be with me, but I suppose that's just what I get for marrying an extraordinary CEO. I have to share you with other people," she says with a miniscule grin, but he can see her eyes drooping shut as she speaks, the short conversation having taken quite a toll on her body.
"I'll quit right now if you want me to," Jumin promises.
"You're being silly," she chides. "I'll get better, Jumin. And when I'm sad and don't think I will, I need you to remind me that it'll be okay. Can you do that for me?"
"Yes," he answers without hesitation. He'll do anything for her—for both her and their baby.
"Good," she sighs. "'M gonna sleep now." Her eyes fall closed, and her breathing evens out. He clasps her small hand in his large one and takes a breath to steady himself.
It's hard to watch her like this. Someone usually so vibrant knocked down by something that they can't really fight. The doctor called it 'hyperemesis gravidarum,' and Jumin has never hated two words more in his life.
His wife might get better soon, or she might not get better for several months, but he'll be right next to her through all of it. And if she insists that he complete his work (which he knows is for the best, all things considered), then he'll have to rely on the rest of the RFA to help. He looks up at her sleeping face again and then down at her still flat stomach where their baby is growing and wreaking havoc on her body. Even though she's experiencing such sickness, he can't stop the small smile from stretching across his lips. They're going to have a baby.
She's right, he thinks. No matter how bad it gets, the end reward will be more than worth it. Pulling back the covers on his side of the bed, and being careful of the IV in her arm, Jumin gathers his wife in his arms and holds her close, vowing to himself to do whatever he can to help her through this.
After all, it's in sickness and in health, right?
Hyperemesis gravidarum is horrible. And what makes it worse is everyone giving you their two cents about how to fix it when the only thing you can do is make sure you don't get dehydrated and wait for it to end. If you know anyone that has it, please be nice to them. 3 It's a struggle, but one that's worth it in the end.
I wrote this piece based on my own experiences over the last several months. The breadstick story is the only thing that made me laugh through June, July, and August (I was bedridden for three months), and I hope that it gives someone a chuckle.