Pregnant During An Apocalypse [BL]-Chapter 264 - Unexpected visitor

Lin Jinju returned to her cleaning. She scrubbed the countertop again even though it already gleamed. The repetitive motion helped. It blurred the thoughts constantly circling in her mind, dulling them into silence—at least for a while.

She moved to the sink, wiping it down thoroughly, then to the windowsill, brushing away dust with methodical care. But just as she was reaching for the rag again, her stomach growled—loudly.

She paused, hand hovering over the cloth.

Right. She hadn’t eaten all day.

With a sigh, she set the rag aside and made her way down to the basement. The light flickered once as she flicked it on, revealing shelves upon shelves of food—canned goods, dried staples, neatly packed bags stacked up high and low.

Her footsteps slowed as she reached the bottom. She looked around, dazed. The basement had been turned into a storage unit—every inch organized with care.

Her son had done this.

He had warned her—told her plainly about the zombie apocalypse. And she, in her stubbornness, had refused to believe him. Sci-fi nonsense, she had thought. Things like that didn’t happen in the real world.

But it did.

Everything he said would happen... had happened.

And he had prepared. For them. For their family.

He wasn’t here now.

The thought made her knees weak. She reached out, gripping the shelf tightly as tears welled up in her eyes. Her shoulders trembled.

Her son—he was out there somewhere, in danger. Hana too. Her babies.

The tears slipped down silently.

She quickly wiped them away with the back of her hand, forcing a breath out of her lungs. "I can’t lose it now," she muttered to herself. "I’ll wait... I’ll wait for them both."

She picked out a packet of dried noodles, some spice mix, and a small pouch of dehydrated vegetables. Clutching them in her hands, she climbed back up to the kitchen.

The familiar rhythm of cooking brought a sense of calm. She boiled water, tossed in the ingredients, and stirred slowly as the scent of the simmering soup filled the room. The tangy scent of the broth and herbs wafted through the air, clinging to her clothes and wrapping the house in warmth.

It smelled like something close to comfort.

But the pot began to smoke too much, steam curling up faster than expected. She quickly opened the nearest window, letting the smoke out and waving a hand in front of her face.

Once the soup was ready, she ladled it into a bowl and cupped it in both hands. She lifted it close to her mouth, feeling the heat warm her face.

Her stomach twisted in hunger.

But her mind resisted.

She stared at the soup, lips barely parted.

Eat, she told herself. I have to stay strong. I can’t be unhealthy. I need to be ready when they come back.

With a deep breath, she took a gulp.

It burned her tongue and throat on the way down, but she didn’t stop. She grimaced at the taste—everything felt tasteless, forced—but she kept going, drinking the hot soup down quickly.

Halfway through, she felt it threatening to come back up. Her stomach churned violently, but she clenched her jaw, forcing it to stay down.

She needed to eat. No matter how hard it felt.

She washed the bowl quickly, setting it down on the drip tray. The clink of ceramic against metal echoed in the stillness of the house.

And then—

Rustling.

She froze.

The faint sound came from the open window. novelbuddy.cσ๓

"I smell something good."

Her blood ran cold.

"That bitch always eats well..."

A whisper. Quiet. Male.

Lin Jinju’s hands shook.

Without wasting a second, she rushed to the window and slammed it shut, locking the latch tightly. Her eyes darted toward the pot—still half-full with soup.

She moved quickly, shoving the rest into a container and slipping it into the fridge.

Everything went eerily quiet.

And then— all of a sudden came a knock.

A single knock at her front door.

Her heart thudded hard in her chest. Her fingers trembled as she grabbed the knife with one hand and a curtain rod with the other. Makeshift weapons. It was all she had.

She crept slowly toward the door, careful not to let her footsteps make noise.

She pressed her back against the wall beside it. "Who is it?" she asked, voice steady but cautious. She didn’t expect a reply.

But one came.

"It’s me."

She blinked, frozen in place. That voice—familiar. Clear.

She gripped the Knife tighter, not daring to believe it.

Lin Jinju unlocked the front door, hesitating only for a second before cracking it halfway open. Her eyes peered through the narrow gap, and the moment she saw who stood outside, her shoulders sagged in relief.

It was Shinju.

He looked tired. Deep shadows carved beneath his eyes, and his uniform hung slightly loose on his frame as if he hadn’t eaten or rested properly in days.

"You," he glanced at her hand curiously. "You’re okay."

Lin Jinju followed his gaze down, realizing with a jolt that she was still holding the kitchen knife and the curtain rod like makeshift weapons. Embarrassed, she quickly stepped back, hiding both behind her back.

"I—uh, everything’s fine," she mumbled. "I was just being overly cautious..."

Shinju gave her a small, unreadable look, but nodded. "Understandable," he said. Then his voice dropped into a gentler tone. "I heard you came looking for me. I’m sorry I couldn’t meet you. I didn’t have much time. Did you need something?"

"No, nothing urgent," she said quickly, gesturing to the worn but clean sofa. "Please, sit. Wait a moment. I’ll get you some food first."

He hesitated, but didn’t protest as he settled onto the couch.

Lin Jinju hurried into the kitchen, opening the fridge and pulling out the bowl of noodles she had barely touched earlier. It was still warm. She reheated it slightly and ladled it into a fresh bowl with careful hands.

When she brought it out to him, Shinju started to protest, "You really didn’t have to—" but the moment his eyes landed on the bowl, he stopped mid-sentence.

The scent must have hit him hard, because he went silent, then quietly accepted it.

He ate slowly and neatly, every movement careful. Not a single drop spilled from the bowl.

Lin Jinju sat down across from him, watching quietly. He was in his mid-forties now, but he still had that youthful glow in his face—a kind of earnest, clean energy that hadn’t dulled even in this world. His jawline was sharper than she remembered, and though a few wrinkles had formed around his eyes, they only made him look more solid, more grounded. There was a quiet charm in him, something steady amidst the chaos.

After a moment of watching him eat, she finally spoke.

"I came to ask about Yunfeng and Hana," she said carefully, her fingers twisting in her lap. "Did you hear anything...?"

The man paused, lowered the bowl to his knees, and sighed heavily. "I haven’t," he said, voice thick with fatigue. "It’s been Fifteen hours. I haven’t heard anything from my friend, either. He was supposed to check in."

Lin Jinju felt a cold weight settle in her chest.

Shinju wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his uniform and stood, placing the empty bowl gently on the table. "I’ll let you know if I find anything else," he said, already moving toward the door.

She didn’t stop him. He seemed like he had somewhere urgent to be, and she didn’t want to weigh him down with the rude incident from earlier.

So she simply watched him leave, quietly closing the door behind him with a small sigh.

She returned to the table and cleaned up the used dishes, stacking the bowl in the sink. Her hands moved on autopilot, wiping, rinsing, drying.

Just as she was placing the bowl on the rack, another knock came at the door.

Her heart jumped.

She wiped her hands on a towel and walked to the door, calling out, "Did you forget something?"

Expecting to see Shinju again, she opened the door wide—

But it wasn’t him.

It was those two soldiers.

They stood there, grinning broadly, their hands raised mockingly in the air like some kind of joke.

"We come in peace~" one of them sang, his grin stretching wide.

Lin Jinju’s expression darkened in an instant.