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MidReal Story
Boyfriend Material
Scenario:Jaehyun his a 19 year old korean boy who lives in a world where men get pregnant. Jaehyun is twenty-nine weeks pregnant with a boy. Jaehyun works at Starbucks. Jaehyun is so happy to be pregnant. Jaehyun doesn't remember the baby's father and is happy he doesn't
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Jaehyun
He is a barista at Starbucks in the city of Ashland. He is independent,autonomous,and resilient. Jaehyun never intended to be pregnant,but life took an unexpected turn. He discovered he was nine weeks pregnant while working at Starbucks. Supported by his sister and best friend,Jaehyun navigates this new reality with humor and determination. Despite not knowing the father's identity,Jaehyun is thrilled about the baby,embracing this new chapter in his life.
Minsoo
He is Jaehyun's best friend and coworker at Starbucks. He is humorous,loyal,and supportive. Minsoo is one of the few people who know about Jaehyun's pregnancy. He often helps Jaehyun out by covering shifts at work,allowing him to focus on preparing for fatherhood. Minsoo brings levity to the situation with his lighthearted attitude but also genuinely cares for Jaehyun's wellbeing,happy to see him thriving amidst this change.
Soojin
She is Jaehyun's younger sister by eighteen months. She is nurturing,protective,and caring. Soojin takes on a maternal role in her household,supporting Jaehyun amid his unexpected pregnancy. She is secretly the owner of a bakery and often helps out at the diner where their mother works. Soojin finds joy in being able to care for Jaehyun during this time,happy to see him happy and excited about the baby.
I was never supposed to be pregnant.
I didn’t even want a baby.
But sometimes life had other plans.
I was twenty-nine weeks pregnant.
My baby was a boy.
And I was happy.
I didn’t know the father of my baby, and I didn’t want to know.
I was glad I didn’t, and I would never find out.
My life took an unexpected turn, and I was okay with that.
I was nineteen years old and independent.
I could take care of myself and my baby on my own.
I didn’t need anyone else.
I was autonomous and self-sufficient.
I had a job, and I had my own money.
A lot of people would be angry that I didn’t know who the father of my baby was.
They would say I should have been using protection, and they would probably call me names like ‘slut’ or ‘whore’.
But I couldn’t help who I wanted to sleep with, and I couldn’t help that I got pregnant.
It happened, and now I was going to be a dad.
I didn’t care what anyone else had to say about it.
I stand behind the counter at Starbucks, adjusting my apron over my swollen belly.
The morning rush has died down, and the store is quiet except for the sound of a few customers typing away on their laptops.
A teenage girl comes up to the counter, fidgeting with her phone.
She can’t be more than fifteen, and I can tell it’s her first time ordering coffee.
Her eyes dart back and forth between the menu and her phone, trying to decide what to get.
"Um," she says finally, "can I get a peppermint mocha?"
"Sure," I say, "what size?"
She hesitates again.
"Um, tall?"
I nod and punch in her order.
"Do you want whipped cream?"
"Uh, yeah," she says, her voice shaking slightly.
"And can you put white chocolate drizzle on top?"
"Sure," I say again.
"That’ll be $4.50."
She hands me a five-dollar bill and takes her change before sitting down at a table by the window. I start making her drink, carefully measuring out the right number of syrup pumps.
My movements are slower now that I’m pregnant, but I’ve developed a system that works for me.
I pour the steamed milk into the cup, then add a shot of espresso and a pump of peppermint syrup.
Next, I top it off with whipped cream and drizzle white chocolate in careful zigzags across the top.
The sweet smell fills my nose as I hand the drink to the girl at the window.
It reminds me of my first day training here at Starbucks, when I learned how to make all of our different drinks.
While I’m cleaning the steam wand, I notice an elderly woman shuffling towards the counter.
She’s wearing a floral-print dress that sways with each step, and her gray hair is pulled back into a bun.
She peers up at our menu board through thick-rimmed glasses, squinting at the text.
Before I can greet her, she speaks up in a wavering voice.
"Do you make matcha?"
I nod, already reaching for our matcha powder container.
"Yes, ma’am. Would you like a matcha latte?"
"Can you add raspberries to it?"
I pause, confused.
Raspberries aren’t a standard addition to matcha lattes.
"Um, we don’t have fresh raspberries," I say carefully.
"But we do have raspberry syrup. Would you like me to add that?"
The woman claps her hands together excitedly.
"Oh yes! That sounds perfect."
While I’m restocking the coffee beans, I feel a soft flutter in my belly.
It’s different from the usual movements of the baby, which are more like a gentle rocking motion.
This feels like a butterfly fluttering its wings against the inside of my stomach.
I pause, one hand on the metal container and the other instinctively moving to my stomach.
The flutter comes again, and I feel a small kick against my palm.
It’s so soft that it almost feels like a breeze brushing against my skin.
I glance around the café, grateful that no one is nearby to see my reaction.
The customers are all engrossed in their laptops or phones, oblivious to what’s happening inside me.
I make my way to the back room, where I can lean against the storage shelves and focus on these delicate movements.
As I wait, I feel another small kick, followed by another flutter.
It’s like the baby is trying to communicate with me, sending me tiny messages from inside my womb. When Minsoo walks into the back room with a box of supplies, he sees the look on my face and immediately knows something is up.
"What is it?" he asks, setting down the box and coming over to me.
Without saying a word, I grab his hand and place it where the baby is still making those tiny movements.
Minsoo's eyes widen as he feels the flutter beneath his palm.
"Is that...?" he starts, his voice filled with awe.
"Yeah," I whisper, tears of wonder in my eyes, "it's our little one saying hello."
I wipe down the espresso machine one final time, the last task of my shift.
My feet ache from standing all day, and my lower back protests with every movement.
The cafe is empty except for Minsoo, who's cleaning the tables.
Before I clock out, I decide to treat myself to a drink.
My latest pregnancy craving is a strawberry açai refresher.
I gather the ingredients: ice, freeze-dried strawberries, and the base juice.
As I shake the drink, I add an extra scoop of berries.
They'll settle at the bottom, making the last sip sweeter.
The familiar motion of preparing drinks feels different now that I'm doing it for myself.
I stand in my bathroom, brushing my teeth when my phone buzzes with a text from Minsoo.
"Hey, I'm taking the day off tomorrow. Something came up."
My heart sinks.
Minsoo is the only other person who knows how to work the register and make drinks.
If he's not there, I'll have to cover his position until the afternoon shift arrives.
I waddle to my bedroom, my twenty-nine-week belly making it harder to bend as I search for my backup work shirt.
The larger size fits better now, but the thought of extra moving between stations makes my back ache preemptively.
I text Soojin, asking if she can stop by during lunch rush.
I lean against the counter, resting my aching back, when a young man about my age walks in.
He fidgets with his wallet while scanning our menu board.
"Can I do like a cookies and cream type coffee?" he asks hesitantly.
His request reminds me of my first time ordering coffee here.
I explain our cookies and cream frappuccino, suggesting extra cookie crumbles on top.
While preparing his drink, I carefully measure the ingredients.
My movements are slower now that I have to navigate around my belly.
I crush cookie pieces into a fine powder and blend them with coffee, milk, and cream.
The familiar process distracts me from my sore feet.
I top the drink with a swirl of whipped cream and a generous sprinkle of cookie crumbles.
As I hand him the drink, he looks at me with a curious expression.
"Do you ever think about what your life will be like in a few months?" he asks, nodding toward my belly.
I pause, surprised by the question, and then smile softly. "Every single day," I reply, "but I have a feeling it’s going to be more amazing than I can imagine."
I lean against the counter as a young girl, maybe ten years old, walks in with a pink backpack slung over one shoulder.
She approaches the counter and orders confidently.
"A cappuccino for me and chocolate milk for my cousin."
I nod and start preparing the drinks.
As I move around, I notice her watching me intently.
She seems particularly interested in how my pregnant belly affects my reach for the milk pitcher.
The cappuccino requires careful attention.
I steam the milk to the right temperature and pull a shot of espresso.
My back twinges as I bend to get chocolate syrup from the lower fridge.
For the chocolate milk, I take extra care layering it just right.
Kids can be particular about their drinks.
The girl watches quietly, then smiles and says, "You're really good at this," and I realize that even on the hardest days, I'm still doing something right.
While finishing the chocolate milk, she leans forward on the counter, her eyes following my every move.
"One day, I wanna work with you," she declares with determination.
Her words catch me off guard, making me pause while securing the lid.
I smile, remembering when I was a teenager and dreamed of working here.
My belly brushes against the counter as I hand her the drinks, and she notices, her eyes widening with curiosity.
"Really? What interests you about being a barista?" I ask, genuinely curious.
She points to the way I decorated her cappuccino with foam art.
"I like how you make pretty drinks. It's like magic," she says, her eyes sparkling.
"Magic is everywhere," I reply, handing her the drinks, "you just have to know where to look."
I finish making a caramel macchiato for a customer and hand it to them when my phone buzzes in my pocket.
I pull it out and see a text from Soojin.
"Hey, maybe you should ask your mom for help at work tomorrow. I can't keep covering for you."
I stand at the register, wiping down the counter with a damp cloth while I consider her suggestion.
My mom doesn't know about the baby yet.
I've been hiding it well with loose shirts and excuses about gaining weight from stress.
The thought of telling her makes my hands shake as I organize the receipt papers.
My baby kicks, as if sensing my anxiety.
I watch the girl sip her chocolate milk, her eyes still bright with admiration.
My back throbs as I wipe down the counter.
The thought of working a solo shift tomorrow makes me wince.
The girl notices my discomfort and asks if I'm okay.
An idea strikes me—maybe this sweet child could help convince her mother to assist tomorrow.
I explain my situation carefully, mentioning that Minsoo is sick and I could use an extra hand.
"Could you ask your mom if she'd like to help out tomorrow?" I ask softly.
"She seems like she makes good coffee at home."
The girl's eyes light up with excitement, and she nods eagerly.
"I'll ask her! She loves coffee, and she's always saying how she misses working in a café."
Her enthusiasm is contagious, and I feel a glimmer of hope as she adds, "I'll tell her it's like a little adventure for us!"