The kind of ordinary day that should’ve passed without consequence.
Jihoon was three years and four months old, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the living room floor, surrounded by her stuffed animals and speaking to them in a language that was about sixty percent understandable and forty percent adorable nonsense.
Her words were still soft and clumsy around the edges—little syllables bumping into each other, vowels stretched where they shouldn’t be.
“Dish one sit here. No, no—dat’s Mama bear’sh seat.”
You smiled to yourself as you folded laundry nearby. Sunghoon was at work. The house was quiet.
And because your husband had once again shoved random things into the hallway closet instead of properly organizing them, you’d decided today was finally the day to tackle it.
That was his first mistake. His second mistake? Hiding that photo where you could eventually find it.
You were halfway through muttering under your breath about Sunghoon’s inability to throw anything away when you spotted an old photo album tucked behind a stack of winter blankets.
Curious, you pulled it free and sat down right there on the floor.
At first, the photos were harmless.
Tiny baby Sunghoon bundled in blankets.
Sunghoon being held by his mother.
Sunghoon asleep in a crib.
Cute? Absolutely. Dangerous? Not yet. Then you turned another page and froze.
“…No way.”
There he was.
A tiny little toddler sitting on a swing over pale sand, bundled in a puffy brown winter jacket with fur lining around the hood.
His little legs dangled awkwardly, tiny red shoes hanging just above the ground. His jeans bunched around his knees.
His hair was sticking up in every possible direction like he’d just rolled out of bed and refused to let anyone fix it.
And his expression—
That tiny pout. That serious little face. Those huge dark eyes staring blankly ahead like the world had mildly inconvenienced him.
It was Sunghoon. At one year and eleven months old.
And he was so offensively adorable that your body physically reacted. Your hand flew to your mouth.
“Oh my god.”
Jihoon looked up from across the room.
“Mama?”
You slowly turned the album toward her like it was sacred scripture.
“Come here.” She scrambled over on her knees, peering down.
Her eyes widened. “…Appa?”
“Yes.”
She poked the picture. “Baby Appa?”
“Yes.” She gasped dramatically.
“Sho tiny.”
“Very tiny.”
Her little brows furrowed. “…Why he look mad?”
You stared harder at the photo and burst out laughing. “He does look mad.”
Jihoon nodded seriously. “Appa grumpy baby.”
And then— you felt it.
That unmistakable ache. That dangerous, irrational, all-consuming wave of baby fever.
The kind that made your chest squeeze and your brain whisper: You need another one. Immediately.
Within approximately forty-seven seconds, you had:
Taken a picture of the photo. Cropped it perfectly. Set it as your lock screen. Sent it to Yeji. Sent it to Sunghoon’s mother. Zoomed in specifically on the cheeks
Because the cheeks deserved focus. Jihoon watched all this happen from your side.
“Mama.”
“Yes?”
“Can I shee Baby Appa gain?”
You showed her. She giggled “He look like tiny bean.”
“He does.” You sighed dreamily. “He’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Jihoon frowned immediately. “Cuter dan me?”
You gasped. “No, sweetheart. Never.”
Then pointed again. “But almosht.”
You wheezed.
Sunghoon came home an hour later.
The second he walked through the door, Jihoon ran to him dramatically.
“APPAAAA!”
He bent automatically, scooping her up with one arm. “Hi, princess.”
Then she pointed accusingly at him. “You wash tiny and grumpy.” Sunghoon blinked. “…What?”
You appeared in the hallway holding your phone like evidence in a criminal trial. “Explain yourself.” The second he saw the screen light up— tiny serious toddler him staring back from the swing— he physically deflated.
“…You found it.”
“Found it?” you repeated.
He sighed deeply.
“Yes.”
You marched closer. “Why.” He rubbed his forehead. “Because I knew this would happen.”
“What would happen?” He gave you a pointed look.
“You’re staring at me like I personally betrayed you.”
“You DID betray me.”
Jihoon gasped. “Appa bad?”
Sunghoon immediately panicked. “No, no—Appa not bad.”
You thrust the phone toward him. “Why did you hide this?” He glanced at the photo.
Then at you. Then back at the photo.
“…Because I knew you’d react like this.” You squinted.“Like what?”
He deadpanned perfectly:
“‘Oh my god, Hoon, look at your tiny shoes. We need another baby right now.’”
Your mouth dropped open. Jihoon looked between you both.
“…Need baby?”
Sunghoon pointed accusingly.
“See?”
You crossed your arms. “That is not what I sound like.”
“It is exactly what you sound like.”
Jihoon nodded. “Exacly.”
“Whose side are you on?!”
“Mine,” she answered proudly.
It got progressively worse over the next week.
You became unbearable. Everywhere you went, the lock screen followed.
At breakfast:
“Hoon.”
“No.”
“Look at your tiny shoes.”
“No.”
At bedtime:
“Imagine little matching shoes again.”
“No.”
While watching TV:
“Your cheeks were illegal.”
“Please stop saying that.”
Even Jihoon had started joining in.
“Appa, why you sho puffy?”
Sunghoon would bury his face in his hands every single time.
Then came the final attack.
One evening after Jihoon was asleep, Sunghoon was washing dishes while you leaned against the counter pretending to scroll through your phone.
Really, you were just staring at the photo. Again.
Sunghoon noticed.
Of course he noticed. “You’re doing it again.” You looked up innocently.“Doing what?”
“Looking at it like it personally wronged you.”
You smiled sweetly. “Hoon.”
He sighed instantly. “No.”
“You don’t even know what I’m asking.”
“Yes, I do.”
You walked over slowly, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. He softened immediately.
Always did. “What if…”
“No.”
“…Jihoon had a little sibling?”
“No.”
“With your hair?”
“No.”
“With your pout?”
“Still no.”
You pulled out your phone and held up the photo right beside his face. “Look me in the eyes and tell me the world doesn’t deserve another one of these.”
He stared. At the photo. At you. At your ridiculously hopeful expression. Then groaned.
“You are weaponizing my toddlerhood.”
“It’s working.” He muttered under his breath.You kissed his jaw softly.
Then whispered, “Please?”
And that was his downfall. Because your husband had never once survived that voice.
He exhaled heavily. “…One more.” You froze. “Really?” “One more because I love you. And because if I say no, I’ll never know peace again.”
You squealed and launched yourself at him. He barely caught you in time, laughing helplessly. “You’re impossible.” “You love me.”
He kissed your forehead. “…Unfortunately.”
TIME SKIP — ONE YEAR OLD JISUNG
And apparently, the universe had heard every single shameless wish you made while staring at that photo.
Because now— one-year-old Jisung sat in your lap wearing tiny red shoes.
And looked exactly like that picture.
Exactly. Same fluffy messy hair. Same serious pout. Same sleepy, mildly offended expression. Same little tilt of the head.
Even Sunghoon’s mother had nearly dropped her tea the first time she noticed.
“That is literally my son.”
And you? You had cried. Actually cried.
Because this was exactly what you’d asked for.
YN NEVER LETS HIM LIVE IT DOWN
Now, every family gathering included your favorite activity:
forcing everyone to compare the side-by-side photos.
“LOOK.”
You shoved your phone toward Yeji.
On screen: baby Sunghoon on the swing. Jisung now.
It was absurd. Yeji laughed.
“I know!”
“No, really LOOK.”
“I HAVE BEEN LOOKING.”
Across the couch, Sunghoon sighed while Jihoon attempted to clip sparkly barrettes into his hair.
“Do we need to keep doing this?”
“Yes.”
Jisung reached over from your arms and smacked Sunghoon’s cheek. Softly.
Exactly the way his mother had once said baby Sunghoon used to.nYou gasped so loudly everyone turned.
“HE DID THE THING.”
Sunghoon groaned.
“Oh no.”
You clutched Jisung dramatically.
“My beautiful answered prayer.”
Sunghoon looked at you then— really looked.
At your glowing smile.
At Jihoon giggling beside him.
At Jisung blinking sleepily in your arms.
And his expression softened into that quiet, helpless smile he only ever wore for you.
“…You got exactly what you wanted.”
You shook your head. Looking at all three of them.
“No.”
Your voice softened.
“I got more.” and just like that— Sunghoon leaned over and kissed your temple while Jisung, tiny pout and all, smacked his father again.
You were folding laundry on the couch, Jisung playing with stacking cups beside you, when Jihoon plopped down dramatically next to you—cheeks slightly pink, eyes a little too bright.
“Mommy…” she said, drawing out the word.
You hummed. “Yes, baby?”
She leaned closer, lowering her voice like she was sharing a secret. “There’s a boy in daycare.” You froze.
Not visibly But internally?
Oh.
“Oh?” you said carefully, biting back a smile. Jisung looked up at the tone shift like something important was happening. “Boy?” he echoed randomly.
Jihoon nodded seriously. “His name is Minjae. He shared his snacks with me.”
You pressed your lips together.
“That’s very sweet of him.” “And…” she hesitated, playing with her fingers, “…he said my hair is pretty.”
You definitely smiled now.
From the kitchen, there was the faint clatter of something dropping. You didn’t look. But you knew.
Sunghoon was listening.
Jihoon leaned even closer.
“Mommy…” “Yes?” “How did you know you liked Appa?”
Silence.
From the kitchen— another clank.
You finally glanced over your shoulder. Sunghoon stood there, frozen mid-motion, holding a glass he definitely wasn’t washing anymore.
Eyes wide. Expression unreadable. But his ears?
Red. Very red.
You bit back a laugh and turned back to Jihoon. “Well…” you started softly, “I felt happy when I was with him.” Jihoon blinked. “Happy?”
“Mhm. And I liked talking to him. I wanted to spend more time with him.” Jihoon thought deeply. “I like talking to Minjae too…” From the kitchen:
“…Mm.”
That was not a normal mm.
That was a disapproving father noise.
Sunghoon walked into the living room like he *just happened* to be passing by. “Oh,” he said casually. “What are you talking about?”
Jihoon turned instantly. “Appa! There’s a boy in my daycare!” You watched his soul leave his body.
“…I see.” Jihoon smiled brightly. “He’s nice! He shares snacks!”
Sunghoon nodded slowly. “That’s… basic decency.”
You choked on your laughter. Jihoon frowned. “And he said my hair is pretty!” Sunghoon sat down beside her immediately. Too quickly.
“Jihoon,” he said gently but seriously, “you are pretty. Everyone knows that.”
She beamed. “I know!”
You snorted. But Sunghoon wasn’t done.
“And,” he continued, voice calm but very intentional, “you don’t have to like someone just because they say nice things. Okay?”
Jihoon blinked. “…But Mommy likes you.”
You turned away, shoulders shaking.
Sunghoon sputtered. “That’s—this is different—your mom and I—”
He looked at you helplessly.
You smiled sweetly.
“Go on, Appa. Explain.”
He glared at you lightly.
Traitor.
Sunghoon turned back to Jihoon, softening immediately. “What else does this… Minjae do?”
Jihoon counted on her fingers. “He shares snacks… he plays with me… he gave me his crayon…”
Sunghoon nodded. “…Okay.”
A pause. Then— “Does he wash his hands properly?”
You burst out laughing.
“Sunghoon!”
Jihoon looked confused. “I think so?”
Sunghoon leaned back, crossing his arms.
“Hm.” He was pouting. Actually pouting.
Jihoon crawled onto his lap suddenly, cupping his face with her tiny hands. “Appa,” she said seriously, “you’re still my favorite.”
He melted. Completely. “…I am?”
She nodded. “The most.”
Jisung waddled over and climbed onto him too.
“Appaaaa.” Sunghoon wrapped his arms around both of them, pulling them close.
“Good,” he mumbled softly. “That’s how it should be.” You leaned against him, smiling.
“Jealous?” you teased. He glanced at you, still holding the kids tightly.
“…A little.” You laughed, kissing his cheek.
“Don’t worry. You’ll always be her first love.”
He looked down at Jihoon, brushing her hair back gently. “…Yeah,” he whispered. “I know.”
But still— Later that night, you caught him muttering under his breath while folding Jihoon’s clothes:
“…Minjae…”
And you knew. Appa was not done being huffy anytime soon
-
The house was still quiet when you woke up.
Soft morning light slipped through the curtains, warm and gentle, the kind that made everything feel slower.
You didn’t even have to open your eyes fully to know Sunghoon was already awake.
You felt it—
his hand brushing your hair away from your face,
his fingers tracing soft, absent patterns on your arm,
his presence close, warm, familiar.
“Good morning,” he murmured.
Your lips curved.
“Good morning…”
You stretched slightly, and he immediately moved—adjusting the blanket, tucking it around you like you were something fragile.
“You should stay in bed a little longer,” he said quietly.
You cracked one eye open, amused.
“Why?”
“Because I said so,” he replied, already reaching for the glass of water on the nightstand. “Drink first.”
You laughed softly but obeyed, taking the glass from him.
He watched you drink like it was the most important task in the world.
And then—
“…So.”
Ah.
There it was.
You hid your smile.
“Yes?”
He leaned back against the headboard, arms crossed—but his hand still rested on your thigh, thumb gently rubbing circles.
“That Minjae.”
You bit your lip.
“Mhm?”
Sunghoon exhaled slowly.
“I’m just saying… I don’t trust him.”
You turned fully to him now, propping your head on your hand.
“He’s five.”
“Exactly,” Sunghoon said immediately. “Too early.”
You laughed.
“For what? Sharing snacks?”
“For… everything,” he muttered.
But even as he spoke, he was adjusting your pillow, smoothing your hair again, pulling the blanket higher over your shoulders.
“You’re unbelievable,” you teased.
“I’m being reasonable,” he insisted.
“You’re being jealous.”
“I’m being a father.”
You raised a brow.
“A jealous father.”
He clicked his tongue softly, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your forehead.
“…You liked me first, you know.”
You blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“You liked me first,” he repeated, a hint of a smirk now.
You laughed.
“That’s what you’re worried about?”
He shrugged, but his voice softened.
“I just… don’t want her growing up too fast.”
There it was.
You reached up, cupping his cheek.
“She’s not. She just thinks someone is nice.”
He leaned into your touch without thinking.
“…Still.”
You smiled.
“Come on, Appa. Let’s go see your ‘competition’ later.”
He groaned.
“I don’t have competition.”
“You literally brought it up first thing in the morning.”
pairing: Single Dad! Sunghoon x Single Mom! Reader
wc: 9,545
synopsis: Shy kids spark fearless friendships, and two single parents find love where they least expect it. Family isn’t just born—it’s chosen.
rie’s notes: this has been on my drafts for a while and ERRORS AHEAD! enjoy~ feedbacks are highly appreciated!
disclaimer: this fic is not based from the kdrama hehe
Park Sunghoon never expected to be called into his daughter's kindergarten class for a “parent-teacher meeting,” much less one involving another child. Jiwoo had never been the type to cause trouble—she was quiet, polite, and more likely to cry over a lost stuffed animal than pick a fight.
Yet here he was, stepping into the colorful classroom, still in his work attire, sleeves rolled up from a long day at the office. His eyes immediately landed on the woman already seated across from the teacher.
She looked just as confused as he felt.
Y/N.
Her gaze flickered toward him briefly before returning to the two children sitting cross-legged on the play mat. Sunghoon followed her gaze. His daughter, Jiwoo, and Y/N’s son, Minjun, were whispering to each other, exchanging giggles like they shared a lifelong secret.
“Ah, Mr. Park, please have a seat,” the teacher greeted with a warm smile. “Now that you’re both here, I just wanted to address something that happened today.”
Sunghoon took the chair beside Y/N, feeling the awkward tension settle between them. She shifted slightly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. He caught a faint scent of vanilla—probably from her shampoo.
The teacher cleared her throat, drawing their attention back.
“It seems that Minjun stepped in to protect Jiwoo from some teasing today,” she explained gently. “Some students made fun of her pigtails, saying they made her look like a baby. Minjun defended her, saying Jiwoo was like his little sister, and no one was allowed to bully her.”
Sunghoon’s fingers instinctively curled into his palm. His little girl had been teased? Jiwoo rarely spoke up for herself, and the thought of her being targeted—no matter how small—made his chest tighten.
Beside him, Y/N sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “That sounds like Minjun,” she murmured. “He’s always had a hero complex.”
The teacher chuckled. “It didn’t end there, though. Another student questioned Minjun, saying he was ‘too small’ to protect anyone, and Jiwoo immediately fired back, saying Minjun oppa was the strongest boy she knew.”
Sunghoon blinked in surprise. Jiwoo—the same girl who once cried over stepping on an ant—had stood up for someone?
Y/N exhaled a small laugh, shaking her head. “Of course she did,” she muttered, a smile tugging at her lips.
For the first time, Sunghoon glanced at her properly. Up close, he noticed the subtle exhaustion in her eyes, the faint lines of stress that most parents carried. He wondered if she, too, had spent nights trying to calm a feverish child, or woken up to a tiny human climbing into her bed at three in the morning.
The teacher continued, “Their bond is quite remarkable. But I wanted to bring this to your attention so we could encourage their kindness while also ensuring they don’t get too involved in conflicts.”
Sunghoon nodded. “Of course. I’ll talk to Jiwoo about it.”
Y/N hummed in agreement. “Same with Minjun.”
As the meeting wrapped up, they stood awkwardly outside the classroom, watching their kids run ahead to the playground. The silence between them stretched, neither quite sure how to proceed now that the formalities were over.
Sunghoon cleared his throat. “So, uh… Minjun, huh?”
Y/N turned to him, raising a brow. “What about him?”
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “He’s… very protective.”
She huffed a soft laugh. “Yeah, sometimes a little too much. But I guess it’s nice to know Jiwoo has someone looking out for her.”
Sunghoon nodded slowly. “Yeah… it is.”
More silence.
Jiwoo and Minjun were now attempting to climb the jungle gym together, laughing every time one of them stumbled. It was an easy kind of friendship—the kind Sunghoon vaguely remembered from childhood, before life got complicated with responsibilities and heartaches.
Sunghoon shifted awkwardly. He wasn’t used to making small talk, especially not with another parent. He had been so focused on work and raising Jiwoo that socializing beyond casual greetings at drop-offs wasn’t really part of his routine.
“Um,” Y/N spoke first, surprising him. “Do you… work nearby?”
He blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Uh, yeah. I run a business in the city.”
“Oh?” She tilted her head. “What kind of business?”
“Tech.” He scratched the back of his neck. “It’s, uh, mostly software development.”
She nodded, seemingly impressed. “That sounds complicated.”
Sunghoon let out a breathy chuckle. “It is. But I guess it’s better than some of the jobs I had before.”
“Like what?”
He hesitated before admitting, “I used to be an athlete.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “Really?”
“Figure skating.”
Y/N blinked, then looked him up and down, as if reevaluating him. “That… actually makes sense. You look like someone who’d be good at that.”
He frowned. “What does that mean?”
She smirked. “You just… have that ‘cold perfectionist’ vibe.”
Sunghoon scoffed. “I’m not cold.”
“Really? Because you barely spoke for the first ten minutes of the meeting.”
“I was processing.”
Y/N laughed, and something in his chest loosened.
For the first time in a long time, he found himself enjoying a conversation with someone outside of work. There was something easy about talking to Y/N—even if it was still slightly awkward, even if they were just two parents trying to navigate an unexpected friendship between their kids.
After a beat, she glanced at him again. “Do you… want to exchange numbers? You know, in case the kids want to set up a playdate or something?”
Sunghoon hesitated for half a second before pulling out his phone. “Yeah. That sounds… practical.”
She grinned. “Practical, huh?”
He rolled his eyes but felt the corners of his lips twitch.
As they exchanged contacts, Minjun suddenly ran up to them, panting. “Mom! Jiwoo and I want to have a playdate this weekend!”
Jiwoo appeared beside him, nodding eagerly. “Yes! Please?”
Sunghoon and Y/N exchanged amused glances before Y/N shrugged. “Well, I guess we don’t really have a choice, do we?”
Sunghoon sighed dramatically. “Looks like we’re stuck with each other now.”
Y/N smirked. “Guess so.”
And just like that, something new began.
A friendship.
A connection.
The weekend arrived faster than expected, and before Sunghoon knew it, he was stepping into a cozy family café with Jiwoo’s small hand clasped tightly in his. The place was lively but not overwhelmingly crowded—parents chatted over coffee while their kids ran around the brightly colored indoor playground, laughter echoing through the space.
Y/N was already there, seated at a booth near the play area, watching as Minjun excitedly pointed out the different slides and climbing structures. When she spotted Sunghoon and Jiwoo, she waved them over with a warm smile.
“You made it,” she said as Jiwoo slid into the booth beside Minjun, the two kids already chatting animatedly.
“Yeah,” Sunghoon replied, scanning the menu before setting it down. “This place is nice. I didn’t even know it existed.”
Y/N chuckled. “That’s because you probably don’t get out much.”
He scoffed. “I get out.”
She raised a brow. “For something other than work?”
Sunghoon opened his mouth, then closed it. “…That’s beside the point.”
She laughed, and for some reason, he didn’t mind being teased.
After ordering drinks—coffee for the parents, juice for the kids—Minjun and Jiwoo took off toward the play area, leaving Sunghoon and Y/N with a rare moment of quiet. They watched as their children climbed the soft jungle gym, giggling as they chased each other through tunnels and down slides.
“They really are inseparable, huh?” Y/N mused, stirring her coffee.
Sunghoon nodded, taking a sip of his own. “Yeah. It’s… nice. Jiwoo’s always been a little shy, so it’s good to see her open up like this.”
Y/N hummed. “Minjun’s always had that effect on people. He’s been trying to ‘take care’ of others since he could talk. I think it’s his way of making up for—” She paused, shaking her head. “Never mind.”
Sunghoon didn’t push. He understood all too well what it was like to avoid certain topics.
Their conversation drifted to safer subjects—parenting struggles, favorite kids’ movies, the absurdity of some kindergarten rules. It was easy, effortless, even with the occasional awkward pause.
Then, a small voice interrupted their moment of peace.
“Jiwoo, where’s your mommy?”
Sunghoon’s grip on his cup tightened slightly as he turned to see Minjun looking at Jiwoo with innocent curiosity.
Jiwoo blinked, her small hands gripping the edge of the play structure. “I don’t have one,” she said simply.
Minjun frowned. “But… everyone has a mommy.”
Sunghoon felt a familiar ache settle in his chest, but before he could step in, Jiwoo continued, tilting her head as if deep in thought.
“I only have Daddy,” she said matter-of-factly. “He does everything. He braids my hair, packs my lunch, and even sings bedtime songs—though he’s not very good at it.”
Sunghoon nearly choked on his coffee.
Minjun nodded in understanding. “Oh. That’s okay! My mommy does everything too. I don’t have a daddy.”
Jiwoo’s eyes widened. “Really?”
Minjun nodded again, looking down at his feet. “Mommy says he’s not here.”
Jiwoo considered this for a moment before reaching out and taking Minjun’s hand. “It’s okay. You can have my daddy too!”
Sunghoon and Y/N both froze.
Minjun’s face lit up. “Really?”
Jiwoo nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! Daddy is the best! He makes yummy pancakes and gives piggyback rides. You can borrow him if you want.”
Y/N covered her mouth, stifling a laugh. Sunghoon, on the other hand, could only stare, his ears turning red.
“Wait a second—” he started, but Minjun was already grinning.
“Okay! Then you can have my mommy too,” Minjun declared. “She gives the best hugs and always makes sure I have warm socks. She can be your mommy when you need one!”
Jiwoo gasped. “Really?”
Minjun nodded proudly. “Yes! We can share!”
At this point, Y/N lost it, dissolving into laughter. Sunghoon groaned, running a hand down his face. “This is not how it works, kids.”
“But why not?” Jiwoo pouted.
“Yeah!” Minjun crossed his arms. “It makes sense to me.”
Sunghoon looked helplessly at Y/N, who wiped away a tear from laughing. She met his gaze, amusement twinkling in her eyes.
“Well, what do you think, Daddy?” she teased.
He groaned again, muttering under his breath. “I am never living this down.”
Y/N smirked, sipping her coffee. “Nope.”
As their kids resumed playing, Sunghoon found himself sneaking glances at Y/N, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips.
Maybe—just maybe—this playdate wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
The playdate lasted longer than either parent anticipated. What was supposed to be a quick meet-up turned into hours of laughter, spilled juice, and stories exchanged over cooling coffee. The café buzzed with life, but Sunghoon and Y/N were caught in their own little world—occasionally interrupted by their children, who kept finding new ways to drag them into their games.
“Mommy, watch me!” Minjun called as he climbed up the jungle gym.
Y/N turned, ready to cheer him on, when Jiwoo grabbed Sunghoon’s hand. “Daddy, let’s play too!”
Sunghoon blinked. “Huh?”
“Come on!” Jiwoo insisted, already pulling him toward the play area.
Minjun grinned. “Yeah! You too, Mommy!”
Y/N laughed, but before she could protest, Minjun was dragging her along. Within seconds, both adults found themselves standing awkwardly in the middle of a room full of bouncing, giggling children.
Sunghoon looked around, slightly horrified. “This wasn’t part of the deal.”
Y/N smirked. “What, afraid of a little fun?”
He scoffed. “I’m not afraid. I just don’t think I’ll fit in these tiny tunnels.”
“Oh, come on.” Y/N nudged him playfully before turning to the kids. “What should we make them do?”
Minjun and Jiwoo huddled together in deep discussion before perking up. “Tag!”
Y/N laughed. “Tag it is.”
Before Sunghoon could react, Jiwoo poked his leg. “You’re it!”
And just like that, she and Minjun ran off squealing, leaving Sunghoon standing there, dumbfounded.
Y/N gave him a teasing smile before dashing away. “Better start running, Dad of the Year!”
Sunghoon groaned but took off after them, his long legs giving him an advantage. The next few minutes were a blur of laughter, squeals, and near-misses as he chased after the two kids and an annoyingly fast Y/N. Jiwoo and Minjun worked together to evade capture, while Y/N effortlessly avoided him, throwing playful taunts over her shoulder.
By the time they all collapsed onto the padded mats, out of breath and laughing, Sunghoon realized something strange—he was actually having fun.
It had been so long since he let loose like this, so long since he laughed just for the sake of it.
And it was because of them.
Because of her.
After that day, playdates became a regular thing.
Some days, they met at the park, where Jiwoo and Minjun raced each other on the slides while their parents sat on a nearby bench, slowly peeling away the layers of awkwardness. Other times, it was Y/N’s apartment, where she made snacks while Sunghoon helped Minjun with his homework. And sometimes, it was Sunghoon’s home, where Jiwoo proudly showed off her toy collection and Minjun tried to teach her how to ride a scooter in the hallway.
Each visit brought them closer.
Sunghoon learned that Y/N was a hopeless romantic who cried at every movie, even the animated ones. Y/N discovered that Sunghoon had a habit of talking to himself when he was focused—muttering under his breath like he was coaching himself through life.
He found out that she loved early morning walks, coffee way too sweet, and her son more than anything in the world. She learned that he wasn’t as intimidating as he looked, that he was secretly terrible at cooking, and that every night, without fail, he checked on Jiwoo at least three times before going to bed.
And just like that, an unspoken rhythm formed between them.
Neither of them talked about it, but something was shifting.
It wasn’t just about the kids anymore.
One evening, after a particularly long day, Sunghoon and Y/N took their usual seats at the café while Jiwoo and Minjun played. The kids had been extra energetic, and both parents were exhausted—but content.
Y/N stretched her arms above her head with a small groan. “I swear, I’m aging ten years every time Minjun decides to climb something he shouldn’t.”
Sunghoon smirked. “Tell me about it. Last week, Jiwoo tried to ‘fly’ off the couch. Nearly gave me a heart attack.”
She laughed, shaking her head. Then, as if something had been on her mind, she hesitated before speaking.
“Hey, Sunghoon?”
“Hm?”
Y/N twirled her straw between her fingers, eyes flickering to the playground before settling back on him. “Do you ever… think about how different things would’ve been if—” She paused. “If you weren’t doing this alone?”
Sunghoon’s expression faltered slightly.
She didn’t push, but he knew exactly what she meant.
Did he ever think about what life would’ve been like if Jiwoo had both parents? If he didn’t have to figure everything out by himself? If things hadn’t… ended the way they did?
He let out a slow breath. “Yeah.”
Y/N gave him a small smile. “Me too.”
There was a quiet understanding between them.
No pity. No judgment. Just two people who knew what it was like to carry everything on their own.
After a moment, Y/N exhaled, forcing a chuckle. “Sorry. That was kinda heavy for a playdate.”
Sunghoon shook his head. “It’s fine.” He met her gaze, voice softer now. “Really.”
Y/N’s eyes lingered on his for a second too long, something unreadable flickering behind them before she looked away.
But before either of them could say anything else, a small voice interrupted them.
“Mommy?”
They turned to see Minjun standing beside the table, looking up at Y/N with curiosity. Jiwoo stood next to him, her little hand wrapped around his wrist.
Y/N smiled. “What is it, sweetheart?”
Minjun hesitated, then finally asked, “Do you think Jiwoo can be my real sister one day?”
Sunghoon choked on his coffee.
Y/N’s eyes widened. “Minjun—”
But the little boy was serious. “I mean, she already feels like my sister. So can she be my real sister?”
Jiwoo nodded eagerly. “Yeah! I like that idea!”
Sunghoon was still coughing.
Y/N, however, managed to keep a straight face. Barely. “Uh… well… that’s not really how it works, sweetheart.”
Minjun frowned. “Why not?”
Jiwoo crossed her arms. “Yeah! Why not?”
Y/N stammered, looking at Sunghoon for help, but he was too busy trying to regain his composure.
With a sigh, she finally said, “Because—um—things like that take time.”
Minjun seemed to think about this before nodding. “Okay! Then I’ll wait.”
Jiwoo beamed. “Me too!”
Sunghoon groaned, dropping his head onto the table. “I am never going to hear the end of this, am I?”
Y/N patted his shoulder, laughing. “Nope.”
But even as the kids ran off, giggling about their “future sibling plans,” Sunghoon couldn’t help but glance at Y/N again.
And for the first time, the idea didn’t seem so impossible.
A week had passed since Minjun and Jiwoo’s unexpected proposal, and neither child had let it go. If anything, they only got bolder—holding hands while walking to class, declaring each other as family to their friends, and once even trying to convince their teacher that they should be seated together at all times.
Sunghoon and Y/N were still recovering from the secondhand embarrassment.
But aside from their children’s antics, things between them had settled into something… easy. Comfortable.
Which was probably why Sunghoon didn’t hesitate when he found himself in loaded for work one afternoon.
Sunghoon: Are you home?
Y/N: Yeah, why?
Sunghoon: Can I ask you a favor?
Y/N: Depends. How illegal is it?
Sunghoon rolled his eyes but found himself smiling.
Sunghoon: Not illegal. Just need someone to watch Jiwoo tonight. I have a work thing I can’t skip.
It took less than ten seconds for Y/N to reply.
Y/N: Of course! Minjun will be thrilled. You don’t even have to ask.
Sunghoon exhaled, relief washing over him. He’d been scrambling to find a sitter for the past hour, but Jiwoo had never stayed with anyone else before. He trusted Y/N more than anyone else, and Jiwoo was already comfortable with her and Minjun—it was the best option.
Still, asking for favors wasn’t exactly his strong suit.
Sunghoon: Thanks. I owe you one.
Y/N: You owe me ten, but who’s counting?
He chuckled, shaking his head.
Later that evening, Sunghoon arrived at Y/N’s apartment with Jiwoo in tow.
The second the door opened, Minjun let out an excited gasp. “Jiwoo!”
Jiwoo barely had time to react before Minjun grabbed her hand, already pulling her inside. “Come on! I set up a fort in my room!”
Sunghoon watched, slightly stunned, as Jiwoo disappeared into the apartment without so much as a glance back.
“Well,” Y/N said, amused, “I guess we know how she feels about staying over.”
Sunghoon sighed. “Should I be offended?”
Y/N grinned. “Probably.”
After handing over Jiwoo’s overnight bag and making Y/N promise to call him if anything happened, Sunghoon reluctantly turned to leave. But just as he stepped out the door, a small voice called after him.
“Daddy?”
Jiwoo peeked out from Minjun’s room, eyes wide.
Sunghoon immediately crouched down. “What is it, baby?”
For the first time that night, she looked unsure. “Are you coming back soon?”
His chest tightened.
Even though Jiwoo was comfortable here, it was still her first time sleeping somewhere new. Sunghoon hesitated, glancing at Y/N.
Y/N smiled gently. “You can call him before bed, sweetheart.”
Jiwoo perked up. “Okay!”
Sunghoon ruffled her hair. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Be good.”
“I always am!” Jiwoo said proudly.
Y/N snorted. “Sure, let’s go with that.”
Sunghoon gave Jiwoo one last hug before standing. As he turned to Y/N, something warm settled in his chest—something dangerously close to gratitude and something else he wasn’t quite ready to name.
“Thanks again,” he murmured.
Y/N shrugged like it was nothing. “Anytime.”
And as Sunghoon walked away, he found himself wondering if he really would take her up on that offer.
Sunghoon was halfway through reviewing reports when his phone buzzed. Seeing Jiwoo’s name flash on the screen, he quickly picked up.
“Hey, baby,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Everything okay?”
“Daddy!” Jiwoo’s excited voice came through, followed by Minjun’s laughter in the background. “Minjun’s room is so cool! We made a fort, and it has fairy lights and pillows and everything!”
Sunghoon chuckled. “That sounds fun. Are you having a good time?”
“Uh-huh!” Jiwoo hummed, then lowered her voice like she was telling him a secret. “Mommy—oh! I mean, Minjun’s mommy—helped us build it.”
Sunghoon’s breath hitched at the slip. He glanced at the clock. It was getting late, and he could already hear the sleepiness in her voice.
“Are you in bed now?” he asked softly.
“Mm-hmm. Minjun let me borrow his extra blanket.”
There was a brief rustling sound before another voice came through. “Hi, Mr. Park!”
Sunghoon smiled. “Hey, buddy. Taking good care of Jiwoo?”
“Of course!” Minjun declared proudly. “She’s my baby sister.”
Sunghoon heard Y/N’s soft laughter in the background, making his chest warm.
“Alright, you two, say goodnight,” Y/N said. “Jiwoo, your dad has work.”
Jiwoo yawned. “Goodnight, Daddy.”
“Goodnight, baby. Sleep well.”
As he ended the call, Sunghoon exhaled, his heart feeling unexpectedly full.
After the call, Y/N was helping her brush her teeth when the little girl suddenly paused, staring at her reflection in the mirror with a thoughtful expression.
Y/N noticed right away. “What’s on your mind, sweetheart?”
Jiwoo turned to her, toothbrush still in her mouth. “Can I ask you something?” she mumbled through the foam.
Y/N smiled, taking a tissue to wipe the excess toothpaste from the corner of Jiwoo’s lips. “Of course. You can ask me anything.”
Jiwoo spit into the sink, rinsed her mouth, and then turned to Y/N with big, hopeful eyes. “Can I… can I call you Mommy?”
Y/N’s heart nearly stopped.
She blinked, taking in the little girl’s earnest expression, the slight nervousness in her voice. Jiwoo had always been affectionate, clinging to her the way she did Minjun, but this… this was different. This was something Jiwoo had thought about. Something she wanted.
Y/N’s throat tightened.
She crouched down to meet Jiwoo’s gaze properly, tucking her damp hair behind her ear. “You really want that, baby?”
Jiwoo nodded eagerly. “Uh-huh! It feels right! And I already feel like you’re my mommy, so… can I?”
Y/N’s heart melted. But she knew this was something bigger than just her and Jiwoo—this was something Sunghoon needed to be okay with, too.
She smiled gently. “You know what, sweetheart? Let me talk to your daddy first, okay?”
Jiwoo’s face scrunched up in confusion. “Why?”
“Because Daddy is very important to you, and I want to make sure he’s okay with it too,” Y/N explained, brushing her fingers through Jiwoo’s soft hair.
Jiwoo thought about it for a second, then nodded. “Okay! But I think he’ll say yes. Daddy likes you a lot.”
Y/N chuckled at her confidence, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “We’ll see, baby.”
That night, after tucking Jiwoo and Minjun into bed, Y/N sat on her couch, phone in hand, debating how to phrase the message.
Finally, she took a deep breath and typed:
Y/N: Hey, Jiwoo asked me if she could call me Mommy today… I told her I’d talk to you first. Are you okay with that?
She stared at the message for a moment before hitting send.
It didn’t take long for Sunghoon to reply.
Sunghoon: She asked that?
Y/N: Yeah. She seemed really sure about it.
There was a pause. Then—
Sunghoon: … I was actually wondering when she’d ask. She’s been attached to you since day one.
Y/N smiled, warmth blooming in her chest.
Y/N: So… you’re okay with it?
Sunghoon: Of course I’m okay with it. If Jiwoo wants to call you Mommy, it’s because she sees you as one.
A pause. Then another message.
Sunghoon: And honestly… I don’t think I’d want anyone else to have that role in her life.
Y/N’s breath caught.
She stared at his words, her heart thumping a little faster.
Jiwoo’s question had been unexpected, but Sunghoon’s response? That was what truly made her feel like she was exactly where she was meant to be.
Sunghoon arrived at Y/N’s apartment early the next morning, dressed casually in a sweater and jeans. When he knocked, the door swung open almost immediately, revealing Minjun in his dinosaur pajamas.
“Hi, Mr. Park!” Minjun beamed. “We’re having breakfast!”
Sunghoon smiled. “Good morning, buddy.”
As he stepped inside, his eyes landed on Y/N sitting at the dining table—with Jiwoo on her lap.
She had a comb in one hand, gently brushing through Jiwoo’s tangled hair while the little girl sat patiently, nibbling on a piece of toast.
The sight made Sunghoon pause.
Something about it—Jiwoo looking so at ease, Y/N’s soft, motherly touch—struck him deep in his chest.
For a moment, it felt like coming home.
“Daddy!” Jiwoo’s face lit up when she saw him.
Sunghoon snapped out of his daze, clearing his throat. “Hey, baby. Did you sleep well?”
Jiwoo nodded eagerly. “Minjun’s bed is really comfy!”
Y/N glanced up, smiling. “Morning. Want some coffee?”
Sunghoon blinked. “Uh… sure.”
Before he could say more, Minjun grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the table. “Sit next to me!”
Y/N handed him a fresh cup of coffee while Minjun proudly pointed at their breakfast spread. “We have pancakes, eggs, and toast! Mom made them.”
Sunghoon raised an eyebrow at Y/N. “You cook?”
She scoffed playfully. “I survive.”
He chuckled, taking a sip of coffee.
As they ate, Jiwoo and Minjun chatted nonstop—about their fort, their dreams last night, and even their wedding plans (which Sunghoon was still trying to process).
But somewhere in between, as he watched Y/N cut up Jiwoo’s pancake like it was second nature, Sunghoon felt something shift.
Breakfast at Y/N’s apartment felt strangely different from the ones Sunghoon was used to.
At home, mornings were quiet—just him and Jiwoo, half-asleep as they rushed through breakfast before school. But here, the air was filled with laughter, the clinking of plates, and Minjun talking a mile a minute about dinosaurs.
And then there was Y/N.
She wasn’t doing anything extraordinary—just making sure the kids ate properly, cutting Jiwoo’s pancakes the way she liked them, absentmindedly tucking Minjun’s hair behind his ear when it got in his face. But there was something about it—about her—that made Sunghoon feel warm in a way he couldn’t quite place.
Jiwoo giggled beside him, smacking Minjun’s arm playfully. “You eat so fast! Like a T-Rex!”
Minjun gasped dramatically. “T-Rexes don’t eat pancakes! They eat meat!”
Y/N chuckled, shaking her head. “Then chew properly before you choke, little carnivore.”
Sunghoon smirked. “Do you say that from experience?”
She shot him a look. “I don’t choke, Park.”
He hummed, amused. “Good to know.”
Jiwoo looked between them, her tiny brows furrowing. “Daddy, are you flirting?”
Sunghoon nearly choked on his coffee.
Minjun gasped. “Mommy, what’s flirting?”
Y/N held up a hand. “Nope. Not at the breakfast table.”
The kids whined in protest, but she swiftly changed the subject, asking Minjun if he wanted more orange juice.
Sunghoon shook his head, biting back a grin. This woman is dangerous.
After breakfast, the kids ran off to play, leaving Sunghoon and Y/N to clean up.
As they stood side by side at the sink—her washing, him drying—Sunghoon stole a glance at her.
“You didn’t have to do all this,” he said. “Watching Jiwoo, making breakfast…”
Y/N shrugged. “It wasn’t a big deal. Honestly, it was nice.”
“Nice?”
She smiled. “Having another little one around. Minjun loved it. And… I did too.”
Sunghoon’s fingers tightened around the dish towel.
She wasn’t saying much, but somehow, he understood.
Raising a kid alone wasn’t easy. No matter how much love you poured into them, there were always moments of loneliness—the empty chair at the dinner table, the silence after bedtime.
But this morning? It didn’t feel lonely at all.
“You’re really good with her,” he said quietly.
Y/N glanced at him, surprised. “Jiwoo?”
He nodded.
She dried her hands and leaned against the counter, crossing her arms. “She makes it easy. She’s such a sweetheart.”
Sunghoon huffed a small laugh. “She can be a handful.”
Y/N smirked. “I like handfuls.”
His breath hitched slightly, caught off guard by the way she said it—casual, teasing, but somehow laced with something deeper.
Before he could fire back, Minjun came running in, dragging Jiwoo behind him.
“Mom! Can Jiwoo stay for lunch too?”
Jiwoo’s eyes lit up. “Please, Daddy?”
Y/N glanced between them, about to say something when Sunghoon spoke first.
“How about this,” he offered, leaning against the counter. “Instead of staying in, why don’t we all go out for lunch?”
Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “Wait, all of us?”
Sunghoon nodded, glancing down at the two kids, who were now bouncing excitedly.
“Really? We can go together?” Minjun asked, eyes wide.
Sunghoon smirked. “You don’t want to?”
Minjun gasped dramatically. “Of course I do!”
Jiwoo clapped her hands. “Yay! Where are we going?”
Sunghoon looked at Y/N. “That depends. Do you have plans?”
Y/N hesitated. It wasn’t like she had anything else scheduled, but the idea of going out together—like a family—made something flutter in her chest.
Before she could answer, Minjun latched onto her arm, giving her his best puppy-dog eyes. “Please, Mom? I wanna eat with Jiwoo’s daddy, too.”
Y/N sighed, shaking her head with a smile. “Alright, alright. Lunch it is.”
Jiwoo and Minjun cheered, running off to get ready, leaving Sunghoon and Y/N standing in the kitchen.
Sunghoon tilted his head. “You’re sure? I don’t want to intrude on your day.”
Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You invited us.”
He huffed a small laugh. “Right.”
Their eyes met, something unspoken lingering in the air.
It wasn’t a date. Just lunch.
But for some reason, it felt like something more.
The mall was bustling with families, couples, and groups of friends enjoying their weekend. Sunghoon walked slightly ahead, one hand in his pocket while the other carried Jiwoo’s small backpack. Beside him, Y/N held onto Minjun’s hand, making sure he didn’t run off in excitement.
They had already stopped by a toy store—something Sunghoon had insisted on when Jiwoo and Minjun pressed their faces against the glass, completely mesmerized.
"You don’t have to—" Y/N had started, but Sunghoon waved her off.
"They deserve it," he had said simply before crouching down to their level. "Alright, you two. Pick something, but don’t go overboard."
Jiwoo had clung to his arm, beaming. "Really, Daddy?!"
"Really," he chuckled, ruffling her hair.
Minjun, on the other hand, looked hesitantly at Y/N. "Is it okay, Mom?"
She sighed, knowing she couldn’t say no when Minjun was practically vibrating with excitement. "Just one, okay?"
The kids had immediately run off to browse, leaving Y/N and Sunghoon to linger near the entrance.
"You didn’t have to do that," she murmured, watching the two excitedly pick out toys.
Sunghoon glanced at her. "I know."
"But you did anyway."
He smirked. "Call it an investment. Keeps them happy, which means we get a peaceful lunch."
Y/N shook her head, but she couldn’t hide the amused smile on her lips.
In the end, Jiwoo picked out a plushie—a chubby little cat she immediately hugged to her chest—while Minjun opted for a toy car set, already planning how he’d race them when they got home.
After paying, Sunghoon handed the bag to Minjun, who looked up at him with awe.
Sunghoon chuckled, giving him a small pat on the head. "Just Sunghoon is fine, kid."
Jiwoo pouted. "But he calls Mommy 'Mom!' Can’t he call you something else too?"
Minjun hummed, thinking. "Can I call you Uncle Hoon?"
Sunghoon blinked, momentarily caught off guard. He looked at Y/N, who was stifling a laugh, then back at Minjun.
"...Yeah," he said, lips twitching. "That works."
With their new toys in hand, they made their way to a casual family-friendly restaurant inside the mall. Jiwoo and Minjun sat side by side, happily showing each other their new things while Y/N and Sunghoon sat across from them, scanning the menu.
Halfway through lunch, an elderly couple at the next table leaned over, smiling warmly.
"You have such a beautiful family," the old woman said kindly. "Your children are adorable."
Y/N choked on her drink, eyes widening. Sunghoon coughed into his fist.
The older man chuckled. "Ah, young love. You remind us of when we were raising our boys."
Sunghoon cleared his throat, scratching the back of his neck. "Ah, we’re actually not—"
Jiwoo suddenly piped up, flashing a toothy grin. "I love Minjun’s mommy! She’s really nice!"
Minjun nodded enthusiastically. "And Uncle Hoon is super cool!"
The old couple chuckled, completely convinced. "You’re very lucky to have each other," the woman said before turning back to her meal.
Y/N and Sunghoon exchanged a look, both unsure whether to laugh or correct them. Instead, Y/N just shook her head, picking up her drink again.
Sunghoon smirked, leaning slightly toward her. "Guess we make a convincing pair."
Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the warmth creeping up her neck.
It was just a misunderstanding. Nothing more.
And yet, for some reason, the idea of them looking like a family didn’t seem so strange at all.
After lunch, they wandered around the mall, letting Jiwoo and Minjun explore. The kids led the way, dragging them from one store to another—first a bookstore, where Jiwoo picked up a picture book about animals, then a game shop where Minjun excitedly pointed out all the racing games he wanted to try someday.
Through it all, Sunghoon and Y/N followed closely, occasionally exchanging amused glances when the kids got too excited.
“You realize we’re basically just funding their happiness today,” Y/N murmured as she watched Minjun beg Jiwoo to pick a game for him to buy ‘next time.’
Sunghoon smirked. “I’ve accepted my fate.”
Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “You’re going to spoil them.”
Sunghoon shrugged. “They deserve it.”
It was such a simple statement, yet something about the way he said it made Y/N pause. He wasn’t just saying it to brush her off—he truly meant it. And for a brief moment, she saw past the charming, slightly teasing father figure and glimpsed the man underneath.
Before she could dwell on it, Jiwoo and Minjun came running back, holding hands.
“Can we get ice cream?” Jiwoo pleaded, eyes sparkling.
“Don’t look at me,” he said. “You’re the one who enforces rules.”
She shot him a look before turning back to the kids. “Fine. But only one scoop each.”
The kids cheered, running ahead toward the food court. Y/N and Sunghoon followed at a slower pace, watching them.
“They really are close,” Y/N mused.
Sunghoon hummed in agreement. “Yeah… It’s nice, though.”
She glanced at him. “Jiwoo’s lucky to have you.”
He looked at her, surprised. “You think so?”
Y/N nodded. “She adores you, you know. I can tell.”
Sunghoon let out a soft chuckle. “I try my best, but sometimes I feel like I’m just figuring it out as I go.”
She smiled. “That’s what being a parent is, isn’t it?”
Sunghoon glanced at Minjun, who was animatedly talking to Jiwoo while they stood in line for ice cream. “Your son’s lucky too.”
Y/N looked at Minjun fondly. “He’s my whole world.”
Sunghoon nodded. “Yeah… I get that.”
For a moment, there was silence between them—not uncomfortable, but something almost… understanding.
And then Jiwoo waved at them excitedly. “Hurry up, slowpokes!”
Y/N laughed. “Alright, alright, we’re coming.”
Sunghoon chuckled beside her.
And just like that, the moment passed, but something about it lingered.
Something neither of them were ready to admit just yet.
Time had passed, and playdates had become a regular occurrence. Whether at Y/N’s place, Sunghoon’s, or even out at parks and cafés, their little group naturally gravitated toward each other. It wasn’t just Jiwoo and Minjun anymore—it was the four of them, moving in sync like a makeshift family.
That realization hit Y/N the hardest when she saw Sunghoon’s fatherly instincts in full force.
They were at her apartment for dinner. She had cooked a simple meal, letting the kids play while she and Sunghoon set the table. It had been a long day, and she didn’t have the energy to go out, so Sunghoon had suggested they just eat together at home.
It felt easy. Normal.
And then, in a split second, normal almost turned into disaster.
Minjun, in his excitement, had grabbed his fork and started waving it around as he talked animatedly to Jiwoo. In one careless movement, he nearly jabbed himself in the cheek with it.
But before Y/N could even react, Sunghoon was already there.
“Hey!” His voice was firm, but not harsh. In an instant, he had reached over, gripping Minjun’s wrist gently but firmly, stopping the fork just inches away from his face. His usually relaxed expression was serious, brows furrowed.
Minjun’s eyes widened in shock. Jiwoo went silent. Y/N held her breath.
Sunghoon sighed, loosening his grip but not letting go. “Minjun,” he said, his voice softer now. “You have to be careful. You could have really hurt yourself.”
Sunghoon exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face before crouching slightly to Minjun’s level. “It’s okay. Just… be more careful, alright? You scared me for a second there, kid.”
Y/N finally let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. Her heart was still racing.
Minjun hesitated before looking up at Sunghoon with guilty eyes. “Are you mad at me?”
Sunghoon’s expression softened immediately. “No, bud. I just don’t want you getting hurt. You’re too important for that, got it?”
Minjun nodded, his lips pressing into a small pout.
Sunghoon chuckled, ruffling his hair before finally letting go of his wrist. “Good. Now finish your food before it gets cold.”
The tension eased, and Jiwoo started chatting again like nothing happened. But Y/N wasn’t as quick to move on.
Her eyes lingered on Sunghoon as he returned to his seat, taking a sip of his drink as if he hadn’t just shown the most natural display of fatherly protectiveness toward her son.
And the way Minjun had looked at him—like he truly admired and cared for him—made her chest tighten with emotions she wasn’t ready to name.
Sunghoon caught her staring and raised a brow. “What?”
Y/N blinked, quickly looking away. “Nothing.”
But it wasn’t nothing.
It was something.
Something that made her heart race for an entirely different reason this time.
The days blurred into weeks, and their little group had settled into an unspoken routine—weekend outings, dinner at each other’s places, school pickups when one parent was busy. It felt so natural that sometimes Y/N had to remind herself that this wasn’t how things had always been.
That she and Sunghoon weren’t actually together.
But lately, something had shifted.
It was in the way Sunghoon lingered a little longer after dropping Jiwoo off at Y/N’s. In the way his touches had grown softer, more intentional—his hand brushing against hers when they reached for the same dish, the way his gaze lingered on her when he thought she wasn’t looking.
And it was in the way he looked at Minjun.
Like he was already someone important to him.
That was when Y/N knew she was in trouble.
But it wasn’t just her that Sunghoon had to think about.
Which was why, on one quiet evening at his penthouse, after Jiwoo had finished her bedtime story and snuggled into his side, he finally asked the question that had been weighing on his mind.
“Jiwoo,” he murmured, running his fingers through her soft hair.
“Hmm?” she mumbled sleepily.
Sunghoon hesitated, his heart pounding slightly. He hadn’t been this nervous in a long time.
“Can I ask you something?”
Jiwoo yawned, nodding as she tucked herself closer to his side. “Mhm.”
Sunghoon took a breath. “What if… what if I liked someone?”
Jiwoo blinked up at him, sleepiness momentarily forgotten. “Like? Like how Minjun likes dinosaurs?”
Sunghoon let out a small chuckle. “No, sweetheart. Like how a prince likes a princess in your bedtime stories.”
Jiwoo’s little face scrunched up in thought. “Do I know them?”
He nodded. “Yeah. You know her really well.”
Jiwoo gasped dramatically, pushing herself up. “Is it Minjun’s mom?!”
Sunghoon blinked. “Uh—”
“I knew it!” Jiwoo clapped her hands excitedly. “You always look at her the way Minjun looks at cake! And you smile more when she’s around! And you always take care of Minjun like how Minjun takes care of me!”
Sunghoon was caught completely off guard. “I—wait, what?”
Jiwoo nodded eagerly, then paused. Her expression turned serious as she fiddled with the hem of her blanket. “But… does that mean she’ll be my mom?”
Sunghoon felt his throat tighten. This was the moment he was afraid of. Jiwoo had only ever had him—her mother had left when she was too young to remember.
He didn’t want to force anything on her.
He cupped her small face gently. “Only if you want her to be, Jiwoo. I’d never do anything that makes you uncomfortable. I just… I just really like her. And I think she’s really special.”
Jiwoo was quiet for a moment. Then, in a small voice, she asked, “Will she still love Minjun more than me?”
Sunghoon’s heart clenched.
“Oh, baby…” He pulled her into a hug, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “She loves Minjun because he’s her son. But that doesn’t mean she won’t love you too. You know how you and Minjun are like siblings, even though you weren’t born in the same family?”
Jiwoo nodded slowly.
“Well… families can grow. Just like how you and Minjun became best friends, maybe… maybe one day, she can love you like a mom too.”
Jiwoo thought about this for a long time. Then, she whispered, “I like her too.”
Sunghoon smiled, his chest filling with warmth. “Yeah?”
“She’s really nice. And she makes yummy food.”
Sunghoon chuckled. “That she does.”
Jiwoo yawned again, her little body relaxing in his arms. “I think… I think I’d like that.”
Sunghoon’s breath hitched.
“Yeah?”
Jiwoo nodded against his chest. “Mhm. But you have to make her happy, Daddy. Like how princes do in stories.”
Sunghoon swallowed the lump in his throat.
He had never needed a fairytale ending.
But if this was what it felt like—his daughter in his arms, and a future with Y/N within reach—then maybe… maybe this was even better.
After that night, something in Sunghoon shifted.
Not in a grand, dramatic way—but in quiet, deliberate moments.
It started with flowers.
The first time he brought them, Y/N was caught completely off guard. She had just opened the door to let Jiwoo in for a playdate when Sunghoon handed her a bouquet of soft pink tulips, his expression unreadable but his ears tinted pink.
“For you,” he said casually, as if it wasn’t a big deal.
Y/N blinked, looking down at the flowers before looking back up at him. “These are…”
“Pretty?” Sunghoon smirked.
“Yes, but—” She narrowed her eyes playfully. “Why?”
Sunghoon shrugged, his lips quirking up. “Just thought you’d like them.”
Y/N stared at him for a moment before shaking her head with a small laugh. “Thank you, Sunghoon.”
He only hummed, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he watched Jiwoo and Minjun dash past them into the living room. “You should put them in water before they wilt.”
Y/N rolled her eyes but did as he said, a soft smile lingering on her lips.
Then came the touches.
At first, they were almost imperceptible—his hand brushing against hers when they reached for the same plate, his fingers ghosting over her lower back when he guided her through a crowded café, the lingering warmth of his palm when he handed her a cup of coffee.
They were small gestures, so subtle that Y/N might have convinced herself they meant nothing.
Until the teasing started.
“Oh, so you can cook,” Sunghoon remarked one evening as they had dinner at her place. He watched as she plated the food, his lips curling in amusement. “And here I thought you just ordered takeout every time I came over.”
Y/N scoffed, shooting him a look. “Excuse me, Park Sunghoon, but I’ll have you know that I am an amazing cook.”
Sunghoon leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “Amazing, huh?”
“Yes,” she said confidently. “Minjun always finishes his food, doesn’t he?”
“Yeah,” Sunghoon said, “but he also eats crayons when he’s bored.”
Y/N gasped, smacking his arm lightly as he laughed. “You are the worst!”
Sunghoon only grinned, his gaze lingering on her a second too long.
It was in those moments—the teasing, the playful banter, the way his eyes softened when he looked at her—that Y/N realized he wasn’t just being nice.
He was trying.
Trying to tell her something without saying it outright.
Trying to show her, in his own quiet way, that this—they—meant something to him.
And the scariest part?
She wasn’t sure when she had started hoping for it, too.
—
It was a Wednesday afternoon when Sunghoon found himself waiting outside Minjun’s school, hands in his pockets as he leaned against his car. Y/N had called earlier, apologizing for not being able to pick up the kids due to a last-minute work meeting. Without hesitation, Sunghoon had offered to go instead.
He spotted them before they saw him—Jiwoo skipping happily alongside Minjun, their hands swinging between them as they talked about something animatedly.
Minjun noticed him first. “Uncle Sunghoon!” he called out, waving.
Sunghoon smirked at the title. He had long gotten used to Minjun calling him that, though sometimes he wondered if the kid saw him as more than just Jiwoo’s dad.
“Hey, buddy.” He crouched slightly as Minjun approached. Jiwoo immediately hugged Sunghoon’s waist before letting go to rummage through her backpack.
Minjun tilted his head curiously. “You’re picking us up today?”
Sunghoon nodded. “Your mom had a meeting. Figured I’d come get you both.”
Minjun hummed in understanding before looking up at him seriously. “Are we getting ice cream?”
Sunghoon huffed a laugh. “I don’t remember saying that.”
“But you always get us ice cream,” Jiwoo pointed out, blinking up at him with those innocent eyes that always managed to make him weak.
Sunghoon sighed dramatically. “Fine. Ice cream it is.”
The kids cheered, and just as Sunghoon was about to open the car door for them, he hesitated.
There was something he had been meaning to do—something important.
“Hey, Minjun,” he said, kneeling down so they were at eye level.
Minjun, who had been adjusting the straps of his backpack, turned to him. “Yeah?”
Sunghoon took a slow breath, suddenly feeling nervous. He had closed multi-million dollar deals without breaking a sweat, yet here he was, feeling like a teenager about to confess.
“There’s something I need to ask you,” Sunghoon started carefully. “Man-to-man.”
Minjun straightened at that, his little chest puffing up slightly. “Okay.”
Sunghoon smiled at his seriousness before continuing.
“I… I really like your mom,” he admitted, watching Minjun’s reaction closely.
Minjun blinked. “Well, duh.”
Sunghoon coughed. “What?”
“You like her,” Minjun stated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You always bring her flowers, and you look at her like how the princes do in those movies Jiwoo makes me watch.”
Jiwoo giggled beside them but said nothing, seemingly enjoying the conversation.
Sunghoon cleared his throat, both amused and caught off guard by how perceptive Minjun was.
“Well… yeah,” he admitted. “And because I like her, I wanted to ask if it’s okay with you if I… court her?”
Minjun’s brows furrowed slightly. “Court?”
“It means I want to take care of her, bring her on dates, and maybe—if she wants—become something more in the future.” Sunghoon met the boy’s gaze earnestly. “But only if you’re okay with it.”
Minjun was silent for a moment. Then, he asked seriously, “Will you still buy me ice cream even if I say no?”
Sunghoon burst out laughing. “Yes, you little rascal.”
Minjun grinned before thinking for a few more seconds. Then, he shrugged. “I mean, if Mom likes you too, then it’s fine with me.”
Sunghoon felt something warm spread in his chest. “Yeah?”
Minjun nodded. “Yeah. But—” He crossed his arms. “You have to promise to never make her cry.”
Minjun studied him for a second before nodding. “Okay, then. You can court her.”
Sunghoon chuckled. “Glad I got your approval, Minjun.”
Minjun beamed proudly while Jiwoo clapped excitedly. “Yay! That means we can be a real family one day, right?”
Sunghoon smiled, glancing between the two kids before looking toward the school entrance, where he knew Y/N usually stood during pickups.
“Maybe,” he murmured. “If your mom lets me.”
—
Y/N had no idea why Minjun was acting so strangely that afternoon.
First, he insisted she wear something “nice but not too fancy.” Then, when she asked what the special occasion was, he and Jiwoo only exchanged mischievous glances before running off to their room, whispering like they were planning something top secret.
When she pressed for answers, Minjun only grinned. “Just trust me, Mom.”
That should have been her first clue that something was up.
Now, standing in front of her door, she blinked in surprise as she found Sunghoon waiting on the other side—holding a bouquet of her favorite flowers.
She stared at him, momentarily speechless. “What’s going on?”
Instead of answering, Minjun grabbed her hand, Jiwoo doing the same on the other side. “Come on, Mommy!” Jiwoo chirped excitedly. “You’ll see!”
Y/N let them pull her along, still glancing back at Sunghoon in confusion. He only chuckled, falling into step beside her as they led her toward the balcony.
And that was when she saw it.
A small but beautifully set dinner table, warm fairy lights strung above, casting a soft golden glow over the space. A cake sat in the center, decorated with delicate frosting, and next to it lay a wrapped gift with a handwritten note on top.
It wasn’t anything extravagant, but it was thoughtful. Cozy. Personal.
Her heart skipped a beat.
“Surprise,” Sunghoon said, scratching the back of his neck as he stepped beside her.
Y/N turned to him, still taking it all in. “You did this?”
Minjun huffed dramatically. “We did this.”
Jiwoo nodded eagerly. “We helped, Uncle Sunghoon did the cooking, and Minjun made sure everything was perfect!”
Y/N looked between them, her chest tightening. “Why, though?”
Sunghoon exhaled, suddenly looking slightly nervous. “Because… I wanted to ask you something.”
Minjun nudged him. “Do it now!”
Jiwoo bounced in excitement. “Yes, yes! Do it now!”
Y/N chuckled, looking back at Sunghoon, who was now gazing at her with an expression softer than she’d ever seen before.
He cleared his throat. “I was going to ask if I could court you. Properly. But honestly?” He let out a breathy chuckle. “I don’t want to wait. I like you, Y/N. A lot. And I don’t need a courting phase to know that I want to be with you.”
Her breath caught.
Sunghoon took a step closer. “So instead of asking if I can court you… let’s just date. And I’ll court you every single day.”
Silence stretched between them for a moment, the weight of his words settling in.
Then—
Minjun gasped dramatically. “That was so good!”
Jiwoo squealed, clapping her hands. “Say yes, Mommy!”
Y/N blinked, taking in Sunghoon’s slightly nervous but hopeful expression, the way Minjun and Jiwoo were practically vibrating with excitement.
Her lips curled into a smile.
“Okay,” she said softly.
Sunghoon straightened slightly. “Okay?”
She laughed, nodding. “Okay. Let’s date.”
A slow grin spread across Sunghoon’s face, relief and happiness flooding his features.
Minjun smirked, crossing his arms. “Told you she’d say yes.”
Jiwoo squealed again, wrapping her small arms around Y/N’s waist. “Yay! Does this mean you’re my mommy now?”
Y/N’s heart swelled at the little girl’s hopeful expression. She knelt down, gently tucking a strand of Jiwoo’s hair behind her ear. “Sweetheart… you already call me that.”
Jiwoo blinked, as if realizing it for the first time, then her face lit up with pure joy. “Oh! I do!” she giggled. “That means you’re already my mommy, right?”
Y/N chuckled softly, glancing up at Sunghoon, who was watching the interaction with something unreadable in his eyes.
She turned back to Jiwoo, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “If that’s what you want, then of course, sweetheart.”
Jiwoo let out an excited gasp and threw her arms around Y/N’s neck, squeezing tight. “Yay! I love you, Mommy!”
Y/N felt a lump form in her throat as she hugged the little girl back. “I love you too, baby.”
Sunghoon exhaled a quiet laugh, running a hand through his hair as he watched them. “Well,” he murmured, “I guess that means I really have to make good on my promise now.”
Y/N raised a brow, still holding Jiwoo close. “And what promise is that?”
He smirked, stepping forward. “To court you every single day.”
And with the way he was looking at her now—like she was something precious, something he was willing to cherish—Y/N knew he meant every word.
A few months later, the four of them were at the park again—something that had become a weekend tradition. Minjun and Jiwoo were running ahead, their laughter ringing through the crisp afternoon air.
Sunghoon walked beside Y/N, their hands naturally intertwined, the warmth between them familiar and comforting.
Life had changed so much in just a short time. Sunghoon had kept his word—courting her every single day—with early morning coffee deliveries, spontaneous lunch dates, and quiet, stolen moments just for them. More importantly, he had embraced Minjun as his own, never once making the boy feel like anything less than family.
And Minjun had noticed.
Which was why today, when Minjun suddenly stopped running and turned back, waving excitedly, it didn’t surprise Y/N when he called out—
“Mom! Dad! Come push us on the swings!”
Sunghoon stilled beside her. Y/N felt his grip on her hand tighten slightly.
Minjun had started calling him Uncle Sunghoon, then just Sunghoon, and lately, Hoon. But this… this was the first time he had called him Dad.
Y/N’s breath caught. Slowly, she turned to Sunghoon, whose expression was unreadable—his eyes slightly wide, lips parted in surprise.
Then, as if something inside him clicked, his entire face softened.
“Guess that’s official then,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion.
Y/N smiled, squeezing his hand. “You okay with that?”
He exhaled a quiet chuckle, eyes never leaving hers. “More than okay.”
She saw it then—the unspoken promise in his gaze. That he would love Minjun like his own. That this wasn’t just about her and him—it was about all four of them.
And she had never been more sure of anything in her life.
Minjun’s impatient voice rang out again. “Hurry up, lovebirds! The swings won’t push themselves!”
Y/N groaned, while Sunghoon threw his head back in laughter.
“Coming!” he called, tugging Y/N along.
And as they ran toward their children—hand in hand, hearts in sync—Y/N realized that this? This was home.
—
Months later, cardboard boxes were stacked high in Sunghoon’s penthouse.
Jiwoo was skipping through the hallways excitedly. “Oppa! Look, look! Now we get to live together forever!”
Minjun grinned, ruffling her hair. “Yeah, yeah, don’t get too excited, Jiwoo-ah. You still can’t come into my room without knocking.”
Jiwoo pouted. “But what if I have a nightmare?”
Sunghoon, walking by with a box, smirked. “Then you can crawl into my bed, princess.”
Minjun made a face. “That’s not fair. I can’t just crawl into bed with you.”
Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. “Sure, you can.”
Minjun blinked. “Wait… really?”
Sunghoon set the box down and crouched to Minjun’s level. “Of course. You’re my son now, Minjun. That means you can always come to me, okay?”
Minjun looked at him for a long moment before his face softened. “Okay… Dad.”
Sunghoon froze.
Jiwoo gasped. “You said it again!”
Y/N, standing by the doorway, pressed a hand to her chest, feeling tears prick her eyes.
Sunghoon’s lips curled into the softest smile as he pulled Minjun into a firm hug. “I love you, kid.”
Minjun grinned, hugging him back. “I love you too, Dad.”
Jiwoo squealed and tackled them both. “Group hug!”
Y/N laughed, walking over and wrapping her arms around all of them.
Sunghoon turned to press a kiss to her temple, whispering, “Welcome home, love.”
The Park household should’ve been quiet at this hour—lights off, toys cleaned, kids tucked in bed.
But tonight?
Nope. Tonight was chaos disguised as love.
In the kitchen, bowls were everywhere, the faint smell of coffee and cocoa floated in the air, and flour dust sparkled on the counter like snow. You wore penguin pajamas—matching with the two little penguins beside you.
Jihoon, now five and full of big-sister confidence, sat on the counter with her mini apron on, swinging her legs and fighting sleep with pure excitement.
Jisung, your clingy one-year-old, wobbled around the kitchen in his fluffy penguin onesie, occasionally patting your legs like a little supervisor.
All three of you matched.
And next to the cake ingredients sat a fourth penguin pajama set—folded neatly with a ribbon.
Appa’s birthday present.
You clapped your hands quietly to get their attention.
The house smelled like freshly baked cookies. Jihoon sat on one of the counter stools, swinging her little legs while you mixed the last bit of batter in a bowl. She was unusually quiet, chin propped on her hand, staring dreamily at nothing in particular.
Jihoon blinked, her cheeks flushing pink. “…Can I tell you a secret, Mommy?”
You noticed instantly. “What’s on your mind, sweetie?”
You smiled softly, setting the bowl down. “Of course you can. You can tell me anything.”
She leaned forward a little, her voice dropping to a whisper, like it was top-secret information.
“I think I have a crush.”
Your eyebrows lifted, though your heart instantly melted. “Oh?” you said gently, trying to hide your amusement. “A crush, huh? What’s his name?”
She hesitated, playing with the hem of her shirt. “M-minjun.”
You nodded seriously, pretending to be an expert investigator. “Minjun… from daycare?”
Jihoon nodded shyly, a tiny smile tugging at her lips. “He… he gave me half of his cookie yesterday. And he said I draw the best rainbows.”
You bit your lip to keep from giggling. “That’s very nice of him. Sounds like Minjun’s a kind boy.”
“He is!” she said earnestly, eyes lighting up. “And… and when we play pretend, he always says I can be the princess first.”
You leaned closer, whispering playfully, “Sounds like someone likes you a lot.”
Her hands flew to her cheeks. “Mommy!” she squeaked. “Don’t say it like that!”
You laughed softly, ruffling her hair. “Okay, okay. But you know what, Jihoonie?”
“What?”
“It’s okay to like someone. Crushes are sweet, especially when you’re kind to each other. But you’re still little—you have so many things to enjoy before worrying about that.”
She nodded, thoughtful, eyes still soft. “Yeah… but I wanted to tell you first. Because you’re my best friend.”
You froze for half a second, heart swelling to the point of aching. “Oh, Jihoon…” You bent down and kissed her forehead. “You have no idea how happy that makes me.”
“Can I tell Appa too?” she asked suddenly, voice innocent.
Before you could answer—
A low cough came from the doorway.
You turned around to see Sunghoon standing there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, trying (and failing) to look casual.
“Appa heard everything,” he said in that calm, too-even tone that usually meant he was internally spiraling.
Jihoon gasped. “Appa! You were listening?!”
Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. “Crush, huh?” He walked closer, crouching down so he was eye level with her. “Minjun gave you half a cookie?”
Jihoon nodded, proud and embarrassed at once.
Sunghoon exhaled dramatically, looking up at you like the world was ending. “First she walks, then she reads, now she has a crush. What’s next—marriage?”
You rolled your eyes, laughing. “Relax, Hoon. It’s just cookies and rainbows.”
But he wasn’t done. He turned back to Jihoon, speaking softly. “Hey, princess. You know Appa loves you the most, right?”
Jihoon giggled. “I know, Appa.”
“Good,” he said, giving her nose a tiny boop. “Then maybe Appa and Minjun can talk sometime.”
“Appa!” she whined, cheeks puffing up. “You can’t just talk to him!”
Sunghoon smiled innocently. “Why not? I just want to know if he brings good snacks.”
You smacked his arm playfully. “Sunghoon.”
Jihoon crossed her arms. “Appa, no! You’ll scare him.”
Sunghoon sighed dramatically again, finally giving in. “Fine, fine. But if he gives you another cookie, Appa wants one too.”
Jihoon giggled and threw her arms around his neck. “Okay, Appa. You can have one cookie too.”
He hugged her back tightly, eyes soft and full of that familiar warmth that made your heart ache in the best way.
You watched them for a moment—your overprotective husband, your growing little girl, and that small, perfect world you’d built together—and couldn’t help but smile.
Sunghoon looked at you over Jihoon’s shoulder, mouthing with mock despair, She’s growing up too fast.
You mouthed back, I know.
And for a long moment, it was just laughter and cookies and the bittersweet sweetness of watching your baby grow.
The bedtime routine was the same as always—fluffy pajamas, her favorite pink blanket, and “one more story, Appa.”
But tonight, Sunghoon was oddly quiet as he sat on the edge of Jihoon’s bed, tucking her in with slow, careful movements.
She looked up at him sleepily, clutching her bunny. “Appa, why are you making that face?”
He blinked. “What face?”
“The… ‘thinking too hard’ face.”
He sighed softly, trying to play it cool. “I’m just thinking… about this Minjun boy.”
Jihoon giggled. “Appa, he’s just my friend.”
“Just your friend, huh?” He smoothed her hair back, eyes soft but a little too serious. “You said he gave you half a cookie, Jihoon-ah. That’s how it starts.”
“Starts what?” she asked, wide-eyed.
“Starts… friendship,” he said quickly, catching himself before he sounded ridiculous. “Appa just wants to make sure your friends treat you kindly, that’s all.”
“They do,” she said confidently, her voice already drowsy. “Minjun’s nice. He says I draw pretty.”
“Appa,” she mumbled through a yawn, “you’re funny.”
He chuckled softly despite himself. “Sleep now, princess. Appa loves you very much.”
“Love you too, Appa,” she murmured, already drifting off.
He lingered there for a long moment, watching her little chest rise and fall, before whispering under his breath, “Appa’s not ready for you to grow up yet, Jihoonie.”
Then he quietly stood, switched off her nightlight, and tiptoed back to your shared room.
You were already lying in bed, half scrolling through your phone when he came in, shoulders slumped dramatically. Without saying a word, he flopped down beside you, letting out the world’s heaviest sigh.
You smiled without looking up. “So, how’s Appa doing?”
He turned his face toward you, pout in full force. “I don’t like Minjun.”
You snorted. “You’ve never even met him.”
“I don’t need to. Any boy who makes my daughter blush is suspicious.”
You laughed, putting your phone down. “Sunghoon, she’s six.”
He frowned, dead serious. “Exactly. Too young for crushes.”
You rolled over, propping your head on your hand as you looked at him. “You know she came to me first because she trusts us, right? That’s a good thing.”
He grumbled, looking away. “She should tell me first.”
“She tried, but her Appa was eavesdropping instead of being invited.”
That earned you a side-eye. “You’re taking her side.”
You smiled sweetly. “Always.”
He stared at you for a beat, still sulking, then sighed again, dramatic as ever. “She used to call me her favorite. Now it’s ‘Minjun this, Minjun that.’ I’ve been replaced.”
You bit your lip, holding back a laugh. “You’re really jealous of a kindergartener, huh?”
He turned toward you fully now, resting his chin on your shoulder like a kicked puppy. “I just… she’s my baby,” he muttered, voice softer. “I blinked and she’s suddenly talking about boys. I’m not ready.”
You softened immediately, threading your fingers through his hair. “Hey,” you whispered, “she’s still your baby. You’ll always be her first favorite person.”
He looked at you for a moment, eyes glimmering in that gentle way that made your chest tighten, then sighed again—this time less pouty, more content.
“Yeah,” he murmured, pressing a sleepy kiss to your shoulder. “But I’m still keeping an eye on Minjun.”
You burst out laughing, and he groaned into your skin, muttering, “I’m serious.”
“I know you are, Appa,” you teased, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “My big jealous baby.”
He cracked the faintest grin, finally wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. “Fine,” he whispered. “Maybe I’ll share cookies with you instead.”
“Deal,” you murmured, smiling against his chest.
And just before sleep found the both of you, you heard him mumble one last sleepy complaint under his breath—
[Scene: Flashback – A Few Weeks Before Jihoon’s Birth]
You were eight months pregnant, round and glowing — and utterly bored at 2:30 a.m. Sunghoon had fallen asleep hours ago, exhausted from another long day at work. He was sprawled on his back, arm over his eyes, breathing deep and steady.
You glanced at him, then at the small baby doll on your bedside table — the one Yeji gave as a gag gift at your baby shower. It had a “crying mode” button on the back.
You grinned. “Let’s test something.”
So, you carefully wrapped the doll in one of Jihoon’s tiny blankets, made sure the little hat was on, and pressed the crying button. The sound pierced through the room — an uncanny wail that echoed like a newborn’s cry.
Sunghoon jolted awake instantly. “What—what’s happening?” His voice was rough, disoriented. He looked around, panicked.
You bit your lip, keeping your voice small and tired. “Hoon… can you please help me? I tried everything. She won’t stop crying.”
“‘She?’” He blinked blearily, sitting up. “You mean—our baby—?”
You nodded innocently, holding up the blanket bundle. “Jihoon won’t sleep.”
He didn’t even question it. His instincts kicked in immediately. He took the “baby” so carefully, like it was made of glass, and held it against his chest.
“Hey… hey, it’s okay,” he murmured softly, eyes half-closed, voice dipping low and comforting. “You’re safe, Jihoon. Appa’s here.”
You had to press a hand to your mouth to keep from laughing when he started swaying gently, patting the doll’s back, whispering, “Shh, don’t cry, princess. It’s okay. Appa’s got you.”
He was fully in dad mode.
A few minutes later, the doll “stopped crying.” He let out a soft sigh, still rocking her against his chest.
“That’s my girl,” he whispered sleepily. “Just like your mommy… so stubborn.”
Your heart clenched. You wanted to laugh, but seeing him cradle that doll so tenderly made something warm bloom in your chest.
Then, after a beat of silence, you saw his brow furrow. He blinked a few times.
“…Wait a second.” He looked down at the doll, then back at you. “Y/N.”
“Yes?” you said sweetly, fighting a grin.
He pointed at the doll, confused. “How—how did you give birth? I was only asleep for… what, two days?”
You shrugged. “You were out cold, babe. I didn’t want to wake you. Labor was fast. I did great!”
His jaw dropped. “What—no, that’s not—there’s no way—”
You gasped dramatically. “Are you saying I didn’t give birth, Sunghoon?”
He blinked rapidly, trying to piece together reality. “No, I’m saying I—how are you even walking around? You—wait, what?”
You lost it. You burst out laughing so hard you had tears in your eyes, clutching your bump as you tried to breathe.
“Sunghoon, oh my god—it’s the baby doll! I was just kidding!”
He stared for a second, then groaned, dropping his head back on the pillow. “You’re evil,” he muttered, but there was no real bite in his tone — just sleepy affection.
You crawled beside him, still giggling. “You were so sweet, though,” you whispered, resting your hand on his chest. “You were already such a good Appa.”
He cracked one eye open, smiling lazily. “Yeah, well… practice makes perfect, right?”
Then he pulled you closer, resting his palm over your bump — over Jihoon. “Next time it’s real, I’ll still get up. No matter what time it is.”
You softened, kissing his jaw. “You’re gonna be the best dad, Hoon.”
He murmured sleepily, half-dreaming again, “Mmm… already am. My girls.”
And you swore, even with the doll lying forgotten at the edge of the bed, your heart had never been so full.
ries notes: im alive! imy guys! a lot has been going on in my life and in my country— we are experiencing earthquakes and dont worry we are safe! praying for all our safety 💗🫶🏻ily mwah
You look up from folding laundry to see your nine-year-old daughter standing on the couch, holding an old photograph she must have fished out of the dusty album you never truly organized. The picture shows you in a frayed denim mini-skirt, a flip phone clipped to your pocket, and a Canon DSLR nearly the same size as your head.
Beside you in the photo is Sunghoon—young, lean, with messy black hair and a camera strap around his neck like he was born wearing it.
You freeze. Your daughter tilts her head.
“Mommyyy… how did you meet Daddy?”
Before you can answer, Sunghoon—now older, calmer, and annoyingly smug even in domestic life—walks by with a glass of water. He hears the question. He smirks.
“Oh, this is going to be good.”
You throw a towel at him. He dodges. Your daughter giggles.
You sigh dramatically, sit beside her, and lace your fingers together.
“Fine. I’ll tell you,” you say.
“But just know… your dad was REALLY annoying.”
Sunghoon gasps loudly. Your daughter settles in.
And the memory begins to pull you back—
FLASHBACK — 2007
The photography club room smells like old film rolls and cheap instant coffee. Posters of National Geographic covers line the walls, but the computers are the chunky square ones—the kind you have to hit twice to wake up.
You walk in, new and nervous. The club president beams. “Oh! You must be the new member. Perfect timing. Sunghoon’s here—he’ll show you around.”
That’s when you hear it.
“Obviously. No one knows this club better than me.”
You turn. There he is. Park Sunghoon:
black hair pushed back, sleeves rolled up, camera strap hanging like it’s his birthright. He looks like someone who reads film camera manuals for fun and knows he’s good at everything.
He sticks out a hand.
“I’ll make this simple. Stick with me, and you won’t get lost.”
You blink. “Lost? This is one room.”
The club president snorts. Sunghoon ignores the jab, already walking ahead as if you’ll naturally follow.
(You do not. Not at first.)
“This cabinet is where we keep lenses,” he explains, opening it like he’s presenting sacred treasure.
You nod. He adds, “But be careful. Some beginners drop them.” You raise a brow.
“Are you calling me a beginner?” “You joined today.”
Your eye twitches. He continues, seriously:
“Also, try not to touch the film rolls unless you know how to handle them. A lot of people get fingerprints on them.”
You fold your arms. “Do you think I’m ‘a lot of people’?”
“Statistically… yes.”
You exhale through your nose. He stares at you, confused why you’re annoyed. He genuinely does not know he’s full of himself.
That’s the worst part.
—
The president claps loudly. “Group project time! You two—together.”
You whip your head toward him. Sunghoon looks equally horrified.
“No,” you both say in sync.
The president winks. “Perfect. Chemistry already.”
You glare at Sunghoon as he scratches the back of his neck, mumbling, “This is going to be a nightmare.”
“You’re the nightmare,” you mutter.
But you take the project sheet anyway.
—
The club president’s clap still echoes in your ears as you stare up at Sunghoon, who looks like he’d rather be paired with a malfunctioning printer.
“This is a mistake,” you mutter, arms crossing.
Sunghoon narrows his eyes at you.
“No. You’re the mistake.”
Your jaw drops. “Excuse me?!”
He blinks, surprised by your reaction.
“What? I meant pairing us is the mistake. You’re very… reactive.” “Reactive?!”
You take a step forward. “You breathed and I reacted. That’s on you.” The president interrupts with a cheerful wave.
“Great energy! Use that for your project!”
You both turn to glare at him.
The next afternoon, you meet for your first assigned shoot. The campus park is quiet, sunlight filtering through tall acacia trees. The breeze smells like wet grass and cheap hairspray from the cheerleaders practicing nearby.
Sunghoon lifts his DSLR with a casual grace that annoys you.
“Okay. Let’s try wide shots first. Stand there.”
You lift your camera.
“No. I want to start with close-up textures.”
He lowers his camera as if you’ve just spoken forbidden words.
“That ruins the visual story.”
“Says who?”
“Says me,” he replies, genuinely confused.
“And I’m usually right.”
You gasp dramatically.
“Oh great, the God of Photography has spoken.”
“I never said I was a god.”
“You didn’t have to.”
He sighs, rubbing his temple.
“You’re impossible.”
“And you’re insufferable!”
A passing student glances at you two like you’re a married couple fighting in public. But despite the bickering, you somehow manage to take dozens of shots. Angry shots, frustrated shots, but shots nonetheless.
Later that evening, the two of you stand side by side in the darkroom as the film develops.The red light casts shadows over Sunghoon’s profile, making him look softer than he deserves.
You brace yourself for disaster. When the prints finally develop, Sunghoon pulls them out, holding the photos carefully with gloved fingers.
He freezes.
You lean closer.
Your breath catches.
The photos are—
Beautiful. Pure gold.
Your angle with his exposure.
Your timing with his clarity.
Your vision with his execution.
Sunghoon is speechless. You smirk.
“Cat got your tongue?” He continues staring, voice low.
“…These are incredible.” “Maybe you’re not as good as you think,” you tease.
He scoffs lightly. “Or maybe you’re better than you think.”
Your heart skips. You pretend it doesn’t.
For the rest of the week, something shifts.
Not a lot. Not dramatically.
Just… little things.
—
One evening, you stay late in the club room, editing your photos on the slow computer that buzzes like it’s about to explode. Your eyes sting; your shoulders hurt.
You don’t even hear the door open.
Then— a cold can suddenly appears beside your hand.
You jump. “What the—?”
Sunghoon stands there, holding two iced coffees from the vending machine. “You were frowning. Drink.”
You blink at him. “You bought me coffee?” “It was on discount,” he lies too quickly. Then he sits next to you, opening his own can. “I just… thought you’d fall asleep on the keyboard.”
You stare at him.
His cheeks look faintly pink.
He feels your stare and clears his throat.
“Don’t misunderstand. I just can’t have my project partner dying on me.”
“Wow,” you say dryly.
“You really know how to make a girl feel special.”
He coughs. “You’re impossible.”
But he stays. Until the very last photo is edited.
—
The next meeting, you walk in rubbing your neck.
Sunghoon notices immediately.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“My camera strap is scratching my skin. It’s cheap.”
He stares at you for a long moment.
The next day, you find a padded, expensive-looking strap on your desk.
Your name is written on a sticky note. Before you can react, Sunghoon enters the room.
“You can use that. Or not. I don’t care.”
You pick it up.
“This is… really nice.”
He shrugs, ears turning pink.
“It’s nothing. Just—your old one was ugly.”
You grin.
“Do you give all the club members gifts?”
“No,” he says without thinking.
“Only the annoying ones.”
You laugh. He smiles without noticing he smiled.
—
The night market is louder than usual.
Students shouting prices.
Lights blinking.
Cheap perfume mixing with barbecue smoke.
Music from someone’s portable speaker blasting a 2007 pop song.
“You do. Like… like a cat. You see one shiny thing and you run.”
“I— WHAT?!”
He smirks.
“See? Accurate.”
You try to smack him with your lens cap but he dodges.
Then you see it — a perfect shot: two vendors laughing under a lantern.
You raise your camera.
“Hold on, this is good.”
You walk forward— And Sunghoon instantly grabs your backpack strap like a leash.
“HEY!”
You whip around.
“Let go!” “No.”
“Sunghoon—”
“You run off.” “I do not—”
He releases your strap only when you glare hard enough to damage his soul. “Fine,” he mutters.
“But don’t go far.” You grin teasingly.
“Worried about me?” “No,” he lies.
“I’m worried about my camera if you drop dead.”
You shove his shoulder and move forward.
He follows anyway.
—
You take another shot. Then another. Then another.
The lights. The movement. The colors.
You get pulled deeper into the crowd. At some point, you call out, “Sunghoon, look at this angle—”
But… he’s not there.
You turn. Nothing. Students everywhere. Voices. Lights. But no Sunghoon.
You check your flip phone. 3% battery.
You text him:
“Where are you?” Message fails.
Your phone dies. You swallow.
“Okay… no panic. I’m fine. I’m not lost.” You are absolutely, unquestionably lost.
—
A cold drop hits your forehead. Then another. Then the sky cracks open.
Rain pours like someone dumped a bucket over the entire campus. Students scream, running for cover.
You shove your camera under your shirt and sprint toward an old booth with a flimsy tarp.
It barely shields you. You tremble from the cold.
“Great. Just great,” you mutter.
“No Sunghoon, dead phone, rain… perfect.”
You hug your knees, waiting.
Minutes pass. Your heart sinks as every second ticks by. You begin to think he didn’t notice you were gone. And that thought hurts more than the rain.
Meanwhile—
Sunghoon is shoving through crowds, hair plastered to his forehead, breath coming out in cold bursts. He yells your name over and over.
“Y/N! Y/N where are you?!”
Students stare. Some laugh. Some point. He doesn’t care.
He runs across the entire market. The halls. The empty streets. Until he sees a familiar outline under a shaking tarp. His chest nearly collapses with relief.
“There— God, finally—”
He breaks into a full sprint.
—
“Y/N!!!”
Your head snaps up.
You see him — soaked, panting, frantic.
He reaches you in seconds, grabbing your shoulders with both hands.
“Why did you disappear?!”
His voice cracks. “You weren’t answering— your phone— I thought something happened—”
Your breath catches.
He looks… terrified.
“I didn’t think you’d look for me,” you whisper.His grip tightens. “I ALWAYS look for you.”
Your heart stops. Rain blows sideways but you barely feel it now.
Sunghoon’s thumb brushes wet strands from your cheek. “You can’t just vanish.” You stare up at him.His eyes are sharp, worried, angry, relieved.
And soft. So, so soft.
“Come on,” he murmurs.
“I’m taking you somewhere dry.”
He doesn’t wait—he grabs your hand and pulls you out of the rain. You let him.
Your fingers slip together naturally, like they were always meant to. He doesn’t let go. Not once.
—
He finds an unlocked classroom and leads you inside.
You shiver.
Sunghoon immediately takes off his jacket—soaked but warm—and drapes it over your shoulders.
You blink. “Sunghoon… you’ll get cold.”
“I’m already cold. You’re freezing.”
“You didn’t have to look for me like that.”
“Yes, I did.”
His voice is soft this time. Too soft.
You chew your lip.
“You worried too much.” He sits beside you, knees brushing.
“You don’t understand,” he whispers, staring at the floor.
“When I looked back and you weren’t there… I felt— I felt sick.” Your breath catches. He looks up, eyes raw. “I thought something happened and— I wouldn’t have forgiven myself.”
Silence fills the room.
Then quietly, gently, you say: “…Thank you.” He stares. Then smiles, small but real. “Don’t scare me like that again.”
You nudge him lightly.
“You’re acting like you care.” He scoffs and looks away.
“I don’t.” He pauses. “…I mean, not like that.”
You grin. He definitely does.
When the rain calms, the two of you walk side by side.
He keeps glancing at you.
You keep pretending not to notice.
Finally, he mutters: “You could’ve gotten sick.”
“You sound like a dad.”
“I’m serious.” “I know.”
You bump your shoulder into his. “Thank you for coming to find me.” His ears turn pink. “I wasn’t going to leave you.”
Then, embarrassingly softly, almost whispered:
“I didn’t want to lose you.” Your steps falter.
He doesn’t retract the words. He doesn’t correct them.
He just keeps walking. And for the first time— you realize he means every word.
—
You expected things to go back to normal.
You expected Sunghoon to act like nothing happened—like he didn’t sprint across campus in the rain, like he didn’t grab your shoulders as if the world might end without you, like he didn’t say:
“I always care.”
But the next day, when you walk into the club room, the tension hits you like humidity after a storm.
Sunghoon is there before everyone else, hair still a bit messy from the rush of the morning, camera bag slung across his shoulder.
He freezes the instant he sees you.
You freeze too. “Oh,” he says, blinking too fast. “You’re early.” “So are you.”
He nods. Silence. Uncomfortable, thick silence.
He fiddles with his lens cap. You pretend to fix your camera strap.
Neither of you mention the rain. Neither of you mention how close you were. Neither of you mention the way his hands felt on your skin.
Finally, he clears his throat.
“Did you… dry your camera properly? After yesterday?”
“Yes,” you say. “Thanks to you.”
He stiffens. His voice drops.
“I didn’t do anything special.”
You look away. But your heart stings, just a little.
—
Two days later, you end up working together again in the empty club room. Everyone else has left; the windows hum with the sound of rain (not as heavy as last time, but enough to stir memories).
You sit editing photos while Sunghoon stands behind you.Every time he leans forward to comment, his breath brushes your ear.
It does things to your spine.
“Try increasing the contrast,” he says softly, pointing at the screen. You follow his suggestion.
The image sharpens beautifully. You grin.
“You’re right.” He smiles faintly.
“I usually am.” You elbow him. Then, a beat of quiet.
“Y/N,” he says suddenly.
Your name on his lips feels too careful.
“Yeah?”
“I—”
He hesitates, fingers tightening on the back of your chair. “I need to tell you something.”
Your breath catches. He looks at you with raw sincerity, the kind you rarely see.
“I—”
The door swings open. “Oh! Still here?” one of your clubmates barges in, grabbing her jacket. “Don’t stay too late, you two.”
Sunghoon jerks back like he’s been burned.
You force a smile.
Once the door closes, silence settles again.
Sunghoon avoids your gaze. “It’s nothing. Forget it.”
You don’t. Not for a second.
—
The next week, the club gets a new member— a cheerful, friendly guy named Jimin.
He’s talented, confident, and incredibly warm. Everyone likes him. Especially you— because he’s the exact opposite of Sunghoon.
He compliments your photos. He asks for your opinion. He laughs at your jokes. And Sunghoon… watches.
From across the room. Stone-faced. Silent. But eyes sharp.
During a photoshoot outdoors, Jimin leans close to show you something on his camera screen.
Sunghoon is standing a few meters away when he sees it. His jaw tightens.
Jimin grins. “What do you think? Good composition, right?”
You nod. “It’s really nice.”
Sunghoon suddenly steps between you two, blocking the view of Jimin’s camera. “It’s overexposed.”
Jimin blinks. “What? Really?”
Sunghoon taps the screen. “Yes. Look.”
You cross your arms. “Sunghoon, it looks fine.”
He exhales sharply. “It’s not fine. You deserve better feedback.”
You raise an eyebrow. “From who? You?”
His eyes flicker—hurt for a second.
Before he can respond, Jimin laughs lightly. “I’ll take all the feedback I can get. Especially from the club’s top photographer.”
Sunghoon’s shoulders drop slightly. But he keeps glancing at the space between you and Jimin, lips pressed thin.
When Jimin walks off to adjust his settings, you turn to him. “Sunghoon, what’s wrong with you today?” He snaps quietly. “Nothing. I’m completely fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“I am fine.”
You stare at him. He looks away.
He is absolutely not fine.
—
After three days of avoiding you, Sunghoon sends a text:
Meet me on the rooftop after class. Please.
The “please” alone is enough to make your heart trip.
You climb the stairs, the late-afternoon sun painting the sky orange and gold. The rooftop is quiet, wind carrying the faint smell of old plants and asphalt.
Sunghoon stands by the railing. When he hears your footsteps, he turns.
His expression is… different. Not cocky.
Not emotionless. Just tired.
Nervous. Human.
“Thanks for coming,” he says softly. “What’s this about? Why have you been avoiding me?”
He inhales slowly. “I wasn’t avoiding you.”
You cross your arms. “Then what were you doing? Practicing being invisible?”
He winces.
“…I didn’t know how to be around you.”
That makes you pause. “Why?”
He looks at you—really looks.
The wind lifts his hair.
The sunset lights his eyes.
“Because every time you smile,” he says quietly, “I forget how to act.”
Your breath leaves you. “And when you’re with someone else,” he continues, voice lower, “I feel—”
He stops himself.
Shakes his head.
“No. That’s not fair. I shouldn’t feel that way.”
Your heart beats too fast. “Feel what way?” you whisper.
He clenches the railing, knuckles white. “Jealous.”
The word hangs between you like a held breath.
—
The wind grows quiet.
So does the world. You take a step closer.
“Sunghoon…”
He swallows hard.
“I know I shouldn’t be. You’re not mine. You don’t owe me anything. But when I saw you with him, and when I thought—” His voice trembles.
“I hated it. Not because of him. Because I wanted to be the one beside you.”
Your heartbeat fills your ears. He finally looks up, eyes vulnerable in the way you’ve never seen before.
“I like you, Y/N.”
Your breath catches.
“I’ve liked you since the first day,” he admits, voice cracking. “Even when we argued. Even when you insulted me. Even when you rolled your eyes every time I spoke.”
You try not to smile.
You fail a little.
“I didn’t mean to like you,” he continues softly.
“You’re stubborn and reckless and you make me feel things I don’t know how to handle.”
You step closer—
one more,
until your shoes touch.
“And you?” he whispers.
“Do I… do I make you feel anything?”
You look up at him. Your voice is barely a breath.
“Yes.”
His breath shudders.
“Yeah?” he asks, hopeful.
“Yeah.” He laughs quietly—disbelieving, relieved.
Slowly, hesitantly, he reaches for your hand. You let him. His fingers curl around yours, warm and trembling.
“Can I…” he whispers, leaning in just slightly,
“please tell you something selfish?”
Your lips part.
“What?”
“I want to kiss you.”
Your chest tightens.
You whisper, “Then kiss me.”
And he does.
Gently at first, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. Then deeper, like he’s spent weeks trying not to feel this.
The breeze moves around you, quiet and soft.
The rooftop glows with golden light.
And for the first time,
nothing between you is confusing. nothing is loud. nothing is unspoken.
Just him. Just you. Finally meeting in the middle.
—
Your alarm rings at 6:30 AM.
Normally, you’d groan and hit snooze.
But today— You open your eyes immediately.
And the first thing you do is touch your lips. They still feel warm from last night. You bury your face in your pillow and scream silently like a teenager in a romance drama.
Across campus, Sunghoon is doing the exact same thing.
—
Sunghoon walks into the shared dorm kitchenette smelling like shampoo and secondhand excitement. He opens the fridge, grabs a water bottle, and immediately drops it because he’s grinning so hard.
His roommate looks up.
“You good?” “Yeah,” Sunghoon says too quickly.
“You sure?” “Yep.”
“You look like you swallowed a glow stick.”
Sunghoon chokes. “I—I’m just… it’s a good day.”
His roommate squints at him. “…Did you get a new lens?” “No.”
“A good grade?” “No.”
“…Did you get a girlfriend?”
Sunghoon sputters so hard he nearly dies.
—
You enter the photography club room early, pretending to be calm. You are not calm.
You are the opposite of calm. Your heart is sprinting.
You’re checking the door every five seconds.
“Y/N?” You jump.
The club president walks by, squinting at you.
“Did something good happen? You’re… glowing.”
“What? No! I’m normal! So normal!”
You start rearranging the camera batteries like someone hiding a crime.
The president blinks.
“…Okay?”
⸻
Then Sunghoon enters the room.
Your stomach flips so violently it might need medical attention. He freezes when he sees you.
You freeze when he sees you.
There’s silence.
And then—
The smallest smile appears on his lips.
Not his usual smirk.
Not his confident grin.
A soft, shy, private smile.
Just for you.
Your face heats up instantly.
You look away, but Sunghoon walks over slowly, almost nervously.
“…Hi,” he murmurs.
You swallow.
“H-Hi.”
Your voices are too soft.
Too careful.
Too full of something new.
The club president looks between you two suspiciously.
“What’s happening here?”
“NOTHING!” you both shout.
Too quickly.
Way too quickly.
—
Later, you and Sunghoon end up working on your project at the same table.
You keep stealing glances at him. He keeps stealing glances at you.
And every time your eyes meet, both of you look away like idiots.
At one point, your hands brush while reaching for the same memory card.
You both freeze.
He whispers,
“…Sorry.”
You whisper,
“No, I—sorry.”
Across the room, two club members stare.
“Why are they so weird today?”
“Do you smell romance?” “Shut up.”
—
During club dismissal, the group decides to walk together to the gate. You try to slip to the back.
Your heart is too loud.
But someone gently tugs your tote bag strap from behind.
You turn.
Sunghoon.
He leans forward slightly, whispering:
“Walk with me.”
Your cheeks burn.
Your heart stumbles.
But you nod.
You walk side-by-side, barely touching, but close enough that it feels like your entire body is floating.
The others notice.
One whispers to another,
“…Are they dating?” You and Sunghoon both cough violently.
The rumor is born.
—
As you all reach the campus gate, someone bumps into you while passing by. You stumble—
Sunghoon’s hand shoots out instantly, catching your elbow, steadying you.
You gasp. He whispers:
“I got you.”
Your face goes crimson.
A club member stares at the two of you.
“Okay, what is going on?”
You panic.
Sunghoon panics too…
but he recovers faster.
He rubs the back of his neck, avoiding everyone’s eyes.
“…We’re… um…”
He glances at you softly.
His tone melts.
“…kind of seeing each other.”
The group goes silent.
Your jaw drops.
“Sunghoon!”
He turns to you—
blushy, but proud, like he wants people to know.
“Only if… that’s okay with you,” he whispers.
You look at his nervous eyes, his trembling fingers, the shy curve of his smile.
Your heart melts into a puddle.
“It’s okay,” you whisper back.
“It’s more than okay.”
Sunghoon’s shoulders relax.
His smile is soft.
Gentle.
Full.
“And we’re taking it slow,” he says to the group.
Everyone: “Awwwwwwww!”
You want to evaporate.
Sunghoon laughs—
a sound you rarely hear.
Soft. Real.
He nudges your shoulder lightly.
“Let’s walk home?”
You nod, cheeks warm.
And as you walk out of the gate together—
not holding hands, but close enough that the space between you glows— you both feel it.
The beginning of something big.
PRESENT DAY
Your daughter’s eyes are sparkling by the time you finish. Her tiny hands are clutched together, her knees bouncing excitedly on the couch like she just heard the ending of a fairy tale.
“Mommy… that’s like a movie.”
You laugh softly, a little embarrassed even after all these years. Sunghoon, who has been pretending not to listen from across the room, finally gives up the act and sits beside you with an exaggerated sigh.
“She hated me,” he says dramatically, leaning back like he’s reminiscing about his tragic youth.
You elbow him.
“I still do sometimes.”
He makes an offended noise—then immediately softens, leaning in to kiss your cheek. Your daughter gasps and throws a pillow at the both of you.
“Ewwwww! Mommy! Daddy! Stop!”
Sunghoon only smirks as he wraps an arm over your shoulder, pulling you closer with shameless pride. “Still fell in love with me though,” he whispers loud enough for both you and your daughter to hear. You roll your eyes, but your body naturally melts against him, warmth settling comfortably between you two—something familiar, something earned.
Your daughter cuddles up to your other side, hugging your arm with a softness that makes your heart ache in the best way. “I’m glad you met Daddy,” she says, voice small but sincere.
You turn to her, gently brushing her hair away from her eyes, and press a tender kiss on her forehead. “Me too,” you whisper.
Even if he was annoying.
Especially because he was annoying.
Sunghoon smiles into your hair.
Your daughter giggles.
And your little family curls together on the couch—warm, whole, and exactly where they’re meant to be.
