The afternoon sunlight poured through the balcony's glass door, spilling across the small apartment like molten gold. The modest space was immaculate: beige walls, soft grey carpet, white curtains swaying gently, toys scattered like tiny stars fallen from the sky. A faint scent of detergent and warm sunlight lingered in the air, comforting yet ordinary.
Yanam stood barefoot near the balcony, sleeves rolled up, his white shirt slightly wrinkled from cleaning. His soft brown eyes—normally calm, warm, inviting—were now fixed on a tiny pair of hands reaching for the hem of his shirt.
"Hey, hey… not again."
He caught the fingers just before they could smear soil onto the fabric. Despite his delicate, pale features, there was a surprising strength in him—a tall frame, broad shoulders, almost fragile, yet stubbornly unyielding.
Exhaustion weighed heavily beneath his eyes. He had spent the morning scrubbing, dusting, and tidying, thinking he could finally rest. But Yu Anan, his little two-year-old whirlwind, had other plans.
"You little demon…" he muttered, voice strained but playful.
Yu Anan's laughter rang out—a pure, shrill peal, teeth flashing—completely unafraid. And just like that, every ounce of Yanam's irritation melted away. The child knew every weakness, every soft spot.
He sighed, defeated. "Alright… let's wash your hands."
Scooping the boy into his arms, Yu Anan immediately latched onto Yanam's collar, clinging like a tiny koala. The apartment was calm, almost unnaturally so. Then came the doorbell—a sharp, unexpected chime that sliced through the tranquility.
Hey, Yu Anan, don't you dare make a fuss or I'll beat your little butt no matter how cute you are."
He put him in the crib, giving a warning only half-serious. The crib was surrounded by plush toys, half of which the child used as stepping stones during escape attempts.
Yanam glanced back once more to see if he was doing something suspicious.
Yu Anan stared at him with wide, innocent eyes, hugging a stuffed bunny like it was his last shield.
"Right."
He then left the room. The bell rang again, more impatient this time.
Yanam exhaled slowly, rolling down his sleeves as he walked toward the door.
The closer he got, the colder the air felt. This was unusual.
He reached the handle… and a sudden thud hit his chest. A sinking sense of dread. His instincts were alarming him.
He scratched his head, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling he sensed, and turned the handle.
The door cracked open. And everything froze—
the warm and gentle sunlight, the stillness of the moment disturbed like a drop falling into still water and creating ripples.
One,
two,
three seconds passed.
And he slammed it shut instantly, locking it with shaking hands.
He had seen only one glimpse. Just one glimpse.
And everything inside him shattered.
Knocking began.
At first calm.
Then harder. Then violent.
"Open up, Yanam."
The voice was low. Husky.
It slid down Yanam's spine like a blade dipped in ice.
He stepped back, face draining of color.
"Open the damn door… Yanam."
Cold sweat slid down his temple as his mind went blank, unable to think. He had imagined a hundred times how he would react—how he would defend himself, how he would fight—but at that moment he forgot everything. The terror that carved him so deeply reduced him to something paralysed, unable to even think.
Then silence.
Five seconds of suffocating stillness.
And the door burst open.
He stood there in the doorway—
Tall. Towering.
Black coat fluttering, gloves on, breath uneven like he had run for hours. Black hair is slightly messy, falling over sharp eyebrows. Black eyes, deep, unreadable, too intense.
An expressionless man who—for the first time in three years—was no longer expressionless.
A mixture of relief, heartbreak, anger, and something fragile flickered across his face.
He stepped forward.
Yanam instinctively stepped back.
He stopped midway, gaze falling to Yanam's trembling fingers clutching his own shirt. The pale cheeks, the widened brown eyes, the breathless panic.
He reached a hand out, wanting for a moment to touch his soft, smooth cheek with the tips of his fingers.
Yanam flinched violently, tripping on a toy and collapsing onto the sofa.
The man moved instantly, one hand landing beside Yanam's waist on the couch, the other gripping the armrest. The closeness trapped Yanam in a cage of shadow and heat.
Yanam shut his eyes tight, like a frightened bird pretending danger wouldn't see him if he couldn't see it.
"Da....…"
A tiny voice broke the air.
Both turned.
Yu Anan stood near the hallway, dragging a plush toy by its ear, big brown eyes blinking softly under the sunlight.he blinked twice and saw a stranger in their apartment.
Yanam's eyes warm brown marbles catching light—and the man froze.
Those eyes… after three years… still the same, still gentle, still trembling.
"Da… Da…"
Yu Anan took a hesitant step, shy around stranger he escaped the crib using his little trick
The man's eyes widened, shock slamming into him.
Then anger.
Then something darker. He turned towards Yanam.
He grabbed Yanam's chin roughly, lifting his face.
"A child?"
His voice sounded like cracking glass. Piercing Yanam's ears making his heart flutter.
"So you really moved on."
Yanam's breath shook.
"When you said you'd get married, have a child… you weren't joking," he whispered bitterly, leaning closer.
"Three years, and you actually did it."
Yanam's heartbeat fluttered violently.
"L-leave me alone…"
His voice shook like fragile glass.
The man stopped, clutching his fingers tightly, letting him go.
Just as Yanam tried to stand, he stepped back. Then suddenly turned toward the child—too fast.
Yanam saw this, his eyes widened and he moved even before thinking.
He grabbed Yu Anan and held him tight against his chest, shielding him with his entire body.
"Don't touch my child!"