(Few days later)
The news report played for the fifth time, but I kept watching.
Taejun's face — swollen from the arrest, jaw stiff with rage — replayed over and over like the world was finally catching up to what I had known years ago.
Every headline burned across the screen:
"CEO Arrested."
"Domestic Abuse Charges."
"Fraud Investigation Underway."
For a moment, I thought I would feel triumphant.
But instead… I just felt tired.
Minji sat beside me.
Close, but careful — like she was afraid to take up too much space.
Her fingers were twisted tightly in her lap, nails pressing into skin.
Her son, Haneul, was on the floor hugging his stuffed rabbit — the same way Jihwa used to hug his blanket when he was scared.
The memory hit harder than I expected.
The room was warm, the TV loud, but something about it felt painfully quiet.
Haneul's voice broke that quiet first.
"Mommy… is that dad going away?"
Minji froze.
I saw her breath catch — shoulders rising, jaw locking.
She didn't know how to answer.
She'd spent so long surviving him that she still reacted like he could appear just from being spoken about.
So I answered instead, my voice steady — for both of them.
"Yes. He won't come back. Not here."
Haneul stared at me.
He was too young to understand the law, the charges, or what monsters look like when they hide in daylight.
But he understood safety.
He nodded, soft and small.
Then he climbed up on the couch, in the tiny space between Minji and me.
He leaned his head against her arm, fingers toying with the soft ear of his rabbit.
And then, quietly, like the question had been sitting inside him for a long time.
"Then… who's gonna be my daddy now?"
Minji's breath broke.
I felt it.
Her whole body flinched like someone had ripped something open inside her.
Her eyes widened — panic, guilt, sorrow all tangled together.
She looked like she was about to apologize to her own child for something that was never her fault.
I couldn't let her do that.
So I leaned forward — slow, steady — and looked straight at him.
"I could," I said.
Minji's head snapped toward me — eyes wide, stunning in the soft living room light.
Haneul blinked up at me.
His voice was small — trembling with hope, like hope was a fragile thing he wasn't used to holding.
"Really…?"
I smiled.
"Really," I told him.
"If your mom is okay with it."
I didn't look at Minji when I said it.
I wanted her to choose freely.
But I felt her staring at me.
Like she was seeing me clearly for the first time.
Her cheeks flushed — pink slowly rising to her ears — her lips parting but no sound coming out.
She was shaking.
Not out of fear.
But out of something else.
Something warm.
I swallowed.
Haneul wriggled closer and pressed himself into my side — all tiny limbs and trust.
"But… if you're my daddy…" he said, voice brightening,
"Does that mean I have a big brother too, Jihwa?"
For a second, I couldn't breathe.
Jihwa.
My baby.
My son who I held through nightmares.
My son who cried himself numb.
My son who learned how to smile just so other people wouldn't worry.
"Yes," I said softly, my voice breaking just a little.
"You have a big brother. His name is Jihwa."
Haneul lit up — absolutely bursting — pure joy spilling from him like sunlight.
"Really?! Really?"
Minji laughed — teary and breathless — her hand covering her mouth like she didn't know what to do with feelings anymore.
I felt my own eyes sting.
I put my hand on Haneul's head — slow, gentle — like a promise I wasn't afraid of anymore.
Minji looked at me — eyes shining, cheeks warm — and whispered:
"…Thank you."
Later on.
I found Jihwa in the kitchen.
He was standing by the sink, sleeves rolled up, washing a plate slowly — like his mind was somewhere else entirely.
His hair fell in front of his face a little.
He always forgot to clip it back when he was thinking.
I watched him for a moment.
Just… watched.
My son.
My boy who grew too carefully, too quietly.
Always smiling just enough to keep others comfortable.
Always holding himself small so he wouldn't burden anything.
And now I was about to add change to his life.
Change that could hurt.
Change that could heal.
My chest tightened.
"Jihwa," I said softly.
He looked up — startled — then smiled, quick and bright like always.
"Hey, Dad," he said, shaking water from his hands. "Do you need something?"
There it was.
That smile.
The one he uses like armor.
I stepped closer.
"No," I said. "I just… need to talk to you."
His smile faltered.
Just a fraction — barely visible unless you knew him well.
"…Did I do something?" he asked quietly.
My heart cracked.
"No. Never," I said immediately, reaching out and gently touching his shoulder.
"You didn't do anything wrong."
He relaxed — a little — but his eyes were searching mine, cautious, waiting.
I took a slow breath.
"You know Minji," I began.
"And her son, Haneul."
He nodded.
"Step mom n bro. That kid's cute. Kinda shy."
I swallowed.
"He… he asked me today… who would be his father now."
The room went very still.
Jihwa didn't look angry.
He didn't look upset.
He just… stopped.
His fingers curled slightly at his sides.
His shoulders drew in — not defensive — but bracing.
"And… what did you say?" His voice was quiet, calm, carefully neutral.
"I said," I breathed out slowly,
"That… I could be.
If Minji agreed.
And if you were okay with it."
Silence.
Long, heavy silence.
His lashes trembled.
His jaw tightened — once — before he spoke.
"Dad… I…"
His voice cracked before he could finish.
I stepped forward and pulled him into my arms before he had to.
He didn't cry loudly.
He never does.
Just a small, shaking breath against my chest.
Fingers gripping the back of my shirt, like something inside him loosened after years of being held too tightly.
When he finally spoke — his voice was small.
"…I'm not mad."
My throat burned.
"I didn't think you were."
He shook his head lightly against me.
"I just… I never thought…"
Another breath.
"…I'd get to be someone's big brother."
I closed my eyes.
"You deserve that," I whispered into his hair.
"You deserve to be loved in more than one direction."
He let out a broken laugh — soft and wet with tears.
"That kid's gonna be annoying," he murmured.
I laughed too — quiet, warm — and kept my hand on the back of his head.
"Probably," I said.
"But he'll love you. I know he will."
We stood like that for a while — the quiet kind of warmth.
Then—
Footsteps came from the hallway.
Dohyun.
He paused when he saw us — not interrupting, just watching.
His expression softened — something aching and relieved flickering behind his eyes.
He didn't speak.
But he stepped forward — slowly — and placed his hand gently on Jihwa's back.
No words. No demands. Just presence.
Jihwa didn't pull away.
The next afternoon, Haneul came over to our apartment.
I watched from the doorway as he walked in — small frame, careful steps, eyes wide and alert. And then I froze for a moment.
Jihwa was already in the living room, sitting on the edge of the couch. When he saw Haneul, his expression shifted — surprise, recognition, something soft hiding behind his usual guarded smile.
Haneul's golden-yellow eyes brightened immediately. His blue hair caught the sunlight, soft waves falling into his forehead.
"Jihwa!" Haneul ran a few steps and stopped just short of the couch, hesitating for a second.
Jihwa's hands curled slightly into fists at his sides, but then his small, guarded smile appeared. It wasn't new — he always hid his feelings behind it — but this time, there was warmth, recognition.
"I… Haneul," Jihwa said softly, voice quiet, unsure if he could trust the moment.
"You're… my brother now," Haneul said, voice bright, a little shy, unsure how to phrase it.
"Yes," I said gently, stepping forward. "You're brothers now."
Jihwa blinked, then let his shoulders relax just slightly. Haneul mirrored him — smile wide, trusting, innocent.
Without hesitation, Haneul held out his small hand. Jihwa stared at it for a moment, then slowly, carefully, took it. Their fingers intertwined.
I crouched to their level, heart tight with emotion.
"You've known each other," I said softly. "But now… this is something different. We all four are together!."
Haneul glanced up at me, sparkling yellow eyes filled with hope. "I'm glad we're brothers," he said quietly.
Jihwa's small smile deepened — and this time, it wasn't hiding anything.
Dohyun watched from the side — quiet, observant, hands in his pockets. He didn't interfere, didn't speak. He just let the boys be.
I noticed him flinch a little when Haneul laughed softly at something Jihwa said. There was something unspoken in his gaze — awe, pride, maybe the faintest fear of letting himself hope.
And I realized — Minji's son and Jihwa, connected by blood and circumstance, were already finding a rhythm together. Step-siblings, yes, but slowly, gently, learning the unspoken trust that comes from family.
For the first time in years, I felt a spark of hope — fragile, yes, but alive.