The house was silent in the half-darkness of the early morning, though the quiet was fragile, poised on the edge of collapse. Kang Daehyun moved carefully through the hallway, Minjun in his arms, preparing to leave for work. The boy was still groggy, his small eyelids drooping, the gentle rise and fall of his chest under Daehyun's steady grip a fragile reminder that this life—this morning—still existed.
But as Daehyun reached the living room, his senses sharpened instinctively. Sooah was awake. Or… not awake, not really. Her movements were frantic, uncontrolled, and her dark eyes, wide with confusion, locked onto him like a wild animal realizing it had been trapped.
"You! Who are you?" she shrieked, voice high-pitched and trembling. "Where… what… let me go!"
Daehyun froze, his heart tightening—not with fear for himself, though there was plenty, but for Minjun, still in his arms. The boy's small face peeked over Daehyun's shoulder, wide-eyed, his fingers curling into his father's shirt. He couldn't see what was coming next.
He exhaled slowly, centering himself. Every nerve, every muscle, every ounce of training he had endured in the months of relentless preparation snapped into place.
"Minjun, go to your room," he said gently, voice calm, practiced. "Mommy and Daddy are just… playing a game. Go. Run. Quick."
Minjun's eyes widened but he obeyed, shuffling toward his bedroom without hesitation, trusting his father completely. Daehyun allowed himself a microsecond of relief—just enough to know his son was safe.
The Physical Struggle
Sooah lunged at him suddenly. Her hands clawed at his shirt. She shoved and twisted, and for a moment, he saw the danger—the fear in her eyes, the desperation that had no memory of love, of family.
"Stop, Sooah!" he called, voice firm. His arms moved like steel springs, catching her wrists, controlling her movements without causing harm, but enough to keep her from reaching Minjun—or any sharp object nearby.
Her strength was astonishing, fueled by panic. She twisted violently, almost knocking him off balance. Daehyun's muscles tensed, every motion precise, every step calculated. He could not let her escape the containment of reason—could not let her harm herself, or him, or Minjun.
And then it happened.
A flash of metal. Her hand had found a small knife, one of the kitchen knives left carelessly on the counter during a momentary lapse. She lunged at him, stabbing without thinking, without control, only raw confusion driving her.
Daehyun felt the blade pierce his side. Pain erupted, sharp and fiery. But the first thought that surged through his mind was not agony—it was Minjun.
He caught a glimpse of his son at the doorway, tiny feet frozen mid-step, the boy's small hands clutching his pajama sleeves.
"Go! Go to your room!" Daehyun barked, twisting his body to shield the boy from the scene. His voice was calm, almost unnaturally so, as he motioned for Minjun to run. "Quick! Mommy and Daddy are just… playing. Go. Now."
Minjun obeyed instantly, disappearing behind the door with a soft click. Daehyun's vision blurred with pain, but he did not flinch. Not for her. Not for the knife in his side. Not for the thudding ache along his ribs that had become a familiar companion.
Internal Monologue
Every breath was a calculation. Every movement weighed, measured, restrained. He could feel blood warming his sleeve, seeping across his ribs. And yet he could not allow himself to show weakness. Not now. Not ever.
Sooah's face contorted in confusion and fear. Her body trembled. "Why… why are you holding me?" she demanded. "Who are you? What are you doing with me?"
He gritted his teeth, suppressing the fire of pain. She doesn't remember. She doesn't remember anything. She isn't herself. I can't let her see me weak. Not now.
"You're safe," he whispered, voice low, steady. "Everything's fine. I've got you. I'm not going anywhere. Just… breathe with me. Calm down."
Every word was a thread holding her mind in place, guiding her from panic into recognition—if only briefly. The knife trembled in her hand, frustration and fear mingling. Daehyun's hands controlled her wrists, his forearms pressing against her body, every motion exact and intentional.
This is exhaustion beyond exhaustion, he thought bitterly. This is months of sleepless nights, endless bruises, endless pain, endless restraint. And it doesn't end. Every day, every moment, I'm fighting someone who loves me—who forgets she does. And I carry it alone.
He let himself imagine the world outside, the cold, ruthless judgment if anyone knew. A society ready to strip her of authority, ridicule her condition, dismiss her brilliance. She cannot know. She must never know. She cannot see what this illness is doing to her life… to the life we've built… to the legacy she has fought for.
The Aftermath
Finally, after what felt like hours compressed into minutes, the panic subsided. Sooah collapsed against him, exhausted, her small hands clutching his arms. He held her firmly but gently, restraining her from thrashing further, careful not to move too quickly and provoke a new episode.
He breathed slowly, controlling his heartbeat, hiding the pain that throbbed in his side, in his ribs, in the quiet bruises along his arms. Long sleeves hid the worst of it, but the ache beneath was constant. He had to be careful. Minjun was safe. Sooah was safe. He had to survive.
Eventually, she slumped fully against the couch, nearly limp, murmuring confusedly. "I… I don't know… what's happening…"
Daehyun rested his forehead against hers briefly, voice low and steady, every syllable weighted with exhaustion. "It's okay. It's over now. You're safe. Just rest. I'm here. Nothing else matters."
She leaned back, disoriented, unaware of the depth of the struggle. She saw him as strong, composed, untouchable. She didn't know the blood under his sleeve, the bruises hidden by fabric, the exhaustion etched into every line of his body.
And he let her believe she was safe, while inside he burned with every silent scream of his own suppressed suffering.
Finally, he straightened, eyes tired, shoulders tight. He wiped the faint trickle of blood from his side, pulled a fresh shirt from his dresser, and whispered to himself as he changed quickly: Tomorrow… another day. Another fight. Another chance to keep them safe. Another chance to hide the pain I cannot show.
Sooah lay back, eyes half-closed, exhausted from her episode. Minjun's bedroom door clicked quietly in the distance, and Daehyun allowed himself a brief sigh. Relief was fleeting.
But it existed. Just for a moment.
And he would cling to it. Because it was all he had.