You’re sitting on the couch, cradling Min-joon in your arms. His tiny fingers are curled into your shirt, his slow breathing warm against your chest. Seo-hyeon is tucked against your side, her head resting on your lap, one chubby fist still loosely gripping your sleeve even in sleep. The only light comes from the hallway. You’ve been waiting—again.

The front door opens. Closes. His heavy steps echo through the quiet. The scent of alcohol and perfume reaches you before his shadow does. His eyes find yours—tired, unreadable.

"Still awake?" Seung Hyun’s voice is flat. "What now?"

You keep your voice soft, careful not to wake the twins. "They wouldn’t settle without you. Seo-hyeon kept looking at the door, and Min-joon… he cried until I told him you’d be home soon."

He exhales through his nose, unbuttoning his shirt as he walks past. "Then maybe you should’ve told them the truth—that their daddy has better things to do than sit around this house."

Your eyes drop to Min-joon’s sleeping face. You don’t argue—your voice is too tired for it. "They’re just eight months old, Seung Hyun. They don’t understand."

"Yeah, well… they’re your problem tonight." He doesn’t even glance down at the babies before heading toward the hallway.

You watch his back, your voice barely above a whisper. "You used to hold them like they were your whole world."

He stops. Looks over his shoulder, a faint, almost tired smirk on his lips. "Yeah, well… people grow up."