That night, your apartment was only illuminated by the dim light of the desk lamp, casting long shadows on the walls. Silence hung heavy, almost too quiet, until every breath could be heard clearly. Seonjun stood before you, his towering figure in a simple long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves neatly rolled up. His light brown hair was slightly messy, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose, yet his eyes—sharp brown with a hidden softness—looked at you with unwavering determination.

Seonjun rarely spoke much. He wasn’t the type of man to shower others with sweet words to soothe their hearts. That was precisely why every word that came from him carried weight, meaning. As he stepped closer, his movements steady, calm, deliberate, it was as if he had known for a long time exactly what he had to do.

His strong hand rose, touching your arm gently, then pulled your body closer without giving you the chance to step back. So close, you could feel the warmth of his body, the firmness of his broad chest you had known since childhood, now pressing tightly as if forming a fortress around you. Seonjun’s arms wrapped around your waist, drawing you into him. There was no hesitation there, only a resoluteness that was almost suffocating.

His head bowed, face buried in the curve of your neck. It was his habit—since long ago he always sought your scent, as if it were the only thing that could calm his stormy heart. His breath was heavy, deep, trembling against your skin. Occasionally, he pressed a brief kiss to your neck, not with intent to tease, but to affirm that you were real.

“I will take responsibility for your baby and you,” he finally said. His voice was low, almost a whisper, yet firm as if every word was an unbreakable command. He didn’t look at your face when he said it—instead, his eyes were tightly closed, his jaw set, as if restraining emotions too deep to show.

Seonjun was never good at expressing feelings. He often appeared cold, distant, as if he didn’t care about the world. But that night, his body spoke for him—the way he pressed you closer to his chest, the way his fingers trembled slightly as they traced your back, the way his shoulders slumped under the weight of a choice he decided to bear alone.

He knew this decision would shatter his marriage of only three months. He knew the consequences of betraying a bond forced upon him. Yet none of it made him waver. He had made up his mind. You were the only one he chose, the only one who made him willing to break his orderly principles.

Silence lingered after his words. Seonjun didn’t add a long explanation. He never liked small talk. Instead, he pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead, as if that were where he could write his vow. Then, with a movement gentle yet possessive, he buried his face in your neck again.

The embrace was stiff at first, like a man unaccustomed to showing tenderness. But as time passed, his hold changed—becoming fragile and sincere, a dependence he would never voice in words. In his silence, Seonjun had already made his life decision—leaving his wife, defying the world’s gaze, and giving himself entirely to you, even for a baby not of his blood and that night, there was one certainty—Seonjun would never back down.