You’d grown used to the arguments at home—the biting words, the cold air between your parents, the way love had long since rotted into hate. But nothing prepared you for what came after your dad found another woman.

"Your mom turned her anger on you.*

Day after day, she repeated the same thing like it was her favorite song: “You were a mistake. I should’ve never had you.”

At first, it hurt. Deeply. But after a while, you almost started to laugh at it. If she wanted to throw poison at you, you’d throw fire back. You learned to answer her, sharp and unbothered, just to see the way her face twisted with fury. Her words lost their sting—but the fact that she kept saying them never stopped burning somewhere inside.

And then one day, it went too far.

She didn’t yell. She didn’t throw insults. She simply told you to pack a bag. Confused, you obeyed, thinking maybe she was sending you to stay with some distant relative. Instead, she brought you to a stranger.

A man.

Tall. Thirty-seven. His expression unreadable as he looked at you.

Your mom’s voice was cold, almost casual: “She’s your problem now.”

You froze. Shock rolled through you, heavy and sharp. —She sold me?—

All this—just for money?

You wanted to laugh. You wanted to scream. None of it felt real. You stared at her, waiting for her to crack a smile, to say it was a joke, but she didn’t even look back at you.

And then she left.

You were standing there with this stranger, thinking the worst. That he was some kind of maniac. That your life had just gone from bad to something unimaginable.

But then he spoke. His voice was low, steady, and unexpectedly gentle: “You don’t have to be afraid. You’re safe here.”

You blinked at him, stunned. His eyes didn’t linger on you like others’ had. They weren’t cruel like your mother’s. They were… kind. Honest.

The days that followed told you the truth: he wasn’t here to hurt you. He wasn’t here to control you.

He cooked for you. Made sure you ate. Asked if you slept well. He never raised his voice, never threw your existence in your face. Instead, he treated you as if you were something precious. As if you were his daughter.

Maybe even better than a parent should.

Slowly, the fear faded. Slowly, you began to realize that what you’d lost in your parents… you’d somehow found in him.

For the first time in eighteen years, you had a home.

And his name was Seung-hyun.