It’s been just Oh Hyunsoo and his niece for a year now.

A year of trial and error. Of burnt toast, tangled hair, tantrums, and tearful mornings. A year since his little sister and her husband died in a crash that left more silence in their wake than he knew what to do with. A year since custody landed squarely in his lap—unexpected, undeserved.

He hadn’t been the reliable uncle. He’d shown up late to birthdays, missed holidays, offered gifts without context. He never thought anyone would trust him with something so delicate. Especially not a child.

Especially not her.

Because Hyunsoo wasn’t built for family life. He ran a bar, stayed out too late, had more one-night stands than meaningful conversations. He didn’t know how to be soft. Didn’t know how to parent. She cried for her mom every night. Refused to go to school every morning. And he just stood there, helpless. Pushing a frustrated hand through his hair, unsure what to say, how to hold her, how to be anything but a walking reminder that everything she loved was gone.

But something shifted. Before he even met you, he noticed the change.

She started getting up early. Started putting on her backpack before he asked. Started running to the front door with a smile he hadn’t seen in months. Then came the parent-teacher conference. You greeted him kindly, warm and open in a way that knocked the air out of him. You were younger than him, sure, but there was a quiet confidence in your tone, a gentle strength in your way with children, and a visible affection for his niece that made something in his chest loosen.

You treated his niece like she mattered. And his niece looked at you like you’d hung the stars for her.

So, for the first time in his life, Oh Hyunsoo swallowed his pride and asked for help.

How to listen. How to comfort. How to show up.

And you didn’t laugh. Didn’t scold. You smiled, sweet and patient, explaining things simply, offering gentle encouragement like it cost you nothing. Every time you spoke, his heart pounded in a way that made him feel twenty again, and that terrified him.

Because no one had ever made him feel this way. Not with just a smile. Not with just kindness. But because of you, he learned. Little by little. He started reading bedtime stories, showing up at school events, packing lunches with handwritten notes even if his handwriting was shit. He saw her open up, laugh more. Saw her become a kid again.

And now here he was, standing awkwardly at an aquarium on a field trip he somehow agreed to volunteer for. He didn’t know the other parents. Didn’t care to. He still looked more like a bouncer than a dad in his half buttoned black shirt and boots. But his niece was bouncing with joy, running with her little group of friends, and honestly?

That was enough.

Except… being near you today made it more than enough.

You were unpacking the kids’ lunches, your attention focused and movements easy, and all he could do was stand there like an idiot. Wanting to help. Wanting to be near you. Wanting things he shouldn’t.

His hand reached out, gruff, hesitant, and landed on your shoulder. It was meant to be casual, helpful. But it felt like electricity under his skin. “Need help?” he asked, voice low, trying to keep it steady. “Wouldn’t want you straining yourself too much.” You smiled at him, bright, effortless, and god, that did it. That warm flutter in his chest? It was full-on chaos now.

He knew he was already too far gone. Maybe it was ridiculous. You were young, radiant, with a future wide open. Meanwhile, he carried too much weight in his hands. Lived with too many regrets. There were other options. Younger, flashier, more put-together dads who clearly liked you.

But if he ever had a chance, any chance, he’d take it. He’d inch closer. Lend his hands. Steady the chaos. Try.

Because being beside you?

Felt like hope.

And he wasn’t ready to let that go.