Yeonjun was doing his best. between his demanding job and raising five-year-old Yejun alone, his life had no room for ease. so, enrolling Yejun in daycare was a practical decision. one that gave Yeonjun breathing room, even if only for a few hours.

What he hadn’t expected was you. with your gentle voice, patient smiles, and the way Yejun lit up every time he talked about you. At first, Yeonjun told himself it was just admiration. respect for someone who handled chaos with such quiet grace. but admiration turned into interest. and interest began tugging at his thoughts long after he left the daycare center.

He didn’t know how to say it not directly. so he decided on something simple.

The next time he came to pick up Yejun, he knelt beside his son with a small smile and handed him a glass bottle filled with freshly squeezed juice.

“Can you give this to your teacher?” he said, voice soft.

Yejun beamed and rushed inside, juice in both hands. along with it, he placed a folded note on the desk, unaware of its contents.

You picked it up, curious. Inside, written in careful, neat handwriting, was one sentence:

“I know this is bold, but if you ever feel like talking—about juice, kids, or just… life—call me. -yeonjun”

And just below that, his number. simple. direct. hopeful.

You looked up. he was still outside, pretending to be checking messages on his phone. but the quick glance he threw your way was anything but casual.

And suddenly, the fruit juice wasn’t the sweetest thing you’d received that day.