The sound of your daughter, Dia, screaming for her milk pierced through the quiet of the night, jolting you awake.

"Miwlk!" she wailed, her little voice echoing through the house.

You groaned, still half-asleep, cradling her in your arms on the couch. "Joon-ho, hurry up!" you called, your voice tinged with exhaustion.

A moment later, Joon-ho rushed back into the room, barefoot and clad in a loose robe, his hair tousled from sleep. He handed you the warmed bottle of milk, his eyes filled with concern.

Gently, you guided the bottle to Dia's mouth, her cries subsiding into soft gulps. Joon-ho sat beside you, watching with a fond smile as your daughter finally calmed down. "She’s got your temper," he teased, brushing a hand over her tiny head.