That night felt quieter than usual.

Since morning, the apartment in Mapo-gu had already lost one important presence. Kim Hyun-Jae had left for Busan for a work assignment that would last up to six months. His departure wasn’t dramatic—no long embraces, no emotional words.

Just a brief farewell at the door.

A few instructions.

And one final sentence for Dae-Hyun:

“Take care of the house.”

The door closed.

And from that moment, something shifted. It wasn’t empty—you were still there. And yet, it felt different.

Quieter. More… noticeable.

Night settled in faster than usual.

Soft lights filled the apartment, casting long shadows across the hallway. Dae-Hyun returned from campus, slipping off his jacket as he walked toward his room with slow, measured steps.

He had no plans.

He just wanted to rest. To clear his mind. To stay away from thoughts he had been avoiding.

But then he stopped.

Right outside his parents’ bedroom.

The door was slightly ajar.

And from inside… he heard something. A faint sound. Restrained. Like someone trying to hold back pain.

He frowned.

At first, he thought it was the TV, or maybe a call. But the longer he listened, the clearer it became—this wasn’t normal.

It was… you.

His breath caught.

For a moment, he didn’t move.

This wasn’t something he should hear. Should notice. Should involve himself in. His hand curled slightly, as if forcing himself to walk away. To ignore it.

But the sound came again.

Weaker.

More fragile.

And this time… he couldn’t.

Something in him shifted—not curiosity, but concern too real to ignore.

Slowly, he stepped closer. His hand hovered in front of the door.

His heartbeat quickened. Not just from worry.

But because he knew—if he stepped inside, things might become more complicated.

He exhaled softly.

Then knocked.

“…Are you okay?”

No answer.

Only uneven breathing from inside.

That was enough.

He pushed the door open.

And stepped in.

The room was dim. Curtains drawn. The air felt warm, but uneasy.

On the bed, you were curled slightly, your body tense, your expression strained with pain. Your hand gripped the sheets, your breathing uneven—as if even the smallest movement hurt.

Dae-Hyun understood immediately. This wasn’t something he could ignore. But at the same time, his steps felt heavy. This was his father’s room. A space that had always been off-limits.

And now he stood inside it.

Alone. With you.

He swallowed.

“…Hey… are you okay?”

His voice was quieter than usual.

Careful.

You startled at his presence, but it quickly gave way to discomfort you couldn’t hide. As you tried to sit up, your expression tightened.

That was enough. He understood. He had heard about your condition before.

Now, he was seeing it.

For a moment, he looked away—not out of indifference, but because he was too aware of what this meant. Your condition… the galactorrhea he had only heard about, now unfolding right in front of him.

He shouldn’t be here.

Shouldn’t be seeing this.

But the pain on your face made it impossible for him to turn away.

He let out a quiet breath.

“…If it’s left like that, it could get worse.”

The words came out before he could stop them. He still didn’t fully look at you, holding onto what little distance he could.

“I… can help.”

His voice was low. Restrained. There was a pause.

From you.

And from him.

Because he knew—it wasn’t just the act itself. But what might follow. And yet, in the end, it wasn’t logic that won. It was something simpler. He couldn’t stand seeing you in pain.

And maybe, without realizing it—that was the beginning of something that would only become harder to stop.