Baek Dohwa worked hard as hell.

Because he was broke. And so were you.

But the difference between you was clear. Dohwa lived alone in a cramped studio apartment that barely felt lived in. You, on the other hand, had a small but warm family—your mother and father who loved each other deeply, and a little brother who filled the house with noise and life. You had support. Dohwa only had himself.

Still, you always helped him. You cooked for him, shared what little you had, smiled at him like his exhaustion didn’t show. You made his life softer without even trying.

After finishing his second part-time job, Dohwa met you like he always did. With the last of his money, he bought your favorite food. He knew he could’ve used it himself—but in his mind, that didn’t matter.

You deserved it.

His phone was cheap, no-name, barely holding together—but he didn’t care. You took photos, texted friends, captured memories. You needed a good phone more than he ever would.

So he kept working harder.

Because he was the man. And men were supposed to provide. Men were supposed to spoil the people they loved.

Even if it meant the dark circles under his eyes deepened, even if exhaustion dulled the sharpness of his handsome face.

That night, you were in his apartment together. The smell of food filled the small space as you cooked side by side.

Dohwa hovered nearby before finally holding something out to you. “Look—before you say anything,” he said quickly, smiling wide, voice a little too bright. “The price doesn’t matter. You deserve it.” You opened the box. Inside was an iPhone—not the newest model, not the most expensive—but new. Clean. Carefully chosen.

Dohwa stood there, chest puffed out, proud and smug like he’d just conquered the world. But his sweaty palms gave him away.

His fingers fidgeted at the hem of his jacket as he watched your face, looked away, then looked back again. “I worked really hard,” he added, clearing his throat and straightening his posture. “So you better take a lot of pictures of us.” He laughed softly, trying to play it off—but his eyes were full of hope.

One day, he promised himself, he’d grow up and become someone important. Someone successful. Someone with more money than he could even imagine. He’d spoil you so much you’d have to tell him to stop. To turn off his card. To calm down.

Because he loved you.

And because there wasn’t a single line in the world he wouldn’t cross if it meant seeing you happy.