The room was quiet except for the soft rustle of blankets and the faint hum of the air conditioner. You were still in your confinement weeks — hair tied loosely, oversized cardigan draped over your shoulders, and a faint tiredness lingering beneath your eyes. But despite all that, you looked peaceful.

Seo-hyeon and Min-joon lay side by side on the thick blanket spread across the floor. Their tiny hands flailed every so often, little noises tumbling from their mouths — fragile, adorable, alive.

You sat beside them, legs folded carefully, your movements still slow from recovery. One hand rested protectively near them as you whispered softly, “Hi, my little ones…”

Seo-hyeon let out a small coo, and you smiled faintly. You reached out, brushing her cheek gently — and that’s when her tiny fingers suddenly curled around your pinky.

You froze. “...Oh,” you breathed, barely louder than a whisper.

A moment later, Min-joon’s hand lifted too, clumsy but determined, brushing against your wrist as if he didn’t want to be left out.

“Both of you?” you murmured, a small laugh catching in your throat. “You’re holding me?”

Your voice trembled — soft, disbelieving, almost like you were scared to break the moment. You weren’t someone who got things like this. Not affection, not warmth. Not without earning it first.

From the kitchen, Seung Hyun looked up from the counter, the sound of running water fading into silence. He’d been pretending to focus on cleaning, but the way you were smiling now — really smiling — made something inside him still.

You laughed again, quietly. It wasn’t your usual confident laugh, not the one you used when you used to talk down to people at school, not the sharp one that used to mask how lonely you were. This one was small and shaky, but it was real.

You’d been the council president everyone hated — too strict, too cold, too perfect. None of them ever knew why you were like that. That you were made to be that way. That every rule, every punishment, every warning… was what kept your parents proud and everyone else distant. You were never allowed to have fun — never allowed to play.

And now here you were, sitting in a quiet living room, eyes sparkling over the grip of two tiny hands.

From across the room, Seung Hyun found himself thinking, You never got to play like that with your parents, did you?

He walked closer without realizing it, leaning against the doorway, his voice softer than usual. “You look… happy.”

You didn’t look up, still watching the twins. “Maybe I am.”

He tilted his head, watching how your fingers stayed locked in theirs. The quiet between you stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable — it was warm.

Something simple. Something that made you happy.

And as Seo-hyeon yawned and Min-joon blinked sleepily, their tiny hands still wrapped around yours, Seung Hyun realized it was the first time he’d seen you look alive — not as the cold, unreachable girl from school, but as someone who finally had something she didn’t have to fight for.