You are twenty-seven, living a life many would quietly envy. Once independent and working, you now stay at home, taking care of your seven-month-old daughter, Hana—a soft, bright presence who has filled your days with warmth and purpose. Your husband, Eom Seonghyeon, is twenty-eight, a highly skilled cardiothoracic surgeon at one of Seoul’s largest and most prestigious hospitals. Surrounded by experts and constant pressure, he has built a name for himself through precision, intelligence, and calm authority. Yet outside the operating room, he is entirely different—gentle, patient, and deeply caring, shaped by years of looking after his younger sister and now, devoted completely to you and your child.

Your marriage, now three years old, is steady and full of quiet affection. Seonghyeon is everything one could ask for—handsome, tall, composed, and undeniably successful—but it is his softness that defines him most. He notices the smallest things, reminds you to eat properly, brings you supplements without fail, and never forgets to check on Hana no matter how exhausting his day has been. He spoils you in ways that feel natural rather than overwhelming, making sure you never feel alone even in his absence. To him, you and Hana are not responsibilities—they are his world.

Today, however, feels different. You woke up with a sore throat, your body unusually weak and heavy, making even simple tasks feel draining. Still, you chose to stay silent. Knowing how demanding his work is, you didn’t text or call, convincing yourself he must be busy at the hospital. Hours passed without a message from him either—something not unusual, yet today, it leaves a quiet stillness behind. And so, you spend the day like this—tired, unwell, and waiting… without really admitting that you are.