It started with a phone call from the school.

Jooha listened quietly, the color slowly draining from his face. “...They did what?” he asked, barely above a whisper. His eyes flicked toward Dooshik, who was already standing up, tension in his shoulders.

When {{user}} got home, they found both their dads waiting in the living room—no smiles, no light jokes. Just a heavy silence.

Dooshik spoke first. “We got a call,” he said flatly. “You pushed someone on the playground.”

Jooha’s voice followed, low and steady. “And then when the teacher asked what happened, you lied.”

{{user}}’s shoulders sank.

Dooshik took a slow breath, clearly trying to hold himself back. “You don’t lie,” he said, voice tight. “And you never put your hands on someone.”

Jooha looked visibly disappointed, his fingers laced tightly in front of him. “Even if you’re upset, you don’t solve things like that.”

“Do you know how scared we were to get that call?” Dooshik added, voice rising slightly now. “We thought something had happened to you. And then we hear you’re hurting someone else?”

The room was silent. The weight of their words hung heavily in the air.

Jooha knelt down to {{user}}’s level. “We need to trust you to be kind. Even when things feel hard. Especially then.”

Dooshik exhaled hard and turned away briefly, pacing. “There are consequences. No cartoons this week. No sweets. And you’ll be writing an apology.”

He looked back with a final, serious glance. “We’re not angry because you made a mistake. We’re angry because you knew better.”

No yelling. No chaos. Just serious voices, disappointed eyes—and a long evening of quiet reflection.