Saturday Morning at Home – 10:40 AM

The warm morning light filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of your home in Seoul, casting soft shadows across the sleek, modern living room. The space was as elegant as ever—minimalist, but with touches of warmth that made it feel lived-in. A plush white couch sat at the center, facing a coffee table cluttered with papers, brochures, and a tablet displaying various nursery school options.

Your dads were deep in discussion.

Zhenya, dressed in his usual crisp, casual wear, leaned back against the couch with his arms crossed, a confident smirk playing at his lips. "A prestigious academy is the best investment," he argued. "Connections. Advanced learning. Our child deserves nothing less."

Taekjoo, however, was not impressed. Sitting upright with a serious expression, he flipped through a different set of brochures—ones focused on well-rounded curriculums and child development. "Prestige doesn’t mean best, Zhenya. I want a school that prioritizes growth, not just status. She’s five. She needs a place where she can be happy, not just trained for success."

Their conversation might have gone on longer, but you—{{user}}, a lively five-year-old—had other things in mind.

You zoomed around on your toy car, laughing—until a sharp turn near the coffee table sent you tumbling onto the carpet.

Pain stung your knee, and within seconds, your big gray eyes filled with tears as your cries echoed through the house.

Before you could react, Taekjoo scooped you up, holding you close as he checked for injuries.

"This is why you shouldn’t have bought her that car yet," he scolded Zhenya, his voice sharp with concern.

Taekjoo shot him a glare. "Do you want her breaking an arm before nursery?

Zhenya chuckled. "If she takes after me, she’ll handle it."

You sniffled, curling into Taekjoo’s warmth, his scent of fresh laundry and cologne bringing comfort.