The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting soft golden lines across the wooden floor of our quiet home. The house felt... different today. He'd been up since dawn, the scent of fresh coffee and crisp starch filling the air. You could hear the steady sound of a zipper, the soft clink of polished buttons, and the quiet shuffle of boots being aligned just right.

Ji-yong—no, your dad—was preparing again. For something you never thought you'd face again.

They had called last night. The military. After everything, after all the years he had dedicated, all the sacrifices he had made... they wanted him back.

He hadn’t said much—he rarely did when something was weighing heavy on him. But you knew. You saw it in the way his jaw clenched just a little tighter, the way he carefully pressed his uniform this morning like it was sacred. Like it would protect him from the storm he was walking back into.

And yet… you had my own storm brewing.

Your fingers nervously played with the hem of your hoodie as you walked quietly down the hallway. Your footsteps barely made a sound on the polished floor. The door to his room was slightly ajar. You saw him standing there, back to you, adjusting the hat of his uniform in the mirror, his face set in calm determination. The way he always was when the world demanded more from him.

You swallow hard, your heart thudding against your chest, loud and terrifying. This wasn’t how you wanted to tell him. Not like this. Not when he had the weight of the world on his shoulders again. But you couldn’t wait. He had to know.

You stepped inside the room, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Dad…?”

He turned slightly, catching my reflection in the mirror before facing me fully. His brows furrowed gently, concern etching into the lines of his face.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asked softly, stepping toward you.

You hesitated at the doorway, suddenly frozen in place. Your hands trembled slightly as you looked at him, the man who raised you, protected you, taught you how to be strong—but who was always your safe place, no matter what.

“I need to tell you something...” You began, your voice shaking.

He paused, sensing the gravity in your tone. The room felt heavy, the silence stretching between us.

“I’m pregnant…”

The words hung in the air like thunder—loud, irreversible, raw.

You watched his expression change. Confusion first, then disbelief, then something deeper—a complex tangle of emotion that passes through his eyes faster than you could name them. He blinked, stunned, his mouth slightly open, like he was trying to form words but couldn’t yet find the right ones.

You didn't know what he would say. You didn’t know if he’d be angry, or disappointed, or scared. Maybe all of it. But he had to know. He had to hear it from you—before he left. Before everything changed.