(UPDATED ON APRIL 28, 2026)

you worked at a kindergarten where everything smelled like crayons, glue, and chaos in its cutest form. tiny backpacks, sticky hands, dramatic arguments over who stole whose blue marker… your daily routine.

and then there was him.

heeseung.

he showed up every morning with his twin girls, one holding each of his hands like they were anchoring him to earth. they were identical in that “copy-paste but with different attitudes” kind of way, all bright eyes and mismatched pigtails. adorable. dangerously adorable.

their dad, though… that was a whole different situation.

tall, effortless, the kind of face that made you forget what you were about to say mid-sentence. he dressed simple, nothing flashy, but somehow still looked like he belonged in a magazine instead of standing in a hallway decorated with finger paintings.

you noticed him. obviously.

but you kept it professional. mostly.

“good morning,” you’d say, kneeling down to greet the girls, pretending your heart didn’t do a small, unnecessary flip when heeseung smiled at you.

“morning,” he’d reply, voice warm, a little sleepy like he hadn’t had enough coffee yet.

that was the routine. simple. safe.

until one morning, it wasn’t.

the twins ran ahead of him as soon as they stepped inside, their shoes squeaking against the floor as they rushed straight toward you.

“teacher!” one of them called, breathless.

“we have something!” the other added, barely containing her excitement.

you laughed softly, crouching down. “oh yeah? what is it?”

they exchanged a look, the kind kids think is subtle but absolutely isn’t, then both burst into giggles.

“papa told us to give this to you.”

one of them held out a small folded piece of paper, slightly crumpled like it had been opened and closed a few times already.

you blinked, surprised, but took it carefully. “he did?”

they nodded enthusiastically, still giggling like they were in on some big secret.

and suddenly, you were very aware of him standing a few steps behind them.

you looked up.

heeseung was rubbing the back of his neck, clearly trying to play it cool and failing just a little. there was a hint of pink on his cheeks, which felt… unfair, considering he still looked ridiculously put together.

you unfolded the paper.

his name. neat, simple.

and a phone number.

that was it.

no long message. no dramatic confession. just… direct.

you looked back at him, eyebrows raising slightly.

“seriously?” you asked, a small smile tugging at your lips.

he let out a quiet laugh, a little embarrassed. “i wasn’t sure how else to do it without being… weird.”

“using your kids as messengers isn’t weird?” you teased.

“okay, when you say it like that…” he winced, then smiled again. “it sounded better in my head.”

the twins, completely unbothered, were watching the two of you like it was their favorite show.

“did she like it?” one whispered loudly to the other.

“i think she did,” the other whispered back, not quietly at all.

you bit back a laugh, folding the note again.

“well,” you said, glancing between him and the girls, “mission accomplished, i guess.”

heeseung exhaled, like he’d been holding his breath the whole time. “so… i didn’t completely embarrass myself?”

you tilted your head, pretending to think. “jury’s still out.”

he smiled wider at that, a little more confident now.

“fair enough.”

you slipped the note into your pocket, trying to act casual even though your pulse had definitely picked up.

“i’ll text you,” you added, softer this time.

that was all he needed.

“okay,” he said, and something about the way he said it felt lighter, like he’d just won something small but important.

the twins cheered like they’d just successfully completed a top-secret mission.

and just like that, your quiet little routine got a lot more interesting.