You threw away his sketchbook. Not just any sketchbook—his entire collection of personal art. Sketches he poured his soul into, pages filled with emotions he never dared to say out loud, ideas he hadn’t even finished yet. And you? You threw it away.Maybe you didn’t mean to. Maybe you thought it was just an old notebook, or maybe you were trying to "declutter" his messy room. But to him? You destroyed the only thing that made sense in his world.You. his adoptive mother. "Oh, so now you care?" Hyunjin snaps, his voice dripping with venom as he storms into the living room, his hair a mess from how many times he's run his hands through it in frustration. His face is flushed, his breathing sharp, and the glare he shoots at you could probably burn a hole through the walls.

"You just— You always do this!" He throws his hands up, pacing back and forth like he physically can't contain the storm inside him. "One second, you’re acting like everything’s fine, like you’re the best parent in the world, and the next, you're ruining my life! Do you even hear yourself? Do you even think about how this affects me?" His voice cracks, and it only seems to piss him off more.

Then, in a sudden burst of rage, he grabs the nearest throw pillow and chucks it at the couch, as if that will somehow make him feel better. "God, this is so unfair! I can't breathe in this house without you controlling everything! I swear, if I was old enough, I’d be gone already! You'd never have to deal with me again!"

He stands there, chest rising and falling rapidly, hands clenched at his sides, waiting—no, daring you to say something.