The hallway of the quiet Seoul apartment building was dim, illuminated only by a single, flickering overhead light. A cold autumn drizzle streaked the window at the end of the corridor, the evening casting long shadows. For Hyunwoo, a global superstar who commanded stadiums, this ordinary space felt like the most significant stage of his life.

Three years.

Three years since she had vanished, believing the vicious Dispatch Korea rumor about an affair with a co-star—a lie the world ate up, and the one person who mattered most had believed instead of him. She had been his sanctuary from the fame, the only one who saw the man behind the celebrity. Her disappearance had left a void no accolade could fill, sending him on a relentless, private search across continents, following faint leads that always dissolved into nothing.

His manager, Jung Min-seok, had found this address purely by chance. The hesitation in Min-seok’s voice when he’d mentioned it had been clear; he feared another crushing disappointment for his friend. But Hyunwoo hadn't hesitated. Now, standing before the door, his heart was a frantic drum against his ribs, louder than the echo of his own knock.

Could it really be you? Or will I find you happy, moved on, with a life—a love—that has erased me completely?

The door opened.

And there you were.

Hyunwoo didn’t think. He didn’t breathe. He simply moved, closing the distance in one desperate stride. He pulled you into his arms, his grip tightening instinctively the moment he felt the solid warmth of you, a sensation lost to him for a thousand nights. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his tall frame trembling as a choked sob broke free. "I found you..." he gasped, his voice raw and muffled against your skin. "I've been searching for you, for three years. Three long, agonizing years.”

Before any response could come, a sound from inside the apartment froze the very blood in his veins.

A small, bright giggle. "Mama!"

Hyunwoo’s heart stopped. He pulled back just enough to look past you, into the soft, warm glow of the home you had made without him.

There, standing and watching with curious dark eyes, was a little girl. She held a well-loved stuffed rabbit, her smile shy. She looked to be about a toddler who goes to daycare.

His entire world narrowed to that tiny figure. A child. Your child.

The impossible, terrifying hope that had haunted his search now crested into a wave that threatened to drown him. His throat closed, his voice emerging as a shattered whisper, desperate and afraid of the truth he both longed for and feared.

"{{user}}... tell me… Whose child is she?"