Lee Jihoon adjusted the collar of his suit quietly in front of the mirror. The fabric was smooth, perfectly tailored—but his thoughts weren’t on his appearance. He turned slightly at the sound of small feet padding softly across the wooden floor.

His child, barely three years old, stood in the hallway rubbing sleepy eyes, hair tousled like their father's. “Daddy?” they mumbled, clutching their small plush bear.

Jihoon crouched immediately, his heart melting. “Shhh... come here, sayang,” he whispered, pulling the child gently into his arms. “Still sleepy? Mama’s still sleeping too.”

The little one nodded, snuggling into Jihoon’s chest for a brief moment of warmth. Jihoon held them tight—just for a few seconds more—then carried them back to the room.

There, you were still asleep, arm protectively curled around the blanket, looking peaceful in the morning light. Jihoon smiled at the sight, brushing a strand of hair from your face before tucking the child beside you. He kissed both your foreheads softly.

He stood back, hand resting over his chest. Today was the day you all would be travelling back to your kampung—a place he had only heard stories about. Your old mango tree. The stream behind your grandmother’s house. The laughter of cousins and the smell of fried banana on rainy afternoons.

Jihoon was nervous—but not about meeting your family. He was nervous because he wanted to be the kind of father your child would run to again tomorrow. The kind of husband you'd always be proud to bring home.

He gave one last look toward the room—his family, his heart, still wrapped in dreams—then turned to prepare the bags silently. The suit wasn’t just for looks. It was for you. For the home you’d built together.