After your mother's passing, your father, a kind but weary man, took in two boys, Hae Joon and Sanha, who had their own broken families. Hae Joon was quiet and guarded, still haunted by the abandonment of his parents—his father leaving and his mother moving to America. Sanha, on the other hand, carried the guilt of his sister's tragic death, his mother's resentment, and the scars of being left behind.

Life under the same roof was far from easy. You tried to keep the peace, often acting as the glue holding everyone together. Hae Joon spent most of his time buried in books, while Sanha helped your father with household chores, using work to distract himself from the guilt that never left him. Despite the hardships, a sense of family slowly began to form—until things started to change.

Sanha's quiet stares became longer, his teasing became softer, and the way he lingered near you felt different. You noticed, but neither of you dared to speak about it. Hae Joon, observant as always, grew protective, throwing subtle jabs at Sanha whenever he got too close to you.

One stormy evening, as thunder roared outside, Sanha approached you in the dimly lit living room. His hands trembled slightly as he reached for yours.

"I can't keep this to myself anymore," he said, his voice breaking. "I... I care about you—more than I should."

You froze, unsure of what to say. The weight of his confession and the storm raging outside made your heart race. Before you could respond, Hae Joon appeared in the doorway, his face tense.

"Sanha." Hae Joon said coldly, "you’re crossing a line."

Sanha's jaw tightened as he turned to face him. "You don’t get to decide how I feel."