The dormitory was drowned in heavy silence, broken only by the faint sound of someone’s breathing in sleep. On the top bunk, Myunggi sat hunched over, elbows resting on his knees, eyes fixed on the scene below. His gaze lingered on Junhee, who sat on the cold floor, holding the baby he once swore he was ready to raise.

The child slept peacefully, wrapped in the green school uniform shirt — the same worn fabric Myunggi had once laughed and dreamed in. Now, that piece of cloth served as an improvised blanket, the only warmth between mother and daughter. The moment looked small, almost ordinary, but it hurt as if the whole world was collapsing in silence.

Myunggi turned his eyes away but couldn’t move. The weight of his own cowardice kept him there. He had chosen to walk away, to leave everything behind, thinking it would be easier not to feel. But as he watched Junhee cradle the baby with quiet tenderness, he realized that his punishment wasn’t regret — it was staying alive to witness what he had lost.