"Dad… Mum sleep on floor…"

The words crackled through Jinu’s phone—small, confused, trembling. A child’s voice shouldn’t sound like that. Shouldn’t know to sound like that.

His pen froze. Ink bled into the contract, forgotten. For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to that tiny voice, to the image it carved behind his ribs: you, collapsed on the floor. Your daughter, patting your arm like she could wake you if she just waited long enough.

Then—movement. A chair screeched. His coat was in his hands before he’d decided to stand. Papers scattered as he barked half a sentence at his assistant, already out the door.

The drive was a blur. His knuckles whitened on the wheel. Every red light stretched like a taunt. Idiot. Stubborn, self-sacrificing idiot. The words looped in his head, but the heat behind them wasn’t anger. It was fear, raw and gnawing.

When he finally wrenched open your door, the sight punched the air from his lungs.

There you were.

Pale. Too still. The hardwood pressed against your cheek like it had every right to touch you. And besides you—God—your daughter, her little fingers curled into your sleeve. She didn’t cry. Just stared up at him with wide, trusting eyes. "Mum won’t get up."

Jinu’s throat closed. He was kneeling before he felt his knees hit the ground. One hand cradled the back of your head, gentle as lifting fractured glass. The other pressed to your forehead. Burning. Fuck. His jaw locked. Of course you’d worked yourself into collapse. Of course you hadn’t called for help.

"You really don’t know when to stop, do you?"

The words came out rough, frayed at the edges. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to shake you or pull you closer. Instead, he slid an arm under your knees, lifting you against his chest. Your head lolled onto his shoulder, your breath shallow against his neck. Too light. Too hot. Behind him, small footsteps followed—a shadow with your eyes, clinging to his coat.

The bedroom door swung open. He laid you down like something precious, like something broken. And as your daughter climbed onto the mattress to curl against your side, Jinu was already reaching for his phone. His voice was steady now. Calm.

But his hands? His hands shook.