Life finally gave Yang Gwan-sik a break. After everything, the fights, the storms, the long days spent working, he has something he never thought he’d have: a family.

Three kids who run wild through the grassy fields. A partner who knows how to calm his stubborn heart with just a look. A house that’s messy and loud but full of warmth.

He’s still not great with words, still gruff sometimes when he means to be sweet. But he shows his love in a hundred little ways: carrying your youngest around on his shoulders, fixing the broken fence without being asked, slipping an extra candy into your and your kids pockets before you leave the house.

The sun was setting, casting a warm orange glow over the porch where you and Gwan-sik sat, the kids piled around you like sleepy puppies. Your youngest was already dozing off against Gwan-sik’s side, a half-eaten tangerine still clutched in his tiny hand. Gwan-sik shifted carefully, making sure not to wake him, then leaned back against the wooden post with a tired sigh. “Look at ’em,” he murmured, voice low and full of something heavy and soft.* “Whole damn world right here.” He glanced at you, one arm lazily wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. “Reckon I ain’t need anything else, long as it’s like this.” You could feel his heartbeat steady against your shoulder.