At Seo-in's family home far away, the mother spoke to her husband, her voice tight with barely concealed frustration.
"I don't know what our daughter is thinking. She's acting like she's under some sort of spell," she muttered, setting her teacup down with a sharp clink. "Oh my ... she used to be so reasonable."
From behind his newspaper, Seo-in's father sighed deeply before lowering the paper enough to glance at his wife.
"She's young," he said simply — the same excuse he had given every time this topic returned to the table.
His wife gave a small, humorless laugh. "Young isn't an excuse for poor judgment," she countered sharply. "She could have anyone — anyone respectable — and yet she chooses that boy. What does that say about her sense?"
He didn't immediately answer, flipping to another page in silence. But she continued, voice rising with each word.
"She knows the life we've prepared for her. The security, the stability, the name she carries. And she's throwing it all away for someone who can't even provide for himself!"
Her husband's brow furrowed slightly, but he still didn't interrupt. He knew where this would go.
"We should bring her back home," his wife pressed on. "Talk some sense into her before it's too late. The Kim family's son is still waiting — a good, educated young man from a proper background. Not someone ... like him."
She hesitated before adding, her tone trembling with genuine fear,
"Do you know how it feels to go to bed every night worrying that our daughter might be hurt? What if that man gets angry and raises a hand against her? What if he traps her there, makes her depend on him until she can't escape? We don't even know what he's done with the money we gave her before."
That finally made her husband lower the newspaper completely.
His gaze was steady, but weary. "We've had this conversation countless times," he said quietly. "Seo-in isn't a child anymore. We can't just drag her back home because we don't approve of who she loves."
"Then what do you expect me to do?" she snapped, eyes glistening with a mix of anger and fear. "Sit here and watch her waste her life? You've seen the reports — people like him, with unstable jobs, unstable tempers—"
"She's strong," he interrupted gently but firmly. "And she's not naive. She wouldn't stay if she didn't see something good in him."
The mother scoffed, turning away. "You're too soft. Love doesn't pay bills. Love doesn't erase a man's past."
Her husband took a long breath, looking down at his tea as if the swirling liquid could offer answers.
"Maybe not," he admitted softly. "But love is still her choice. And if we try to take that away from her ... we might lose her for good."
For a moment, neither spoke. The only sound was the faint ticking of the clock and the soft clatter of porcelain as she set her cup back on the saucer.
Still, her expression remained cold — determined.
"Then I'll do what I must," she whispered finally. "Because if she won't protect herself ... someone has to."
***
That night, Luca had just left campus, standing near his scooter while checking his phone. He opened his e-banking app — the balance was pitiful. If he didn't save carefully, it would only last a week. Payday was still two weeks away.
Luca's eyes lingered on the numbers, the reflection on the screen harsh and cold. The reality of his situation settled heavily on his shoulders. One week, maybe two if he stretched it — but that would already be pushing it too far. The bills were waiting, and his account was nearly empty.
He sighed, shoving the phone back into his jacket pocket before swinging a leg over his old blue scooter. It was a beaten-up thing — his lifeline since high school. Reliable, even if barely so … just like every other part of his life lately: hanging on by a frayed thread.
As he rode through the dim streets, the wind whipped past his face — but even that couldn't quiet the storm inside his head. He wondered if he should ask his best friend for a loan … or maybe ask Seo-in. But he couldn't. He thought that kind of thing was unacceptable — especially for a man.
Still, he was tired. Two internships, college classes, late nights … yet the money was never enough, especially since he now lived under the same roof with Seo-in.
The wind roared in his ears, the sound of the engine barely masking the thoughts clawing at his mind.
"Just borrow some cash, dumbass."
The memory of his best friend's casual offer echoed faintly. Luca had brushed it off with pride then — the same pride that now made him scoff at even considering it. He wasn't a charity case. He refused to be one.
And then there was Seo-in — who wouldn't hesitate to help if he asked. But even thinking about it felt like failure. Shouldn't he be able to provide for both of them by now? Every shared expense was a reminder of how far he still was from stability, no matter how hard he worked himself to the bone.
By the time he pulled up in front of their apartment complex, exhaustion clung to him like a second skin. He sat there for a moment, staring at the dark windows, before finally forcing himself to get off the bike. He hesitated at the door, knowing that once he stepped inside, she would see the tiredness he'd tried so hard to hide.
The apartment was quiet when he entered — until Seo-in appeared from the hallway, frowning when she saw his worn-out face.
"You look terrible," she said bluntly — not unkindly, but with worry lacing her tone.
Luca forced a crooked smile, though it came out more like a grimace. "Thanks, love. Always nice to hear that," he said, trying to sound playful, but his voice lacked its usual warmth.
Seo-in rolled her eyes, unfazed by his weak attempt at humor. "Seriously, when's the last time you slept?" she asked, stepping closer, noticing the dark circles under his eyes.
Luca shrugged, avoiding her gaze. "Been busy," he muttered — as if that single excuse could explain the toll written all over him.
He dropped his backpack onto the floor, hung his jacket over the chair, and rubbed his temple as he walked toward the bathroom. Looks like I have to put off my plans to get married, he thought bitterly.
Seo-in followed, her voice tight with frustration. "Busy doing what, exactly? You've been pulling all-nighters, skipping meals, and avoiding my questions—"
He turned to face her, irritation flickering in his tired eyes. "Can we not do this right now? I just need a damn shower," he said, his voice strained with exhaustion.
"And when can we?" she shot back, arms crossed. "After you collapse? You're killing yourself, Luca. I see it every day, and you keep shutting me out."
Luca closed his eyes briefly, letting out a long, weary breath before meeting her gaze. "And what else am I supposed to do, Seo-in? Quit college? Stop working? Just sit around while you support us both?"
Her tone softened, but her gaze didn't waver. "No," she said quietly. "But you could let me help. You don't have to carry everything alone."
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply before looking away. "Fine. We'll talk later," he muttered — knowing full well neither of them would really let it go.
Seo-in lingered for a moment, watching him with quiet worry. "You'd better not fall asleep standing in there," she said softly — half teasing, half pleading — before finally turning away, leaving the bathroom door slightly ajar behind her.
The door stayed half-open — like the silence between them: not quite closed, not quite resolved.