That evening, near the Pont Neuf bridge, they heard a busker playing guitar—a young man in a worn jacket, strumming a melancholy tune to an empty hat on the ground. His voice was good, but the passing crowd barely noticed.
Min-seok dropped a generous tip into the hat first—more than enough for a meal or two. The busker looked up, surprised.
"Merci," he said. "That's… that's kind."
Min-seok smiled. "Play us a love song? For her."
The busker nodded, strumming a soft, romantic melody—"La Vie en Rose." Mi-Kyung's eyes lit up. Min-seok pulled her into his arms right there on the sidewalk, swaying slowly to the music. She rested her cheek on his chest, feeling his heartbeat sync with the tune.
As they danced, people slowed to watch—a small crowd forming, smiles spreading. Coins tinkled into the hat. The busker played with more heart, his own sadness fading as he saw the joy he was creating.
When the song ended, Mi-Kyung clapped first, then hugged Min-seok tighter. The busker bowed, grinning. "You two… you made my night."
Mi-Kyung felt that warmth again—the simple joy of giving without expecting back. Inspired by Min-seok, she started doing it more—out of her own will, because it felt right. She bought extra crepes one day and handed them to a homeless man near their hotel.
She helped a lost tourist with directions, drawing a quick map on a napkin. She complimented a street vendor's handmade jewelry and bought a bracelet just to see the woman's face light up.
Wherever they went, their happiness radiated like sunlight—fading away the shadows of sadness around them. Stressed strangers smiled. Tired parents laughed. Lonely people felt seen, if only for a moment. Mi-Kyung thought to herself, 'This is what love does. It doesn't just fill you—it overflows. And Min-seok… he taught me how to let it flow.'
They were just two people, but in those days, they made Paris a little brighter—one small, heartfelt act at a time.
Their affection was open, unapologetic—kissing in cafes, holding hands everywhere, whispering sweet nothings that made passersby smile or sigh wistfully. But it also sparked insecurity in others.
At one point, near Notre-Dame, a group of young women—tourists in their twenties—approached Min-seok boldly while Mi-Kyung was buying postcards nearby.
"Hey handsome," one said in English, flipping her hair. "You single? You look like you could use some fun company tonight."
Another stepped closer, smiling flirtatiously. "Yeah, ditch the tour guide and come with us. We'll show you the real Paris."
Min-seok chuckled politely but firmly, wrapping an arm around Mi-Kyung as she returned. "Sorry, ladies. This beauty beside me is carrying my child. She's all the company I'll ever need."
The women's faces fell, one muttering, "Lucky her…" as they walked away.
Mi-Kyung giggled, hugging his side tighter, her head resting against his shoulder as they continued walking. "My hero," she whispered, her voice full of warmth and pride. He pulled her even closer, kissing the top of her head, their steps syncing perfectly—like two hearts beating as one.
Each little act like this—his protectiveness, her trust—wove them tighter together, their love deepening with every shared glance, every touch that said 'you're mine, and I'm yours'.
Nearby, a couple overheard—the girl turned to her boyfriend. "See? Why can't you be like that?" The boyfriend grumbled, "Because I'm not some romantic movie star." They started bickering quietly, walking off in a huff.
Mi-Kyung hid her laugh in Min-seok's shoulder. "Did we just start a fight?"
He smirked. "Paris—the capital of love… and now fights, thanks to us."
They laughed together, continuing their walk—two people so in love that their joy spilled over, brightening strangers' days even as it sparked a little envy. But they didn't care.
They were too busy being happy, spreading kindness like confetti—helping where they could, loving without shame, making the city feel a little warmer for everyone they touched.
And with every small act, their bond grew—deeper, stronger, more unbreakable. A shared look after helping someone would turn into a soft kiss; a whispered compliment would lead to intertwined fingers lingering longer.
Their love felt contagious—people around them smiled more, held hands a little tighter, as if reminded that real affection was possible.
They made love every single night—sometimes slow and reverent, sometimes wild and desperate. In their hotel room with the balcony doors open, city sounds drifting in, they lost themselves in each other again and again.
Mi-Kyung would ride him slowly while he gazed up at her like she was a miracle, then begged him to take her harder until the headboard rattled. They fell asleep, tangled together, woke up kissing, made love again in the morning light before breakfast.
Each time, their connection deepened—not just physical, but emotional. After one particularly tender session, Mi-Kyung traced patterns on his chest and whispered, "Every day with you… I fall more and more in love with you."
He pulled her closer, kissing her deeply, murmuring, "And every day, I choose you again." Their intimacy wasn't just passion; it was a reaffirmation—growing closer with every shared breath, every vulnerable moment.
On their last day, they sat on their balcony at sunrise, wrapped in one blanket, her back to his chest, his arms around her and their baby. She tilted her head back to kiss his jaw.
"I don't want to leave," she whispered.
He pressed his lips to her temple. "We'll come back. Every year if you want. This is our place now."
She turned in his arms, straddling his lap, kissing him deeply as the sun rose over Paris. The kiss lingered—soft at first, then building, hands roaming gently over familiar paths.
They made love right there on the balcony chair—slow, intimate, the city waking below them like a distant dream. Afterward, they stayed wrapped together, watching the sunrise paint the sky in pinks and golds.
"This trip…" Mi-Kyung whispered, head on his shoulder, "It made us even closer. Every kindness we gave… it came back to us. To 'us'."
He nodded, kissing her hair. "Because we do it together. Always."
When they finally boarded the flight home, hands intertwined the entire way, Mi-Kyung felt something she hadn't felt in years: complete. Loved beyond measure. Safe. Ready for whatever future they would build together.
And Paris—the city of love—had never felt more like home.
When they finally boarded the flight home, hands intertwined the entire way, Mi-Kyung felt something she hadn't felt in years: complete. Loved beyond measure. Safe. Ready for whatever future they would build together.
And Paris—the city of love—had never felt more like home.
They landed in Incheon Airport late in the evening, the familiar humid air of Korea greeting them as they stepped off the plane. Mi-Kyung leaned on Min-seok's arm during the taxi ride home, her head on his shoulder, both of them quiet but content—replaying memories of the trip in their minds.
When they arrived at their home—a cozy apartment they had moved into after the wedding—the door flew open before Min-seok could even turn the key. Soo-min, Hye-jin, Eun-ji, and Ji-yeon all rushed out at once, faces lit up with excitement.
"Oppa!" Eun-ji squealed first, launching herself at him and wrapping her arms around his neck in a tight hug like a koala attached to bamboo.
Min-seok laughed, dropping the bags to catch her. "Hey, easy! You're going to knock me over."
Hye-jin joined next, hugging him from the side, her cheek pressed to his shoulder. "We missed you so much!"
Soo-min, the eldest, smiled warmly but couldn't resist—she hugged him too, arms around his waist. "Welcome back, Oppa. The house felt empty without you."
Ji-yeon stood a step back at first, eyes soft and full of quiet affection, then moved in last—hugging him gently but lingering, her head resting against his shoulders hugging him from behind since the front side was already occupied by three cute lumps of flesh. "We're so glad you're home."
Min-seok wrapped his arms around as many of them as he could, pulling them all into a big group hug. They clung to him like that for a long moment—Soo-min squeezing his hand, Hye-jin nuzzling his arm, Eun-ji giggling against his neck, Ji-yeon sighing contentedly.
Their love for him was palpable—warm, needy, full of the relief that comes from missing someone deeply.
Mi-Kyung watched with a soft smile, her heart full. She stepped forward and hugged Ji-yeon from behind, joining the pile. "I missed you all too."
The girls laughed, pulling her in deeper until everyone was tangled in one big, messy embrace—tears pricking a few eyes, but happy ones.
Finally, they pulled back, still hovering close as Min-seok picked up the bags.
"Come on inside," Soo-min said, tugging his sleeve. "Tell us everything!"
They all piled into the living room, the girls sitting cross-legged on the floor around Min-seok like eager kids at storytime. Mi-Kyung sat beside him on the couch, her hand in his.
"How was the trip?" Hye-jin asked first, eyes wide. "Did you see the Eiffel Tower? Was it as romantic as they say?"
Min-seok smiled, glancing at Mi-Kyung. "Better. We saw it at night—lit up like stars. We danced under it, took photos, everything."
Eun-ji bounced excitedly. "Photos! Show us!"
Mi-Kyung pulled out her phone, scrolling through the album—pictures of them kissing by the Seine, laughing in Montmartre, dancing in the jazz club. The girls oohed and aahed, leaning in close.
"You two look so happy," Soo-min said softly, touching the screen. "Like… really in love."
Ji-yeon nodded, eyes misty. "It's beautiful. Did you bring us anything?"
Min-seok chuckled. "Of course. Hold on."
He opened one of the suitcases and pulled out wrapped gifts, handing them out one by one.
"For Soo-min," he said, giving her a large, flat package. She unwrapped it carefully—a set of high-quality French watercolors, brushes, and a leather-bound sketchbook from a famous Parisian art supply store. "I know you love painting landscapes. These are from the shop where famous artists used to buy their supplies."
Soo-min's eyes widened, fingers tracing the brushes reverently. "Oppa… this is perfect. Thank you!" She hugged him tightly, emotions swelling—gratitude, love, the feeling of being seen.
Next, Hye-jin. He handed her a stack of books tied with ribbon—classic French literature in beautiful editions: "The Little Prince," "Les Misérables," and a poetry collection by Baudelaire. "You're always reading. These are from a famous bookstore by the Seine—Shakespeare and Company. Thought you'd like the originals."
Hye-jin gasped, hugging the books to her chest before hugging him. "I love them! How did you know I wanted these?" Her voice cracked slightly, full of warmth and surprise.
"For Eun-ji," Min-seok said, giving her a small box. Inside was a set of high-end earbuds, a music notebook for writing lyrics, and a vinyl record of classic French jazz. "I know you love singing and music. We heard this at a club—thought it'd inspire you."
Eun-ji's face lit up like Christmas morning. She squealed and jumped into his lap for a hug. "Oppa, this is amazing! I can't wait to listen!" Her joy was infectious, her arms clinging tight with pure, childlike happiness.
Finally, Ji-yeon. Min-seok handed her an elegant bag filled with gourmet French sweets—macarons, chocolates, and nougat from a famous confectionery. "For you, Unnie. I know you have a sweet tooth. These are the best ones we tried—picked them just for you."
Ji-yeon's eyes softened, taking the bag with gentle hands. But before she could speak, Min-seok reached into the suitcase again and pulled out a smaller, beautifully wrapped box tied with a pink ribbon.
"And this one," he said softly, "is for our little sunshine. Tell her Min-seok missed her and can't wait to see her back home soon."
Ji-yeon froze, fingers trembling as she took the box. Inside was a delicate silver charm bracelet—tiny charms shaped like stars, hearts, and a little musical note, perfect for a young girl who loved singing just like her youngest aunt Eun-ji. A small card tucked inside read: "To my dear niece – shine bright, little one. Love, Min-seok."
Ji-yeon's eyes filled instantly. She looked up at him, voice breaking.
"You… you remembered her?"
Min-seok smiled gently, reaching out to brush a tear from her cheek.
"Of course I did," he said quietly. "Isn't she my one and only dear niece? I think about her every day. I know she's been working hard to get stronger, and I wanted her to have something special when she comes home. Something to remind her she's loved."
Ji-yeon's lip trembled. She set the sweets aside and stepped forward, wrapping her arms around him in a tight, lingering hug. Her face pressed into his shoulder, voice muffled against his shirt.
"Thank you," she whispered, voice thick with emotion. "For remembering her. For always remembering us. You have no idea… how much this means. She's going to cry happy tears when she sees this."
Min-seok hugged her back just as tightly, one hand rubbing slow circles on her back.
"She's family," he murmured. "You both are. Always."
Ji-yeon pulled back slightly, eyes shining, then leaned in to kiss his cheek softly.
"You're the best little brother anyone could ever ask for," she said, voice cracking with love. "Thank you… for everything."
She hugged him again—longer this time—then stepped back, clutching both gifts to her chest like treasures.
The room felt even warmer now, the love between them all wrapping around everyone like a blanket. Mi-Kyung watched with misty eyes, her hand resting on her own belly, feeling the quiet miracle of family growing even stronger.
"We really missed you," Eun-ji said again, snuggling against his side.
Min-seok ruffled her hair. "I missed you all too. Every day."
They stayed like that late into the night—sharing stories, eating sweets, hearts full. The trip had been magical, but coming home—to this love, this family—felt even better.
The girls chattered excitedly, unwrapping and sharing, the room filled with laughter and warmth. Mi-Kyung watched, her hand on Min-seok's knee, feeling the family bond grow even stronger.
Soo-min was the first to speak again, still cradling her watercolor set like it was made of glass. She looked at Min-seok with shining eyes, voice thick with emotion.
"Oppa… I don't even know what to say. These brushes, this sketchbook… they're from that shop? The one all the great artists used?" She swallowed hard, then stood and hugged him from the side, pressing her cheek to his shoulder.
"Thank you. Really. I've been wanting to try watercolor landscapes for so long, but I never had the right tools. Now I can. You always know exactly what I need when I need it before I even say it. I love you."
She kissed his cheek quickly, then sat back down, already opening the sketchbook to admire the thick pages.
Hye-jin was next. She hugged the stack of books to her chest for a long moment, eyes misty. Then she set them down carefully and climbed onto the couch beside Min-seok, wrapping her arms around his waist from the side.
"Oppa," she said softly, voice cracking a little. "Shakespeare and Company… I've dreamed of owning books from there since I read about it in high school. These editions are beautiful.
The Little Prince has always been my comfort book, and now I have it in French. I can't believe you remembered." She squeezed him tighter. "You make me feel so seen. Thank you… for always thinking of me like this."
She rested her head on his shoulder for a second, then pulled back with a watery smile.
Eun-ji—still the baby of the family even at 18—didn't hesitate. She squealed again, jumped up, and climbed straight into Min-seok's lap, straddling his thighs like she used to when she was little. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder.
"Oppa! These earbuds are the best ones! And a music notebook? And French jazz vinyl? I'm going to write so many songs now for you!"
She pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes sparkling with pure, childlike joy. "You're the best oppa in the whole world. I missed you so much. Don't ever leave again without me, okay?"
She pouted dramatically, then hugged him again, clinging tight. "Pamper me more. I'm the youngest, it's my right!"
Min-seok laughed, arms wrapping around her securely. "Alright, alright, baby. You get all the pampering tonight."
Ji-yeon had been quiet, just holding the bag of sweets in her lap, but now she moved closer. She knelt in front of Min-seok on the floor so she was eye-level with him, then leaned forward and hugged him around the waist, resting her head on his chest.
"Thank you," she whispered, voice soft and full of emotion. "For remembering my sweet tooth… for picking the best ones. For remembering your niece and never forgetting her.
But mostly… for always remembering us. Even when you were in Paris, you thought of us. You always do." Her voice trembled slightly. "I love you, Min-seok. More than you know. More than I can comprehend."
She held on a little longer, then pulled back, smiling through glossy eyes.
If my story made you smile even once, that's a win for me. That's what I want to live for—brightening dull days and reminding people that joy still exists. My dream is to keep getting better, to someday reach legendary level of storytelling.
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