"Wow, what is that light?"
I stood by the window, watching a golden beam of sunlight spill softly into our small living room. It was warm, gentle—like hope wrapped in warmth.
I wanted to be that light.
To shine bright enough to bring happiness to everyone I loved.
I looked around at my family. I was so grateful to be born into this home—where love wasn't loud but always there. My mother and father were kind and good-looking, and every time I saw their faces, a smile blossomed on mine.
I wanted to do something meaningful for them.
Then came my little brother, Seojin.
"Seojin," I whispered the first time I held him. "That's a very cool name. It suits you."
He was tiny and perfect, with eyes full of promise.
My father ran a convenience store. Life wasn't fancy, but it was decent. I was happy with that.
Now, I am seven years old.
"Seojin, let's play!" I called. "Let's build a house with these empty cardboard boxes!"
I dashed to get scissors and tape. "Wait, I'm bringing the tools to make a beautiful house! Then we'll put it in the backyard."
Hours later, we stood back and admired our creation.
"Wow, we made our house!"
"Brother, you're amazing!" Seojin giggled. "I want to live here forever."
I smiled, ruffling his hair. "I'll buy you a bigger house one day."
Just then, Mum called softly, "Haejin, let's go for a walk. You should make friends with the other children in the neighborhood."
I looked back at the cardboard house, proud and hopeful. "Mum, look! I made a big house for Seojin. One day, I'll build him an even bigger one."
She smiled warmly and teased, "Oww, look at you! Who taught you to be this cute, huh?" She ruffled my hair, laughter filling the room.
I laughed too, feeling safe and loved.