The morning on the island began calmly. The wind from the sea carried a salty scent, sliding over the windows and rustling quietly in the leaves. Hyuk stood in the kitchen, carefully arranging food in containers. Warm rice, a light vegetable soup, small dumplings - everything that could warm Minjun and give him strength. Every movement was measured, like a ritual: he wanted Minjun to have something made with his own hands at the hospital.
The phone, left on the windowsill, vibrated. Hyuk dried his hands with a towel and looked at the screen: a message from the secretary.
"Mr. Kim's number. It's your decision."
Something in his chest tightened. For a few seconds, he just stared at the digits, as if mustering his resolve. Then he finally dialed the number.
The rings dragged on for a long time until a low, stern voice finally answered:
"Speaking."
"This is Hyuk," he said calmly. "I'd like to meet. In person."
The pause on the other end was short but heavy.
"In an hour. I'll send you the address."
***
A small cafe by the road greeted them with the smell of coffee and fresh pastries. Mr. Kim sat at a table by the window. His posture was perfectly straight, his hands folded on the table. His face was cold, almost devoid of emotion.
Hyuk sat opposite him, nodding.
"Thank you for making the time."
Minjun's father did not reply, only looked directly into his eyes, as if trying to read all the words before they were spoken.
Hyuk took a deep breath.
"Your son gave birth to a boy. A healthy one. He looks just like Minjun, a spitting image."
Not a single muscle on Mr. Kim's face twitched. Only a slight movement of his fingers - and then stillness again.
"I see," he said dryly.
Silence hung between them like a taut string. Hyuk had hoped for some reaction, but none came. No question, no gesture. The meeting ended as quickly as it began.
"Thank you for listening," Hyuk said quietly, getting up.
"...Take care of him," Mr. Kim said, barely audibly, before leaving the cafe.
***
At the hospital, everything was immediately different. The white walls of the ward, the soft light, the quiet sounds of the baby's breathing as he slept beside the bed. Minjun smiled as soon as he saw Hyuk. His eyes were sparkling, his cheeks slightly pink.
"You came," he whispered.
Hyuk placed the bag of food on the nightstand and immediately came closer. His arms embraced Minjun, and his lips touched his forehead.
The baby stirred, squeaking softly. Hyuk leaned down and carefully stroked his tiny hand. His heart was filled with tenderness: his world had shrunk to this small family.
They sat like that, hugging each other, sharing kisses and warm glances. Everything seemed simple and right: this was the meaning, the reason it was worth going through everything.
***
The door to the ward opened slightly. A nurse came in, holding a neat package.
"A man brought this," she said quietly. "Mr. Kim. He came in and saw your baby in the nursery."
Minjun and Hyuk exchanged glances. Minjun's heart fluttered.
In the package were a pair of small, sky-blue sneakers. Tiny, as if made specifically for a baby's first steps. Next to them was a folded piece of paper.
On it, there were only two lines:
"I'm sorry."