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The school gym buzzed with the kind of clatter that could only come from folding chairs, too many juice boxes, and too many adults pretending not to compete with each other over who loved their kids more.
Jungwon sat off to the side with Haru in his lap and Haerin beside him, working on the corner of a sugar cookie that was more icing than dough. Haru was half-asleep, his small body warm against Jungwon’s chest, one hand clinging to Jungwon’s hoodie strings like they were lifelines. His other thumb, predictably, was in his mouth.
Across the room, Jay stood by the refreshment table.
And… he had an audience.
Again.
Jungwon could hear it even over the chatter of the kids near the coloring station.
“Oh wow, you’re Haerin and Haru’s dad?”
“You look so young! Are you sure you’re not one of the new staff members?”
“You’re the one who brought those gluten-free muffins last month, right?”
“Do you do all the cooking too?”
Jungwon blinked slowly and took a bite of his own cookie to keep himself from saying something sarcastic. He wasn’t jealous. Just… slightly irritated. Okay, very irritated.
Jay smiled his usual modest smile, clearly trying to be polite. “I actually don’t do that much. My husband, Jungwon, handles most of the school coordination stuff. He’s way more involved than I am—”
“Oh, that’s sweet,” someone cut in with a dismissive wave, already talking over him. “But you’re the one who shows up to drop-off looking like you stepped out of a magazine.”
Another person laughed. “Seriously, it’s unfair.”
Jay opened his mouth again to redirect the conversation, but it was no use.
From his spot across the room, Jungwon sighed. Haerin, perched beside him, had gone quiet. Her cookie was forgotten in her hand, crumbs on her shirt. She followed his gaze and squinted across the gym.
Then she frowned. “Is Appa Jay in trouble?”
Jungwon blinked. “What?”
“You have your mad face on.”
“I don’t have a mad face.”
“You do,” she said confidently. “It’s the one where your eyebrows scrunch down and your mouth goes all flat.”
Jungwon gave her a tight smile. “He’s just talking to some parents.”
She squinted harder. “They look annoying.”
“Haerin—”
Before he could finish, she hopped off the chair and walked with purpose straight across the gym like she owned the floor. Jay spotted her just as one of the PTA moms touched his arm again.
“Appa!” Haerin called sweetly, sliding right between him and the group. “Can you come back now?”
Jay blinked, confused. “Uh—come back where, sweetheart?”
“Over there,” she said, tugging at his hand. “Papa’s sad.”
Jay’s eyes darted over to Jungwon, who very clearly was not sad, but was pretending to be deeply interested in a flyer about a raffle for the second grade class trip.
Haerin leaned in closer, cupping her hand over her mouth dramatically. “He has the eyebrows.”
Jay bit back a laugh, cheeks pink as he turned back to the group. “I think that’s my cue.”
The group aww’d, made a few jokes about “being stolen away,” but Jay offered them a quick smile, nodded politely, and followed his daughter back to the chairs.
When he reached them, Haru was still curled up in Jungwon’s lap, thumb still in his mouth, hair a soft mess against his father’s shoulder. Haerin climbed up and into Jay’s lap, tugging at his hoodie and nestling against him as if to say you belong here.
Jay looked over at Jungwon with a sheepish smile. “Was it that obvious?”
“You tried,” Jungwon murmured, still pretending to read the flyer. “You said my name.”
“They bulldozed right past it.”
“I noticed.”
Jay bumped his knee against Jungwon’s. “I only care that you noticed.”
Jungwon didn’t look up, but the corners of his mouth curved, soft and warm.
Haerin tilted her head between them. “You’re making the faces again.”
“What faces?” Jungwon asked.
“The smiley in-love ones.”
Jay reached over, brushing Haerin’s bangs from her face. “You’re lucky we love each other, or else you’d be walking home.”
Haerin giggled and curled closer into his side, all warm limbs and sugar breath.
Jungwon finally folded the flyer and tucked it beneath Haru’s little legs. “Next time, I’m baking the muffins.”
Jay gave him a dramatic look. “You have to. That way, I can stay with you and let you handle the fan club.”
Jungwon snorted, eyes rolling. “Please. They won’t care.”
“Why not?” Jay challenged with a crooked smile.
Jungwon flipped his hand through the air with mock grace, tossing invisible long hair over his shoulder. “Because, dear husband, I am not as dashingly good-looking as you.”
Jay blinked, then laughed—low and real and loud enough to make Haru stir just a little. “You did not just say that.”
“I did,” Jungwon said, lifting his chin, still in character. “I’m just a humble PTA ghost—no glowing cheekbones, no brooding jawline, no tragic backstory about running late for drop-off.”
Jay leaned in, but instead of another joke, he gently tilted his head until their foreheads touched.
It was soft—just warm skin meeting warm skin, breath shared in a quiet bubble of air between them.
Jungwon blinked, surprised by the sudden closeness. His cheeks flushed pink. Jay’s ears turned red.
Neither of them pulled away.
“You’re ridiculous,” Jay whispered, smiling.
“And you like it,” Jungwon murmured back.
Haerin peeked up between them. “Are you guys blushing again?”
Jay cleared his throat and leaned back. “No.”
“Yes,” Jungwon said at the same time.
Haerin narrowed her eyes. “Weirdo lovebirds.”
But even as the conversation drifted back to school events and tired toddlers, Jay reached for Jungwon’s hand beneath the table. He didn’t say anything—just lifted it slightly and pressed a soft kiss to the back of his fingers. A small, grounding thing.
Not even when Haru woke up blinking sleepily—and definitely not when Haerin whispered, “I want to marry you both when I grow up.”
Jay grinned. “You’ve got good taste, kid.”