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Yongbok came home with pink paper hearts stuck to the hem of her sweater.
She pushed the door open with unusual composure. Minhee was at the dining table, sorting laundry, and she looked up the second she heard the door click.
“Someone's home, and is quiet,” Minhee observed gently.
Yongbok slipped off her shoes with exaggerated care. “I am thinking,” the little girl replied.
Minhee bit back a smile. That tone already sounded suspicious. “Oh?” she said, folding a tiny sock. “About what?”
Yongbok walked in, placed her school bag down neatly, too neatly, and climbed onto the chair opposite her mother. She rested her chin on the table, staring at the woman.
“Today,” she began slowly, “was… interesting.”
Minhee leaned forward. “Tell me everything.”
And just like that, Yongbok’s composure cracked, and she started talking.
About how the classroom was decorated with paper hearts, about how one boy tried to glue glitter on his own face, about how the teacher said Valentine’s Day is about kindness and friendship, and how Jihyu cried because someone didn’t give her a sticker.
Then she went quiet again.
Minhee tilted her head. “What happened after that?”
Yongbok hesitated, before she reached slowly into her bag. Very slowly, she pulled out a folded pink paper.
It was neat, and it had a small crooked heart drawn in blue crayon on the outside. The paper was folded four times, as if someone had been very serious about privacy.
Yongbok placed it on the table.
Minhee’s eyebrows rose. “Is this homework?” she asked carefully.
Yongbok’s lips twitched. “No.”
Minhee nodded, and unfolded it.
Inside, in wobbly handwriting, were the words:
You are very pretty.
And so cool.
I like your hair.
Can we share ice cream forever?
From: Seojoon.
Minhee read it once.
Then again.
Then very slowly she looked up at her daughter.
Yongbok was sitting straighter now. Trying not to smile, but failing.
“And?” Minhee asked calmly.
Yongbok crossed her arms. “He gave it during drawing time,” she said, pretending irritation. “Very suspicious behavior.”
“I see.”
“And he didn’t even look at me when he gave it,” Yongbok added. “Just dropped it on my table and ran.”
Minhee pressed her lips together to stop her laughter. “Very dramatic,” she said.
Yongbok nodded. “Very.”
There was a small pause. Then Yongbok leaned forward. “I didn’t even know he was looking at my hair.”
Minhee smiled softly. “Well,” she said, smoothing a strand behind Yongbok’s ear, “you do have very nice hair. So fluffy and blue.”
Yongbok’s smugness returned immediately. “I know.”
Minhee laughed. There was no panic in her eyes. No alarm. Just amusement and warmth.
“So,” Minhee said casually, tapping the letter, “how do you feel about this… ice cream-sharing proposal?”
Yongbok thought about it very seriously. “I don’t know yet,” she admitted. “Forever is long.”
Minhee nodded approvingly. “Very true.”
“And what if he eats my favorite flavors?” Yongbok added.
“That’s a valid concern.”
They both fell into a thoughtful silence like two best friends analyzing a complicated situation.
Yongbok finally sighed. “I think I’ll observe him more,” she declared. “Observe before deciding.”
Minhee smiled proudly. “Good strategy.”
“Explain.”
Seungmin was sitting on the edge of the bed, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up, staring at the pink paper in his hand like it had personally offended him.
Minhee was at her vanity, removing her earrings one by one, watching him through the mirror.
“It’s exactly what it looks like,” she said calmly.
He looked up. “That is not helpful.”
She turned slightly in her chair. “It’s Valentine’s week, Min. Kids exchanged letters. One boy wrote to our daughter.”
Seungmin stared at the paper again.
You are very pretty.
And so cool.
I like your hair.
Can we share ice cream forever?
He read the last line again.
“Forever,” he repeated under his breath.
Minhee sighed softly, amused. “You’re stuck on that.”
“She’s five.”
“And he’s five.”
“That doesn’t make it any better.”
Minhee stood, walking toward him slowly. The bedroom lights were dim now, warm and soft.
Seungmin usually looked different at night. Less dramatic, and more honest. But right now, he looked genuinely unsettled.
“She showed you willingly?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“And she wasn’t hiding it?”
“No.”
“And she doesn’t seem… affected?”
Minhee smiled gently. “She’s analyzing it like a business proposal.”
Despite himself, Seungmin huffed a quiet laugh. Then his face turned serious again. “I don’t like it.”
Minhee sat beside him on the bed. “You don’t like what?”
“The idea,” he admitted. “Of someone looking at her and thinking… uhm... that.”
Minhee tilted her head. “Thinking she’s pretty?”
“No.”
“Offering to share snacks?”
“No.”
“The idea of someone else taking care of her?”
Seungmin swallowed. “Yes.”
There it was.
No anger. No aggression. Just a father realizing his little girl was stepping into a world where people would start noticing her.
“She’s too small,” he muttered.
Minhee reached for the letter, gently taking it from his hand and placing it on the bedside table.
“She’s not growing up tomorrow,” she said softly. “This is her crayons and snacks phase.”
Seungmin lay back against the headboard, and turned his head to look at her.
“She’s going to get letters again,” Minhee continued. “In middle school. She's going to get messages, and calls. In high school. In university. Maybe worse than this.”
Seungmin visibly tensed. “Don’t.”
“I’m just saying.”
He rubbed his face. “I don’t want her heart hurt.”
Minhee’s expression softened. “That’s not something you can prevent,” she said gently. “You can only make sure she knows she can come back to you when it happens.”
The room went quiet.
Seungmin thought about Yongbok sitting at the table earlier.
“She asked if forever was too long,” Minhee added with a smile.
He blinked. “She did?”
“Yes.”
A small smile tugged at his lips. “That’s my little witch.”
Minhee nudged his shoulder. “See? She’s not falling head over heels. She’s evaluating.”
He sighed, leaning his head back. “I still don’t like it.”
“I know.”
“She’s my baby. My- my only child.”
Minhee leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her automatically.
“I’m meeting him.”
Minhee laughed into his shoulder. “You are not interrogating a child.”
“I won’t interrogate,” he defended. “I’ll… observe.”
“From behind a tree?”
“If necessary.”
She shook her head, still smiling. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I'm serious,” he corrected.
Minhee lifted her head, looking at him properly now. “You don’t have to protect her from pink paper,” she said softly. “Just from things that actually matter.”
He looked at her. And slowly, reluctantly, he nodded.
But even as he turned off the bedside lamp and pulled her closer under the blankets, his mind was still replaying one line.
Can we share ice cream forever?
Seungmin exhaled into the darkness.
Forever, apparently, had started arriving in blue crayon.
Yongbok was sitting in her usual chair, legs swinging, narrating her day between bites of rice.
“And then teacher said we must use indoor voices,” she explained seriously. “But Taejoon doesn’t understand what indoor means.”
Seungmin nodded slowly. “Hmm.”
Minhee hid her smile behind her glass of water.
Seungmin placed another spoonful of vegetables on Yongbok’s plate. “So,” he said casually. Too casually. “Anything… else happened?”
Yongbok blinked at him. “I told you already.”
“Anything… memorable?”
She thought. “We had extra coloring time.”
Seungmin leaned forward slightly. “And?”
“And my pink crayon broke.”
Seungmin cleared his throat. “What about… interactions?”
Yongbok tilted her head. “Like with humans? Or cats?”
“Yes,” he said immediately. “Specifically humans.”
Minhee set her chopsticks down slowly. This was better than television.
Yongbok chewed thoughtfully. “I interacted with many humans.”
Seungmin inhaled slowly. “Did Seojoon talk to you?” he asked finally.
There it was.
Yongbok’s spoon paused mid-air. “Ohhh,” she said.
Minhee watched closely now.
Yongbok blinked once. Twice. Then shrugged. “He asked for eraser.”
Seungmin stiffened. “Did you give it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he needed it.”
Seungmin nodded like he was processing classified information. “And did he say anything else?”
“Yes.” Yongbok thought again. “He said thank you.”
Seungmin leaned back slightly. “That’s all?”
“Yes.”
No blush. No shyness. No secret smile.
Minhee leaned toward Seungmin slightly. “She’s fine,” she whispered.
He exhaled slowly. “Still monitoring,” he whispered back.
Across the table, Yongbok happily dipped her vegetables in sauce, completely oblivious to the fact that her father had just conducted a full sneaky investigation over five-year-olds and forevers.
The house was quiet again.
In their bedroom, Seungmin was not quiet. He was pacing. From the window to the wardrobe. From the wardrobe to the door. Then back again.
Minhee lay on her side of the bed, chin propped on her palm, watching him. “You’re drawing a path onto the floor,” she said mildly.
He didn’t answer. He turned at the window again, arms crossed now. He hesitated, then ran a hand through his hair.
“She’s thinking about things,” he said quietly. “About forever. About liking someone. About deciding.”
Minhee’s expression softened. “She’s always thought about things.”
“I know,” he said quickly. “But this is different.”
“How?”
He struggled to explain it. “She’s stepping into… that world. The world where someone looks at her and-” He stopped himself. Exhaled. “You know.”
Minhee sat up now, crossing her legs. “I do know,” she said gently. “And it’s not a bad world, Seungmin.”
He looked at her. “It can be.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “It can. But it can also be sweet. And harmless.”
He resumed pacing. “I don’t want her thinking she needs to like someone back,” he said. “Or feeling pressured.”
“She doesn’t,” Minhee said calmly. “You heard her. She’s more concerned about the ice cream quality.”
A reluctant smile tugged at his mouth, but it didn’t fully stay. Minhee watched him for another long moment.
Then she spoke softly. “Go. Talk to her.”
He stopped again. “About what?”
“About choices,” she said. “About how she doesn’t owe anyone anything. About how she can say no. About how she can say yes too, if she wants.”
He frowned slightly. “She’s just five.”
“And you’re pacing like she’s eloping tomorrow.”
He opened his mouth. Closed it.
Minhee softened further. “Seungmin,” she said gently, “this isn’t about the boy. It’s about you feeling like time is moving.”
He didn’t deny it. Because that was exactly it.
She slid off the bed and walked toward him, placing her hands on his arms to stop him from pacing again.
“She’s still your baby,” Minhee said quietly. “A letter doesn’t change that. Nothing can change that.”
He looked down at her. “I just don’t want to miss the chance to guide her,” he admitted.
Minhee smiled faintly. “Then don’t.” He blinked, and the woman went on. “Don’t let your panic talk to her,” she clarified.
“I’ll talk to her,” he said.
Minhee squeezed his arms gently. “As her friend,” she finished.
Seungmin stood outside Yongbok’s door for a full ten seconds. Her door was slightly open. Just the way she liked it.
He knocked gently against the wood. A small voice answered immediately.
“Come in, Papa.”
Seungmin exhaled through his nose, as he pushed the door open a little wider and stepped inside.
Yongbok was lying on her stomach, chin propped on her pillow, legs in the air behind her, swinging slowly. Her stuffed chick was tucked under one arm. She looked up at him.
Seungmin walked in and sat on the edge of her bed carefully, like he was entering delicate territory.
“Why aren’t you asleep?”
“I’m thinking.”
He almost smiled. “About what?”
She shrugged lightly. “About lying that I've stomachache tomorrow.”
He snorted softly despite himself. Then, he cleared his throat. “Can we talk?”
Yongbok rolled onto her back and looked up at him properly now. “Serious talk?”
“A little,” he admitted.
She scooted up slightly, making space beside her pillow like she expected him to lie down. He just stayed seated, hands resting on his knees.
“I was thinking,” he began slowly, choosing his words carefully, “about the letter.”
Her expression didn’t change much. “Oh, Mommy told you?” she said.
Seungmin hummed. “I just want you to know,” he continued, voice gentle now, “you don’t have to like anyone back. Ever. If someone says they like you, that doesn’t mean you owe them anything.”
Yongbok listened quietly.
He swallowed.
“And if you ever feel uncomfortable, or confused, or pressured… you tell me. Or Mommy. Immediately.”
She blinked at him. “I’m not uncomfortable.”
“I know,” he said quickly. “I just-”
“I’m not confused either.”
He paused. “Uhm... okay.”
She studied his face for a moment. “Papa,” she asked softly, “are you scared?”
The question caught him off guard. “A little,” he admitted honestly.
“Why?”
He thought about lying. But he didn’t. “Because my little girl is growing,” he said quietly. “And I can’t stop that.”
Yongbok stared at him for a second. “But I don’t want to grow fast,” she said. “It's tiring.”
He let out a quiet laugh. “It is.”
She turned her head to look at him properly. “I’m not interested in Seojoon,” she said plainly.
He tried not to look too relieved. “Oh?”
“He is weird.”
Seungmin blinked. “Weird?”
“No patience.”
Seungmin nodded very seriously. “That’s concerning.”
She nodded back. “And he said forever like it’s easy,” she continued. “Forever is big. And full of efforts.”
He watched her carefully. “Oh... then what do you think forever is?” he asked softly.
The little girl thought for a long moment. “Like Mommy and you,” she said.
Seungmin's heart did something strange in his chest.
She hugged her stuffed chick tighter. “If I ever like someone,” she said slowly, “I want them to be like you.”
Seungmin went very still. “Like me?”
“Or Uncle Han,” she added. “Or Grandpapa.”
He swallowed. “Why?”
She looked at him like the answer was obvious. “Because you all take care of your girls,” she said simply. “You don’t make them cry. You always make them smile. You listen. You cook. You hug. You don’t speak rude. I don't think telling you're pretty or sharing ice cream is true love.”
He let out a shaky breath that almost turned into a laugh.
Her standards... they were absurdly high.
Thanks to him.
Thanks to the men she watch every day.
“I don’t like boys who just say pretty,” she continued thoughtfully. “That’s not enough.”
He blinked. “What’s enough then?”
She looked at him very seriously. “They must be kind,” she said. “And patient. And protect me but not boss me. And speak properly. Communication is the key, like Mommy said.”
Seungmin felt something in his chest settle.
Completely.
“You thought about this a lot,” he murmured.
She shrugged again. “A little.” There was no giddiness in her voice. “I don’t want to like anyone now. I’m busy.”
“Busy?”
“Yes. I have homeworks to do. And running. And I want to learn piano like Channie. Boxing like Binnie. Dance like Mommy... paint like Auntie Honey. And I want to travel the world. See places.”
He stared at her.
She stared back.
“Papa, you trust Bokkie?” she asked suddenly.
The question surprised him more than anything else.
“I do,” he answered without hesitation. And he meant it.
The little girl smiled at that. Small. Then she reached out and grabbed his hand.
“You don’t have to be scared,” she told him. “Bokkie like her Papa the most.”
He laughed quietly, brushing her hair back from her forehead. “That’s good,” he whispered.
She yawned then, finally, the weight of the day catching up to her. He leaned down and kissed her forehead gently.
“Sleep,” he murmured.
As he stood to leave, she called out softly. “Papa?”
He turned back.
“Bokkie loves you. So, so much.”
He smiled. “Papa loves you more, my little witch.”
He switched off the light, leaving the night lamp glowing softly.
Outside her door, he paused for a second. He felt lighter. Not because there wasn’t a world waiting for her. But because she was walking into it with her eyes open. And because she had watched him long enough to know what love should look like.
Back in the bedroom, Minhee looked up when he entered. “Well?” she asked quietly.
He slipped into the bed beside her, and pulled her close. “She’s fine,” he said.
Minhee smiled. “I know.”
He rested his chin on her head. “She has very high standards.”
Minhee hummed smugly. “Of course she does.”
He closed his eyes.
And for the first time that day, he wasn’t pacing. He wasn’t panicking.
He was just a father, relieved, proud, and quietly trusting the little girl down the hallway who already knew exactly what she deserved.