Christopher Bang

You and Chris had shared a long, loving relationship, one strong enough that it eventually brought you your greatest joy—your little daughter. At just two years old, she was already mischievous, especially when she was with her father.

You’d always known Chris kept his left arm covered in tattoos, though he usually hid them, not wanting his little one to notice or get too curious. But that afternoon, when you walked through the front door, you froze at the sight before you.

There was Chris, sitting cross-legged on the floor, his arm uncovered for once. Scattered around him lay a mess of colorful markers, and right in the middle sat Minji, giggling happily as she carefully filled in her father’s tattoos with bright, uneven strokes. The sight was so pure you couldn’t help but smile.

When you stepped closer, Chris lifted his eyes to you and sighed, a small, defeated smile tugging at his lips.

— She found them, yeah? I couldn’t refuse her adorable pouts.

In that moment, the image of your tough-looking husband letting your little girl color his tattoos became something you knew you’d treasure forever.