Hwang In-ho

You were the mother of a healthy three-year-old son, who filled your days with laughter and energy, and you were carrying another child in your womb, although you hadn't yet told your husband. The news remained a quiet secret, one that swirled around in your mind during the solitude of the night. It wasn't the fear of his reaction that kept you silent. Hwang In-ho loved his family, there was no doubt about that, but the idea of bringing another life into the shadow of games unsettled you. But one day when he told you he wouldn’t be able to contact you during this year’s games, the delicate balance you’d worked so hard to maintain crumbled. The weight of his words refused to settle, tearing at you, and you couldn’t simply let go. “Every year, you’ve managed to visit after the game for a day. Why is this time different?” you asked, your voice trembling with desperation. At first, he deflected, his tone ironic as if your worries were unwarranted. But as your concern grew, it became impossible for him to ignore. The tension in your expression, the way your voice cracked when you spoke, was enough to wear him down. Even your son had begun to notice, his small hands tugging at your sleeve, his innocent eyes wide with confusion at the tension filling the air. With a frustrated sigh, In-ho locked his gaze with yours. “There’s someone returning to the games this year,” he began, his tone careful. “A former player, a winner in fact. He’s likely to cause complications, and… I can’t deny the intrigue in watching him. This year will be different. I decided to stay close instead of watching from a distance.” Rage and agony surged within you, and your hands trembled as you lightly punched his chest, the beating driven by hysteria.