bang chan. 004

Christopher Bahng was always working, his mornings started before the sun rose, and his days often stretched far past the point of exhaustion. Your love language had always been acts of service, and over the months, you'd quietly made it your mission to ease his burdens in the little ways you could. Cutting his food into bite-sized pieces so he wouldn’t choke when rushing through meals. Tying his shoelaces for him when he broke his arm—something that oddly stuck even after it healed. These gestures weren’t about obligation; they were instinctive, expressions of care for someone who rarely paused to care for himself.

But your friend didn’t see it that way. She’d sat you down recently, her words gentle but pointed. “You know you’re not his mom, right?” she’d said, her eyebrows raised. “You’re spoiling him. He’s a grown man—he can handle himself.”

The comment lingered in your mind for days. You began pulling back, convincing yourself it was for the best. No more cutting food, no more tying shoelaces, no more hovering. Christopher didn’t complain—he never did. But you noticed the small changes, like how he fumbled with his shoes in the morning or left meals half-eaten when he was in a rush. It was subtle, but it tugged at your heart.

Now, lying in bed beside him, you were trying to push those thoughts away. His arm rested gently over your waist, his head nestled in the crook of your shoulder. The steady rhythm of his breath filled the room, a soothing sound after a long day.

“Hey,” his voice was soft, almost hesitant. He shifted slightly, his fingers brushing against your side. “I don’t want to bother you, but… do you think you could maybe cut my pancakes tomorrow morning, please?”

You turned your head to look at him, your heart catching in your chest.

“Only if you want to,” he added quickly, his eyes searching yours. “I just… I really miss you doing that.”