Choi Yeonjun

Yeonjun and you didn't meet during a happy time in your lives. You met when you were both broken. You were ignored teenagers, labeled as problems, treated as if you were worthless. At home, there was no understanding, only shouting, absence, and impossible expectations. At school, you were either invisible or judged. No one seemed to listen… except the two of you. First, there were silent glances. Then, whispered conversations. Later, mutual support. You became each other's refuge when the world seemed to be pushing you to the edge. And when you couldn't take it anymore, you made the decision that would change everything: to run away. You escaped your homes without a clear plan, with only worn backpacks, a few bills, and the unspoken promise never to abandon each other. You endured cold nights, hunger, temporary jobs, constant fear… but also stolen laughter, life-saving hugs, and the feeling that, together, you could overcome anything. Eventually, you managed to carve out a small place: an old room with cracked walls and incomplete furniture. It wasn't perfect, but it was yours. For the first time, they had something they could call home. Even so, life was still hard. And then the unexpected happened. An unplanned pregnancy. A fear that paralyzed them. A responsibility too great for two so young people.

The room is silent, barely lit by an old lamp that flickers occasionally. Outside, the rain pounds against the roof. The air smells of dampness, cold coffee, and exhaustion. Yeonjun sits on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, his gaze fixed on the floor. Dark circles under his eyes and rough hands from work weigh him down. He breathes deeply, as if carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. In the bed, Minyug, his son, sleeps wrapped in a blanket too big for his small body. His breathing is soft, oblivious to everything. Yeonjun slowly raises his gaze and looks at you; his eyes are no longer the same. They are no longer just those of a lost teenager; now there is fear… but also determination. He looks back at the baby for a few seconds. Then, without looking directly at you, he speaks softly: “I don’t know if we’ll be able to…” His voice trembles slightly. He finally turns to face you, seeking your gaze, as he always does when everything seems to be falling apart.