Sick Sarang

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It was a few days after Sarang's birthday celebrations and everything seemed normal

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It was a few days after Sarang's birthday celebrations and everything seemed normal.

The moon cast a soft glow through the curtains, illuminating the room in a gentle embrace. Woo Do Hwan lay in bed, his eyes heavy with sleep, as he listened to the hushed whispers of the night. Everything seemed calm, a peaceful serenity that usually accompanied the late hours.

Sarang was sound asleep, her breathing steady and rhythmic. But as any parent knows, the tranquility of the night can sometimes be shattered in an instant.

A faint sound reached Do Hwan's ears, like a fragile melody of distress. His heart skipped a beat, recognising the sound that cut through the silence – his daughter's voice. "Appa... Appa," came the faint, wavering cry. Do Hwan's instincts kicked in, his body jolting upright as his eyes darted to the source of the sound.

"Sarang?" he called out softly, throwing off the covers and padding across the hallway to her room.

He flicked on the light, revealing Sarang sitting up in bed, her face etched with discomfort and fear. Her tear-filled eyes met his, and she reached out her arms, her fingers curling towards him.

"A - Appa," she whimpered, her voice strained and shaky.

Rushing to her side, Do Hwan knelt down, his worry deepening as he placed a hand on her forehead. She felt warm, and as he comfortingly rubbed her back, he realized she had been sick. Without a word, he carefully lifted her into his arms, her slight frame resting against his chest. Sarang buried her face in the crook of his neck, her sobs wracking her small body.

"It's okay... it's okay sweetheart," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm. "Appa's here."

Sarang's speech was limited, her words often caught in the maze of her mind. But her eyes spoke volumes, and Do Hwan had learned to read her like an open book. He understood her distress, her body language a canvas of discomfort.

"Did you feel sick, Sarang?" he asked softly, his voice gentle as a lullaby. She nodded, her lower lip trembling as fresh tears welled in her eyes. With great care, Do Hwan scooped her up into his arms, cradling her close. "It's okay bunny. Let's get you cleaned up, alright?"

Carrying his daughter with tenderness, he made his way to the bathroom, the cool tiles a stark contrast to the warmth of his embrace. The dim light cast a soft glow over Sarang's face, her features etched with vulnerability. Do Hwan filled the bathtub with warm water, the gentle sound of the running faucet a soothing backdrop to their nighttime ritual.

With utmost care, he lowered Sarang into the water, her small body relaxed against his touch. He wet a soft cloth and began to gently cleanse her, each stroke an expression of his love and devotion. Sarang's distress slowly ebbed away, replaced by a sense of security in her father's arms. She leaned into him, her head resting against his chest, her trust an unspoken promise.

As he bathed her, he softly hummed a tune, a melody that had become their own. Sarang's eyes drooped, the weariness of the night taking its toll. Do Hwan's voice carried her to a place of comfort, a haven where her struggles were momentarily forgotten.

After gently drying her off and wrapping her in a fluffy towel, Do Hwan carried Sarang back to her room. He helped her into a fresh pair of pyjamas, his hands working with the same tenderness as a delicate dance. 

He turned his attention to the mess on the floor, cleaning it up with a calm efficiency. As he worked, he couldn't help but reflect on the unpredictable nature of parenthood, the moments of joy and the moments of uncertainty that came hand in hand.

And then, just as he had done countless times before, he settled onto the bed beside her, his arm around her as he began to read a story.

As the words of the story wove their magic, Sarang's eyelids grew heavy. Her fingers curled around her father's shirt, a small smile playing on her lips. Do Hwan's voice, the touch of his hand, the safety of his presence – they were her anchors in a world that often felt confusing.

He gazed down at his daughter, her peaceful expression a testament to the comfort he had provided. As he brushed a strand of hair from her forehead.

Do Hwan pulled Sarang close, her head resting against his chest. He stroked her hair, his fingers moving in a soothing rhythm. As the night deepened, his eyes grew heavy, but he remained vigilant, a guardian watching over his precious daughter.

In the hush of the night, Do Hwan's heart swelled with love and an unbreakable bond. In caring for Sarang, he found a strength he never knew existed. As they lay together, a father's heartbeat and a daughter's breathing fell into harmonious rhythm, a lullaby of love that transcended words.

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