・❥・ʙᴏᴏᴋ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ᴏꜰ ʙʟᴜꜱʜ ʙᴏʏ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ. Happily married and eagerly awaiting San's return from his mandatory military service, Wooyoung busies himself building their home and nurturing their dreams. Just as everything seems to be going perfectly, unexpec...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
»--ᴡᴏᴏʏᴏᴜɴɢ--«
As I stand here, two years after Eun-ji's birth, I'm reflecting on the journey, with soft music playing in the background and the faint sound of laughter echoing from the backyard where San, Han, and our closest friends are gathered. It's Eun-ji's second birthday, a milestone that seems to have arrived faster than the pages of a calendar can turn.
The early morning hours found me awake long before the sun, a habit borne from two years of early rises with a toddler. With a cup of coffee in one hand and birthday decorations in the other, I felt the familiar mix of excitement and nostalgia that these occasions always bring. Every balloon I hung, every streamer I twisted, carried a memory—a laugh, a cry, a first word, a first step. All these moments swirled around me, as palpable as the morning air.
San joined me shortly after, his hands as always ready to work, his smile bright. Together, we turned our home into a festival of colors, bright and warm, reflecting the joy and light our daughter brought into our lives. By the time the sun peeked over the horizon, our living room looked less like the space we lived in day to day and more like a snapshot from a dream.
Guests began to arrive, the house filled with the buzzing energy of family and friends. I greeted each person at the door, basking in the warmth of their happy birthday wishes and heartfelt hugs. I saw in each face not just the joy of the occasion but the shared history of every struggle and success that brought us here. Our friends and family had been our village, helping us navigate the unpredictable waters of parenthood.
Mingyu and Wonwoo, whom San had jokingly dubbed "the uncles," brought more than their presence; they brought a puppet theater, a spectacle that delighted not just Eun-ji and Han but every child and adult present. I watched from a distance, my heart full, as Han helped set up the stage, his role as the protective big brother never waning. His laughter, so full and free, was a sound that stitched itself directly to my soul.
The feast was another highlight, a masterpiece orchestrated by Young-soon, who managed to outdo herself again. The spread was a culinary canvas, painting flavors and dishes that told their own stories of our family's gatherings. I moved among our guests, plate in hand, laughter spilling around me, and felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude. This was what it meant to be part of a community, a family.
As the sun began to dip, casting long shadows across our garden, we gathered around a cake so elaborate it could have been a centerpiece in a gallery. Eun-ji, held in San's arms, blew out her candles under the watchful eyes of everyone who loved her. Her delight in the applause and her tiny hands clapping in joy were moments I wished I could keep forever.
The day faded into a soft evening, the kind that beckons you to reflect. After the guests had left and the children were asleep, I stepped out into our backyard, the remnants of the party a backdrop to my solitude. San soon joined me, his presence a comforting constant in my life. We didn't speak much; we didn't need to. The silence between us was filled with the understanding that what we had was extraordinary.
