In a parallel universe, Woo Do Hwan is not a South Korean actor but a young man born in North Korea. Do Hwan's life has been a series of escape attempts, survival strategies, and small victories over hardship. Together with his mother, he fled North...
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The fluorescent lights of the neonatal ICU cast a cold glow on everything in sight. Do Hwan had been sitting in silence for what felt like hours, his eyes fixed on the small bundle of tubes, wires, and frail, fragile skin inside the glass incubator. His baby boy lay motionless except for the tiny rise and fall of his chest, each breath a testament to his determination to survive, to defy the odds stacked against him from the moment he entered this world too soon. Do Hwan tried to ignore the cold ache that seeped into his bones as he looked at his son, knowing the journey ahead would be even harder than the one he'd traveled alone.
He closed his eyes, unable to keep looking at the tubes and wires that were all that kept his son alive. A brain bleed, seizures, cerebral palsy—he'd barely had time to prepare for fatherhood, and now he had to prepare for a life filled with battles he hadn't anticipated.
Elise gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "He's strong, Do Hwan," she said softly. "Like his father."
Do Hwan took a shaky breath, trying to hold back the tears that had been clawing at his eyes. "I don't feel strong," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I don't know if I can... if I can be enough for him."
"You're already enough," she said, her voice steady. "Look at everything you've been through to get here. He's here because of you."
Do Hwan didn't answer, only nodded, his gaze returning to his son. Memories of the journey that had brought him here—his escape from North Korea, the grueling nights in China, his mother's death, the bleak uncertainty of Belgium—all flickered through his mind. And now, this tiny, fragile life was in his hands.
He took another breath, steadying himself as he looked at his son's small, wrinkled face, barely visible under the tubes and medical tape. He tried to imagine the life they would share, a future that felt so tenuous, so uncertain.
"What's his name?" Elise's voice brought him back to the present.
The question caught him off guard. In the chaos of the past 48 hours, he hadn't even thought of a name. His son had come into the world nameless, and that felt wrong, as if he were clinging to existence without an identity. A sense of urgency filled Do Hwan, as though his son needed a name to anchor him to this world now he was earth-side.
He leaned closer to the incubator, pressing a trembling hand to the glass. In the softest voice, he whispered, "Jo Eun. I'll call him Jo Eun."
Elise's eyebrows lifted in gentle surprise. "Jo Eun? That's beautiful."
Do Hwan nodded, swallowing hard as he searched for the words to explain. "In North Korea, we... names mean everything. They give us strength. 'Jo Eun'... it means grace." His voice faltered. "He's... he's my grace."
A tear slipped down his cheek, and he let it fall. Elise wrapped her arms around his shoulders, offering the warmth and comfort he so desperately needed. "He'll know how much you love him, Do Hwan," she said, her voice filled with certainty. "In fact I know he knows, no matter what."
Do Hwan stayed there, his hand pressed to the glass, willing every ounce of strength he had into the tiny body on the other side. He spoke in soft Korean, whispering words of hope and strength, promising his son that he would always be there, that they would find a way to survive and thrive, even in this foreign world.
As the night grew darker, he told Jo Eun everything he had kept hidden in his heart—of his homeland, the mountains and rivers he could still see in his mind's eye, his mother's smile and her laughter, the stars over the fields they had run across as they fled. He shared the stories of his life, the struggles and the resilience that had carried him to this place, all for the chance to start anew.
~
Do Hwan... what will you tell him about all of this? About his life, his family?"
Do Hwan looked down at his son, his heart swelling with love and grief. "I'll tell him the truth," he said quietly. "About where he came from, about his grandmother, about the journey that brought us here. I want him to know how much he was loved before he was even born."
Elise nodded, her gaze softening. "Then he'll grow up knowing he's the luckiest boy in the world."
And for the first time since Jo Eun's birth, Do Hwan managed a faint smile. His heart still bore the weight of his son's uncertain future, but as he looked down at Jo Eun, he felt a quiet resolve settle within him.
No matter what trials lay ahead, he would give his son the life he deserved. The life he had fought so hard to reach, against all odds.
"Can... can I hold him?" he whispered, barely trusting his own voice as he looked at the doctor.
The doctor nodded. "We'll help you," she assured him, and together, she and the nurse carefully lifted the fragile baby from the incubator, guiding Do Hwan on how to hold him without disturbing any of the wires or tubes.
As he settled his son carefully onto his chest, his hands trembled, and a fierce protectiveness surged through him. The tiny body was impossibly light. He was so small, so vulnerable, and yet in that moment, he felt like the most important person in Do Hwan's world.
"You're beautiful," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "So beautiful... my Jo Eun-ah. Appa's handsome boy"
At the sound of his voice, the baby's eyes fluttered open, just for a moment, and Do Hwan felt an overwhelming rush of love. Elise reached out, squeezing his shoulder as he tried to hold back tears.
"He's strong," she said, her voice soft but certain. "He's got you, and you've both got this."
Do Hwan took a deep breath, pressing his lips to his son's tiny head, inhaling the faint scent of his baby's skin. Despite everything—the uncertainty, the fear, the staggering responsibility—he felt a spark of hope ignite within him. Holding Jo Eun close, he closed his eyes and allowed himself a moment of peace.
Jo Eun made a faint squeak sound, almost like a sigh, his tiny fingers curling against Do Hwan's skin. Elise dabbed at her eyes, sniffling, but smiled through her tears.
The nurse came back a few minutes later, her expression gentle as she approached. "I need to put him back in the incubator now," she said quietly.
As he held him, Eo Jun gave a small, almost imperceptible shift, his tiny body pressing closer to Do Hwan as if sensing his father's warmth. A faint squeak of protest escaped the baby when the nurse gently tried to lift him, his small fists clenching as if refusing to be taken away. Do Hwan chuckled through his tears, holding him a moment longer before finally releasing his hold.
"Shh, shh, little one," Do Hwan murmured, pressing a soft kiss to Eo Jun's forehead. "Appa's right here Eo Jun-ah. I'm not going anywhere."
But Eo Jun's fingers gripped tightly to him, refusing to let go even as the nurse gently coaxed him back into her arms. He squirmed, another tiny squeak escaping his lips, his face scrunching up as if he were fighting to stay with his father just a bit longer.
Do Hwan felt a surge of emotion so strong he could barely breathe. "He doesn't want to go back," he said, his voice breaking. "He just... he just got here."
The nurse looked at him with understanding in her eyes. "He knows you're his father. He feels safe with you. But this is the best place for him right now." She gave him an encouraging smile.
