Beneath The spotlight

Chapter 13: A Quiet Day with Kian

The early afternoon light streamed through the windows of Joong’s small home, casting soft shadows on the walls. It was a peaceful kind of day—one that felt like it could stretch on forever without a single interruption. Joong was sitting on the floor of his living room, surrounded by colorful blocks and a few scattered picture books. Kian, his five-year-old son, was deeply focused on building a tower of blocks. His little hands worked diligently, stacking them with surprising precision for someone so young.

Joong smiled as he watched his son, a deep sense of pride and joy filling his chest. Kian was everything to him. The little boy had filled the gaps in Joong's heart that he didn’t even know existed, giving him purpose in a way that nothing else ever had. Despite the world he had left behind, despite the fame and the chaos, this was the life Joong had dreamed of—the quiet moments, the small, simple things.

“Daddy, look!” Kian exclaimed, his voice bright with excitement as he carefully placed the final block on top of his tower.

Joong leaned forward, pretending to be just as impressed as his son was. “Wow, Kian! That’s the tallest tower I’ve ever seen! You’re so smart,” he said, giving his son a wide grin.

Kian beamed back at him, his small face lighting up with pride. “I made it all by myself!”

Joong chuckled softly, reaching out to ruffle Kian’s hair. It was moments like these that made him feel like everything he had done—leaving the chaos, building this quiet life—had been worth it. Kian was his reason for everything. Joong had kept his son hidden from the world, and as much as he hated the secrecy, it was necessary. He couldn’t risk Kian becoming part of a life he had long left behind.

As Kian continued to play, Joong leaned back against the couch, his thoughts drifting. He hadn’t seen Dunk in years. It had been a brief, almost painful encounter the other day, and since then, Joong had been avoiding the idea of facing him again. The last thing he wanted was for Dunk to reappear in his life, especially now that Kian was a part of it. Dunk’s presence, his questions, everything about him would disrupt the fragile balance Joong had worked so hard to build.

But the memory of Dunk—the way Dunk had looked at him in that café—stirred something inside Joong. A mixture of guilt and longing. Joong had tried to shut it out, to convince himself that he didn’t need to address the past. But seeing Dunk again had made everything feel... unfinished. It was a complication Joong wasn’t sure how to handle.

A soft giggle broke him from his thoughts. Kian had knocked over his tower, but instead of being upset, he was laughing. Joong couldn’t help but laugh too, the sound of his son’s happiness contagious.

"Don’t worry, Kian. We’ll build it again, and it’ll be even bigger,” Joong said as he got down to his knees, helping his son rebuild the tower.

Kian nodded seriously, his little hands grabbing the blocks again. “Bigger than the sky!” he declared, his voice full of determination.

Joong’s heart swelled with love, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fade away. There was no Dunk, no past, no confusion—just him and Kian, building something together. And in this moment, Joong realized that maybe he didn’t need to keep running. Maybe he could find a way to keep his past at bay without completely locking it out.

As the afternoon wore on, Joong continued to play with his son, the bond between them strengthening with each laugh, each shared moment. Kian was too young to understand the complexities of his father’s past, but Joong couldn’t help but wonder if, someday, he’d have to explain everything. The decision to leave his old life behind, to shut out Dunk, to keep Kian hidden.

For now, though, he was content. His life with Kian was enough. It was simple, it was quiet, and it was all he needed.

---

Later that evening, as Joong tucked Kian into bed, the weight of the day caught up to him. He kissed his son’s forehead, smoothing back the hair from his face.

“Sweet dreams, Kian,” Joong whispered softly.

Kian yawned and smiled up at him, his small hand reaching out to grasp Joong’s finger. “Night, Daddy,” he murmured, already drifting off to sleep.

Joong stood up slowly, watching his son for a moment longer before quietly leaving the room. As he stepped into the living room, his gaze landed on the phone sitting on the coffee table. It had been buzzing intermittently, a few messages and calls waiting for his attention. Joong’s fingers hovered over it for a second, but he hesitated.

It wasn’t the messages that worried him—it was the chance that one of those messages could be from someone he didn’t want to deal with. Specifically, Dunk. Joong hadn’t responded to his messages when he had first tried reaching out years ago, but Dunk had continued to call occasionally, to send brief notes or texts. Joong had always ignored them, telling himself he had moved on. But deep down, he knew that wasn’t the truth.

He walked over to the phone and checked it quickly. There were a few texts from friends, mostly social media updates, and a couple of calls he hadn’t picked up. But there was one message that made his breath hitch.

It was from an unknown number, but Joong knew exactly who it was.

“Joong, I saw you today.”

Dunk.

Joong’s heart beat faster in his chest as he stared at the screen. The words were simple, but they held so much weight. The tension between them was palpable even through a text. Joong could almost hear the frustration and the confusion in Dunk’s voice.

But Joong didn’t know how to respond. He couldn’t. Not now. Not when everything was so fragile, so uncertain.

He put the phone back down and walked to the window, gazing out at the quiet streets. The city felt far away from him now. He had left it all behind for Kian, for this life. But Dunk’s message had stirred something he couldn’t ignore.

Would he have to face his past eventually? Would Dunk keep pushing, keep asking questions?

Joong closed his eyes, letting out a sigh. For now, he would focus on his son. But the past, it seemed, wasn’t ready to let him go just yet.

---