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 three of them had become an unconventional family in the months since Elise had opened her home to him. She had been his anchor in the storm, offering him a place to stay and support when he'd had nothing. In return, he'd done his best to help out where he could, working odd jobs and trying to save what little he earned. But tonight, all of that seemed far away.
"I think it's time for presents," Elise said, breaking the quiet. She reached down to a small pile under the scraggly, second-hand Christmas tree in the corner and retrieved two packages. "This one's for you," she said, handing Do Hwan a neatly wrapped box, "and this is for Eo Jun."
Do Hwan took the box, his hands trembling slightly. "You didn't have to get me anything."
"Don't be silly," Elise replied. "Open it."
He carefully unwrapped the gift, revealing a thick, knitted scarf in a deep navy blue. It was soft to the touch and smelled faintly of lavender, a comforting, homey scent.
"I made it myself," Elise admitted, a hint of shyness in her tone. "I thought you could use something warm for the winter."
"It's beautiful," Do Hwan said, draping it around his neck. "Thank you, Elise. Really."
"Open Eo Jun's now!" Elise urged, her excitement infectious.
Do Hwan tore open the smaller package, revealing a set of baby mittens and a tiny knitted hat, both in a cheerful red. He laughed, the sound full and genuine. "He's going to look like a little Christmas elf."
"That was the idea," Elise said, grinning. "I wanted to make sure he stays warm too."
Do Hwan placed the hat and mittens on the coffee table and looked at Elise, his eyes glistening. "I didn't get you anything," he admitted, his voice soft. "I barely had enough to—"
"Stop," Elise interrupted gently. "Having you and Eo Jun here is enough. That's my gift. Besides, you've been through more than enough this year. You deserve to just enjoy this moment."
The movie played on as Elise stood up and disappeared into the small kitchen, leaving Do Hwan alone with his thoughts. His mind wandered to the past year—how he had clung to life by the thinnest of threads, how he had nearly given up after finding out about the pregnancy. He had feared that he wouldn't survive, let alone be able to bring a child into the world. Yet here they were, against all odds.
Eo Jun stirred against his chest, letting out a soft whimper. Do Hwan gently rubbed his son's back, whispering soothing words in Korean.
"You're so strong," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "You've already been through so much, and you're still here, still fighting. Just like your father."
Elise returned with a tray of mugs and a small plate of biscuits. "Here," she said, handing him a mug of tea. "It's not much of a Christmas breakfast, but it'll hold us over until dinner."
"Thank you," he said again, smiling faintly as he took the mug.
"You're hopeless," Elise teased, rolling her eyes. "If you say 'thank you' one more time today, I'm going to start charging you."
Her auburn hair was pulled into a messy bun, and her green sweater was speckled with flour from her morning preparations in the kitchen. She glanced over at Do Hwan and smiled.
"He looks so comfortable," she said softly, nodding toward Eo Jun.
Do Hwan smiled back, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "He is," he said, his Korean accent still strong, though his voice carried a quiet confidence he hadn't felt months ago. "It's his favorite place, I think. Close to my heartbeat."
They exchanged a few more gifts—small things, like chocolates and books—and soon the air filled with the smell of roasting chicken and spiced vegetables as Elise moved to the kitchen. Do Hwan stayed on the sofa, humming softly to Eo Jun, whose eyes fluttered open, gazing up at him.
"Merry Christmas, Eo Jun-ah," he whispered. "This year has been hard, but you've given me a reason to keep going. I promise I'll do everything I can to give you a good life."
Eo Jun responded with a small, soft coo, and Do Hwan felt a warmth bloom in his chest, unlike anything he had ever known. For the first time in years—through his escape from North Korea, the grief of losing his mother, and the trials of living as a refugee—he felt hope. And on this snowy Christmas morning, with his son in his arms and a friend in the kitchen, he allowed himself to believe that better days were ahead.
~
After dinner, the snow outside proved too tempting to resist. Bundling up Eo Jun in layers of blankets and a knit hat with tiny bear ears, Do Hwan made sure his son was warm before they stepped out into the crisp evening air. The city was blanketed in white, the snowflakes still falling in delicate spirals. The streetlights cast a soft glow over the scene, and the sound of distant church bells echoed through the quiet streets.
Elise held her phone up. "We have to take a picture," she said, smiling.
Do Hwan adjusted Eo Jun in his arms, making sure his face was visible but still shielded from the cold. The baby's eyes were wide, taking in the unfamiliar sight of snowflakes drifting down. Elise snapped the photo, capturing the moment forever—a young father, his son, and their first Christmas in a foreign land.
"Look at him," Elise said, peering at Eo Jun. "I think he likes the snow."
Do Hwan laughed softly. "Maybe. Or he's just trying to figure out what's going on."
They walked through the snowy streets, their breaths forming clouds in the air. At one point, Elise bent down to gather a handful of snow, shaping it into a perfect snowball. "Catch!" she called, tossing it gently toward Do Hwan.
He caught it with his free hand, laughing. "You want to start a snowball fight with me holding a baby?"
Elise grinned mischievously. "You're lucky Eo Jun's here to protect you."
The sound of their laughter echoed into the quiet night, a rare and cherished moment of joy in a world that had been so uncertain. For Do Hwan, this Christmas was more than just a holiday—it was a testament to resilience, to hope, and to the love he had found in unexpected places.
As they made their way back to the apartment, the snow crunching beneath their boots, Do Hwan looked down at Eo Jun. "Merry Christmas, my son," he whispered. "We made it."
