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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August 2023
The pale light of dawn filtered through the thin, beige curtains of their tiny apartment, casting a warm glow on the room's faded, peeling walls. Do Hwan lay on the mattress beside his son, his arm protectively draped over the small, sleeping figure. His body ached from another restless night, but as his eyes settled on Eo Jun's peaceful face, the weight of his fatigue melted away.
Eo Jun's soft, even breaths filled the quiet room, a rhythm that brought Do Hwan a rare sense of peace. The child's dark lashes rested on his chubby cheeks, and his tiny fists were clenched, clutching the corner of the worn blanket they shared. Do Hwan's lips curved into a gentle smile as he reached out and placed a hand on his son's small tummy, his touch light and reassuring.
"Morning, Eo Jun-ah," he whispered, more to himself than the boy. His hand rubbed small circles on the toddler's belly, feeling the faint warmth through the fabric of his little pajamas.
Eo Jun stirred at the sensation, his nose scrunching as his lips parted in a yawn. His dark eyes fluttered open, blinking against the morning light. The toddler's expression quickly shifted from sleepy confusion to delight as he saw his father.
"A. - appa," Eo Jun said, his voice soft and slightly slurred from his speech impediment. His smile was wide and toothy, his joy infectious.
"Yes, my little sunshine," Do Hwan replied, his voice filled with warmth. He helped Eo Jun sit up, supporting the boy's back with practiced care. The toddler wobbled slightly before steadying himself, his messy hair sticking out in every direction.
Do Hwan let out a hearty laugh. "Eo Jun, look at this hair! You look like a little hedgehog that got caught in a windstorm."
The boy giggled, tilting his head to the side as if trying to catch a glimpse of his unruly hair. "Hedgehog," he repeated, pointing at himself, his chubby finger poking his chest.
"That's right! My little hedgehog," Do Hwan teased, pressing a kiss to Eo Jun's forehead. He smoothed the boy's hair down with his fingers, though the stubborn strands refused to stay in place.
"Come on, let's get you cleaned up before breakfast. Elise will think I've been raising a hedgehog."
As Do Hwan carried Eo Jun to the bathroom, he marveled at how much his son had grown. Eo Jun's cerebral palsy meant milestones came slower and with more effort, but every small achievement felt monumental. He couldn't walk or stand unaided, but he crawled like a champion, his determination shining brighter than any obstacle.
While washing Eo Jun's face, Do Hwan spoke softly, "Today, we'll go to the park after breakfast. How does that sound? You can see the ducks again."
Eo Jun clapped his hands, his eyes lighting up. "D-ducks! Quack quack!"
"That's right, ducks," Do Hwan said with a smile, drying his son's face with a soft towel. He paused for a moment, looking at Eo Jun's reflection in the mirror. Despite everything—his tumultuous escape from North Korea, the harrowing months in China, the crushing isolation when he first arrived in Belgium—this little boy was his anchor.
"Come on, Eo Jun-ah," Do Hwan said, lifting the boy into his arms. Eo Jun squealed in delight as his father cradled him in his arms. "Let's get you some breakfast."
The toddler babbled happily, his words a mix of Korean and the fragmented Flemish he was learning at his daycare. His speech was slow and sometimes hard to understand, but Do Hwan listened patiently, his heart swelling with pride at every word.
Do Hwan settled the boy into his special chair at the small table. The chair, bought secondhand but carefully modified, supported Eo Jun's back and legs, allowing him to sit comfortably.
Breakfast was simple—toast with a thin spread of jam and a banana cut into small pieces. Eo Jun ate eagerly, his small hands fumbling with the banana slices as he tried to pick them up. Do Hwan sipped his coffee, his eyes never straying far from his son.
Elise joined them, her auburn hair tied back in a loose bun. She was still in her pajamas, sipping coffee as she watched the father and son interact.
"Eo Jun looks especially happy this morning," she commented, smiling. "What's the plan today, boys?"
"We're heading to the park," Do Hwan replied, cutting the crusts off Eo Jun's toast. "He loves the ducks."
Eo Jun eagerly pointed to his plate. "Quack quack!"
Elise laughed. "Quack quack indeed. I wish I could join you, but I've got a shift at noon. Maybe next time."
Do Hwan nodded. "Next time. And thank you, Elise... for everything. I don't know where we'd be without you."
Elise waved a hand dismissively. "Don't mention it. You've become family to me. Besides, Eo Jun's giggles make my day."
Eo Jun, as if on cue, giggled again, smearing jam on his cheek. Do Hwan shook his head with mock exasperation, reaching for a napkin.
~
Later, at the park, Do Hwan spread a blanket on the grass, carefully settling Eo Jun down with his favorite plush toy, a worn-out rabbit named Bokki. The air was crisp but refreshing, the distant chatter of other children mingling with the sound of birds.
The park was quiet that morning, save for the occasional chirp of birds. The pond shimmered under the weak sunlight, and a few ducks waddled near the water's edge, their soft quacks echoing across the space.
Do Hwan set the bag of bread down on a bench before gently helping Eo Jun to his feet. With a steadying hand on the boy's back.
"Ready, Eo Jun-ah?" he asked.
"R-ready!" Eo Jun replied, gripping the handles tightly as he began to take slow, deliberate steps toward the pond.
Do Hwan stayed close, his eyes attentive but his expression relaxed, encouraging. They moved at Eo Jun's pace, the boy's determination evident in every shaky step. When they reached the edge of the pond, Eo Jun beamed up at his father.
"D-ducks!" he said triumphantly, pointing toward the water.
"Yes, the ducks!" Do Hwan laughed, handing him a small piece of bread. "Here you go, toss it gently."
Eo Jun carefully extended his hand, his tiny fingers clutching the bread before flinging it toward the ducks. A group of them immediately swarmed the morsel, quacking loudly. Eo Jun clapped his hands, his laughter ringing out like music.
For a while, the world faded away. The struggles, the uncertainties, and the weight of the past dissolved in the simple joy of watching his son's happiness. Moments like these were rare, but they were enough to remind Do Hwan why he had fought so hard to get here.
That evening, as they sat together on the couch with a children's book spread out before them, Do Hwan thought about how far they had come.
"Appa," Eo Jun said softly, looking up at him with sleepy eyes. "L-love you."
Do Hwan felt a lump rise in his throat as he leaned down to kiss his son's forehead. "I love you too, my little hedgehog," he whispered.
As the boy drifted off to sleep in his arms, Do Hwan let himself relax, if only for a moment. The road ahead was still uncertain, and the challenges they faced were far from over. But for now, they had each other, and that was enough.
