A dark haze flowing in the night, swirling in the cold air as gentle snowflakes fell to the ground. The streets were alive with lots of people, moving like a great river, their faces blurred by the dim glow of flickering streetlights.
"Papa... where are we going?" a young boy asked, his voice small against the murmur of the crowd. He perched on his father's shoulder, his short legs dangling as he absentmindedly licked a lollipop. The sweetness filled his mouth, a comfort in the night's chill.
But his father didn't respond.
The boy lost himself in the simple pleasure of his candy didn't mind not being answered. The world around him was a blur of dark coats and hurried footsteps. The people pressed forward, swallowed by the haze, their bodies blending into the night.
Then, he found himself on the ground.
The cold air bit at his bare arms and legs—he wore only a t-shirt and half pants, unsuited for the weather. He blinked, momentarily disoriented, licking the last of his lollipop as he turned to speak.
He spun around, his small heart beginning to race.
"Papa!" His voice cracked as panic surged through his chest. His father was nowhere to be seen.
The crowd pushed past him, faceless figures lost in their own worlds. He turned desperately, his breath quick and uneven. Then, in the distance, he spotted a tall figure dressed in black, walking away—the same silhouette, the same posture.
His little legs moved before his mind could catch up.
"Papa! Papa!" He weaved through the moving bodies, dodging feet and outstretched arms. The desperation in his voice grew, raw and trembling. "Papa!"
Finally, he reached him. His tiny hands grasped onto the man's leg.
"Papa..." His voice was barely above a whisper, breaking under the weight of fear.
The man stopped and slowly, he turned.
A stranger whose face unfamiliar, cold, and distant.
"Oye, kid. I'm not your father. Go away," the man muttered before stepping past him, vanishing into the people.
The boy stood frozen, his breath hitching. His chest tightened, and before he could stop himself, tears welled in his eyes. His small frame trembled as water came crashing down, his cries swallowed by the city.
People noticed him, glanced in his direction and whispered among themselves but no one stopped or cared to one reached for him.
They simply cast pitying glances and walked on, their lives too full to spare a hand for a lost child.
The street emptied and the people had passed, leaving him alone in solitude.
He stood alone, his tiny fists clenched at his sides, his head bowed as silent sobs was echoing endlessly.
Then a sharp scent of alcohol came to the cold night air as two college female students staggered down the nearly deserted street. One walked with careful precision, her arm wrapped tightly around her friend's shoulders, steadying her with every step.
The other swayed unsteadily, her high heels clicking unevenly against the pavement, the faintest shiver running through her exposed skin. Their outfits—mini skirts and loose shirts over crop tops—showing that they just came from a party or a club and is now fully drunk.
"How much do you have to drink? For God's sake..." the sober one sighed, her voice filled with exhaustion.
The drunken girl groaned dramatically, nearly tripping over her own feet.
"Drinking is life... and John is a bastard," she slurred, her words tumbling out with bitter resentment.
"I told you that long ago, but did you listen?" Her friend exhaled sharply, adjusting her grip. "No, of course not."
"I should have listened to you!" The drunk girl sobbed, throwing her arms around her friend's neck in an exaggerated embrace. "I'm sorry, Ae-ri...I am sooo sorry. ~Muah"
"Yes, yes, I know." Ae-ri rolled her eyes, patting her back with mild impatience. "Now stop crying, you'll ruin your makeup."
But just as they continued walking, Ae-ri suddenly pulled her friend to a halt.
A small figure stood in front of them. A child alone, crying.
His shoulders trembled, his head lowered, fists clenched at his sides. His small body looked even smaller in the emptiness of the street.
"Huh!?" The drunk girl blinked at him in confusion.
The child didn't respond, his soft, broken sobs filling the air.
"Who are you, kid?" the drunk girl asked, squinting as if trying to make sense of what she was seeing.
The moment she spoke, the child flinched. His breathing hitched, and in an instant, his quiet cries turned into desperate wails. Tears streamed down his flushed cheeks as fear gripped his tiny body and he started crying even louder again.
"Ah—wait, wait, don't cry!" Ae-ri quickly crouched down, lowering herself to his eye level. Her voice softened as she reached out, brushing a gentle hand over his head. "Hey... are you lost by any chance?"
Then, slowly, he lifted his face. His wide, teary eyes met hers—full of distress, searching for something, someone.
Ae-ri gave him a smile, warm and reassuring.
And without warning, the boy lunged forward, wrapping his small arms around her. His tiny body against her, and he buried his face into her shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably.
"There, there... it'll be okay," Ae-ri murmured, rubbing slow, comforting circles on his back.
The snow continued to fall, cold against the road but for the first time that night, the child felt warmth.
—A dull ache came in my chest, tight and unrelenting. My breath hitched, shallow and strained, as the pain kept echoing deep inside me. Then, amidst the discomfort, something warm—soft hands gently cupping my cheeks. A touch so tender, so familiar.
A voice followed, smooth as silk, wrapping around me like a lullaby.
My name, spoken with care.
The voice pulled me from the depths of my dreams. My eyelids fluttered, heavy with exhaustion, as I forced them open. A low groan escaped my lips.
The room came into focus, bathed in morning light. And there, sitting beside my bed, was her.
She watched me with worry, her dark eyes filled with concern. She was older now, thirty-two, her maturity adding an effortless grace to her beauty.
She wore a deep blue one-piece, the fabric hugging her curves, tied at the front in a single, elegant knot that showed her cleavage in generous bust. The hem skirt ended before it reached her thighs, teasing just past her stomach, leaving her smooth thighs completely exposed.
Her slightly brown hair framed her striking black eyes, a contrast that made her all the more breathtaking.
And yet, beneath all that allure, was worry.
She sat there, unmoving, her eyes locked onto mine.
"You're awake," she murmured, relief came in her voice.
I swallowed, my throat dry, my chest still aching. But for a moment, all I could focus on was her.