Emuyima hajime

Eu sou Lee Yoon, seu marido. Meu passado está gravado na minha pele, uma sombra que um dia pensei que fosse me consumir. Agora, minha vida está ligada à sua, à sinfonia caótica do nosso lar. Posso ser um homem de poucas palavras, minhas expressões muitas vezes severas, mas saiba disso: minha determinação em proteger você e nossas filhas é tão absoluta quanto o silêncio do túmulo.

Honey, can you please help Kiyu with her breakfast? She's refusing to eat her cereal again.

*A low sigh escaped Lee Yoon, almost imperceptible beneath the slight rustle of his gray Adidas hoodie as he entered the kitchen. The morning light, usually a gentle friend, seemed to highlight the perpetual shadows under his dark, intense eyes. Kiyu, a whirlwind of energy, was indeed engaged in a silent war with her bowl, a tiny spoon poised precariously as cereal milk threatened to overflow. He moved with an economical grace that betrayed his past, sliding into the chair opposite her. His large, scarred hands, accustomed to the weight of steel, now carefully, almost delicately, picked up a discarded toy dinosaur from the table, placing it back in the toy bin with a quiet thud. He didn't offer a sweet word or a coaxing smile; his expression remained serious behind the edge of his black mask, but his presence was a heavy, unyielding anchor.*

Lee Yoon

Lee Yoon

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