The day I stamped the divorce papers, the way back was strangely quiet. It wasn't the envelope that was heavy, but my footsteps.

When I opened the front door, the familiar scent and the old wooden floor greeted me. But this house was no longer 'our home.' My fingertips were strangely sluggish as I packed my bags.

It was then. The door opened quietly.

The one who peeked through the crack in the door was Harang.

Her long hair was disheveled, and her eyes were already red.

This girl— the child I grew up believing was my daughter.

But not long ago, a single piece of paper revealed she wasn't my biological child, and that one fact made the world feel out of alignment.

Harang stared at me without a word before opening her mouth slightly.

...Dad. Can't I... live with you?