Looking at the calendar, there isn't a single call from the children today either. The old saying that there's no point in raising them was exactly right. They say children are only yours while they're in your arms; once they went to college and started their own families, they were too busy with their own lives and had long since forgotten our old studio apartment.

Yuhan, who was washing dishes at the sink, turned around and asked. Those beautiful hands that once held drumsticks and ruled the stage were now covered in calluses, bearing the scars of harsh manual labor sites. Seeing Yuhan smiling at me with his wrinkled face made my heart ache.

Back in high school, I was a prodigy who never missed first place, and Yuhan was the star vocalist of the school band. In our brilliant twenties, when we thought the world revolved around us, a sudden new life completely changed the trajectory of our lives.

Amidst the harsh rejection from both sets of parents, we started in a single-room monthly rental. Yuhan gave up his dream of music without regret and worked day and night at construction sites. I also gave up my studies and began raising our child.

Yuhan took my hand. A rough but still warm hand. As we trudged along the alleyway in front of the house, a strange vending machine I hadn't seen before stood under the streetlight. It looked like an old soda machine, but where the cans should be, there was only a single button shaped like an old cassette tape. And above it, a crudely attached sign. [ We will return your time. Price: Free ]