The only thing worse than losing someone you loved was losing two people you loved. And Yongguk has suffered this. When his wife left him, he understood. “You’re too busy with your music. Your life doesn’t have room for a wife, for anything besides that stupid score sheet.” This was the conclusion after long months of fighting, after dozens of sheet music torn and tears shed. And at the end of the day, she decided she couldn’t live with him anymore. So she left.

            Losing her had made Yongguk stop and think. Maybe he should have paid her more attention. She was, after all, the only woman he had allowed himself to be close to. She had somehow managed to warm him up, thaw him out. She had pushed him to go to music school and quit the unambitious deejay job he had. He had majored in composition and started producing music in a company.

            But the passion consumed him. His love for music, his thirst to keep immersing himself in it soon became an obsession. She put up with it quite well but that all changed when she told him she was pregnant. After the announcement, she demanded all his time and attention and Yongguk had accommodated.

            He moved his work into a small guestroom converted into a studio. They lived like that for a while until she asked him what his plans were once the baby came. He had looked at her blankly. “Would there be a change? I’ll just keep working and we’ll take care of the baby.”

            “We’ll take care of the baby?” She laughed at him. “Will you really help?”

            Yongguk was confused. “Of course. She’s my child too. I’ll be responsible.”

            And so life went on for a while. He submitted the music early and spent time setting up the nursery, moving out of the studio and taking over the unused dining room instead. He helped her paint and went shopping with her and that had made her happy.

            When the baby was born, Yongguk couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. He stayed up late with her as his wife rested. Whenever she cried, he would automatically reach for the baby bottle, forever placed by his side. Before she learned to sleep through the night, he kept her on his lap as he made music. He made lullabies for her, songs, happy ones, inspired by her and Yongguk was happy himself.

            But she was unhappy. She hated the idea of seeing him consumed by his music. She hated that he only paid attention to her when she held Kyuri. “Yongguk, do you love me?” She had confronted him after he had forgotten about their anniversary.

            Yongguk nodded as he smiled, feeding his daughter. “Of course. You’re Kyuri’s mother.” The fighting started again and this time, he could not see what he did wrong. Yes, he loved his music, but he loved his daughter too. When she brought the papers for him to sign, Yongguk was hesitant.

            “Do you really want a divorce?” She was adamant and so he signed it but he wanted custody of Kyuri. He couldn’t get her.

And it was like that that Yongguk lost two people in his life. Often, he wanted to find some way to contact her but his ex moved often and Yongguk could never keep track. He wanted to sue her, but didn’t want to hurt Kyuri. So he let it go. But often, every time he started to write a song, he thought about the baby girl he had held in his lap and wondered where she was.

            She should be nearly twenty now, Yongguk thought as he handed in his last piece of the quarter. The company had asked for a more adult ballad and he had titled it “My Dreams in the Stars.” Often, he would look at the stars and wonder if a particularly bright one was indicating where she was.

            Yongguk pushed open the door and prepared to go back to his studio and work on the next album. He bumped into a girl and knocked her folder out of her hand. “Sorry,” he bent down to help pick it up.

            She, too, was apologizing and they reached for the paper at the same time. That was when Yongguk caught a glimpse of her name. “Go Kyuri.” She was using her mother’s last name. He pieced everything together quickly and shot his head up to look at her.

            His eyes searched her face for remnants of the infant and found no traces except for the small birthmark by her upper lip. “Kyuri,” he breathed and she blinked.

            “Y-yes, Ahjussi, how do you know?”           

            Yongguk was crying. He tried to see past his tears and she wavered, awkwardly, unsure of what to do with a crying man. He took in shuddering breaths and stood up, wiping at his eyes so he could see her properly. She was beautiful, just like he knew she would be. And then he was laughing, unable to hold in the joy that was spreading through his body.

            She backed away a little and he reached out for her. “Kyuri, my beautiful girl. You’re finally back.”

            It took him another few moments to finally tell her that he was her father. He had stuttered, talked slower than normal, as he tried to figure out how to tell her. She had sat down in surprise before crying. Yongguk was worried he had given her too much information at once and was apologizing until she threw her arms around his neck. Together, the two of them learned reunion, learned that a bond once made was never quite broken and they sat side by side for a long time.

            Then without another word, Yongguk stood and reached out to hold her hand. Her hand fit in his, small in large, and he felt all the years he had lost come rushing at him and he clutched the fingers that he had helped make in his. Silently, they started walking and when Yongguk looked at her, tall, by the top of his chest now, and saw her staring back.

            He gave her a large smile. “Welcome back, my daughter.”

this is for tinyboom

I wanted to write it a different way but by then it was too late into the story

the ending was a little off to me, and that really is disappointing because I was so excited to write this. I'm sorry