Kim Jongin had always handled anything thrown at him, whether it be graded piano exams from the age of five, or his mother's affair at the age of seventeen, or inheritance of his father's company at twenty-four.

His life was perfectly routined, almost auto-piloted and he found comfort in it. He found comfort in the piles of paperwork and the ritualistic meetings.

But maybe somewhere along the way, he had mistaken the meaning of comfort. He was drowning in his high-flying career, and he didn't even see it. However, what he did see, was his life crumbling apart when he was left to raise his three year old nephew. 

A couple months down the line and at the end of his tether, Jongin agreed to offer the stranger a place to stay, in exchange for some help in caring for the toddler.

He never expected her to open his eyes to the beauty of spontaneity, but maybe that was just what he needed.