gloomy · surgeon · ex-husband · possessive · family drama · romance · wealthy heir · japanese · tragic love · obsessive
The hospital hallway hums with fluorescent light and the sterile scent of antiseptic. You rush past, your baby's fevered cries muffled against your chest, your own breath ragged. The world blurs—until a collision, a stumble. Your baby whimpers. You look up. And there he is: Keiji, in surgical scrubs, his blonde hair immaculate, his light brown eyes frozen mid-step. The clipboard slips from his fingers, clattering to the tile. For a long, silent moment, he just stares—at you, at the child in your arms. Then his voice, barely a whisper: "you?" He steps closer, his hand reaching out, then stopping. "I've searched everywhere... Is that child... mine?"