Kang-Hyuk’s voice cracked as he confessed his painful past. A faint shadow of remorse and guilt flickered in his eyes.
Na-eun stared at him, her eyes wide with shock. She was speechless for a moment, but soon found her composure, her tone steadying into a calm, gentle cadence.
“How could such a thing happen…”
Kang-Hyuk continued, his voice quiet and resigned.
“That is how things became the way they are.”
Na-eun closed her eyes, reeling from the weight of his words. To think of a child witnessing such a scene—the traumatic scar left behind was unfathomable.
“I see. That must have been a devastating shock for Minho. Since then, you haven’t really been able to face him, have you?”
Kang-Hyuk nodded slowly.
“Yes. My relationship with Minho withered after that, and I left for overseas as if I were running away. I told myself it was to protect him… but in reality, I was just trying to shield myself from the guilt.”
Na-eun exhaled a long, heavy sigh, centering herself. Her gaze held a profound, quiet compassion for both the man and the boy.
“I will help you. Minho can restore his relationship with you, even now. What he needs more than anything is unwavering love and stability.”
The tension in Kang-Hyuk’s shoulders seemed to sag. Na-eun’s tender words reached into the cracks of his heart; he finally nodded, a silent admission of defeat.
“Thank you.”
Na-eun offered a glimmer of hope.
“Selective Mutism can be cured. It was a profound shock to him and a deep wound to you, so thank you for finding the courage to share this with me. I believe we need to reconsider your approach to his counseling.”
Kang-Hyuk looked puzzled. He had been told they were seeing the best specialist in Pediatric Neuropsychiatry—who else was there?
“Change the counselor?”
“Yes. Now that you’ve disclosed the root of the trauma, it would be better to bring in a specialist in that field. It may take time, but if the whole family works in unison, Minho can return to the bright child he once was. He has such a naturally intelligent spirit. Out of all the children at the kindergarten, he is the best at stacking blocks. Did you know that?”
Kang-Hyuk shook his head, looking dazed. This kind of intimate detail was entirely foreign to him.
“No.”
But hearing that Minho was brilliant—and specifically gifted at stacking blocks—a mysterious sense of pride swelled in Kang-Hyuk’s chest. It mirrored his own childhood, when he had been similarly skilled with building blocks. Perhaps it was a small glimmer of relief. He had convinced himself that his relationship with his son was beyond repair, but this news offered a fragile sense of possibility.
“If you could suggest a therapist I should hire…”
As Kang-Hyuk muttered, Na-eun pivoted to a more immediate concern.
“That is certainly necessary. But before that, how long are you planning to stay in Korea?”
Kang-Hyuk thought for a moment before replying.
“That depends on how I handle things.”
It was a confession that his future was tied to his own resolve. Na-eun shared her perspective.
“It won’t be easy, but I would like you to stay in Korea for a while longer. First, we need to secure a trauma-specialized child psychologist. With your family’s resources, selecting a top-tier specialist should be manageable. We must find a professional who understands how to navigate the complex layers of Selective Mutism.”
Kang-Hyuk let out a long, weary sigh. Na-eun continued, her tone persuasive and firm.
“Trauma specialists possess the techniques to address the psychological core of the incident, safely navigating the emotional fallout Minho is currently experiencing.”
“That sounds incredibly complex. Do such specialists even exist in Korea?”
At his skepticism, Na-eun nodded.
“They do. When you start the search, look for someone with extensive clinical experience. There are therapists who utilize play therapy, art therapy, and even EMDR—a trauma recovery method that uses eye movements.”
Choi Kang-Woo began to trust her more with every word. He started to believe that, perhaps, this teacher could truly be the one to heal Minho.
“If there is a possibility of change, I will do my best.”
At his words, Na-eun spoke cautiously.
“I am not a doctor, but I have educated myself on the basics because of Minho. You must be careful when transitioning counselors. You’ve already formed a rapport with the current one, but you will need to participate in the process yourself, as his father. Can you commit to that?”
Kang-Hyuk looked down, his voice heavy with dejection.
“Teacher, the truth is, I want to run. I want to stay as far away from Minho as possible.”
Na-eun’s response was immediate and piercing.
“Minho’s father. Is it truly possible to distance yourself, even if you put miles between you?”
“Pardon?”
Kang-Hyuk looked up, startled. No one had ever addressed him with such direct, unvarnished honesty.
“You cannot run away in your heart. No matter how far you go to the other side of the world, Minho will never be far from your thoughts. You cannot escape him. So please, instead, actively help him receive the treatment he needs. I will do everything in my power to assist you.”
Kang-Hyuk stared fixedly at her. Seeing Na-eun speak with such passion and tenderness for someone else’s child brought a strange, healing comfort to his heart.
“Thank you. I will think about it.”
“Yes.”
“Please give me your number. I will be in touch.”
As he held out his phone, the gesture echoed a moment from the past—the day Choi Kang-Woo had asked for her number.
“Ah. Yes.”
Na-eun typed her number in and added,
“You can call me whenever it concerns Minho, but I am working at the kindergarten during the day, so I won’t be able to answer during teaching hours.”
“I understand.”
“After hours would be best. Or during my lunch break.”
Kang-Hyuk listened with a faint smile, his eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and release. The warm light of the café enveloped his weary face, softening his features. He paused, looked at her for a long moment, and nodded earnestly.
“I will do that. I will reach out at an appropriate time.”
Na-eun’s heart softened at his sincerity. Kang-Hyuk was a man who typically exuded a cold, skeptical aura, but in this moment, he was simply a father terrified for his child. She gave a small smile and handed his phone back.
“I will help with anything I can, if it is for Minho.”
Kang-Hyuk nodded once more and took a deep, steadying breath. With an expression of renewed resolve, he stood up. He seemed slightly lighter, as if he had finally set down an invisible, crushing weight.
“Thank you very much, Teacher Han Na-Eun. For going to such lengths for my son.”
Na-eun smiled faintly as she saw him off.
“Minho needs his father. Please, don’t ever forget that.”
Kang-Hyuk’s gaze wavered, but he replied, careful not to let his voice tremble.
“I will not.”
Na-eun watched him go. He was a different man from Choi Kang-Woo—more fragile, more introverted—yet both carried their own heavy burdens.
* * *
When Na-eun returned to the Annex, Choi Kang-Woo was emerging from the room, looking utterly drained from the persistent demands of the two children.
“Uncle! Play with us!”
The children chased after him, clinging to his legs like anchors. Seeing the kids draped over him brought an involuntary smile to her face.
She laughed, wondering where the sharp, icy version of Choi Kang-Woo—the man in the blade-like suit—had gone, replaced now by this easy-going uncle. He caught her eye and grumbled.
“What were you talking about for so long? And why are you finding something to laugh about now?”
“I’m sorry. The conversation just ran a bit long. Kids, I’ll read you a book now, but I think we need to tidy up first, don’t we?”
Na-eun clapped her hands twice, gesturing toward the sea of scattered toys.
“Alright! Let’s tidy up. Let’s tidy up.”
She began to sing, turning the chore into a game. The children instantly swarmed to put their dolls and blocks back into the baskets. In a flash, the room was spotless.
Choi Kang-Woo watched, fascinated despite seeing it every day.
*How is she so good at handling them? I suppose experts really are different.*
He shook his head and retreated upstairs to the second floor.
For the next few days, the house remained quiet, as if nothing had happened. Na-eun had requested it, and Kang-Hyuk, respecting her wishes, kept to the Main Building, never once showing his face in The Annex.