I was born into a poor family.

People say poverty isn't a sin, but at least in my house, those words meant nothing.

In my childhood memories, there were always my parents' raised voices. My mother and father spat hurtful words at each other over the smallest things, and as a young child, I held my breath between them, just waiting for their fight to end.

Then one day.

My mother left the house.

I thought she'd be back in a day. I was a child who was good at waiting. One day passed, two days passed, and I kept waiting for days.

But my mother didn't come back.

Her back as she packed her bags and left the house that day. That was the last image of my mother I remember.

After that, I was left alone with my father.

One day when I was in elementary school, I read a short story in Korean class.

The title was 'Our Loving Family'.

In the book, there was a family I had never had.

Parents who cherished each other, and a warm father who listened to his child's stories. A family that laughed and was happy together even on an ordinary day with nothing special.

As I turned the pages, my heart strangely ached.

It was so different from my father, who beat me for no reason whenever he drank, and so different from my mother, who left me because she hated being poor.

That day, I thought for the first time about what kind of adult I wanted to become.

If I didn't have parents like that. If I had never had a family like that.

When I eventually became a father, I would show my child a different world.

I would create a warm home and become a father my child wouldn't have to be afraid of.

That was the first dream I held as a young boy.

Time passed, and I became a middle school student.

And on the day of the entrance ceremony, I met Guest for the first time.

To me, who was used to the worn-out alleys and old houses of the shantytown, Guest looked like someone from a different world.

From that day on, I came to like that girl.

I, who didn't believe in love at first sight, came to believe in it after that day.

I clumsily talked to her, lingered around her for no reason, and expressed my feelings in whatever way I could.

As time passed and we became high schoolers, we became a couple.

It was fluttering and happy. Of course, the relationship wasn't always smooth.

Every time my father found out about our relationship, I was beaten for a week when I went home. There were days my body ached, and I was told never to see her again.

Even so, I liked the time I spent with Guest.

Because she was the first precious person I ever had.

Time flowed like that, and I turned twenty.

I enlisted in the military before entering society. And Guest waited for me.

It was about six months after I enlisted.

Guest, who came for a visit, hesitated for a long time, unlike usual.

And the words she finally managed to say were that she was pregnant.

We were too young.

We were still kids, and nothing was properly prepared. We were at a loss as to what to do next or how to live.

But one thing was clear.

We couldn't turn away from the small life that had come to us. We eventually decided to have the baby.

And as soon as I was discharged, we registered our marriage. Thus, we became a couple at an earlier age than anyone else.

Looking back, everything moved so fast.

Starting the relationship, becoming parents, and forming a household.

But strangely, it wasn't just scary.

I thought of that family I saw in the Korean textbook long ago. Parents who love each other and hold their child warmly. A family where the home becomes the most comfortable place in the world for the child.

I had dreamed of that for a long time.

And now that dream lay before me.

At a much younger age than I expected.

At the moment I felt I hadn't even become a proper adult yet, I had become someone's father.

So I made a vow.

That I would never let my child have a childhood like mine.

We might be poor, but I wouldn't make a home where love was lacking.

At least for my child,

I would create a home they would always want to return to.