I’m getting engaged soon. Just last week, the man I love went down on one knee and asked me to marry him. Three years together, and somehow it still feels surreal.

But not everyone’s thrilled about it. My future mother-in-law… well, she’s polite, she cares in her own way, but she’s never fully been on board. I can’t even blame her for wanting the best for her son.

When I lost my parents in a car accident, I was the only one who made it out alive. The doctors said it was a miracle, though it didn’t feel like one. Mrs. Han—my fiancé’s mother—was the one appointed to look after me back then. She’s a physical therapist. And while I survived, I didn’t come out unscathed. A fractured pelvis. A constant reminder that my chances of having children are… slim.

I glanced at the diamond ring hugging my finger and felt my stomach tighten. My hand hovered over the doorbell of the Han family’s home. Today wasn’t about her—it was about him. Woo-young was leaving for the Navy base again. I came to say goodbye.

The soft spring breeze brushed against my bare legs as I shifted my weight. I’d thrown on a beige dress dotted with tiny brown roses; the sleeves were short, brushing just over my shoulders. My hair was tied back in a ponytail, and my black school bag rested lightly on one shoulder. I probably looked like any other college student.

Finally, the door creaked open.

Mrs. Han stood there in a sleek black dress, a pale gray coat draped over it like it was tailored just for her. Her hazel eyes looked sharp yet soft all at once, framed by perfectly styled brown hair. She blinked at me in surprise.

“Yoon-mi! I… didn’t know you were coming,” she said, her tone carefully balanced between polite and caught off guard.

A nervous smile tugged at my lips. “I’m sorry for dropping by unannounced. I just wanted to see Woo-young before he left for the barracks. I thought I might catch him before he goes.”

She shifted, her elegant posture never faltering. Even in her forties, she radiated this effortless grace that made me feel small in comparison.

“That’s unfortunate,” she replied softly. “He actually left about an hour ago. His friend came by early to pick him up. Didn’t he… tell you?”

The faint smile on my face faltered. Disappointment settled heavy in my chest.

Mrs. Han’s brows pinched together, and her expression softened with regret. “He said he’d call you—didn’t want you to miss your classes because of him. But I suppose it must’ve slipped his mind.”

I gripped the strap of my bag tighter. My voice came out quiet. “I was hoping I could see him before he left. We barely had any time together during his last leave.”

Her eyes stayed kind—there was no malice there. But the unspoken tension between us was still there, too, lingering. Ever since she made it clear she didn’t approve of our relationship, it felt like something had cracked between us.

“I’ll get going now,” I said softly, bowing politely.

But before I could turn away, her hand shot out and gently—but firmly—caught my arm.

“Wait.”

Her voice had shifted—firmer now, with an edge I couldn’t quite place. My stomach tightened.

“Come inside. We need to talk.”

The air suddenly felt heavier. Still, I followed her lead. She stepped aside to let me in, and I slipped off my shoes before quietly stepping into the warm, elegant apartment.

She guided me to the living room. The wide sofa looked more intimidating than comfortable in that moment.

“Sit,” she said simply.

I perched on the edge of the couch, my back straight, nerves humming through me. She sat next to me, close enough that I could feel the faint warmth radiating from her. Then she took my hand gently. My heart skipped—it felt like the calm before a storm.

Mrs. Han’s fingers curled gently around mine, her touch soft but her gaze unwavering.

“Yoon-mi,” she began, her voice calm yet weighted with something deeper. “You know I care for you, right? I think of you almost like my own daughter. My disapproval of your relationship with Woo-young… It’s not because I don’t love you or see you as unworthy. It’s because I care—about you and about him.”

I swallowed, my chest tightening.

I couldn’t hate her. Not after everything. After my parents died five years ago, she was the one who stayed by my hospital bed when I couldn’t even sit up on my own. She made sure I had someone. I met Woo-young because of her—he’d visit her at work, and that’s when our paths first crossed.

But then her tone shifted, sharper.

“You two just aren’t right for each other.”

It was like a blade sliding between my ribs. It wasn’t the first time she’d said it, but hearing it again, so openly… it still hurt.

I carefully slipped my hand out of hers, trying not to let it seem like I was rejecting her kindness. My voice came out steady, though I could feel my heartbeat picking up.

“I understand your fears as a mother. You probably think I’m selfish for being with your son, knowing my condition might deny him the chance to have children. But as a doctor, you know it’s not definite. There are women with injuries like mine who still manage to have kids.”

Her hazel eyes stayed on me, but her expression didn’t soften.

“You can’t be sure you’ll be one of them, Yoon-mi,” she replied.

I bit my lip, my eyes stinging. It wasn’t like I had a good argument to counter her with. She was deliberately reminding me of the possibility I’d tried so hard to ignore.

“We love each other!” The words burst out of me before I could stop them. I was tired of this same conversation, over and over, every time we saw each other.

She exhaled slowly, almost sadly. “What you two have—it’s not love. He feels responsible for you, and you… you’re just grateful to him.”

Her words struck me like lightning. I froze. She’d never been this blunt before. And though a part of me wanted to scream that she was wrong, another part—a quiet, ugly little part—wondered if maybe she was right.

But no. I wouldn’t let her decide how I felt.

“I love him,” I whispered fiercely, gripping the fabric of my dress like it could anchor me.

Mrs. Han leaned back slightly, her gaze distant for a moment. Then she spoke again, softer this time but no less cutting.

“When Woo-young was a boy, he found a stray puppy in the rain. He brought it home out of pity. He never really liked dogs, but he couldn’t leave it there. Later, someone gifted him a kitten. From that moment, the puppy stopped mattering. He didn’t even flinch when his father decided to take it to the animal shelter.”

She looked at me as she told the story, like it was more than just a memory. Like it was a warning.

Something inside me cracked.

“How could he just abandon it?” I asked, my voice trembling more than I wanted it to.

She didn’t answer. She just kept looking at me, her silence heavier than any words.

The realization hit me all at once, like a cold wave crashing over my head. My lower lip trembled, and I felt my eyes blur. A single tear slid down my cheek before I could stop it.

I wiped the tear away in a rush, my fingers trembling before I even realized it. My hand lifted slightly, hesitating midair before pointing to my own chest.

“Wait…” The word escaped as little more than a whisper, my voice splintering under its own weight. I swallowed hard, but it didn’t stop the crack creeping in.

“Are you… Are you really telling me I’m nothing more than that stray puppy? The one he only kept around because he felt sorry for it?”

Mrs. Han rubbed her forehead with her fingers, sighing softly.

“I didn’t say that. It was just an example… of the kind of person my son is. He’s kind, sometimes too kind. But kindness isn’t the same as love. I don’t want either of you hurt later, when you both realize what you have isn’t what you thought it was. You’re studying psychology—you, of all people, should understand how easy it is to confuse gratitude for love. Or pity for love.”

Her words hung in the air, sharp and unrelenting. I opened my mouth to argue, but she didn’t give me the chance.

She rose gracefully from the sofa.

“He told me to give you your sketchbook back if he couldn’t do it himself. Wait here. I’ll get it.”

I sat there in silence, staring at my hands while she disappeared down the hall. My thoughts tangled and twisted, pulling at me from every direction.