In just one short day—no, to be precise, in the space of a single night—so many things had happened.
His wife had fainted.
The hospital couldn't find the cause.
When she woke up, she seemed almost deranged, saying all sorts of inexplicable things.
After returning from the hospital, he discovered the shocking truth: his child had been abused.
And the person who had abused the child was the wife he had always trusted, the child's mom.
For his sake, the child had chosen to endure it in silence.
Thinking of that woman—his wife—using the child's innocence and affection for him to abuse the child without restraint...
"Bang!"
He slammed his fist hard against the balcony railing.
Ever since he'd discovered the bruises on the child, he'd been suppressing a storm of anger.
"Hah..."
He let out a long breath.
But he didn't feel any lighter.
His heart still felt heavy.
He stood on the balcony all night.
Only when the eastern horizon began to brighten and a shaft of light fell across his eyelids did he suddenly come back to himself.
It was morning.
He looked at the cigarette butts by his feet, then sniffed his clothes, his brows drawing tight.
He reeked of cigarette smoke.
He cleaned up the balcony, then hurriedly took a shower and tossed all his clothes into the washing machine.
The clean scent of body wash made him smile with relief.
He went downstairs to buy breakfast.
Then he called the school and asked the teacher to give the child a week off.
The child's injuries needed time to heal.
He also called his company to ask for leave.
When he'd finished all that, he checked the time.
It was about time.
The man woke the child. After they'd eaten breakfast, he took the