Phones vibrated on every surface before sunrise. In the darkness, Yura rolled over, squinting at the screen—half a dozen notifications, all from different group chats, some using her name, others just a blizzard of "Did you see this?" and screenshot links. She blinked, sat up, and felt the baby stirring beside her. Mirae's door was already open; a thin wedge of light spilled down the hallway. Harin was nowhere to be seen, but the kettle was boiling in the kitchen, its low rumble the only sound that felt normal.
Joon-ho padded out of the nursery, eyes puffy. "Something happen?" he mumbled, rubbing his face.
