🎶📰방찬📰🎵

In the quiet hum of a 1980s neighborhood, where mornings began with the sound of bicycle wheels and the distant crackle of radios, Y/N lived a simple life. A single mother of twin girls, both only five, her days were filled with small hands tugging at her sleeves and soft giggles echoing through their modest home. Life wasn’t easy—but it was hers, and she held onto it with quiet strength. Every morning, just before the sun fully rose, the familiar sound of a bicycle would pass down her street. That was him. Bangchan. The newspaper boy. He rode a slightly worn bicycle, a stack of freshly printed newspapers tucked under his arm, ink still faintly smudged against his fingers. He never stayed long—just dropped the paper at each doorstep and disappeared down the road. Until one morning. Y/N stepped out of her house, heading to buy groceries, her mind already filled with a list of things she needed. At the same time, Bangchan reached her doorstep, lifting his hand to place the newspaper down. Neither of them noticed the other. And then— thud. The door swung open. Straight into his face. “Ah—!” he stumbled back, clutching his nose. “Oh my—! I’m so sorry!” Y/N gasped, rushing forward, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. For a moment, there was silence. Then Bangchan let out a soft laugh, lowering his hand, a small smile forming despite the situation. “It’s okay… I guess I should’ve knocked first,” he said gently. And just like that— That was how they met. From that day on, mornings changed. Y/N began waiting outside, just a few minutes earlier than usual, her twins still asleep inside. She would stand by the door, pretending it wasn’t intentional. And Bangchan noticed. He slowed his bicycle when he reached her house, stepping off instead of tossing the paper like he did for everyone else. He handed it to her directly, always with that same warm, quiet smile. Simple. Routine But slowly… it became something more.