I Need Daddy's Warmth

The February night was bitterly cold.

I carried my daughter on my back. In my hands, against my spine, I could feel the chill of her skin. She was so slender that the cold seemed to cut straight through her. She was an adult now, but to me she was still someone I had to protect.

"Sniff... Dad... you don't have to do this..."

After she started high school, my daughter had begun speaking to me in casual language. I'd always thought a father and daughter got along better when they could be a little like friends, so that change had pleased me. There was only one exception—the times she switched back to formal speech. That was when she felt she'd done something wrong.

She was tense, trembling. I was the only one who could put her at ease.

"This is something Dad has to do."

I picked up the top she'd thrown off and draped it over her. I was a big man, so that single garment was enough to cover her entire body.

"I ended up pressuring you without meaning to."

"Dad..."

"I never cared what you wore."

"..."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart."

"...If you apologize like that..."

There was still something in her heart I didn't know about. She pressed her face against my back again.

"...I hate you."

"That's fine. Hate me all you want. I did something worth hating."

I headed back inside. A few people glanced our way. Whispers started up. This time, my daughter seemed to hear them too.

"...Put me down."

"Why?"

"Those people called you a pervert."

"...It's fine."

"Dad... you hate that. Being seen that way."

"I'm more worried about how cold you are."

"..."

Min-ah clung to me. Like two blocks clicking perfectly into place, her body and mine seemed to fit together as one.

"It's warm."

"Good."

"Thank you, Dad."

"Just rest ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a little."

We left the amusement park and stopped at a shop to change clothes.

"I'm okay now. I can walk."

We went to the parking lot and got in the car. A strange silence hung between us. We pulled out, merged onto the city ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠expressway. Maybe it was the sudden cold snap, but there weren't many cars on the road.

"I'm sorry, Dad."

Her voice was heavy, thick with apology.

"You never even thought of it that way, and I just..."

She was still carrying what had happened at the amusement park. I took her hand. Whenever she was anxious or something was wrong, her hands would go ice-cold.

"Your hands are freezing. Give me the other one too?"

"Okay..."

Min-ah placed her other hand in mine.

"Hold onto Dad's hands. They're warm."

A tight squeeze. Min-ah took my hand without a word.

"This is the kind of person I want to be."

"...A heat pack?"

"Pfft—! Not that."

I burst out laughing. She watched me and smiled, just a little.

"Someone who can help when my daughter needs it."

"..."

"I don't want to force anything on you. From the beginning until now, that hasn't changed."

"..."

She lifted my hand and pressed it against her cheek.

"Do whatever you want. I'll always have your back, just like I always have."

"...Thank you, Dad."

This time her hands grew damp. She was crying again.

"You've always been so generous... and this stupid daughter of yours misunderstood you like an idiot..."

"Min-ah... Min-ah..."

Her crying started to swell. Ah. But we were on the highway. No traffic, either. Min-ah always calmed down quickly if I held her. But I was driving. Even glancing over felt like too much of a risk. I needed to hold her. I had to...

A tight squeeze. She wrapped both arms around my right arm.

She buried her face in my shoulder. The heat radiating from her cheek instantly warmed the fabric against my skin.

"Dad loves you too, sweetheart."

"It's a little... different..."

"Nothing's different. Not then, not now."

"..."

She buried her face again.

"It's not enough."

"Hm...?"

"I realized this time that the love I gave you wasn't nearly enough."

Her voice was resolute. There was no need for her to sound that determined. Min-ah was my daughter. I would do anything for her. That had never changed, not from the beginning until now. I loved her. I loved Min-ah. That was how I had been able to endure my life.

Why is she like this? Is the love I give her not enough? Did I hurt her somehow—is that why she feels it's lacking?

"I'm sorry, sweetheart... I must have let you down a lot, huh? If there's something that hurt you, tell me. I'll fix it."

"That's not it, Dad."

"Then... what is it?"

She was silent for a long time. She seemed to be wrestling with something.

"I think we just misunderstood what the other one meant, Dad."

"I... is that so?"

"Dad. You'll stay by my side forever, right?"

Biologically impossible. The only way a father outlives his daughter is if she dies first. But that wasn't what she meant. She meant stay by her side for as long as I possibly could.

"Of course. Dad will always be on Min-ah's side."

"Heh..."

"Why are you laughing?"

"You can't lie."

"Wh-what lie?"

I didn't understand. Again.

"Never mind. Just think of it as me talking to myself."

She laughed, then grew serious, then laughed again. It felt like I needed to do something more for her.

"Sweetheart... is there anything you need? We should get you a new smartphone now, and..."

"Huh?"

I was caught completely off guard. Sleep together? All of a sudden? Why?

Sharing a bed with my daughter. That had gone on until middle school.

I still couldn't forget the night I'd tried to put her in her own room. An elementary schooler, stumbling out of bed in tears because of a nightmare, sobbing that she couldn't sleep alone. And then that same crying child, tucked warm against my chest, drifting off in my arms. I had gotten addicted to that sight.

But as she grew, a problem appeared. She had matured far too much. In her third ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠year of middle school, I told her it was probably time we started sleeping separately. She refused, stubborn as a wall. She had to sleep with Dad, she insisted. There was nothing I could do. No father in the world can win against his daughter. So I kept sharing a bed with a girl in her last year of middle school.

I didn't want her to see me in an unspeakable state, so I took care of things first and went to sleep that way. I was exhausted every morning because of it... but at least it never went as far as something horrific.

Still, I worried. Once she started high school she would only mature further. Could I endure that? Could I?

I was turning that over in my mind when, fortunately, her own thinking changed.

She was yielding because I looked tired. Of course, the real reason I was tired was something else entirely—but I couldn't explain that. I was grateful. From the day she entered high school, I finally slept in peace. The dark circles vanished.

And now that same daughter was asking to sleep together again.

Thank God. Just for tonight, then.

"Alright... if that's what you want..."

"Dad."

"Yeah?"

"You're hiding something from me, aren't you?"

"Wh-what?"

Don't tell me. Did she figure out what I do before we go to bed?

"You can't sleep when we share a bed, right? Because I toss and turn so much? That's why you look so awkward?"

"..."

Thank God. She had completely misunderstood why sleeping next to her left me so drained.

"I get it. I wake up and the pillow's on the floor—it's a disaster. That's when I realized I have the worst sleep habits."

"Ah... yeah... that was it."

She hugged my arm a little tighter, a little brighter.

"Still, just for today. Put up with it just for today, Dad. We'll count the amusement park and sleeping together as your present for getting into Hankuk University. Deal?"

"Sounds good to me. It's no loss on my end, so of course I'll take it."

Of course, I was going to give her far more than that. I'd get her a driver's license and buy her a car. Luxury bags. Cosmetics. A new smartphone. But I wouldn't tell her any of that outright. I would reward her the way you drip water onto blotting paper—one slow drop at a time.

"Yay, this is the best!! Hehe!"

Thankfully, she had brightened up a great deal.

"Oh, wait! I want to drink, too! Teach me about alcohol!"

"Sure. You're tired today, though. How about the weekend?"

"Yes, Dad!"

A child who had only just become an adult. A child who had suppressed every want and worked herself to the bone. A child who had earned the very best results because of it. What a father owed a child like that was a reward.

"Dad, I'm going to wash up."

"Go ahead."

I used the master bathroom; she took the main one. Both of us were almost severe about the line between outside and home. We never wore outdoor clothes indoors. The moment we came through the door, we showered and changed into house clothes. I had always done it that way, and my daughter had followed.

I washed myself thoroughly with body wash. A fragrant bergamot scent—my favorite. I changed into my pajamas. I ran a little hot, so even in winter I wore something thin.

"Dad, are you done? Can I come in?"

"Yeah."

She must have finished around the same time. ...Wait.

"Min-ah... you..."

"How is it? Pretty?"

My daughter walked into my room wearing a black slip. More than half her thighs were bare. The hollow of her chest was on full, unapologetic display.

...Something ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was very wrong here.