That night i felt a moment of heartwarming. Like, jiho starts to openup to me. But tomorrow is my off day, so i am packing my stuffs and i booked a cab to go to my home.
The cab ride to my father's house felt like a journey through time. I hadn't been home in weeks, too consumed by Jiho's therapy sessions and the weight of my own thoughts. But tonight, I needed answers.
When I arrived, the familiar scent of jasmine from the garden greeted me. My father stood at the doorway, his face lighting up with a smile that instantly melted my resolve to stay distant.
"Yoon Seo! You've come home," he exclaimed, pulling me into a warm embrace. "Come, come! I've made all your favorite dishes."
The dinner table was a feast of nostalgia. Kimchi stew, spicy braised chicken, and a plate of freshly grilled fish reminded me of simpler days. But as much as I enjoyed the meal, my father's efforts to pamper me felt bittersweet. He served me so much food that I could barely stand after dinner.
After we cleared the table, I decided it was time.
"Appa," I said gently as we sat on the balcony with glasses of plum wine. "I need to ask you something."
His expression shifted slightly, as if he knew where this conversation was heading. "What is it, my child?"
I hesitated, staring at the stars. "Why don't you want me to go to the US? Why won't you let me chase this opportunity?"
He sighed deeply, taking a long sip of his wine. "Yoon Seo, must we do this now?"
"Yes, Appa," I said firmly. "I've asked you before, and you keep avoiding it. Please, I need to know."
He looked away, his eyes glistening under the moonlight. "You won't let this go, will you?"
I shook my head. "Not until you tell me."
For a long moment, there was silence. Then, his voice broke the stillness, trembling with emotion.
"It's a long story, Yoon Seo. One I've tried to bury for years," he began, his eyes filling with tears. "But if you want the truth, I will tell you."
---
He took a deep breath before continuing, his voice heavy with pain.
"Years ago, when I was younger, I attended a psychology conference in Italy. It was there that I met Jiho's father. We were strangers at first, but we became fast friends. We shared everything about our lives. He told me about his wife's pregnancy, how excited he was to become a father. I told him about your mother and how much I dreamed of starting a family, too."
His voice faltered, and I reached out to hold his hand.
"When his wife's delivery date arrived, he called me. We were so happy that day. I drove him to the hospital, eager to witness his joy. But I made a mistake… a terrible mistake."
His grip tightened around the glass as he continued, his voice cracking.
"I fell asleep at the wheel. Just for a moment. But that moment was enough. There was an accident… a big one. He… he didn't survive."
I gasped, my heart breaking at the weight of his words.
"I escaped with my life, but I wished I hadn't," he said, tears streaming down his face. "The guilt… it consumed me. I had taken my best friend's life. How could I ever forgive myself?"
"Appa…" I whispered, my own tears flowing freely now.
"His wife… she had every right to hate me. I couldn't even face her. And then, a year later, you were born. Your mother saved me, Yoon Seo. She gave me a reason to live again. But I made a promise that day. I promised to protect Jiho and his family, no matter what."
He paused, his gaze distant.
"When they reached out to me about Jiho… I didn't know what to do. Seeing him, seeing his face… it's like seeing my friend again. And the guilt comes rushing back."
"But Appa," I said, choking on my emotions, "that doesn't mean I should give up my dreams. Please, don't let your past stop me from living my life."
He looked at me, his eyes full of sorrow.
"You're right," he said softly. "But give me time, Yoon Seo. Let me process this. Let me find a way to let you go."
---
That night, I stayed awake, staring at the ceiling. My father's pain was palpable, his regret etched into every word. And yet, I couldn't let his past define my future. I knew I would have to tread carefully, but I also knew I couldn't give up on my dreams.
The first rays of sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains in my old bedroom, casting golden streaks on the wooden floor. I opened my eyes slowly, momentarily disoriented by the silence. No blaring car horns, no bustling street noise—just the distant chirping of birds and the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze.
I lay there for a moment, staring at the familiar cracks in the ceiling, memories of my childhood flooding back. This room, once my sanctuary, felt like a time capsule. The faded posters of bands I had long outgrown, the bookshelf overflowing with novels I hadn't touched in years, and the desk where I used to scribble my dreams—it was all still here, frozen in time.
A soft knock at the door broke my reverie. "Yoon Seo? Are you awake?" my father's voice called gently.
"Yes, Appa," I replied, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
He peeked in, a warm smile on his face. "I made breakfast. Come eat while it's hot."
---
The dining table was set with a modest spread: freshly steamed rice, miso soup, and a small plate of side dishes. My father had even made a fluffy rolled omelet, just the way I liked it.
"You didn't have to go through so much trouble, Appa," I said as I sat down.
"Nonsense," he replied, pouring tea into my cup. "I rarely get to see you these days. Let me spoil you a little."
I picked up my chopsticks and took a bite of the omelet. The familiar taste hit me like a wave, and for a moment, I felt like a little girl again, sitting at this same table, listening to my mother hum as she cooked.
"Is it good?" he asked, watching me expectantly.
"It's perfect," I said, smiling through the lump forming in my throat.
He nodded, satisfied, and started eating his own meal. We sat in comfortable silence for a while, the clink of chopsticks and the soft slurp of soup the only sounds in the room.
---
After breakfast, my father suggested we take a walk in the garden. I agreed, eager to prolong our time together. The garden had always been my mother's domain, a place where she poured her love and energy into nurturing life.
As we stepped outside, the scent of jasmine enveloped us. My father bent down to inspect the flowerbeds, his fingers brushing over the delicate petals.
"Your mother loved these," he said softly. "She used to say that jasmine was like life—fragile, but so full of beauty if you cared for it."
I knelt beside him, picking a small blossom and holding it to my nose. "She was right," I murmured.
He looked at me, his eyes glistening. "You remind me so much of her, Yoon Seo. Not just in how you look, but in how you care. For people, for things… it's a gift."
His words warmed me, but they also stirred an ache in my chest. "I miss her, Appa," I admitted, my voice trembling.
"I do too," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Every single day."
---
After spending the morning in the garden, my father surprised me by suggesting we visit the piano room. I hadn't played in years, but the thought of sitting at the old instrument filled me with nostalgia.
The room smelled faintly of polish and age. The grand piano stood in its usual spot, its surface gleaming under the sunlight streaming through the windows. I ran my fingers over the keys, the cool ivory sending a shiver up my spine.
"Play something for me," my father urged, settling into the armchair by the window.
"I don't know if I remember how," I said, laughing nervously.
"You'll never forget," he said confidently.
Taking a deep breath, I placed my hands on the keys and began to play the first melody that came to mind. It was a lullaby my mother used to sing, a tune I hadn't thought of in years. As the notes filled the room, my father closed his eyes, a peaceful expression settling on his face.
When I finished, he opened his eyes and smiled. "Your mother would have loved that."
I turned to him, tears brimming in my eyes. "I wish she could have heard it."
"She hears it, Yoon Seo," he said, his voice steady. "She's always with us."
---
As the sun dipped low in the sky, casting long shadows across the yard, it was time for me to leave. My father walked me to the gate, his hand resting gently on my shoulder.
"Are you sure you have to go so soon?" he asked, his tone wistful.
"I wish I could stay longer, Appa," I said, my throat tightening. "But you know how it is."
He nodded, a resigned smile on his lips. "I understand. But promise me you'll come back soon."
"I will," I said, hugging him tightly. "And Appa… thank you. For everything."
He held me for a moment, his grip firm but comforting. "Take care of yourself, Yoon Seo. And remember, no matter where you go, this will always be your home."
As the cab pulled away, I looked back to see him standing at the gate, his figure growing smaller with each passing second. Tears blurred my vision, but my heart felt lighter. For the first time in a long time, I felt like we had truly connected, like the invisible wall between us was finally starting to crumble