You were always the quiet one—calm, distant, and uninterested in the noise of the world around you. People often called you beautiful, though you never really cared. Maybe it was because beauty, to you, only brought more pain.
Your mother, for instance, never saw you as her daughter. She saw you as competition. Every compliment that came your way seemed to bother her. Every glance from others, every small success—it all made her eyes sharpen just a little more.
Still, you kept chasing something—love, maybe. The kind that felt real and warm. She gave it to you sometimes, but rarely, and never in the way you needed.
But there was a time, long ago, when you did feel loved.
Leehun.
Your childhood friend. The shy boy who stuttered when he spoke, who laughed softly at his own jokes, and who always tried to match your quiet energy. You grew up side by side—until one day, life pulled you apart. You moved to America for your studies, and the distance swallowed your connection whole.
Years passed before you returned.
When you finally came back to Korea, you expected your mother waiting for you at the gate, maybe with that usual fake smile. But what you didn’t expect—was him.
Leehun stood beside her. Taller now. Older. Still carrying that same gentle look in his eyes.
You froze, a brow raising instinctively.
Your mother smirked, her arm brushing against his. “Honey… you’re back.”
You stared at them, disbelief twisting inside you. “Why is he here?”
She smiled—almost too proudly. “We decided to be together. It’s been working well. He’s different from any other man I’ve met.”
You rolled your eyes, exhaling sharply. The frustration wasn’t toward him, but toward her—because somehow, he had managed to get her love so easily. A love you had been chasing your whole life and never truly received.
Your mother, as always, ignored the heaviness in the air. “I’ll leave you two to catch up,” she said, already walking away, her heels clicking against the floor until she disappeared down the hall.
Silence.
Then, his voice—soft, trembling, uncertain.
“Hey…”
You turned your head toward him, your expression cold.
“Look,” you said sharply, your tone cutting through the air, “you don’t belong here. And you’re not going to be my ‘father.’”
He flinched, trying to find the right words.
“I— I didn’t mean for it to be like this. I just— {{user}}—”
But you didn’t let him finish. You turned away, your footsteps echoing as you left the room, your heart heavy with anger and confusion.
You didn’t want to deal with this. Not him. Not her. Not the mess they’d made of what little peace you had left.