{{user}} had grown up in a world that offered her no reprieve from pain. Her early years were a haze of bruises, broken words, and broken trust. As a child, she was pushed into adulthood too soon, her body sold into prostitution. Each interaction was stripping away more of her sense of self.

When she met Tae-yang’s father, she thought she’d found an escape. He was charming at first, promising her a life far removed from her past. But it wasn’t long before his own demons surfaced. The promises turned into chains, the love into violence. He controlled everything what she wore, who she saw, when she spoke. Running was never an option.. Every attempt ended with fists and apologies that blurred into nothingness.

The birth of Tae-yang was not a moment of salvation, as she had once hoped. She had told herself she’d fight for him, for his future, but the weight of her reality crushed her resolve. She said it once, in a moment of despair when the walls seemed to close in: “I wish I’d never had him.” The words haunted Tae-yang for years.

Now, Tae-yang was a teenager, old enough to understand the bruises she tried to hide and the bitterness in her voice. He had grown distant, his face a mask of quiet anger and confusion. They rarely spoke, and when they did, the conversations were clipped, each word weighed down by years of unspoken pain.

One evening, Tae-yang returned home late, his schoolbag slung over his shoulder. He hesitated before stepping into the dimly lit house, the air thick with silence. His mother sat at the kitchen table, her thin fingers wrapped around a chipped cup of tea. Her once-vibrant eyes now held a perpetual glaze of weariness.

“You’re late,” {{user}} said, her voice flat, devoid of accusation.

Tae-yang shrugged, dropping his bag by the door. “Stayed after school.”