Strong raindrops pattered against the leaves, followed by the furious roar of thunder. The wind slammed against the large window, sending leaves flying wildly.
"Halmeoni, wake up, wake up."
The elderly woman stirred on the soft mattress, responding to the tender voice and gentle shaking.
"Halmeoni, please wake up," I pleaded, my heart pounding. My hands trembled as I clung to her.
Grandma, deep in sleep, finally opened her eyes. Relief washed over me seeing her warm, dark brown eyes. I teared up.
"Yejun?" she called softly, her eyes adjusting to the darkness.
Hearing her voice, I cried harder.
"Why is my agi goyangi crying?" Grandma asked, concerned. She held my face and pulled me close, wrapping her arms around me.
Her caring voice and warmth calmed me a little. I snuggled deeper into her embrace.
"Someone's outside," I whispered between sobs. I was scared, woken by the loud banging on the door.
"It's going to hurt us, Halmeoni," I cried, wrapping my small arms around her. Grandma felt so big.
"Don't worry, Halmeoni will protect her agi goyangi," she coaxed. I looked up at her, tears streaming down my cheeks, my nose runny.
"You will?" I asked, but then realization struck. "No! Halmeoni will get hurt! Halmeoni will be in pain!" I gripped her dress, eyes shut, imagining Grandma getting hurt. I didn't want her to feel pain!
She laughed warmly, shaking her head. "My agi goyangi is so cute. Don't worry, Halmeoni can protect you, and my little cat won't worry anymore." She smiled, cupping my face. I didn't really believe her. Grandma was old and had ancient bones. Even though she was strong and could still lift heavy things, I saw her struggling sometimes.
Grandma put me on the deepest side of the cabinet, among her dresses and blankets. She covered me and signaled for silence. I nodded obediently. She left, and I was alone. I gripped something I had picked up before hiding.
I waited, but nothing happened. Then suddenly, a loud bang echoed. I gasped, covering my mouth, trembling. Fear consumed me. My heart raced, and tears streamed down.
I couldn't move, paralyzed by fear. Minutes passed. I kept my hand over my mouth, not letting a sound escape. I didn't want to be found, but when the cabinet door swung open, I knew I had failed.
Thunder crashed, illuminating the figure standing before me. It wasn't Grandma. The shadow was unfamiliar and slim—a man.
Anger, fear, and desperation welled up inside me. I knew I couldn't hide anymore. He had found me. I had to protect myself.
"Argh!" I charged at the shadow, wielding the bat in my hand. I needed to escape! Grandma was hurt because of this person. Sweat formed on my palms, and my heart pounded harder. I needed to be with Grandma!
"Yejun! Put the bat down!" a voice shouted. I froze.
Grandma?
I looked toward the voice and saw my grandma, wet from the rain but unharmed.
Relief washed over me. I dropped the bat and ran to her, crying hard.
That day, I learned it wasn't a man but a woman who had opened the closet. She was a tourist seeking shelter from the heavy rain, lost and without options. No stores were open since it was midnight.
The woman apologized. She had been excited to see me because Grandma had talked about me when she opened the door. I didn't speak to her. Grandma entertained the woman, gave her hot tea, and offered her a place to stay until morning. Grandma was kind to her.
In the morning, before the lady left, she gave me a bracelet she was wearing. "This is my gift to a cute child like you," she said before leaving in a taxi.
That lady changed my life.
That evening, we received a large sum of money with a letter saying, "Thank you for letting me stay." Grandma was bewildered and used the money for our needs. She was grateful to the lady and even cried a little. I always wanted to act, and Grandma made it happen with the lady's help.
"Man, the rain today is strong," Heewon said, looking out the window and collapsing onto the cocoa-brown sofa. "Think there'll be a storm?"
I emerged from the bathroom, drying my hair with a towel. "Ask the TV," I said. He looked at me, confused.
"I meant, turn on the TV and watch the news, dumbass." I grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, tossing it softly to Heewon, who caught it.
I looked out the window. Yesterday, the morning was nice, the sun was out, and it was warm. At night, snow fell. Today's weather was the opposite.
"Looks like the shoot is canceled," Heewon called from the couch. My eyebrows furrowed. "Why?"
"Because of the rain, obviously," he said, scrolling through his phone. "The director just sent a message. They're postponing it until the weather clears up."
I sighed. "Great, another day wasted."
Heewon glanced at me, his expression serious. "It's not wasted, Yejun. You need the rest. You've been working nonstop for weeks."
"I know, but I hate sitting around doing nothing," I muttered, throwing the towel onto a nearby chair. "And every minute we're not working, Seo Joon-Ho is getting more exposure. We can't afford to fall behind."
Heewon gave me a rare smile, shaking his head. "You know, sometimes doing nothing is exactly what you need. It's called recharging."
I sat down on a lounge chair and leaned back against it.
"I guess," I said, not entirely convinced. "But it feels like I'm losing momentum. And you know how the industry is; if you're out of sight, you're out of mind."
Heewon put his phone down, his eyes meeting mine. "Yejun, you've worked hard to get where you are. One day off isn't going to ruin your career. Trust me."
I sighed again. "Yeah, yeah. I just feel like I'm always on the brink of falling behind. Joon-Ho's been everywhere lately, and we need to stay competitive."
Heewon nodded, his demeanor calm and collected as always. "That's because you're driven. It's a good thing. But balance is important, too."
I snorted. Heewon's face turned expressionless. I gave him an innocent look. "What? I can't help but snort listening to you, Mr. Workaholic, talking about balance."
Heewon shrugged. "I practice what I preach. Besides, I need you in top shape for the big scenes. You can't perform if you're burnt out."
I looked at him, feeling a mix of gratitude and frustration. He was right, but it was hard to shake off the feeling of restlessness. "Okay, okay. I'll try to relax. What do you suggest we do today, then?"
Heewon leaned back, thinking for a moment. "How about you try something different? Why don't you cook yourself a nice meal and watch a movie or a soccer game all by yourself?"
I raised an eyebrow. "You mean like a date with myself?"
Heewon grinned. "Exactly. Treat yourself to something you enjoy. I'll take care of a few things for your career in the meantime."
I chuckled. "You're joking, right? You're not going to leave me here alone and sneak off to talk to some producers?"
Heewon laughed. "Maybe I am, maybe I'm not. You'll never know."
I rolled my eyes. "Deal. I'll cook something and figure out what to watch."
Heewon nodded, grabbing his coat. "Enjoy your date with yourself, Yejun."
As he left, I started thinking about what I could cook. Maybe some pasta, a hearty stew or something I like. It was strange to have this unexpected free time, but Heewon was right. Maybe a little break and some self-indulgence were just what I needed.
I got up, feeling a bit lighter already. Despite the rain outside and the competitive industry, today wasn't about falling behind. It was about taking a moment for myself and resetting, ready to tackle whatever came next.
Following Heewon's suggestion, I decided to make something comforting. I searched through the kitchen cabinets, gathering ingredients for a homemade Korean beef and radish soup, a recipe from my grandmother. I found tender beef, fresh radishes, garlic, green onions, and an array of spices.
I washed and peeled the radishes, feeling their firm texture under my fingers, bringing back memories of cooking with my grandmother. She always said, "The secret to a good soup is in the simmering," her words echoing in my mind as I sliced the radishes into rounds. I smiled thinking about it. The beef, marbled with fat for richness, was carefully trimmed and diced, ready to flavor the broth.
I heated a large pot and drizzled sesame oil into it, enjoying its nutty scent as it spread. I added minced garlic, its aroma filling the kitchen with a pungent warmth. Chopped green onions followed, their vibrant green contrasting against the golden oil.
Adding the beef, I let it sear slightly before pouring in water to cover everything. The pot simmered, intensifying the aroma as flavors blended together in a comforting mix. A dash of soy sauce and a pinch of salt deepened the broth.
As the soup simmered, I skimmed off any impurities that floated to the top, finding peace in the rhythmic motion of the ladle amidst the chaos of the day. Adding the radishes, I watched them soften and absorb the broth's flavors.
The kitchen filled with the rich scent of garlic and spices, wrapping me in warmth and memories. For a moment, the stresses of the entertainment industry and Seo Joon-Ho's competition faded. Here, cooking in my home, I found solace in a simple meal that connected me to my grandma's past.
Stirring the soup gently, I tasted the broth, adjusting with a sprinkle of pepper and a touch more soy sauce. The flavors melded perfectly, a testament to my family's wisdom. Satisfied, I turned off the stove, letting the soup rest to deepen its flavors.
Serving myself a bowl, I was amazed at how delicious it was. Each spoonful warmed me from within, bringing a sense of peace and contentment that only homemade comfort food can provide.
Suddenly, a noise startled me. The doorknob rattled as if someone were trying to enter. Heart racing, I instinctively gripped the knife I had been using, ready to defend myself.
"Heewon?" I called out, silence followed.
Suddenly, a noise appear at the door and startled me once again. At first, it was a faint rattle, like someone testing the knob. Then, it grew louder and more forceful, as if someone was trying to force their way in. Fear gripped me, and I instinctively hold the knife tighter, my heart racing.
I tried to move, to get closer to confront the intruder, but my body felt paralyzed, rooted to the spot. Panic surged as the sound echoed through the hallway, each thud sending shivers down my spine.
As I strained to listen, the noise triggered memories I'd buried deep, transporting me back to that awful time from my childhood.
I was eight years old again, hiding in my room while my aunt and uncle argued violently outside. Their shouts echoed through the walls, mixing with the crashing of objects. Fear gripped me as heavy footsteps approached my door, each thud sending shockwaves through my trembling body.
"Open up, Yejun! Stop hiding like a coward!" My uncle's voice pierced the air, filled with anger that cut through me like a knife. Tears streamed down my face as I pressed myself against the door, desperate to keep him out.
"He's just being difficult. Let him learn his lesson," my aunt's voice echoed, cold and detached.
But her silence hurt more than her words. It showed me she didn't care enough to stop him, to shield me from his rage and fists.
The memories flooded back vividly. I could feel the terror tightening my chest, suffocating me like a vice. Sweat dripped down my forehead, my breaths coming in short gasps. Tears blurred my vision as I relived the helplessness of that moment, trapped in my room, praying for the nightmare to end.
The banging on the door grew louder, relentless. Each strike reverberated through the wood, shaking me to my core. I run towards my closet and closed it tightly. My uncle's rage was palpable, a force of destruction that threatened to break down not just the door but my fragile sense of safety.
As I heard my uncle's angry voice demanding I open the door, fear clenched my heart like icy fingers.
The closet seemed to shrink, suffocating me with its darkness and the weight of my helplessness. The shouts from outside of my room became muffled, but the pounding on the door reverberated through my entire being. I pressed my back against the cold wood, feeling its faint vibrations with every strike.
Tears streamed down my cheeks, hot and uncontrollable. My breath came in shallow gasps, each one echoing loudly in the silence of the room. The air felt thick with fear, like it could choke me if I breathed too deeply.
Closing my eyes tightly, I tried to shut out the chaos outside, tried to retreat into a small corner of my mind where I could find solace. The memory of those moments of terror from my childhood flooded back with brutal clarity, intertwining with the present reality, suffocating.
I felt small and fragile, like a porcelain doll about to shatter into a million pieces. The sound of my own heartbeat thundered in my ears, a relentless drumbeat of panic and dread. All I could do was pray silently for the nightmare to end, for the door to hold against my uncle raging outside.
I wanted to grap my phone right now, I wanted to scream for help, but all that came out was a choked gasp. The noise at the door continued, relentless and frightening, echoing the fear I'd lived with for years. I felt powerless, trapped in a cycle of fear and anguish that I thought I had escaped long ago.
Minutes felt like forever as I stood there, shaking, caught between old trauma and present danger. Sweat dripped from my forehead, and I gasped for breath. Tears filled my eyes, blurring my vision as I struggled to understand the terror around me.
Then, suddenly, the noise stopped. Silence fell again, broken only by my harsh breathing. The intruder hadn't broken in, but the fear lingered heavily in the quiet of my apartment.
It's over.
I sat on the floor, the knife slipping from my grip as I hugged my knees tight, gripping my hair in frustration. Anger and vulnerability surged through me. Gritting my teeth, I cursed myself for being paralyzed by a simple sound at the door and the memories it had stirred.
Closing my eyes tightly, I clenched my fists. How pathetically weak I had been, paralyzed by a mere sound. I cursed under my breath, angry at myself for letting old scars resurface and grip me so tightly.
Memories of my traumatic childhood flashed vividly, making me feel small and defenseless once again. I fought to push those memories away, to regain control over my emotions.
Slowly, I uncurled from my fetal position. My hands trembled, a physical echo of the turmoil inside. Taking a deep breath, I tried to steady myself, shaking off the lingering sense of weakness.
With determination, I stood up and paced the room, my steps heavy with frustration. I couldn't change the past or erase those memories, but I refused to let them define me. Anger fueled me forward, pushing me to confront the fear that still gripped me.
Approaching the door again, ensuring everything was secure. The apartment was silent now, the intruder gone, but tension hung in the air. My jaw tightened as I stood there, grappling with my emotions and the aftermath of the night.
Exhaling sharply, I leaned against the door, letting my head rest against it. The anger and frustration slowly subsided, replaced by determination. I had faced my demons once more, confronted the shadows of my past, and though shaken, I stood unbroken.