April 27, 2021. 20:21. Vancouver. 2 days left till Italy.
The seawall glimmers with scattered lights, a long stretch of stone and concrete curving along the shoreline and opening to the vast water beyond Vancouver. The tide whispers against the edge as people drift along the path, their footsteps folding into the city's hum.
Mom looks stunning, as always. She's wrapped in a long cream trench coat that sways with each step, black tailored trousers falling neatly over pointed leather boots. A silk scarf—deep green—rests loosely at her neck. She carries herself like she never left the runway.
I match her stride in a fitted camel coat over a black turtleneck dress, hem skimming my knees. Heeled boots click softly against the pavement. Minimalist gold hoops catch the glow of the seawall lamps, and the cool spring air bites at the bare skin between gloves and cuffs.
We walk arm in arm, and our silhouettes reflect across the darkened water.
Mom hums along at my side, her voice low and warm. "Dinner was perrrrfect. I forgot how much I missed salmon that wasn't dry."
My brows lift, amused, and I smirk faintly. "You still critiqued the seasoning, Ma."
She bumps my shoulder. "It's my right. Former model privilege."
"Model's curse, more like," I counter, though my voice is soft with affection.
"Please." She huffs, full of mock drama. "If a chef can't handle a little feedback, then they're in the wrong business."
"You almost told the waiter the risotto was undercooked."
"It was undercooked! Al dente means firm, not crunchy."
"Uh-huh. Next time I'll just hand you the menu and let you cook it yourself."
"It'd taste better if I did~!"
I roll my eyes but can't fight the smile tugging at my lips. "Sure, Ma. Next time."
The hum of the city folds into the rush of water.
Every so often, we trade quiet remarks as we walk—about the night scenery or which restaurant we'll try next time.
Mom's scarf brushes my arm, and my coat brushes hers as we continue walking down the seawall.
Occasionally, we pass clusters of couples, joggers, and tourists snapping photos.
My eyes wander lazily—until a ripple of recognition hits.
A few steps ahead, three familiar faces drift through the crowd, laughing over some shared joke: Mia in her oversized varsity jacket, Nari in a cropped leather coat with neon trim, and Christine in a light sweater with a fluffy scarf that makes her look like she's wrestling a cloud.
I stop without meaning to. Mom slows too, her gaze flicking towards where mine lingers. She sees them just as they see me.
"Gina?!" Nari blurts, eyes wide. "No way—what are you doing here?"
Mia's grin follows. "And wait—hold up—the elusive Ginasaurus Rex is with her mom?"
Christine gasps in mock shock. "Like spotting a rare animal in the wild! Someone grab a camera."
I laugh, tugging my coat a little tighter while tossing my hair like I'm posing for paparazzi. "Oh my goshhh. Yes, hi, I'm alive—and yes, this is my mom. Don't act like you've never seen us together before."
Mom smiles, tilting her head. "It's been a while though, hasn't it? You all look wonderful."
"Mrs. Kyung!" Nari beams, rushing forward for a hug. "You haven't aged a day. It's honestly unfair."
Mom hugs her back easily. "Flattery works on me, dear. Keep it coming."
Mia crosses her arms with exaggerated drama. "No, but seriously, how? You look like a Vogue spread while I'm over here fighting for my life with concealer."
"Dear, you've always been beautiful," Mom says smoothly, and her delivery leaves Mia blushing.
Christine laughs. "She's still got it. The Kyung genetics are on lock."
Mom chuckles at that, but Nari snaps her fingers suddenly, eyes narrowing at me. "Wait a minute—you're flying to Italy, right? Isn't that, like… soon?"
"Two days," I confirm, shrugging lightly. "My flight's coming up soon."
"Girl!" Nari smacks my arm with dramatic flair. "Why are you out here strolling the seawall then?"
"What do you want me to do, cry in my apartment until takeoff?" I tease.
"Maybe!" Christine cuts in, laughing. "So we can soak up the Gina content while we still can."
Mom smiles knowingly. "Oh, she'll be back soon enough." A sly edge tugs at her lips. "Gina always comes home eventually—usually dragging some kind of trouble with her."
The girls break into grins at that.
"Mmm, true," Mia says, bumping my shoulder. "Every time you vanish, you come crawling back with some ridiculous story."
"And every time," Christine adds with a playful eye-roll, "we're the ones who have to catch you up on all the tea you missed. Likeeee… that one time with your ex and the entire basketball team? Whole school knew within an hour."
Heat floods my cheeks, and I cringe back instinctively. "Okay, yeah, but can we not announce it to the whole seawall…" I mutter, trying to laugh it off. Thank God nothing actually happened—just dumb teenage drama—but still.
Mom chuckles. "Ohh, yes, I remember that fiasco. You had me worried sick. I'm pretty sure I still have the texts where you begged your dad to pick you up before lunch was even over."
"Ma, why are you doing this to me?" I groan, covering my face with one hand as I try to edge further down the path.
Nari gasps, pointing at me triumphantly. "Even your mom's got receipts!"
Of course, Mom slips seamlessly back into step beside me.
"Oh, sweetie," she says sweetly, far too pleased with herself. "That's what mothers are for."
We all burst out laughing—some of us nearly doubled over, the others wheezing from it.
The sound lingers as we fall back into step, the tide murmuring against the rocks. Our conversation eventually drifts back in, carrying us nearly halfway down the seawall.
As the night air sharpens, Mia tugs her varsity jacket tighter. "Oh, also—where'd you two go for dinner?"
"Cardero's." I brush my hair back, then add with a sly grin, "Mom's pick. You know her taste."
Mom arches a brow, feigning offence. "Excuse me, it was mutual. She wanted seafood."
Nari gasps dramatically, clutching her chest like she's been struck. "Wait. Y'all went without us? Betrayal. Absolute betrayal."
"Nari," Christine groans, rolling her eyes. "You'd complain about the bill the second it landed."
"I would not—okay, maybe. But still! We could've dressed up, looked hot, turned heads—"
"You girls already turn heads," Mom says warmly. "Even in that cropped jacket."
Nari preens immediately. "Validation? From Mrs. Kyung herself?"
Mia grins sideways at me. "Your mom's cooler than you. Hate to break it to you."
"Not news." I chuckle. "It's been like that since day one."
Mom smirks. "She's not wrong, though."
The girls howl with laughter, and I shove my hands deeper into my coat pockets, fighting a smile as we pass by a cluster of trees. The seawall lights dim a little as we stray further from the city, but only for a bit, before we reach the point where the path loops back around again.
The conversation softens with the atmosphere, but the rhythm doesn't fade.
"Sooo," Nari says, leaning in with a sly grin, "what's the first thing you're eating in Italy?"
"Pizza, I'm calling it," Mia answers immediately, like it's obvious. "It's always pizza."
"What? Not true!" I protest, but Mom doesn't miss a moment to respond.
"She's lying. It's pizza."
We all crack up again, and Christine wiggles her brows at me. "Okay, topic change, but like… do you think you'll come back with an Italian boyfriend?"
"God, no," I shoot back.
"God, yes," Mom corrects.
I groan, covering my face again. "Why are you like this?"
"I want a grandkid," she says simply, looping her arm tighter through mine.
The girls melt audibly at that, Mia clutching her chest. "Ughhh, my mom is the same. Mrs. Kyung, got any advice to give?"
Mom laughs softly, in a way that reflects both wisdom and amusement. "Lesson one: don't rush. Lesson two: find someone who actually makes life easier, not harder." She glances at her knowingly. "Everything else works itself out."
Christine lets out a mock sigh. "Okay, but now I'm jealous." She pouts in my direction. "Can you guys adopt me?"
I arch a brow at her. "What, you want me as your sister now? You sure you can handle that?"
Mom nudges me gently, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "Be nice." Then, without missing a beat, she says to Christine, "You're already part of the family."
Another chorus of "awwws" rises, laughter spilling into the night and blending with the sound of the tide.
We keep walking—bantering, teasing, and sharing little nothings. The hours slip by unnoticed until we finally reach the end of the seawall, our pace slowing as the parking lot comes into view.
Conversation fades, the quiet settling around us—nothing heavy, just comfortable.
The rush of water, the scrape of shoes, the distant hum of the city all fold into the moment.
Christine breaks it first, stretching her arms overhead with a yawn. "Okay, babes, I'm tapping out before I freeze to death. I don't think I layered enough for this walk."
"Same," Mia agrees, tucking her chin deeper into her jacket. "I'd kill for a heat pack, like, right now."
Nari nudges me with a smirk. "And you need to get packing, Miss Italy."
I huff a laugh and roll my eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Already on it."
"Ginaaa," Mia says, wagging a finger. "And when you come back, we're hitting karaoke. No excuses."
"Absolutely," Christine adds. "I've got receipts of you dodging us last time."
"I was literally working—"
"Excuses!" Nari cuts in, grinning wide. "Promise us. Post-Italy, we hang out. You, everyone. No flaking."
These brats. First them, then Nano, and now Shock. It would be a disaster if they all met.
I roll my eyes but can't hide my smile. "…Fine. Promise."
That earns me a round of satisfied nods and one dramatic cheer from Mia.
Mom chuckles beside me, amused at the whole thing. "You girls are relentless. I love it."
Nari grins. "She needs it. Otherwise she'd bury herself in work."
"Tell me about it," Mom murmurs, giving my arm a squeeze.
Things are calm for a moment, me and Mom heading back towards my ride—until Christine suddenly gasps and points. "Uh, excuse me, since when did you roll up in a Porsche?"
Mia's eyes widen, her voice pitching up. "Wait… that's yours?! No way. Gina, explain."
I grin faintly, shrugging like it's no big deal. "Worked my butt off, that's how."
If only y'all knew the pain in my ass to get this ride.
Mom lets out a low laugh, shaking her head. "Still can't believe it myself. I thought it was a scam at first—but hey, it's real, and I'm not complaining about the leather seats."
Once again, thank you, Nano.
"Earn it how?" Nari narrows her eyes, mock suspicious. "Secret rich boyfriend? Sugar daddy? Spill."
"Yeah, c'mon," Christine teases. "You disappear for weeks, then pull up in this?"
I laugh, rolling my eyes. "Ha-ha. Very funny. No rich boyfriend. Just me hustling."
Mom slips in her own jab, lips twitching. "If she had a boyfriend, trust me—I'd know by now."
The girls dissolve into giggles while I shake my head in mock defeat, and soon we're pausing where the path widens, peeling off towards the bus stop with warm hugs, cheek kisses, and promises to text.
"Safe travels!" Mia calls over her shoulder. "Bring us something cute from Milan or wherever you land!"
"Love you guys," I call back, waving as they disappear into the glow of the city.
The night goes quiet, leaving just me and Mom again.
She glances at me sidelong, scarf brushing my sleeve. "It's always a treat to see your friends. They really care about you." Her head tilts, lips curving into a smile that carries both experience and hardship. "It's rare to have people who've got your back, especially once you're older."
My throat tightens, memories of the edgerunner crew—and of Wissen—resurfacing all at once.
Once this job is over, I'm going back to my regular contracts.
But I push past the thought and nod. "…I know. I'll hang out more after Italy."
"Alright." Her smile softens. "Enough worrying. Let's go home."
We reach my car, and I unlock it with a beep. Mom slips into the passenger seat while I take the wheel. The ride back is quiet, save for the low hum of the radio. She taps her fingers to the music, content, while I keep my eyes on the road.
At her building—a tidy, well-lit apartment in Burnaby—I park and step out to walk her up. She pauses before heading inside, one hand resting against my cheek for just a moment. "Two days left. Make it count—but don't let it eat you alive."
"I won't," I promise quietly. "And I'll call you before I board."
Her expression eases, and she nods. "Good. I'll be waiting." With that, she disappears inside.
I stand by the car for a moment longer, watching until she disappears into the lobby.
Sliding back into the driver's seat, I check my phone calendar. Two days left.
A text buzzes in just then—from Wissen, into our group chat.
"Meet at YVR, 00:30. Don't be late."
I send back a simple thumbs-up and set my phone aside, not ready to read anyone else's replies.
Across the street, the inlet catches my eye—the dark expanse of water beyond the city lights. Neon ripples across its surface, fractured colours drifting with the tide.
My breath slips out in a slow, uneven sigh.
A few years ago, I thought I could balance all of this—the jobs, the modelling, the double life.
Back then, it almost felt like a game I could keep winning if I just stayed sharp. But lately… I'm not so sure.
Wissen's words echo in my head, cutting sharper now than when he said them.
How long can I keep this up?
What happens when it all comes crashing down?
Do I quit being a model? What about Artemis?
At what point do I even make that call?
I've saved money, sure—but not enough to feel untouchable.
Is that the problem?
Is it just money?
If it is… I don't even know where to start fixing it.
The memory of talking with Tetra's nomad family flashes back—me admitting, maybe too bluntly, that I had no clue what I was doing. It still stings whenever I think about it.
I miss him. I miss Dad. I miss when things were simpler—when it felt like I had a complete family instead of this constant balancing act.
Wissen's a good mentor—and I owe most of my current life to him.
But he's not family, and I'd never expect him to be—not when he's got an empire and his own people to juggle.
Frustration spikes, sudden and hot. For a split second, I want to scream.
Instead, I pinch the bridge of my nose, shutting my eyes until the urge passes.
This is pointless. Why am I even thinking about this right now?
I force myself to exhale, tension bleeding out in one deliberate breath.
"I should do a final check," I murmur—though it feels less like a checklist, and more like a plea to keep it together.