The plane sliced gently through the clouds.
Jeon Misuk stared out the window in silence.
Her expression was serious, but her eyes held a deep sense of relief.
For the first time in a long while, she felt something close to freedom.
Two hours before departure
Misuk zipped up her suitcase with precision, checking every item one last time.
Her room was quiet — until the door burst open, and her father's harsh voice filled the space.
"You're not going anywhere, Misuk!"
She didn't even look at him.
She stayed focused on what she was doing, as if he wasn't there.
"I'm talking to you!" he shouted, growing angrier.
Misuk lifted her head and met his gaze, cold and unflinching.
"You won't stop me."
With resolve, she grabbed her backpack and called her two dogs:
"Faísca! Snow! Let's go."
She headed toward the back door, only to find her mother blocking the way with her body.
"You're not leaving. Not with that attitude," the woman said firmly.
Misuk didn't hesitate.
She brushed past her with her shoulder, determined.
But before she could open the door, a hand yanked her arm — and then came the sharp sting of a slap across her face.
"Obey! No backtalk!" her father roared.
The pain burned, but she didn't let the tears fall. Not anymore.
"I'll do what I want. You have no control over me anymore."
"Shut your mouth, Jeon Misuk! We are your parents!" her mother snapped.
Misuk let out a bitter laugh.
"Parents? You're not parents. Real parents don't abuse their own daughter."
She grabbed her things again and looked at them — one last time.
"I'm leaving. And don't bother calling me. I'll never pick up again."
With Faísca and Snow at her side, Misuk walked out.
She didn't look back.
Now, seated on the plane, she felt the vibration of the engines and the wind brushing against the fuselage.
The sky was wide, silent...
And for the first time in a long time, she was free.