"Decided what?" Lin Hye Ji asked, her young voice steady though her heart thudded in her chest.
"She decided to send you to me," the woman on the line replied softly. "For you to live with me. Are you willing?"
"Yes." The word slipped out of Hye Ji's lips without a flicker of hesitation.
A chuckle, warm yet tinged with sorrow, came through the receiver. "Just like your mother… brave and resolute." Then a sigh, deep and heavy. "I'll pick you up at midnight." The line went dead before she could ask anything else.
Midnight? Why midnight? Hye Ji wondered silently, staring at the dim glow of her phone before switching it off. She turned the tap off and padded back to her room, her mind buzzing with questions she could not yet voice.
Suddenly, urgent knocking rattled her door. She opened it to find Housekeeper Shen standing there, her face pale and tight with worry.
"You had me frightened, Little Miss," Shen said, her voice shaking as she carried in a tray with a steaming bowl of noodles. "The door was locked, and you didn't answer at first. My heart nearly stopped."
Hye Ji gave a small chuckle, though her eyes betrayed the sorrow she carried. She sat at the table, picked up the chopsticks, and said lightly, "Why would I do something silly to myself? My brother still hasn't been found yet, and my mom… my mom only has me left. I'm not stupid." She placed a mouthful of noodles into her mouth, chewing slowly, almost as if to convince herself of her own words.
Shen's lips quivered, her eyes glistening with unspoken grief, but she forced a smile and nodded. "It's good to think that way, Little Miss. Very good."
"Thanks, Aunt Shen," Hye Ji whispered, lifting her glass to drink. The cool water soothed her throat but not the ache in her chest.
"It's nothing," Shen said quickly, her voice softening, almost breaking. "Nothing at all. I'm just… happy you're eating again. That's all I ask."
Her words trembled with sincerity, but also with the weight of everything left unsaid—the secrets she carried, the truth she dared not speak, and the silent prayer that this little girl would survive the storms
"Aunt Shen…" Lin Hye Ji's soft voice broke the silence. The old woman turned to her, her lined face etched with both weariness and tenderness.
"Try retiring early," Hye Ji said sincerely, her gaze steady though her young voice trembled. "You're too old for all this tiresome work."
Housekeeper Shen gave a watery chuckle, shaking her head. "Oh, dear child, how could I leave now? Didn't I always tell you—I'll watch you grow up, and one day, watch you walk down the aisle in your wedding dress." She patted the girl's hand gently, her smile quivering. "So no, I can't leave yet. Especially now…" Her words faltered, the rest swallowed in her heart. Especially now that your mother is no more.
"Thank you, Aunt Shen." Hye Ji whispered, her throat tight. She reached for a small velvet box and pressed it into Shen's hands. "This is a necklace my mom bought. She never got to wear it… so I want you to have it."
Shen froze, the weight of the box burning in her palms. Her eyes reddened instantly. "How could I? This belonged to Madam—it should stay with you." She pushed it back toward the girl, her hands trembling.
But Hye Ji only shook her head, her face solemn beyond her years. "Aunt Shen, it was designed for adults. By the time I'm grown enough to wear it, it'll be out of fashion. Please, just take it."
The older woman's lips trembled into a broken smile. "Don't think because I'm old I don't understand fashion. This necklace… it won't be out of fashion even twenty years from now." She gave a soft chuckle, though her eyes were glistening. "But I'll keep it safe for you, Little Miss. I'll guard it until you're ready."
Hye Ji let out a faint laugh, though it sounded more like a sigh. "Alright then." Suddenly, as if remembering something, she brightened and handed the box back. "Ah! This reminds me—I'll be right back!" She placed the box in the tray and hurried to the desk.
Pulling open a drawer, Lin Hye Ji took out a notebook and pen. With quick, determined strokes, she scribbled something down, tore the page, and folded it carefully. Her small fingers tucked the note under a piece of cloth at the bottom of the jewelry box before closing the lid gently, as though sealing a secret.
Moments later, Aunt Shen returned, holding a small, neatly wrapped package against her chest. She placed it down with quiet reverence. Her voice shook as she spoke. "Your mother… she designed this herself. She asked me to send it out to be custom made for your tenth birthday next weekend. It only arrived today but…" Shen's throat closed, and she couldn't bring herself to finish. The unsaid words hung heavy between them—but she didn't live to give it to you herself.
The silence in the room swelled, broken only by their quiet breathing. Shen's eyes brimmed with tears, but she quickly turned away, lifting the tray with trembling hands. Without another word, she left, her footsteps echoing softly down the hall, with the box, the hidden note, leaving Lin Hye Ji alone with her mother's last birthday gift to her and the aching ghost of her mother's love.