The bright morning sun shone through my bedroom window. I woke up and immediately got dressed. I walked around looking for my mother, and she was cooking in the kitchen. I sat at the dining table, watching her cook and sing. My mother's melodious voice made me feel at ease.
"Good morning, Mom," I said with a smile.
My mother turned and smiled. "Good morning, Grie," she said, then returned to her focus on cooking.
I smiled, relieved to see my mother smiling like that again. A few minutes later, she began serving the food. I began eating breakfast, savoring the delicious flavors.
I had so many stories I wanted to tell my mother, but when I turned to look at her, she had gone into the living room, leaving me alone. I could hear my mother talking to someone on the phone; it was obvious who it was: her boyfriend, William.
"She's busy with that guy again," I growled in annoyance. I finished my breakfast and left the dining room.
I walked into the living room and saw my mother smiling, seemingly delighted as she spoke to the man on the old phone. I sat on the couch and watched.
"Honey, let's go on another date this afternoon. I just found a fancy restaurant," William said.
My mom smiled. "Okay, honey, I love you," she said softly.
With that, my mom hung up. She didn't even notice me sitting behind her on the couch.
"Mom?" I called softly.
My mom immediately turned around. "Ah, did you hear that? What's wrong?" she asked curiously.
"Are you going on another date with that guy?" I asked, disapprovingly.
"Yes, he's a very kind and gentle man. I like him, so I shouldn't waste a guy like him," my mom replied with a smile.
I lowered my gaze. What was so good about it? It was just an appearance. They were going on dates every day, and I was getting bored being home alone.
"Okay, don't come home too late," I said in a less enthusiastic tone.
"Yeah, don't stay up too late, Grie," my mother said, and she immediately left.
I froze in my seat. "Let's at least sit together and talk," I muttered softly, leaning back on the sofa.
My hatred for that man grew day by day. I didn't even know what made him suddenly like my mother. From his attitude toward her, I could see his obsession, which made me want to protect her from him.
My mother was too kind and naive, but I couldn't resist. I stood up and went outside, the wind blowing through my shoulder-length brown hair.
I walked past the old buildings. There were many children wandering around playing. Suddenly, a rock flew towards my head.
"Ack?!" I turned and saw two children sticking their tongues out at me.
In this neighborhood, many people hate me for my assertiveness and short temper; they think I'm evil and all. But I've changed because of my environment, too.
I ignored the child and continued walking. A few minutes passed before I stopped in front of a moss-covered stone gate. I entered; it was a cemetery. I paced back and forth, looking for my father's tombstone. I sat down and hugged it.
"I miss you, Dad," I said softly.
The surroundings were silent, except for the sound of leaves rustling. I felt sad and lonely, but there was nothing I could do.
I sat there for a while, enjoying the silence and stillness of the cemetery. I felt closer to my father here.
I sat in front of that gravestone for hours. Wordless. Just silence. Only a full chest and an empty heart. The midday wind was starting to pierce, no longer gentle. The sun was high, dazzling, and the ground around me was starting to feel hot. But I didn't care. The world hadn't felt comfortable to me for a long time.
"I'm home," I said softly as I entered the house.
My footsteps echoed in the silent living room. This room... used to be so lively. Back then. When Dad was still around. When his laughter filled every corner, when the three of us sat together watching television and joking around like a normal family.
But now? Only silent walls and worn furniture greeted me.
I heard a soft sound from upstairs. Not the television. The sound of conversation. Faint, but distinct. It was Mom... talking on the phone.
It was obvious who it was with.
I sat on the old sofa, trying to distract myself. But I was restless. I lay down, then sat down again. I rested my chin on my hand, then got up, then sat down again. I don't know how many times I changed positions, but still... it was empty. This house... didn't feel like home anymore.
Finally, I decided to go upstairs. I got closer to the source of the sound.
I stood in front of my mother's door. I knocked twice.
"Mom?"
No answer. Just a soft laugh and my mother's voice, which sounded... happy.
"Mom?" I knocked again, louder.
Still no answer.
They were too busy. It was as if I didn't exist. As if I was a speck of dust in the corner of the room they'd forgotten to clean.
I took a deep breath. A very deep one. Holding back the anger boiling inside me.
"I can't be angry... I can't yell..."
My father once said that. A real man isn't harsh with women. He never yelled at my mother, even when she was wrong. He reprimanded her gently. And I... I had to be like him.
But it was hard. So hard.
"That damn bastard..." I muttered through chattering teeth. I clenched my fists, but turned and descended the stairs anyway. I wouldn't win by being angry. Not tonight.
Evening came silently. The sky was starting to turn orange, and a faint scent of perfume wafted from upstairs. I stood at the bottom of the stairs, watching my mother get dressed. She looked... beautiful.
Her wavy brown hair was tied back in a ponytail, making her face look even younger. The light blue dress was simple, but it suited her perfectly. Her clear green eyes shone. She looked like an angel.
I was speechless. Silent with admiration. Silent with sadness.
"Are you leaving now, Mom?" I asked quietly.
She turned with a smile. A warm smile I hadn't seen in a long time.
"Yes, Mom is still waiting for William. He said he would pick you up."
That smile... made me want to cry. But I smiled instead, even though it felt like it was stabbing my own cheek.
"Ah, um... can we spend some time together tomorrow? I have so many stories I want to tell you," I said, trying to hide my nervousness.
My mother's face looked uncertain. "It depends on whether you're busy or not."
Busy? I knew what she meant. Busy with William. Busy dating. Busy… forgetting about your own child.
My fists clenched again. But I kept smiling.
"Okay. I understand."
tock tock tock.
A knock on the door broke the moment. I immediately got up.
"I'll open it," I said quickly, stepping forward.
My hand turned the handle, and there he stood.
William.
His black hair was neatly styled, his body tall, and his clothes were as usual—too neat, too… flashy. His wide smile was like a mask that never came off.
As soon as the door opened, he strode in. He didn't even wait. He didn't even greet me respectfully.
My body was pushed slightly.
"My angel! Where are you?" he called out loudly in a flirtatious tone that made my stomach churn.
I stared at his retreating back, furrowing my brows. What the hell is this insect...
My mother appeared at the top of the stairs. Her face immediately brightened. She jogged down the steps and hugged William tightly.
"I miss you, William."
"Me too, Giselle," the man replied, just as exaggerated.
I... couldn't stand it. They'd just talked on the phone. They saw each other almost every day. But still missing each other? Was that normal? Or... just drama?
I stood there, frozen, like a spectator in a story I didn't want to see.
William finally glanced at me. His smile widened, and his voice was louder than necessary.
"Ah, Grie! How are you, son?"
I wanted to say, don't call me son, you bastard. But I restrained myself. My eyes flicked to my mother. If I wasn't polite, she'd be disappointed. She'd be sad. And I didn't want to make her sad again.
"Okay. How are you?" I replied quietly, forcing a polite tone.
William smiled even wider, as if he knew I was only pretending.
"Very good," he replied, then turned to my mother. "Come on, honey. The restaurant is waiting."
My mother nodded happily. She took William's hand. "Grie, look after the house!"
I nodded. I couldn't say anything else.
They walked out. The car door closed, then the engine started and the car slowly pulled away.
I stood in front of the door, staring at the empty street.
"Damn..." I whispered softly.
I closed the door. Locked it. Then I returned to the sofa. Sitting down. Sighing.
I turned on the television. The worn screen lit up with a blurry image. My favorite old movie was playing tonight. But my eyes couldn't focus. My mind was too busy.
I took a deep breath.
"I hope Mom is okay..." I said quietly, though I wasn't sure who needed the prayer more—her, or me.