The line went dead, but the echo of her mother's voice lingered. Like a ghost that refused to leave.
Maya stood still, the phone pressed against her ear, long after the call ended. The low hum of the city filtered through the window, soft and distant. Seoul was alive but she felt like her life had suspended. The rain had began pouring, hitting hard on the glass window but it felt distant.
For a long moment, she didn't move. She couldn't.
Her apartment had always been her refuge, her private cocoon from the chaos of work and rumors. But tonight, even this space felt foreign.
Her pulse thudded unevenly in her chest, and the words kept replaying, in her mind:
"You promised me you'd stay away from that world…"
That world? As if her mother had any idea how much Maya had fought to rise above it. To build herself anew after the wreckage of her past.
Not to talk of the sleepless nights, the rejections, and the endless criticism.
