The next morning, the house returned to its usual quietness.
Mom moved through the kitchen like always, preparing breakfast with calm, familiar motions, acting like a typical housewife.
Dad left for work as usual, briefcase in hand, a quick kiss on her cheek before the door closed behind him.
The appointment to take me to the hospital for a checkup was postponed until the weekend.
No one mentioned it again.
After a few normal days, I almost felt as if what I had witnessed that day was a dream… something unreal, fading at the edges.
The routine wrapped around me like a blanket, meals on time, evenings quiet, conversations light and ordinary.
A numb acceptance settled in.
The house felt safe again on the surface.
But faint unease lingered underneath, quiet and constant.
Every smile from Mom, every casual word from Dad, carried a shadow now.
I watched them more closely, waiting for a crack, a slip, something to prove it hadn't been a dream.
The lingering sadness stayed, dull but real.
The pain hadn't gone away.
It had just gone quiet, waiting.
And, I was still worried that my parents would come to school and question my best friend David, so the next day at school, I dragged David along to coordinate our story.
David was indeed my best friend, and without hesitation, he offered to take the blame.
Guilty anxiety gnawed at me the whole time.
But when David asked me about what had happened that afternoon, I claimed I had visited Xiang Temple.
He nodded, accepting it easily, no questions, no doubt.
Relief washed over me, quiet and grateful.
He didn't push for more.
Truly a best friend.
That simple trust eased the knot in my chest for a moment, a small warmth in the cold numbness.
But the guilt lingered, heavier now.
He was covering for me without knowing why.
And I could never tell him the real reason.
Some secrets were too dark to share, even with the person who mattered most.
…
The weekend arrived in the blink of an eye.
Mom took me to the hospital again, her hand light on my shoulder as we walked through the gates.
Vice President Jun was waiting there personally, smiling too widely, greeting us like we were important guests.
Mom looked at him and shook her head, repeating softly that she didn't deserve such an honor.
Jun feigned panic, hands raised in mock alarm. "The arrival of Mr. Marcus' wife is an honor. How could I dare to be negligent?"
No one was close enough to see.
Mom's foot shot out quickly, kicking him in the ankle.
It looked sharp.
Jun winced, then limped the rest of the way, still smiling like it was all a joke between old friends.
Tense dread coiled in my stomach the moment I saw him.
His face, his voice, it brought everything back in a rush.
The office. Aunt Sophie. The sounds. The movements.
Disgust flickered again, cold and familiar, mixed with that unwanted warmth I hated remembering.
I kept my eyes down, focusing on the floor tiles, but I could feel him glancing at me, that same uncle-like smile he'd always worn.
It felt fake now.
Everything did.
Mom laughed lightly at his limp, playful and scolding at once, like it was nothing.
Their easy banter, the hidden kick, the shared look, it all felt too normal, too comfortable.
Bitter disillusionment sank deeper.
They acted like nothing had changed.
Like no one knew.
But I knew.
And watching them pretend made the world feel even colder.
The examination didn't reveal any major problems. It was simply a matter of being a little weak. Besides improving nutrition, the advice was to increase outdoor exercise.
This was all within Mom's and my expectations.
A detached relief settled over me, small, almost mechanical.
No serious illness.
Nothing to explain the faintness, the dreams, the constant heaviness.
Just "eat better, move more."
The doctor's words were kind, routine, but they didn't touch the real ache inside me.
That pain had nothing to do with my body.
Mom nodded politely, thanking the doctor, her face calm and grateful.
I echoed her thanks quietly.
We left the room together, walking down the hallway in silence.
The relief was there, faint and surface-level, like a thin layer of ice over deep water.
But beneath it, the underlying heaviness remained, unchanged.
The secrets, the images, the broken trust, none of it was fixed by a clean medical report.
If anything, the normal results made everything feel worse.
Back home at noon, Dad had already left for an "emergency meeting" at work, just like he'd mentioned that morning.
Mom made simple noodles for lunch, the steam rising quietly between us as we ate in near silence.
I kept my eyes on my plate.
When lunch ended, I returned to my room, ready to lose myself in a book again, anything to quiet the noise in my head.
But then I heard Mom answer the phone in the hallway, her voice low, words muffled.
A moment later, my door opened.
"Lian," she said, smiling softly, "Mom's going to the supermarket to buy some things. I'll be back soon.Don't just sit still while reading, you heard what the doctor said. Get up and move around after a while, okay?"
I nodded, mumbling agreement.
She left, the front door clicking shut behind her.
Suspicious curiosity stirred inside me, sharp and insistent.
The supermarket? Alone, right after the hospital visit?
It didn't feel right.
Low dread settled in my stomach, familiar now.
I waited a minute, listening to the silence of the empty house.
Then I slipped on my shoes and quietly followed her out.
I had to know.
If the world I thought I knew was full of lies, I couldn't keep pretending I didn't see them.
Not anymore.
So, after hearing the door close, I quickly changed my shoes and slipped out, careful to stay far enough behind that she wouldn't notice.
Anxious anticipation tightened my chest with every step.
I had never really understood my parents' lives outside the home, the parts they kept hidden from me.
Was everything I'd seen a few days ago just a bad dream?
Part of me wanted it to be.
But another part, stubborn and hurting, refused to let it go.
That's why, when Mom left alone, I followed.
As I expected, she didn't head to our usual supermarket.
Instead, she turned down narrow alleys, walking faster than normal, until she reached a quiet park nearby.
Once there, she pulled out her phone.
I stayed back, heart pounding, not daring to get too close.
Following someone wasn't easy, I knew that much from books.
I couldn't hear what she said.
From a distance, I watched her hang up and walk toward a secluded area.
At that area I saw a man in a long coat at the other end, but I could only make out his vague shape from the distance.
My stomach clenched tight.
It had to be Uncle Jun.
That's what I'd thought. Who else would she meet like this, in secret?
But as she got closer, the man turned slightly.
He was taller than Jun, broader in the shoulders, with shorter hair and a different posture, straighter, more confident, nothing like Jun's familiar slouch.
It wasn't Jun.
The realization hit me like cold water, sharp and sudden.
Growing shock froze me in place, my feet rooted behind the tree.
Could it be that Mom had more than just Uncle Jun?
The thought left me dumbfounded, breath caught in my throat.
Betrayal twisted sharper, colder than before.
If it wasn't even the person I'd half-expected, if there were others I didn't know about, then how many lies had I been living in?
How deep did this go?
I stayed hidden behind the tree, heart racing, unable to look away as she reached the stranger.
The park felt suddenly too quiet, too empty, the air thick with a dread I couldn't shake.
Mom stopped in front of him, her back to me, and whispered something I couldn't hear.
He smiled and pulled her close, his arm wrapping around her waist as they vanished behind the rocks.
What more would I see…
--<>--
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