I tried to lift my heavy eyelids.
Everything around me was blurred, drowned beneath a haze of white light and exhaustion. But even through the dizziness, I could feel someone's touch.
Warm fingers moved slowly through my hair.
I blinked once. Twice. My vision struggled to focus.
And then I saw her.
My mother.
She was sitting beside me against the headboard, half-reclined, letting my head rest near her lap while her fingers combed gently through my tangled hair. Her eyes looked exactly the same as always deep, tired, and full of silent sorrow. Worry lingered beneath them like shadows that never truly faded.
Her other hand rested over mine, stroking it softly as if she feared I might disappear.
I looked away for a second, my head throbbing painfully. Sharp pangs rose inside my skull, making me wince.
Silence stretched between us.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
Then finally, she spoke.
"Why did you hide all this from me?"
The same question.
But this time, there was no anger in her voice.
Only fear.
Only concern.
I swallowed slowly, staring at the blanket gathered around my legs.
"I don't want to talk about it," I murmured.
For a moment, I thought she would argue again.
Instead, she simply nodded.
"Alright."
Her eyes never left my face.
The quiet in the room became suffocating.
Then she spoke again.
"Your uncle called. Your visa and passport are ready." She paused briefly. "He wanted to book your tickets… but I refused."
The words struck me so suddenly that my heartbeat stumbled.
"You… what?" My voice cracked apart.
I pushed myself upright too quickly, ignoring the pain rushing through my head.
"You did what?"
"I told him not to book the tickets," she repeated calmly.
"You can't do that."
Hair fell messily across my face, but I didn't bother moving it away.
"I can," she replied. "I am your mother."
Something tightened painfully inside my chest.
"I'm going there."
My voice came out quiet.
Firm.
Certain.
"You're not going anywhere," her tone sharpened instantly. "You're not well."
"I'm fine!" I snapped, louder this time. "And I will go. You can't stop me."
"You're not going."
The way she said it sounded less like a sentence and more like an order.
Before I could say another word, she stood from the bed and walked out of the room.
The door closed behind her.
I pressed both hands against my head in frustration.
"Ugh…" I muttered under my breath. "She shouldn't have done that."
My jaw clenched.
"I'll go there no matter what."
No matter what it takes.
The entire day passed in silence.
Mom didn't speak to me once.
Not during breakfast.
Not during lunch.
Not even when evening arrived.
She was ignoring me on purpose.
Maybe she thought silence would make me change my mind. Maybe she believed if she kept enough distance between us, I would eventually give up on Korea.
But I couldn't.
Because I had to find him.
Him.
The thought alone stirred something faint inside my memory.
A blurry image surfaced in my mind.
A little boy.
Small hands clutching chamomile flowers.
His head lowered sadly as he plucked the petals one by one, whispering something beneath his breath.
A strange ache spread through my chest.
Knock. Knock.
The sound pulled me back to reality.
I stood from the bed slowly and walked toward the door, still dressed in yesterday's oversized sweatshirt and loose trousers.
When I opened the door, I froze slightly.
"Uncle Christopher…"
A small smile appeared on my lips.
"How are you?"
"I'm fine," he answered gently.
I looked at him carefully.
The man who had stayed beside my mother and me when nobody else did.
The man who helped us without ever asking for anything in return.
A genuinely kind person.
And maybe that was why life had never been kind to him.
Uncle Christopher always carried warmth in his smile, but exhaustion hid quietly behind it. His marriage had failed years ago, leaving behind wounds no one talked about openly.
I didn't remember Aunt Lee very well.
But I remembered the little boy.
The boy with chamomile flowers.
The boy who smiled so brightly whenever someone patted his head.
Without realizing it, I smiled faintly at the memory.
I stepped aside.
"Come in, Uncle."
He entered the room slowly before speaking.
"Sorry, Judi. I don't have much time. I have a meeting." He reached inside his coat pocket. "I just came to give you this."
I looked at the envelope in his hand.
My passport.
And flight tickets.
I took them carefully, staring down at them in disbelief.
"Tomorrow's flight?" I asked quietly.
He nodded once.
"But… Mom"
"I already spoke to her," he interrupted gently. "She agreed."
I blinked in confusion.
"She has no problem now," he continued. "Just focus on your studies. And if you find him…"
His voice softened.
"Bring him back, my child."
I looked at him carefully then.
Really looked at him.
There was loneliness hidden in his eyes.
The kind loneliness people carry after losing too much.
The kind that never truly leaves.
He kept himself busy constantly meetings, work, endless responsibilities just so he wouldn't have to return home and feel how empty it really was.
"I'll find him," I assured quietly. "And I'll bring him back."
A gentle smile appeared on his face.
He reached out and held my hand softly.
He wasn't old.
Not really.
But somehow, loneliness had aged him anyway.
"I don't know how I'll ever thank you," he said.
Warmth lingered in his tone. Respect. Gratitude.
The kind of kindness that reaches directly into someone's heart.
"I've arranged everything," he continued. "If you face any problem, call me immediately." Then after a pause, he added softly, "And if you find him… and he doesn't want to come back, don't force him."
A faint sadness crossed his face.
"If not a son…" he smiled weakly, "I still have a daughter."
Something inside me ached hearing those words.
Because the care I spent my whole life longing for from one person…
…came so naturally from someone who wasn't even related to me by blood.
I nodded quietly.
"I should leave now," he said. "I still have work."
And then he left.
The room felt strangely empty afterward.
I lowered my gaze to the passport and tickets still resting in my hands.
He had done so much for me.
No matter what happened…
I would reunite him with his son.
Later that night, my phone beeped softly beside me.
A message.
The contact name made me smile faintly.
"Mr. Life Saviour."
Below the message was a list of medicines… followed by a short good luck note.
My world was small.
Very small.
And somehow, he had become part of it too.
I opened the message.
I'm glad you decided to go to Korea.
I want you to forget everything and start fresh.
Your condition has been improving lately, which is a good sign.
And I want you to make friends, Judi. Not everyone is the same.
I stared at the screen quietly.
Then my fingers slowly moved across the keyboard.
My hair was tied loosely into a messy bun now. A tired smile rested on my lips.
In the past few months…
…if nothing else…
…I had at least learned how to smile while hurting.
I typed slowly.
"When good friends leave, you don't replace them.
Some people simply cannot be replaced."
I pressed send.
I expected another long lecture from him. Another attempt to convince me.
Instead, only one message came.
"I hope someday your thinking changes.
I'll stay in touch."
I read the words silently.
But I didn't reply.
Because he already understood what my silence meant.
I placed the phone aside and leaned my head back against the headboard.
There was only one thing I wanted now.
Peace.
Before starting a new life…
…I needed peace badly enough to breathe again.
I closed my eyes.
And immediately
A face appeared in the darkness behind my eyelids.
A girl.
Seventeen, maybe.
Long black hair tied into a braid.
Grey eyes that disappeared whenever she smiled.
Beautiful.
Bright.
Alive.
I felt warmth sliding down my cheeks.
Tears.
She was laughing.
Saying something to me.
Her voice felt close enough to touch.
Then suddenly
The scene changed.
A body slumped lifelessly against a chair.
Grey eyes wide open.
Empty.
Dead.
Tears dried along pale cheeks.
Her wrists tied tightly to the chair.
My breathing stopped.
I jerked my eyes open instantly.
Sweat covered my skin, mixing with tears.
I was back in my room.
But my chest rose and fell too quickly.
My heartbeat hammered painfully against my ribs.
I pressed a trembling hand over my heart.
"I shouldn't remember this…" I whispered shakily.
But memories never disappear just because someone wants them to.
That night, sleep never truly came.
Every time my eyes closed…
…I saw that lifeless body again.
--------------------------------------------------
The next day, my flight was in the evening. The entire morning disappeared into packing. Mom still didn't speak to me.
Not once.
She didn't ask whether I needed help. Didn't ask if I had packed enough clothes. Didn't remind me to eat.
Nothing.
Maybe she only agreed because Uncle Christopher convinced her. But deep down…
…she still didn't want me to leave.
And despite everything, I kept waiting.
Waiting for her to call my name.
Waiting for her to stop me one last time.
Waiting for something.
Anything.
But whenever I approached her, she ignored me quietly.
And somehow, silence hurt more than shouting ever could.
Because silence feels final.
Uncle Christopher dropped me at the airport that evening.
The place was crowded with people rushing in every direction.
Families. Travelers. Children crying. Suitcases rolling across shiny floors.
Everything felt unfamiliar.
Strange.
Traveling alone felt strange too.
But this was my life now.
I couldn't keep depending on people forever.
After checking in, I found my seat inside the plane.
Luckily, it was beside the window.
I rested my head against the glass and eventually drifted asleep.
When I woke up sometime later, I looked outside.
Blue skies stretched endlessly beyond the plane.
Soft white clouds floated beneath us like scattered cotton.
Everything looked peaceful.
Quiet.
Beautiful.
I stared outside silently.
If only life could be this peaceful too.
----------------------------------------------------