"Namjoon-ie! Come inside and eat before your food gets cold." 
    The sweet and lighthearted voice of his mother always seemed to haunt his childhood memories. In a way, it was like a source of light that provided warmth whenever he'd reminisce about the past. His family had never had a lot of money. His father died before he was born and his mother never bothered to remarry or have anymore children. It was just him and her for all he could remember.
    He grew up on the country side. A rural town that no one really knew, especially when he brought it up in conversation after they moved to Seoul. The town was only known for its apple production. There was an apple tree in his backyard, one in the field next to his elementary school, and an entire crop just down the road from his home. The scent of apple desserts sent him into a euphoria of nostalgia. If there was one thing he missed from that boring town, it was the desserts. 
    During his first year of high school,  his mother received a job offer in Seoul. She'd previously been a secretary for a director at the local factory for several years. The new offer was a major promotion. Only an idiot would have declined it, even if it meant having to adapt to busy city life. 
    "We'll finally be able to send you to a good school..." his mother had mumbled soon after announcing the news. She'd been so deeply moved that tears brimmed her eyes and she brought Namjoon into her embrace, pressing her lips gently against his forehead. "Life had been so hard. And it's paying off." 
    Her tone then seemed to be the same as the one she'd just used in her phone call to Namjoon. Quiet, smooth, except this time with more fear than hope. 

||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

    Namjoon's grip on the steering wheel was steel hard. The whites of his knuckles showed through his fairly tan skin and he once in awhile tapped against the leather in impatience. Traffic was worse than usual. There were police officers at every corner, directing cars and dealing with frantic people. The panic seemed to be spreading yet all Namjoon could find worrisome was the state in which his mother was. 
    She'd kept the first home they'd bought when they moved. Namjoon didn't visit often since he'd graduated and started living in the university's dorms. Their home was small and modest. It had no more than what they needed and they were content with what they had. Constantly being on a budget had taught them a lesson. The kitchen was larger than any of the bedrooms but it fit his mother perfectly. She needed space for all the cooking she did. Every meal in their home was full course and always with double servings. Since he was young, the only rule in the house was that they had to eat every breakfast and dinner together. He noticed that he'd lost weight after being accepted into college. The cafeteria food was horrible and made him miss his mother's cooking, often opting for whatever snack they had laying around in their dorm. 
    After half an hour being stuck in traffic, Namjoon pulled up in his mother's driveway. He cautiously stepped out, glancing around the neighbor's homes in wonder. It was eerily empty. As if everyone was hiding. 
    "Namjoon-" a hushed voice hissed loud enough for him to hear. His head snapped in the direction of the voice. Relief rushed through his veins when he realized it was his mother. She had aged since the last time he'd seen her. 
    "Are you okay, eomma?" the boy subconsciously whispered after being ushered into their home. She silently nodded, hands curling around the cup of green tea she was always drinking. Namjoon's eyes traced every wrinkle that had formed since he last visited. Her eyes became sunken in, her skin grayer than her usually beautiful pale complexion. 
    "You've heard about what's happening, right?" She mumbled, looking up at him and finally meeting his stare. Despite her age inevitably changing, her eyes remained impossibly young. Her pupils were a beautiful light brown while Namjoon had inherited his father's dark, dark brown eyes. He remembered the lazy weekend mornings when he'd wake up next to his sleeping mother. He'd gently shake her, the late morning sunshine peeping through the curtains and resting on her face. Her eyes would slowly open, squinting as she adapted to the bright light before lifting into an eyesmile, revealing the golden hazel specks contrasting against her brown pupils. 
    Those stunning eyes now stared into his, sparkling under the dining room light as they sat at the table. She was like a hidden tre