23.

Better a cruel truth than a comfortable delusion,

“Your mother sent you a present.”

The boy’s eyes lighted up at the words. His mother had never failed to send him a birthday present accompanied by a hand-written letter asking about him, about school and life in general. The boy would always write a letter in reply, giving it to his father so that he’ll send it in his stead (since his mother’s current whereabouts were unknown to him, his father insisting on not telling him for some reason).

Jongin opened the nicely decorated box in haste, excitement bubbling his insides, making his father chuckle at the sight. There in the box lay a new pair of Jordan sneakers (he had written to her last time saying how his sneakers were practically falling off from his numerous practicing sessions). The boy smiled and quickly put on the shoes (it amazed him how she knew his exact shoe size as well) and looked at his father who beamed at him in return and affectionately ruffled his hair.

This showed him that his mother still cared about him,

That she still remembered his birthday,

That she still wanted to stay in contact with him,

And most importantly,

That she still loved him.

(But all good things must come to an end.)

It was when fourteen year old Jongin was going through his father’s drawers in search of his confiscated phone (really, what kind of punishment is that anyway?) that he came upon a series of handwritten letters addressed to him, the sender being his mother, that this illusion of his shattered into pieces.

A pile of letters written by him in response to his mother lay next to it. The boy was smart. He realized that the person who had been sending him these letters all along, the person who had been buying him these gifts (knowing quite well what he liked and disliked, what he needed and didn’t), the person he had been writing to was none other than his father.

Jongin didn’t know what to feel.

Should he be angered that his father was lying to him all this time?

Sad that his mother never bothered to actually write to him, ask about him?

Pained to realize that she never truly cared about him? (Not even a little bit, not even at all.)

He knew he wasn’t angry at his father (he couldn’t be), the man did what he did for him, he lied (that part was true) but he did so for his son’s own good, he wanted him to believe that his mother hadn’t truly abandoned him and that she thought of him as much as he thought of her, that she still loved him and cared for him (when she clearly didn’t, not anymore).

The truth was painful and maybe that’s why his father refused to let him near it. He didn’t want him to hate his mother. But he did now and that was something that couldn’t be easily changed.

Jongin kept this to himself.

He received the gifts and letters with a smile.

But stopped writing back.

After all why would it matter if he did?

He dropped the bomb during his eighteenth birthday.

“I’ve always known it was you who’s been sending these gifts and writing these letters.”

The old man’s body stiffened as he registered his son’s words.

“Not mom but you.”

Never mom.

“Son I-I’m –”

Jongin shook his head, “It’s okay dad, I’m not mad at you.”

I could never be,

How could I when you’ve giving me so much already?

The man’s nerves eased at his son’s smile.

“All this time, she has never contacted us once, has she?”

His father sighed.

“No, she hasn’t.”

His son nodded his head. That’s all I needed to know.

“Thank you dad. For everything.”

He gave his father a hug before walking out the room.

People say that the truth sets you free,

It doesn’t.

It makes you feel awkward and embarrassed,

Defenseless and horrified,

Petrified and vulnerable,

But free?

Jongin doesn’t feel free.

He feels like .

Sometimes, it feels like we will stop breathing when we are left behind, when the one person we care about the most turns their back on us. It’s like the very oxygen that lifted us up has brought us down again. The days drag on and your heart barely beats. Sadness fills your days and hardly a smile comes to your face. Your heart is broken. It’s shattered. Unrepairable. Loneliness becomes your faithful companion. Promises become empty words. Lies said to keep you at bay. To make you believe that all was well when nothing truly was. Love becomes associated with hatred. It becomes useless. Unfelt and unwanted.

The boy who had lost his mother, no she wasn’t dead (he would have preferred it if she was though, that would have made the pain more bearable) she simply left him behind to start anew with her so called lover, to form a new family, one he did not belong to (there was no place for him after all). He was a part of her past. A past she wanted to forget and move on from. His mother, the person who vowed to love him no matter what (unconditionally) and to always remain by his side left him. (Just like that.)

She broke his heart.

His mother was responsible for his very first heartbreak. (One he won’t easily recover from.)

He hated her for tearing their family apart. For bringing pain to his caring father. For betraying their trust. For betraying them, period. For leaving and not once asking about him. Were all those times she had told him she loved him lies? Were they? He wouldn’t be surprised if they were.

After all, that woman was an impeccable liar. All women were. (All women are)

They told you what you wanted (what you needed) to hear to get what they want. And when they did, they would simply leave you all alone with a bleeding heart, not bothering to turn around to assess the damage they’ve caused or to check on the mess you’ve become.

The boy lost count of the women his father remarried, young silly women who were only after his father’s money and good-looks (something the old man was aware of). But there was a void in his heart that needed to be filled and that was the only way he knew of that could make the suffocating loneliness a bit tolerable.

Jongin died the day his mother left, leaving cold-hearted Kai in his stead.

Kai did not believe in love. Actually, he spat on the mere idea of it. To him Love was (is) horrible. It makes you vulnerable. It opens up your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. It means you’ve surrendered to someone else. You’ve giving them the power to easily hurt you. To tear you apart. To s