The room was so silent Yeon Joo was sure her parents could hear her heart thumping from across the table. She wasn't sure why she had picked dinner time to tell her parents she would be a singer. It was probably the worst possible time to make her parents angry, and her parents were angry, alright. Livid. Murderous. But she couldn't wait till after dinner to break the news when she could barely force each mouthful of food down with all the growing sense of dread gnawing at her insides. She had to get the words out before she lost her nerves. 

Her father finally broke the silence, his voice quiet, controlled. "What did you just say? You want to become a what?" 

Yeon Joo forced herself to meet her father's eyes. She was not going to back down this time. She sat up straighter, and when she was sure her voice would not come out shaky, she said, "I want to be a singer. I am going to be a singer."

Yeon Joo kept her eyes on her father, daring him to challenge her. She watched as her father's face hardened, his jaw clenched. 

"Yeon Joo, why would you want to reduce yourself to become a form of entertainment for others? All those singers you like so much, they are good at nothing else, no other choice in their lives, and that's why they end up using their body as entertainment. You have such good results. You can choose to become anything in this world, and yet you choose to be that?" 

She wasn't surprised hearing this come from her mother. Her mother had made similar comebacks whenever this topic came up, and usually, Yeon Joo's defense for singers was weak and unconvincing. But she was determined not to step down this time. She turned to face her mother and said, "For someone who doesn't know a thing about any one of those singers, actors, hosts, comedians, entertainers, you sure sound very confident in their level of intelligence. Many of those singers you look down on are top students of their schools. They are smart and talented. They chose to become singers because that is their dream, their passion. Not because they are good at nothing else." 

She took a breath then addressed both her parents, "And that is why I am going to become a singer. Singing is my passion and my dream. Yes, I can become a doctor like you, dad, or I can become a professor like you, mum, but I choose not to because that is not what I want to do for the rest of my life!" 

It was only after she finished her little speech that she realized she had begun shouting. She shut her eyes for a second, gathering herself again before speaking, softer this time, "I would really love it if I had your support. But if not... that's fine too." 

Silence. This time, Yeon Joo could not find the strength to stare her parents down. Instead, she looked down at her bowl of rice in front of her. She realized this might be the last time she ate her mother's cooking. This might be the last time she sat at the same table as her parents. She searched her emotions to see if there's any hint of regret in her. She found none. Sadness, yes. She was sad that she broke her parents' hearts, but she could not keep living her life for her parents. She had to start living for herself. That is why, when her father spoke his next words, she refused to show her parents that they had hurt her. 

"You want to become a singer? Fine. Go. But when you fail, do not come crying back to us. This is no longer your home. And you will not receive a single cent from us anymore. When you leave this house to become a singer, you are no longer our daughter." 

She continued staring hard at her bowl, willing her tears not to make an appearance. She would let herself cry later. But not now. Not in front of her parents. She listened as her parents picked up their chopsticks and spoon to continue their dinner as if they hadn't just disowned their only daughter. After a moment of silence, she pushed her chair back and stood up. She faced her parents and bowed a 90-degree bow. Giving a 90-degree bow between family members are uncommon, of course. But seeing as how she was no longer regarded as their daughter, she figured it was an appropriate manner to say goodbye. 

"I hope you both will live a long and healthy life. Be happy. Goodbye." 

With that, she left the dining room, went upstairs to her bedroom, packed her bags, and left the house, and not once did she look back.