Jisoo's PoV

I didn’t know what to expect when I opened the door, but when I did I just saw two people sitting in this sitting area that almost looked like a living room. They were both sitting on a couch about the size of a love seat, which was adjacent to another chair. They were both in somewhat casual attire. My mother was dressed in jeans and a plain white t-shirt. My father was dressed in a striped polo shirt match with a pair of tan slacks. If you looked closely you could tell that my mother had been in the kitchen, with small speckles of flour on her clothes and aims a discarded apron hanging off the side of the armrest on the couch. My father on the other hand had been sitting at the computer. His glasses slightly tilted to the side. The fabric of his pants slightly more wrinkled towards his thighs and waist. I could remember my mom cooking in the kitchen whenever I came home from school. Discovering new recipes and concocting new sweets ready for my consumption when I entered. And my dad would be in his office tapping on his keyboard and the whisper of a clickity-clack of the keys as he worked, a look of determination etched on his face. Eyebrows furrowed in concentration. It was a stark contrast in comparison to the song leaving my mom’s lips and the smell of food wafting in from the kitchen. You would’ve thought we were perfect. I thought we were perfect. Little did I know that it would leave me so soon. Now here we were almost 8 years later. My mother and father standing in front of me. I realized. No matter what I said, or what I wanted to believe, I never truly forgave them. I always said I was over it. But I never got to ask why. I never got to say bye. I just accepted it with a young heart and left. I was drowning, suffocating, in my own thoughts when my mother interrupted my mental death.

“Why don’t you sit down?” I realized then that we were just standing there, almost like a showdown, and you can feel the awkwardness in the room. I kick myself mentally and crossed the short distance to the chair adjacent to the couch they were sitting on. “I’m glad you could come to meet us Jisoo. We know you’re busy with schedules and everything.” My father tried to lighten the mood.

“I’m not that busy,” I responded.

“Oh,” He responded back. There was a short moment of awkward silence before he attempted again. “So, how have you been?”

“Fine,” I said curtly. Then silence. I realized I was being cold. I reprimanded myself. I was here to try to make amends.

“So, you own this place?” I asked trying to start a conversation.

“Yeah, we opened it recently,” my mother replied.

“Business seems good.”

“Yeah, It’s been good.”

“So, when did you come back to Korea?”

“Oh, we’ve been back and forth from Australia for a while. We only moved back here a month ago.”

“I see” There was that silence again. A tension slowly building within the small white room. Their eyes boring into my skin as they looked at me. Their eyes desperate to say something, but too scared to speak. “So, why did you ask me to meet you?” I asked, unable to stand the quiet any longer. They looked at each other, exchanging a silent conversation I couldn’t decipher.

“We just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” my mother replied.

“What?”

“We just wanted to know that you were alright. Especially with everything that happened…” my father’s tone faltered at the end. I didn’t know what to say.

“Why?” I was finally able to manage.

“Why? Why what?” She asked. I swallowed the lump that had begun to form in my throat.

“Why now? Why after all these years. Why do you all of a sudden want to act like my parents? Why did you come now? Why do you care now? Why?” All these questions escaped my mouth each question more uncertain than the last. I took in a breath to calm myself. “This isn’t a game. You guys can’t just come back out of nowhere and play house. Pretend to care. Pretend like everything will be alright with one talk. I thought I was over it. I thought that I knew that what you did was you watching out for me. But that was just me lying to myself. I just don’t understand. Why? Why!” I was breathing hard and I was clutching at the armrest of the chair I was sitting on. I was fuming. Every bit of anger and despair flowing out of me. I stared at them hard in the face. Their eyes drilling the ground beneath their feet.

“We have no excuse. We’re sorry. We didn’t know it would end up like this.”

“Sorry? That’s all you can say? That you’re sorry? Do you know everything that I’ve been through? Do you know how much mental and physical torture I was put through? And not even one parent to guide me along the way. No one to say ‘you got this,'. I had my Aunt as my parental figure. I had my CEO, I had my manager, I had my friends, but I never had you guys. And now you come back and all you can say is sorry? You said that you didn’t know it would end up like this. What is this? You never thought I’d be successful? You never thought that you’d have to see me again? You thought I’d say ‘oh, it’s okay,’ and come running back into your arms? Well, it’s not okay! Where were you when I needed you the most? Where were you to ask ‘are you alright’ when I was in pain back then? I could’ve gone the rest of my life being delusional and thinking that everything you did was what you thought was best for me and never had to face you again. Pretend that the people who abandoned me did it because they loved me. But I can’t act like everything is alright because it isn’t. So why are you here now? Wouldn't it have been easier to just forget me?”