A muted metallic brriiipp sounded as you pulled the key from the lock.  The door slowly swung open into the entry hall.  The sad creak that whined into the old house was in keeping with the overcast day and the depression of your parent’s funeral hours earlier.  You took two steps inside and could go no farther.  The memories of your family in this house were just….

Somehow, you still expected to hear Umma calling out to you from somewhere, yelling that snacks were ready in the fridge.   You expected the lamplight from Appa’s desk to spill out into the hall from the study to the right. 

But…

It was quiet.  It was dark.  And it broke your heart all over again. 

“Come on, _____.  You can’t just stand here crying.  Go on in and sit down for a minute,” Onew said as he bumped into your still figure.  His hands were gentle on your shoulders as he guided you toward the main room, giving you a little push.  You didn’t see the sad little smile, or the concerned look in his dark eyes.    You wanted to thank him yet again, but knew if you tried you would break down all over again.  For the first time in years, you shied away from thinking about him.  

You hung the house keys on the hook next to the light switch before shrugging your long black wool coat down your arms until it brushed past your fingertips to lie crumpled on the oak floor.  You’d pick it up later.  Walking slowly to the main room, you stared sightlessly at knickknacks adorning the low side tables and framed family photos cluttering the walls.  Moving carefully, you sank down onto the couch.  Any quick movement might shatter you.  You feel heavy, like a block of stone weighed down in sorrow sinking to the bottom of the sea.  You feel loose, as if the slightest breeze might send you drifting like a brittle leaf, skittering brown and lifeless down the street. You don't know how you feel, exactly, but you don't want to feel anything for a while.

Please, God, just let me be empty.

As you sat, the slick material of your dress slithered across the chocolate leather to settle in chilly folds against your tights-clad legs.  You were a picture of dejection with knees pressed together, ankles awkwardly spread out, the edges of your stiletto heels digging deep into the rust-patterned rug.  You had dressed up for your parents, for their friends & for the ever-present cameras that seem to follow those friends around.

"It's all about style," your umma's voice whispered in your mind, "wear what makes you confident, and everyone will see your confidence.  Oh, and never skimp on a great pair of shoes."  She would have adored these heels, you sniffed.  The thought of her voice brought a sob that caught in a tight lump at your throat.

You could still hear the drone of the preacher’s voice talking about the better world awaiting your mom and dad.  You could still smell the heavy perfume of roses and lilies draping the caskets, their scent cloying even in the chilled air at the graveside.   The on-and-off drizzle had made your thick dark hair curl wildly down your back from the small silver clasp at your nape.  You remembered the ends of small curls sticking in the tears slipping down your cheeks.  Onew had brushed some of them back behind your ears, whispering that you looked exactly like your umma that one time- so sad, but still lovely.  You tried to smile, to reassure him that you would be okay, but trying only made you cry more.

You shuddered, braced against the memory with arms crossed tensely over your midsection, hands gripping your elbows tight enough to indent the smooth skin.  Light purple crescents seemed painted below your eyes, the mark of sleepless nights somehow only enhancing the still-drenched hue of your irises.  Distantly, you heard Onew puttering around the kitchen.  You sighed and threw your head back to gaze up at the ceiling.   Although it hurt, you couldn’t stop thinking about how you got here, the long road to Korea.     

-Flashback-

Your grandfather had been called to America for business, bringing the rest of the family along.  The idea had been that your mom would get some exposure to English and western customs.  What happened was falling crazy in love with a charming Cuban boy, who made her feel like anything was possible.  Reality was that she had been disowned from her conservative Korean family for following her heart, marrying Alessandro without their consent.  Her parents had returned to Korea, but she stayed.  Her life was poor, but happy.  They had a beautiful baby girl, naming her _____. 

And then, all the dire warnings and curses her father had yelled at her as she stumbled from their house… came true.

She told you that your father split when you were barely toddling around the old apartment in Florida.  He left her for a socialite with a black American Express card and rich daddy.  Your mom had quickly decided that staying in a neighborhood surrounded by her ex-husband’s extensive Cuban family wasn’t going to work out.  Luckily, she wasn’t the type to let betrayal and devastation control her life.  She just followed her heart again.  This time in a new direction, one guided by love for you. 

Min-hee (your mom) packed up her life in three suitcases, grabbed a basket of your toys and moved you both out to northern California.   She took a job cleaning houses three days a week, then five, eventually hiring two ladies to help out, then four more.  Three years after the move, your mom had started a legitimate business.  Four years later, Min-hee had a highly successful business capped by a presidency of the local Women in Business organization.  She met Harrison (Harry to his friends) at an awards presentation.  He was VP of consulting for a small but elite company which specialized in digital security for major corporations and governments throughout the world.  He was there as  someone else’s .  It wasn’t love at first sight, but that night, Harry got Min-hee’s phone number. . .

drip.   drop.     drip-drop.

Oh God, you were crying again.

A/N: And so it begins. Probably not how you expected, eh? Sadness & Tears.  Please hang in there with me for the first few chapters, as we need to see how you became, well...YOU.  Makes you wonder, though, how you, a Korean-Cuban girl adopted by an American father, could ever meet Onew of all people?  guess we must wait and see (*cough* shameless hook for subscribers *cough*)

A/N #2: Hope your ethnicity in this doesn’t throw you out of the story too much.  I live in America, the great melting-pot, & mixed backgrounds aren’t uncommon here.  However, mixed kids do have the built-in drama from living in between two distinct cultures, in a country where both of those cultures are still a minority.  I couldn’t pass up the chance for instant character depth- once again, I hope that you don’t find this offensive, ‘cause that wasn’t my intention.  If it helps, you are a GORGEOUS lady. Geez- long enough note? lol.