Chapter 7: Spell

It was a long day, a very long one. Jung Eunji had never imagined she would return home watching her mom sobbing silently on her seat. It’s been months since she saw them. And right after they shared a longing hug, she made her mother cried and her father utterly upset.

They were both hurt, and broken.

“Ever since you said they canceled your contract, we knew there must be something,” her dad started. His tone was low and devastated, trying to oppress the anger between his teeth. “We didn’t ask anything because you didn’t say anything. We believed you needed time. But this … isn’t it, Eunji.”

She lifted up her chin, crying and looking onto his father’s disappointed gaze with raw sadness upon her eyes, wishing he could see how difficult this all for her. He looked rather older than the last time they met, and it broke her heart that her visit made him looking even worse.

And her mother, her strong mother didn’t look like the mother she used to remember. Bag eyes, wrinkled skin, sad gaze were decorating her face. She’s looking more than just tired and sad. Her eyes were avoiding, it must be truly hard to lift her gaze even just for telling how disappointed she was. Eunji could understand, she’s expecting this much.

“We’re sorry … I am.”

It wasn’t her voice, Eunji had tried to speak, she did, but was trembling and betraying. As if something had been inside, hurting and choking her into a silent sob. She’s not sure whether it’s a better option or even so much worse, to come here together, to sit next to each other, holding hand as if it’s something natural.

*

flashback

When she nodded silently agreeing to see her parent, she wasn’t in best state, not that she ever was during this pregnancy. He was rather … comforting. Something within his eyes assured her that it was what they should do; that sooner was better; that it’s a must. His words, his reasoning, his plans, all sounded nothing but right, so right. And he was there, kneeling in front of her, hugging her trembled body, telling her that everything was fine, that they were and would be fine.

When she loosened her grip to see his eyes, he was smiling thinly, and convincing enough. And she had nothing but to trust him. It seemed like, or maybe it is, her only option.

His hands were so warm, as if securing, as if guarding her. She needed them, his touch, his fingers, his kind words, his tiny smile, everything, everything that telling her she’s in right hand. She needed it. And she’s too tired to argue back.

They had a silent breakfast, and he was the one preparing, contrary to what had agreed last night.

As much as she remembered she didn’t do much, breathing seemed hard already and her head was full of questions without answers. So he stood up instead, leaving her alone while preparing simple meal. Even when he called her to the dining table, she mutely followed and sat in front of him, silently munching what he prepared, not even paid attention to what it was.

“Let’s see them today,” he said once they finished, or rather, seemed like they did.

His voice was pulling her attention back to him. She almost thought she’d been alone this whole time.

Her gaze was distant, questioning.

“Let’s see your parent today,” he kindly repeated.

And it was when she fully grasped the situation. They had to tell them. She couldn’t hide this forever. And their parent deserved to know.

But she’s afraid, she couldn’t lie. She’s afraid of their upset and disappointed gaze. She’s afrai