As if by some magic wand, Namjoo jolted awake at the light of dawn. What had been trying to climb to the fore previously, suddenly was floating.

Maybe it was Jongin’s kind words that had triggered it. This particular matter had always angered her far beyond being painful. Yes, that was it.

She needed to visit dearest mommy.

Rising, Namjoo washed. Dressed in her regular jeans and t-shirt. Tossed her coat on and was out the door at the light of day. The wind was fierce today, but the full sun was working its magic melting snow on the sidewalks. Deep puddles were forming and sliding down the street drains.

Stopping at a cheap eatery, Namjoo paid for a meal. Sitting to take enough time to plan out her day. Places to visit, people to see, things needed being said. As steamy soup smothered her face Namjoo’s memories took a nosedive.

Kim Namjoo had been sixteen then. Chanu twenty-one. Her smart brother should have been in class at Hankook. Though reasonably, he should have gone farther than stay in Seoul. Driven to give up baseball already. Young Namjoo had never been in on the reasons why, but vaguely knew her father had persuaded him to. A full-fledged possible career in sports was not suitable for a boy who should be going into medicine. Maybe Uncle Namhee had had a few words in private with him, too.

For a young girl who was into an older guy called Munho, that girl’s priorities had not involved her brother those days. Dress ups, makeup, glamor, looking top tier were all Namjoo’s normal interests. What a girl should be into.

She’d met Munho’s parents recently. His mother thought she was lovely and simply adored her. It was everything right in Namjoo’s dictionary. She was beginning to dream of becoming a wife. A mother someday. Married to Munho and living in a white house with giant rooms like the ones at home. Currently she was trying to lose weight and grow taller. Dubbed by disappointment when she learned a girl’s height stopped at the peak of 18, which was quickly reaching.

That fated day, Namjoo had done once more the incomprehensible in her mother’s terms. Skip ballet class. A cab had dropped her off at the gates. Taking her sweet time, she’d skipped up the lane where up ahead a muddled figure sat on the grass. A closer approach and it was her brother. The playful grin on her lips fading sensing something wasn’t right.

Chanu who should have been on campus. Nerves tensing when she saw red soaking his upper thigh area. His pants a deep red. Noticing her he half twisted away. Hiding his face. Shame she later understood it to be.

His attractive shoulders trembled like a grumbling earthquake. Her big brother was crying. Something she was not used to as a younger sister to a supposedly stronger, bigger man. The alarm bells rang.

That was the day she went to get mom for help when he begged her exclusively not to.

That was the day of the hospital incident.

What went on inside the doctor’s office, Namjoo was kept from. She had been a minor. The problem was privately Chanu’s. The guardian went in with him. Then it was concluded after he came out tearful and they went home. The rest was swept under the rug and life moved on.

It went like that. As if nothing had ever happened. Her brother hadn’t bled or limped. Had cried.

Finishing her meal, Namjoo slowly walked down the street. Patiently waiting for an available cab. Call it instinct, maybe. Namjoo had honed her senses over the years. Enough to know how events might end, but as she stood at the gates of her home a part of her stupidly hoped things might be the opposite.

Pressing the button to announce her visit, Namjoo listened to the gates gasp open. Walking right through she observed the clearing snow. No longer glittery under the sunlight but a mixture of disdainful pale brown on crispy white. Snow gone hard before its end.

The further the walk the more she could make out the emptiness surrounding the three-story home. Dead trees bordering the deep background. A sickly yet bluish sky as a blurry backdrop. The house a sharpened landmark at the forefront. Giant window eyes, deep, gaping, empty. There was really nothing here anymore. Just a skeleton of a building sitting on land.

Was it this area where she’d found her brother? Had she passed it? Namjoo couldn’t recall. She marched on. Spotting, the closer she got, that one of the garage doors had been left open. Meaning her father was not home to grant the daughter gone astray another fitful lecture.

Advancing up the stairs Namjoo entered the same way she had a million times over. Striding right through the hallways carved into the back of her head, she went in search of dearest mommy, the source of today’s injuries.

Not the grand room with the staircase. Not in the study room. The kitchen. The dining room. Traveling further, Namjoo found her mother shockingly in the laundry room, a wide open space, shelves on the right, machines on the left, currently sorting through bedsheets. Leaning against the threshold she waited to be noticed.

“Oh! Jesus!” her mother shrieked jumping.

“What is the enthroned Madam Kim doing laundry for?” Namjoo started hinting mock. “Did dad wet the sheets?”

“Namjoo!” her mother scolded ensued in a tug of war with a white linen. Tugging harder she managed to drag out the sheet tangled with another. Sighing annoyed her mother worked the material apart with unsteady hands, frustrated.

“Did the cleaner quit?” Namjoo wondered.

“Just cleaning. Spring is coming,” her mother explained. “It’s always nice to be prepared when we have guests over.”

“Your dinner parties?” Namjoo asked. “I remember Uncle Namhee always attended.”

Clicking her tongue, the small woman’s spine went straight, “What is with you these days, Namjoo? You don’t seem to get along with your uncle. I mean, he is your uncle. He’s family. You should get along.”

“I can’t believe you said that.” Namjoo muttered.

“Namjoo, we’ve been through this.” She seemed perplexed.

“Yea, we have.” Her tone dropped but became louder. Stating direly, “We have.”

The tight ball of fury unwound, the tightly woven string bursting shooting out itty bits. Wounded grudges seeping madly beneath her skin. And Namjoo thought again, there was too many people she couldn’t forgive.

“But you’re our mom. You birthed us!” ing a hand against her Namjoo stared her mom down. “That wasn’t enough for you to take responsibility? We believed in you! I did!”

Flinging her hand aside she yelled, “You failed us. So do not blame me for not getting along with a creep!”

Blinking appalled Madam Kim’s mouth partially opened. There was no defense to offer.

Gathering herself, Namjoo calmed recalling the sole reason of her visit. “Who was the doctor?”

“What are you talking about?” her mother innocently asked holding a tiny fist against her chest. To keep under control?

“The doctor you took Chanu to. I want to know his name.”

“Why do you need it? Are you hurt?” her mother had the audacity to sound worried.

Namjoo’s blood almost surged up to her head.

“Let’s sit down. I’ll get you something warm to eat then take some medicine.” Her mother started coming toward her.

Namjoo backed up. Shaky eyes filled with distrust. “No need. Don’t worry about me.”

Pivoting, Namjoo fast tracked out of there. Running all the way down the road until she slid into a cab and directed the driver to Asan Medical Center.

Throughout her childhood, they had