Irene is sitting at a hotel bar in the middle of the day, drinking her sorrow away when a Caucasian lady approaches her.

"Excuse me, do you speak English?"

She takes a look at her and simply replies, "No."

The lady exchanges look with someone sitting on a table near them - probably her boyfriend, husband, or who cares. "Don't be so unfriendly. I heard you ordering earlier and you pronunciation was just impeccable."

Irene takes a gulp of her gin and tonic before turning to her. "What do you want?"

The lady smiles, pleased. "So, my best friend and I find you very attractive - he's straight and I'm gay. But I said to him that I picked up a vibe from you that you might be swinging my-"

"I'm as straight as a pole." She says, not letting her finish.

The straight male friend suddenly stands up and walks toward them. "Is that so? Can I buy you a drink then?" he asks, incredibly hopeful. 

"No, thanks. I'm good." 

He stops on his track, making a defeated face at his friend, who is trying not to laugh.

"You look like you needed a friend." The lady starts again.

"And why's that?"

"You're drinking in the middle of the day."

"You're drinking in the middle of the day." She counterattacks.

They both chuckle at how true that was.

"But we're not alone. Come join us then." The guy offers.

Irene sighs, putting her drink down. "How about this.. why don't the three of us go have a little bit of fun upstairs? I wanna watch you.." She points to the guy, then to the lady. ".. her. Then maybe, if I'm satisfied with the show, you.." She points her finger to the lady, inching closer to her. ".. maybe you'll get to me after."

The two friends look at each other, the guy more eager than the lady.

"Yeah, no way. I'm super gay and there's no way I'm having with this ."

The guy curses at her playfully.

"Well, off then." She tells them with the sweetest smile plastered on her face.

It was probably too sweet for them to handle they can't even get mad at how rude that was. The duo then leave her alone. She finishes her drink, pays and gets out of there. The sun is blinding when she exits the bar. It really is still in the middle of the day.

She leans back on the wall of the building. At times like this she wishes she smokes - just for the aesthetic of it - but she doesn't so she just stands there like a fool, contemplating life. She takes a long, deep breath and exhales it slowly before taking out her phone.

"Hi, Tiffany," she greets after the person on the other end of the line picked up.

"What do you want?"

Irene acknowledges that the cold response is due to her own fault. "I just want to say.. I'm sorry for being rude to you and that I appreciate you taking care of my mother." She waits for about three seconds. Receiving nothing, she continues, "I've arranged for a caretaker for her when she goes home tomorrow."

"How did you know she's being discharged tomorrow?" the pastry chef questions.

"I keep in contact with the hospital."

"You're already back in Seoul?"

"Yes."

Tiffany can be heard breathing loudly. "For God's sake, Irene. I don't know what your problem is but you should be here if you care even a tiny bit about her. It wasn't the funeral, was it? It was you," she accuses. "You need to fix this before it becomes the biggest regret of your life."

Irene kicks the wall with the back of her shoes. "Tiffany, I have my reasons for not getting along with her. I'm not a particularly good person, but I'm not evil either. I need you to know that I'm not just some ungrateful brat."

"Irene, I lost my mom when I was just a kid. She wasn't the best mother either, but it still broke my heart and I would do anything to be able to see her again." The chef shares. "By the way, I wasn't thirsting over your mother. I care about her, that's all. She's nice to me and she treats me like her own daughter." There's a sudden pause, as if she knows she's being insensitive by saying that. A soft 'sorry' follows after that. "Listen, she told me not to tell you but you need to know this. I don't think she starved herself on purpose but she almost didn't eat anything the whole week. She was severely malnourished. Her heart was too weak to pump and they almost had to shove a feeding tube down . It was that serious."

At times like this, she freaking wishes she smokes; she really needs that warm and calming effect. "I'll be back in Jeju tomorrow," she says weakly. "Thank you, Tiffany. For everything."

-

"Don't worry, I'll still pay you in full."

"I'm here already anyway, why don't you just let me do my job and you can relax and spend time talking with your mother?"

Irene thought of dimissing the caretaker since she'll be there and her mother looks like she's already in a much better shape, but the ahjumma is adamant in wanting to stay. In the end she gives up and lets her stay for the week as she has already paid for.

She goes back to the living room to her mother who is sitting by the window, drinking a cup of hot tea.

"Your phone is vibrating." The actress informs her.

She walks to the coffee table where she left her phone earlier and could have guessed without having to look at the caller ID. It's Seulgi. Again.

"Just ignore it. Telemarketer."

Her mother looks at her suspiciously - probably have taken a peek at the screen before - but she says nothing. Instead, she gestures for her daughter to sit down next to her.

"Hyun, I have so many things I want to say to you, but I don't want us to end up fighting again."

Irene plops herself down. "We don't have to talk about it now. Or ever. It's in the past now. It's not important."

Her mother grabs her arm, holding it tight. "Hyun, I beg you, stop keeping things to yourself. Just talk to me. Whatever you wanted to say, you can say it to me."

"I've said it all," she mutters, more to herself than for her mother to hear.

She feels her mother shifting and suddenly she receives a hug from the back, a chin rests on the top of her head.

"Mom, you're not supposed to be standing," she reminds, trying to sound non-chalant.

"My baby.." Her mother chokes.

Her heart beats weirdly, it hurts. Her whole life, Irene has only seen her mother cried once - well, a few times - during the mourning period of her father's passing. The rest were scripted tears that happened only in the movies.

"Mom.. don't cry. I'm sorry." It's terrifying seeing someone who almost never cried cries. She feels her own tears start pooling, but when she blinks, there's nothing. She has run out of tears, it seems, after crying her heart out while in Seoul. Tears of sadness, anger and disappointment; for her mother, for Seulgi, and the memory of her childhood.

"No, I'm sorry, Hyun. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you. I'm sorry you didn't feel safe enough to talk to us about it. I'm sorry I was so caught up in my own thing I didn't realize what you were going through. I've failed you."

She holds her mother's arms across her chest, tapping them gently. "It's okay.." she whispers. It isn't really, but she really needs her mother to stop crying right now. It hurts seeing her hurting.

"It's not. And I wasn't blaming you. I'm sorry, I have misspoken. I was still in shock and was so angry at the time that I said the wrong thing. I would never blamed you. I blame the situation. I blame the people who hurt you. I blame myself and the adults around you who were supposed to be responsible for keeping you safe."

"I know," she says weakly, trying to free herself from her mother's tight grip, but the older woman holds onto her even stronger. "I know it wasn't fair to blame you. And I'm not asking for anything, only a little bit of understanding for not being a loving daughter to you like other people's daughters are. I'm sorry for hurting you by telling you all that but I just couldn't keep it to myself anymore. I wanted you to know what happened and to understand where I was coming from."

"I understand, Hyun. I understand. You don't have to explain yourself anymore." Her mother kisses the top of her head before cupping her face gently and looking at her straight in the eye. "Thank you for still being here."

There's a certain weight in that tone that makes Irene think that here doesn't only mean Jeju. She's reminded of one movie in which her mother's character was grieving over her son's death by suicide. Under the Blue Sky. She never really watched most of her mother's movies, but she always knew what they were about.

She turns to look at her mother, her voice steady. "Mom, I'm not suicidal. I never was. You don't have to worry about that one bit."

There's an exhale of relief before her mother thanks her again. "Then thank you for staying. Thank you for growing up so well. I'm so proud of how smart and how strong of a person you are."

She stays quiet and moves forward to hug her mother by her waist.

"I love you so much, Hyun." Her mother whispers, her head lovingly. "We can fix this. I will fix this."

-

'Irene, can we please talk? I went to your place but the security said you weren't home. I just want to make sure that you're okay and I want to talk to you in person. I must apologize and explain myself. I'm really, really sorry for everything. I only told Moonbyul. She's my closest friend and we tell each other everything, but I swear I didn't tell her everything about you and your mother. It was still wrong, I know. Please just let me see you at least once. If you don't want to see me again after that then so be it.'

'I really care about you. I promise you I'm not like everybody else.'

'I'm not in Seoul. Don't come to my house anymore. There's nothing else that you need to explain.'

Irene reads back her response and feels a little bad seeing how cold it was; add that with all the missed calls from Seulgi she has collected over the past few days. She huffs and types another one.

'I know I promised to make your time worthwhile. I don't like to break promises but I hope you understand why I had to.'

'You're forgiven, but I don't think we're meant to be, Seulgi. I'll finish up my plans with The Arthouse and I'm going back to the States after that. It was nice knowing you.'

To say that she's disappointed is an understatement. She doesn't even know how to describe her feelings. For once, she liked someo