While LJoe calms his heart, you notice a metal picture frame sitting nicely on top of his bedside table. Encased behind the clear glass is a family photo; it features a young man in his early thirties standing to the left of a seated middle age woman cradling a rosy-cheeked toddler in her arms.

Curious, you get on all fours and reach for the object, innocently crawling over LJoe in the process…an action that causes him to turn to stone.

Without noticing your frozen companion, you return to your previous spot and examine the picture more carefully. “Is this your mom?” you ask with naiveté as you point to the woman holding the young boy.

Having regained his composure, LJoe sits up and eyes you judgingly. “Seriously? With those visible wrinkles and frail frame? Does it look like she could still bear a child?” he answers, taking the frame from you and bringing it closer to his eyes, “I mean look at her…she’s so...old.”

You secretly make a face, surprised by his unexpected sassiness. “I was just asking,” you mutter under your breath after turning your head away.

Paying no mind to your short mumble, he grabs something from inside his nightstand drawer and lies on his stomach. “This one’s my mother,” he starts with an icy tone and a cold expression, handing you the second picture.

You examine the photograph carefully, taking in the fairytale-like image of a beautiful woman sitting on a wooden swing with intertwining vines of ivy in the background. Her slender fingers wrapped loosely around the ropes while her perfect waves of raven hair outline the round structure of her face. She gazes lovingly at the camera with a bright smile that matches well with her glowing complexion. “Your mom is so beautiful,” you comment in awe.

“She is, isn’t she?”

“Yes, very…what is she like?”

With a sigh, LJoe rolls on his back and looks up at the ceiling then at you. “I don’t know. I never met her. She died giving birth to me,” he tells you with a stoic voice.

“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” you quickly apologize, feeling terrible for asking and being ignorant of the fact.

But just as you rack your brains for the right words to console him, the young master Lee bursts into laughter. "It’s perfectly fine…I was joking," he confesses after catching his breath.

Dumbfounded, you push him hard. “Ya! How can you joke about something like that?” you scold as he comes inches away from falling off the bed.

LJoe rolls back to you, laughing the entire short distance he travelled. He then sits up and leans back against his padded headboard. “Sorry,” he begins, realizing death—even as a joke—is no laughing matter. "I didn’t think you'd actually believe me, but don't worry. My mother's alive and well," he assures you.

You let out a sigh and meet his eyes. "Of all the things you could've said, why'd you have to say she’s dead?" you ask, still a little shaken.

LJoe breaks from your gaze and looks across the room, smiling sadly to himself. "Well…she might as well be," he answers. "My mother…she—she left my dad and me as soon as I turned three to elope with a younger man she met at a banquet,” he explains, the smile on his face slowly fading away, “I can’t blame her though. During that time, my father was preoccupied with expanding the company. He worked all day and all night...never having any time for us…for her.”

And with a silent breath, he shifts his attention to the item in your hand. “Aside for that photo, the only other memory I have of her is watching her gaze out their bedroom window, seeming like she wanted to be anywhere but here…To abandon your three year old son so easily…she must’ve really hated this place,” he finishes calmly. Yet, despite his steady tone, anger and resentment enveloped each word that escaped his mouth.

“LJoe…” you manage to whisper, but he cuts you off before you can say more.

"It’s whatever,” he interjects, "I stopped expecting her to come back a long time ago. Since she left me at such an early age, I can say I never met her and I don’t plan on doing so.”

Robbed of words, you simply take the spot next to him and nestle your head on his shoulder with a heavy heart.

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