Chapter ONE

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It was a nice weather that greeted me this Monday morning. The sunlight beamed through the window entering my bedroom. I can hear the birds chirping happily by their nests in the trees outside.

 

I sat up from my bed, my feet touching the floor. I closed my eyes and relished the moment to smell the fresh morning air brushing my nose. I spread out my arms and stretched.

 

I really like this feeling. I feel blessed. Knowing that I had a good sleep, I bet it’s going to be a great day ahead.

 

“Daeun?” I heard my mother calling my name as she stepped inside my room.

 

I looked around and smiled at her. “Good morning, Mom.”

 

“Good morning darling,” she sat beside me. “How was your sleep?”

 

I embraced her warmly and muttered, “It was great.”

 

She brushed my hair, “I’m glad to hear that. Now,” I looked up to her. “You should go wash up and get dressed. The breakfast is ready. We still have to open the shop.”

 

“Okay,” I told her somewhat enthusiastic.

 

 

This has been my daily routine. Waking up a little too early in the morning to get ready and then spend the whole day assisting my mother in the shop. My family owns a painting shop selling various materials for painting and artworks, managed by my mother since Dad is out for a business trip. My father is busy touring the world conducting exhibits of his famous paintings and artworks—he is a renowned artist and a pioneer of the country’s biggest art club. He met my mother during college years as they attended the same university. My mother, on the other hand, is a retired professor from one of Seoul’s famous university where she taught Social and Psychology subjects.

 

My life is quite normal compared to those other girls in the neighborhood. I grew up in the midst of the modern Seoul where ancient tradition and new technology meets. I have both of my parents who were always supporting me; who were always there in every achievement and every sorrow of my life. They were the first people who would comfort me whenever I’m encountering something bad. They were my first teachers. They taught me how to become a good citizen and lead me into the right path. Being the only child, of course, being strict parents sometimes can’t be helped. But despite of all the restrictions, I know it’s also for my sake. I loved them as much as they loved me. My words are not enough how thankful I am for having them as my parents.

 

As I tried to look back at those times when I’m still younger, only few memories would flash my mind. I remembered when I was in fifth grade I failed a math test for the first time because I forgot a certain formula, and how I cried so much in my mother’s arms saying I’ve disappointed them. But instead of expecting them to get angry at me, she comforted me, telling me that it was not a big deal after all. I also remembered my father giving me a rough sketch of my face crouching from too much crying, saying how ugly I get whenever I cry just so I will stop from weeping hard. Eventually, the next day, I feel better and determined.

 

I got my first major award in middle school and it made my parents very proud. It was an inter-school event for acrylic painting contest, and I was declared champion out of thirty schools who participated the competition. From then on, I swore to myself to work harder and get better. I want to become like my father, and he was there with me teaching me and supporting me. The rest of the school years were more painting and study.

 

High school years, as I tried to reminisce, suddenly became a blur. It’s quite weird though… because shouldn’t be the latest events are supposed to be worth remembering rather than the older ones? High school years… and all I can remember are fragments—school works, family moments and more painting. Even the faces and names of my old friends suddenly became vague. I think maybe it’s because high school life isn’t really that special to me, or maybe I’m just forgetful. Sigh.

 

 

 

What matters now is the present, and here I am in our shop flipping the sign board hanging by the front door as ‘open’. I came back to my mother at the counter and help her unpack the box of newly arrived poster paints.

 

“Your father sent us a mail. Daeun, can you check them inside the box?” mother ordered me.

 

“Okay mom,” I said and bended down to get the box from the floor before placing it on the counter surface. I gathered the envelopes in my hand and began reading the labels. There are letters from different establishments offering discounts, sponsorship letters, order letters and some advertisement letters. “Ah, here it is.”

 

I checked the address and discovered Dad sent this mail from Bahamas, the date was from two weeks ago. I ripped the tip off and found pictures inside. A smile made its way on my lips as I saw photos of him with a beautiful view as his background, one photo was during his convention speech and another photo of him with Bahamian students each holding paintbrushes with colorful paints on their smiling faces.

 

Seeing that he was doing great with his event, I muttered a small prayer thanking for keeping him safe and healthy. My mother fumbled for the envelope and found a piece of paper, seeing that familiar handwriting—it was a letter from him. I snuggled closer to Mom, reading it together.

 

 

To my darling Youngshin and to my girl Daeun:

 

                Hi darling, hi Daeun. How are you? I wrote this letter after my successful event in the capital of Bahamas. It was really great! I was welcomed warmly. People here are very hospitable. I tried some of their delicacies and it all tastes so good. I even learned a few phrases of their language.

 

Daeun, I miss you my little girl. How’s your painting? I expect you’ve done many artworks now when I come back. I’ll surely anticipate them. In a few days you’ll go back to school again. Hope you’ll do better because someday, you’ll be the one who will follow my footsteps. You’ll become someone who is as bigger than me. Stay healthy my Daeun. Make me proud, my beautiful daughter.

 

And to my darling Youngshin, how are you? I miss you. Are you taking well by our daughter? I hope she’s listening to you. I hope she’s not causing you burden. No, I’m just messing. How’s your health? You shouldn’t overwork and better rest sometimes. I have sent some money through our account for Daeun’s enrollment. Notify me if you got the money. I’ll be back before the winter and don’t worry too much for me, I’m doing great. By the time you read this letter, I’m probably heading to Sydney to attend that world summit for painters and enthusiasts like me. It will be really great if you and Daeun could come with me. Maybe next year we can attend this event together and have our family bonding time. I’ll surely save for that.

 

I’ll send another letter after my visit to Australia. I miss you and I love you.

 

Sincerely yours,

Dad

 

 

“Daddy can be a cracker sometimes,” I said as my mother let out a small laugh, her eyes threatening for a tear to fell out. She must’ve really missed him.

 

She looked at me and chuckled, “You said so.”

 

 

 

Afternoon came and customers come in and out of the shop to buy their materials. Mother left the store an hour ago to withdraw the money Dad mentioned in the letter. I was left alone in the shop and I’m glad it wasn’t that busy.

 

I heard the chimes rang through the door, indicating a new customer coming in. But I was too engrossed in my doodle art on the sketchpad to notice who just came in.

 

I always love art. Not only that my father influenced me this field, but also making artworks is a one way of expressing your emotion. Through artworks, I have the chance to illustrate my sentiments and mood, whether in abstract or in definite imagery. Imaginations can be broadened and skills can be nurtured. I’ve always been and big fan of my Dad. His purpose of conducting exhibits doesn’t only limits to showcasing his talent, but he also have the aim to influence people in a good way. He always tells me that having a talent comes up with a big responsibility on how you use it. Because talent is a gift and gifts are meant to be shared.

 

My consciousness drifted back when I heard a sound from one corner. There was this guy scanning the framed canvasses by the shelves, his back facing me. I noticed he was the only customer at that moment. I glanced at him one last time before resuming to my doodle art.

 

“Excuse me, may I know the price of this twelve-by-eighteen framed canvass?” I looked up from my artwork to answer his query.

 

“It sells for one thousand-eight hundred wo-” I completely stopped talking the moment my sight landed on his eyes.

 

His eyes, they… they look utterly familiar. His nose, his cheeks, his lips… he totally looked familiar to me. He was clad in a plain sky blue polo tucked in his khaki pants. He has a good complexion, with unbelievably white skin. He overall looked really clean and neat, like a true gentleman.

 

It took me seconds to realize I was completely dazing out. I blinked my eyes to regain my awareness back and cleared my throat, “It sells for one thousand-eight hundred won, sir.”

 

I sighed out, suddenly feeling embarrassed. I composed myself and looked back at him to see his response.

 

I was initially caught by surprise to see him looking at me with those horrified eyes, but there was a hint of anticipation in him.

 

“Areum,” he whispered. He spoke too low for me to decipher what he just said.

 

“Uhm… Excuse me, sir? Are you going to buy that?” I asked him, referring to the item in his clutch.

 

“Oh,” he snapped, blinking. He sighed out, avoiding my gaze. “How much was it again?”

 

“It’s for one thousand-eight hundred, sir.” I looked at him strangely.

 

He pulled out his wallet and gave me his payment, just in time I finished wrapping his item. I received the money from him and retrieved the change from the cash box, at the same time printing his receipt. As I was about to give them to him, he was already heading for the door, holding the item he purchased, walking out in long strides.

 

Oh no.

 

“Excuse me! Sir, you forgot your change!” I yelled, seeing him getting out. “Oh no.”

 

I immediately got out of the counter and run after him. I went out of the shop to see where he went, but he is nowhere to be found. I turned from left to right, hoping to see his running figure. But in the end, I failed.

 

I sighed out, catching my breath from such rush. Where did he go? How come he just disappeared?

 

I looked down at the change and receipt he forgot to get. I feel really guilty.

 

I pondered.

 

Who is he? Why does he look so familiar? Do I happen to know him?

 

Whoever it is that guy, I’ll be seeing him again for sure. Soon.