“Umma…”

My daughter called me.

“Umma… Please…”

My daughter is sick. And I don’t have the power to cure it.

I had chosen to live here, somewhere far from the city, long ago. I had refused to move to a home my husband gifted to me. I was sick of the city. Everything was so busy and chaotic, not to my liking. It was much better, here, peaceful, in the outskirts of Anyang. I like being close to the nature.

But somehow, right now, I regret it.

My daughter is very sick. We don’t have a car. And my husband is away, working to provide our family. He comes back each night, always looking worn out. I feel a bit guilty for him, having to work until he’s physically drained, but I truly can’t stand the city.

I have been an actress, and although I chose to retire to take care of my daughter, reporters still chased me everywhere, being the wife of Kim Jong Kook. I hated the public; I hated the business of the city so much I just want to stay at home and take care of my daughter.

Kim Hyo Jong. My little angel.

Day by day, I would spend time with her. It would start with a bicycle ride to school, cooking, picking her up again, helping her with homework, then playing. During those times when she’s with me, she would always shower me with kisses. Her laughter is so precious to me, such a gleeful laugh although she does not have what other children would’ve had if we lived in Seoul.

Phones. Computers. Tablets. Barbie dolls. Fluffy toys. Thousands of clothes. Trendy shoes. All those technologies that doesn’t make any sense to me.

Hyo Jong’s world is different than those children. I only have a TV, a radio, and a landline phone. She isn’t hooked up with technology.

She plays tag with other children. She makes her own dolls. She sews doll clothes. She practices pansori with her friends. She flies kites. She cooks with me. She plays in fields.

She loves this life.

And now, she’s extremely ill. But I can’t cure her.

The hospital is too far away, and it’s impossible to call for an ambulance. My daughter is too sick for me to bring her to a hospital without a car.

And my little angel is really sick.

---

A call from my husband shocked me in the middle of the night. I was sleeping next to my daughter, so I carefully picked up the phone on the nightstand and answered the call.

“Yeoboseyo?”

“Ji… Ji Hyo-ah…” his voice sounded so weak, so faint, so fragile, so frail. He let out a soft whimper, and I detected something wrong just by how he called my name.

“Oppa… What’s wrong?”

“Ji Hyo-ah… I’m scared…”

“Oppa… Tell me what happened…”

“Ji Hyo…”

“Oppa?”

The line disconnected and I panicked. He was my husband. Since the old days, he had been so strong, but how could his voice become so weak? What is happening to him?

I felt the sudden need to be next to him. If he’s like this, then something must be wrong. He would never deceive me. I trust him so much and he knows that. And if it’s like this, then I need to be with him.

My husband has always been there in my hardest times, so how can I abandon him?

I unwillingly lifted my torso up, running my fingers through my messy, ruffled hair. As I stepped down the bed, the floor squeaked under my foot, and I thought it won’t wake my daughter when suddenly a tiny hand clutched the back of my shirt.

She begged me not to go, and I couldn’t do anything but agree. She told me that she wanted to watch TV. I became uncomfortable for a second, but she’s sick and I want to make her as happy as possible.

I the TV and tried to figure out what channel she likes when the remote fell. The channel was set on a news program. My eyes widened at the what the newscaster said.

Earthquake.

Where my husband is working.

“Umma.... Where are you going?”

“To your father, darling.”

“Why?”

“He’s sick too. Just like you. Maybe even worse.”

“Umma…”

“Yes?”

“Please don’t leave me…”

My hands trembled as she clenched it, her delicate hands gripping my wrist.

I have to go, but I don’t want to go. No, no, I want to go. No, I don’t want to. But my husband needs me. But my daughter needs me too.

I have to choose.

If I leave, my daughter will die.

But if I stay, my husband will die.

What could I do?