Eun Ha’s POV:

The woman in the mirror finally had a semblance of normality again.

Eun Ha tilted her head, studying the reflection as if it belonged to someone else. The cheeks were not as hollow anymore; the circles underneath her eyes didn’t seem as dark. Her eyes weren’t dead or lifeless, she had regained a bit of her old lightness, of her old self, slowly but surely. She could, slowly, put herself together.

She looked… presentable. Yes. Presentable.

Like a mother who had simply been tired, not one who had spent the last month fighting a war inside her own skin.

The pills helped. Two every night now, sometimes three when the door in her mind creaked open and the red light bled through the seams. Dr. Han had warned her about dependency, but Eun Ha had only nodded politely. Dependency on something that let her sleep without dreaming of her son’s mouth on her throat felt like mercy, not danger.

She smoothed the front of her blouse—simple cotton, nothing that clung too tightly—and forced a smile at the glass.

It didn’t reach her eyes, but it was enough.

Downstairs, the house was quiet. Too quiet, even. The girls were in their rooms, or out; she hadn’t asked. She rarely asked anymore. Distance had become her only armor. She didn’t want either of them to catch whatever it was that was eating away at their mother.

Yeong Gu would not be home tonight.

He never was these days.

Still, a small part of her feared seeing his car outside, in the driveway, shining under the glow of the front light. It always seemed menacing now, Something to avoid. It had not been that way in the past, of course. Just like how she had never even entertained the thought of her own son in that sense.

Her husband used to make her weak in the knees with desire, now it was his progeny who did the same.

Regardless, Eun Ha did not intend to passively wait for the problem to resolve itself on its own. Not that it would, considering the severity of the ongoing predicament, but at this point in time she’d do anything she could in order to remedy her ill-behavior. She had the undying hope it could all get better with some effort.

She swallowed. Smiled. This time, it wasn’t so bad. The expression did not feel wrong or fake. Maybe she’d feel a bit more confident in about two weeks or so.

She could, slowly, put herself together. As long as she followed Dr. Han’s meticulous plan and advice.

The thought looped in her mind as she descended the stairs, feeling considerably better. She paused in the hallway, listening. Upstairs, water running—Mia in the shower, probably.

Su Ah’s door was closed, but a faint glow seeped under it… she was awake, tapping away at her laptop as always.

Jae-il’s room was as closed as ever. She habitually cleaned it as the young man himself could come back anytime. Every time she did so, she’d stare absentmindedly at his bed.

Eun Ha felt, at times, so close to giving in and lying on it, burying her nose in his pillows, smelling the scent.

Sometimes she did it. Sometimes she resisted. She wouldn’t say she’d made much progress on either count, but this was exactly the reason why she planned to bring matters under control in the best possible way.

She headed for the kitchen instead. It’s been a while since she went all out for dinner. The girls would appreciate that. A smile pulled at her lips as she tied an apron around her waist. She pumped an encouraging fist into the air, as to remind herself she had things to work for. To fight for. To improve upon.

And so Eun Ha began all the preparations. Pots and pans. Flour and eggs. She put on some music from her favorite band, turned up the volume, and went all out with enthusiasm.

Time passed rather quickly and smoothly when she cooked. There was a meditative quality about it—focusing solely on chopping and peeling vegetables and watching them grow into something whole, watching everything that she put in a pan transform into a beautiful dish.

By the time 9 rolled around, it seemed like the tantalizing steam of the dishes grew hands and enticed her two daughters. Even Su Ah, who’d usually join them the latest, came trudging down the stairs looking like she couldn’t stay away a minute longer.

“Woah, mom, what is this feast for?” Mia’s eyes practically sparkled.

The table was cluttered and crowded with bowls and plates of food. It was probably a little too much for only three people, but the leftovers could be eaten later or the day after. “Well, I made your favorites.”

She hoped the smile she gave the girls looked believable.

Mia scurried to her seat while Su Ah moved much slower, pulling a chair for herself.

The girl seemed… tired. Exhausted.

Eun Ha immediately became worried.

Had she caught the flu…? 

“Everything’s okay, dear?”

“I’m fine.” Su Ah said. “Just busy with uni and everything.”

That seemed plausible enough.

Mia gave Su Ah a look Eun Ha couldn’t read, and then turned her attention to their food, picking a pair of chopsticks and saying. “Can we start, mom? I’m really hungry.” She licked her lips, eyes sparkling. 

“Please.” Eun Ha pulled a chair for herself and settled down.

As soon as everyone began piling food onto their own plates, she saw the girls visibly light up.

Mia dove in with her usual enthusiasm, chopsticks flashing as she popped dish after dish into her mouth with amazing speed. In fact, if the girl continued going at her current pace, Eun Ha feared Mia could barely taste any of the food.

Su Ah ate at her own leisure, slow but steady.

Eun Ha watched them, chopsticks in her hand but unused, and drank in their faces. Mia and Su Ah, the two daughters that came out of her body. Her flesh and blood. One was beautiful like the other, in their own different ways. Both took their beauty from the main source herself, Eun Ha. Not that Yeong Gu’s genetics didn’t contribute; the man himself had been thinner and more charming back in high school.

Enough so that she believed he was ‘the one’ for her. The feeling, after so many years of marriage, didn’t turn out to be mutual, but at least she had three beautiful children out of his farce.

“So, girls.” Eun Ha breathed out, scratching her cheek. She didn’t even know what to ask or say first. Why did it feel like she hadn’t sat down like this and talked to the kids in ages?

Mia looked up from her bowl, chewing, cheeks puffed out. She looked so innocent, like a hamster.

Su Ah stopped her chopsticks mid-air and gave her mom an unreadable look.

“I was thinking…” Eun Ha started, heart thumping in her chest. “We could maybe plan something. A little trip somewhere, after Jae-il’s final match.”

There.

She said it.

She was trying.

Trying to reconnect. Trying to be a normal mother who could mention her son’s name without her stomach twisting into a knot of shame and yearning.

Mia swallowed. “A trip?”

“Mhm.”

Su Ah narrowed her eyes.

And then…

“Does that mean Jae-il would be coming with us?”

Mia inquired, a little too quickly. Su Ah’s chopsticks halted halfway to her open mouth, as if frozen in time. Both daughters were looking at Eun Ha with expressions she couldn’t quite fathom.

Eun Ha managed a smile that didn’t feel too forced. “Of course. It would be for the whole family. A celebration. We haven’t done something like that in a while.”

It felt like a good plan.

A healthy plan.

A plan that involved her son in a normal, motherly context. She also had to get used to Jae-il’s presence without having these… thoughts. Dr. Han had told her that avoidance was a temporary fix, not a solution. True healing meant facing the trigger and learning to reframe it. This would be her test.

A trip. The whole family.

It would be fine. They could go camping, maybe. Eat barbecue. Take pictures. Laugh. She would make new, good memories. As for Yeong Gu, well… he was busy anyway, and would likely decline in lieu of working. The girls probably knew this as well. They would be okay. Everything would be okay.

“Oh…”

Mia said, chewing on a piece of beef. “Okay. Sure.”

Su Ah simply nodded and resumed eating.

No further questions. No protests.

Only then did Eun Ha notice the slight twitch in Mia’s eye, the subtle clenching of Su Ah’s jaw. And the tense glance both daughters seemed to share, some sort of alien, silent conversation passed between them in less than a heartbeat.

It was then, when Su Ah slightly craned her neck to drink some water and Eun Ha caught a glimpse of it.

A faint, dark discoloration peeking out from the collar of her oversized shirt.

A bruise.

It might’ve been fading, but Su Ah, just like Mia, inherited the typical Korean paleness. The skin of her neck, chest, and shoulders was as white as snow, which made the splotch even more visible. As if to highlight it. As if it didn’t want to be hidden.

It was shaped like a…

‘Ah…‘

Eun Ha froze, a slice of radish halfway to her mouth.

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