It All Started With A Creepy Mail ⚊ Yang Jungwon [#4]

✗ six ✗

⚊ chapter six

"Home sweet home, Lian!" 

My parents had those big, cheesy grins and their arms spread wide like they were presenting me with the grand prize on a game show. They looked at me with that hopeful, 'please-don't-hate-this-decision' kind of expression.

In the Philippines, our house was a cozy little box with no second floor. But here in Korea, our new house was the epitome of modern living. It was tall, shiny, and practically screaming, "Look at me, I'm so new and fancy!" 

It was like the house was trying to impress me or something.

Inside, it was a white-out. White couches, white walls, white bookshelves. I half-expected to see a polar bear stroll by. Even my new bedroom, tucked away at the far end of the second floor, was a sterile, white cave. I could already see my future: endlessly scrubbing away every little stain my cats would inevitably make.

Mingming, my cat, was passed out by the balcony door, her kittens safely contained behind the glass. They're my little pieces of home, and when I got back from school, I plopped down on the wooden floor and scooped up the smallest furball. Mingming glanced up at me, her eyes full of that feline mix of love and "what now, human?"

I remembered threatening my parents with running away if they made me leave my cats behind. It was dramatic, sure, but it worked. Mingming was here, and that's what mattered.

"So, do you love it here?" I asked Mingming, even though she just blinked at me.

My parents were so happy and excited, like kids on Christmas morning, that I couldn't bear to tell them I wasn't thrilled about our new home. Mingming was my confidante now.

"Honestly, it's nice here," I admitted to her, "The weather's cool, and the trash situation is impressive, but it's not the same as Manila."

But Mingming and I both knew the real issue wasn't the house. It was that my best friend, my grandma, and the familiar faces from my old neighborhood weren't here. I would give anything to wake up tomorrow and see them all again.

"I met some people at school," I told Mingming, "One of them is our neighbor, the one who almost made off with one of your kittens."

Mingming meowed like she was giving me a piece of her mind. I put her kitten down and scooped her up instead, letting myself cry into her fur. "I want to go home, Ming," I whispered, feeling her nuzzle against me.

Mingming's fur was soft and warm against my cheek, her purr a gentle vibration that seemed to soothe my racing thoughts. But the weight of my loneliness felt heavier than ever. My chest tightened as I realized how much I missed the comforting chaos of Manila, the familiar faces that made every day feel like home.

"I want to go home, Ming," I whispered again, my voice cracking as the tears flowed freely. Mingming didn't judge me, didn't tell me to buck up or try to cheer me up with hollow words. She just stayed close, her tiny body pressed against mine, offering the only comfort she could.

In that moment, the house around me seemed even bigger and emptier. My parents had their work, their new adventure, but I was left adrift in a sea of white walls and cold floors. Mingming and her kittens were the only familiar things in this strange, new place, and even their presence couldn't fill the void left by everything I'd lost.

After the breakdown wore off, I felt strangely numb. Sometimes when Shaira says I'm strong, I think she really means I'm numb, dragged around by life's currents until I no longer feel the sting of being uprooted again and again.

⚊

Later, I got a text from my mom saying they wouldn't be home until 11 PM. So, I sat on the porch with my delivered pizza while my cats dined on their own food beneath me.