Bts ff || mafia stepbrothers ||

Part 94

Recap

As I got closer and it became clearer,

And there was no one else, just her. My princess

As soon as I was able to say something, she said,

Or I am shocked or surprised too.

Neither my shadow was visible nor had I applied any perfume, to the extent that even my face wasn't visible in the water.

"How can you know it's me?"

"I just smell you."

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Seated by a pool in the pitch-black darkness, the moon's soft light created a subtle shine on her face, creating an enjoyable yet slightly unsettling atmosphere. She is in a thoughtful mindset, her legs buried in the pool.

She feels as though her life's events are flashing before her eyes, filling her head with an overload of reflections. Like a movie playing in front of her, she saw every bit of the sorrow and misery she went through.

Her hand also has several cuts on it, and blood is pouring from them like a rush of water. She doesn't appear to be in any pain or discomfort, which is remarkable.

The situation in question creates a clear and thoughtful image. It may be a reflective period, where she's processing what happened in the past and maybe even facing her suffering. Her ability to endure and bounce back from life's obstacles may be symbolized by the unusual fact that she is not experiencing any physical pain from the cuts on her hand.

You're sitting at the side of the pool, your legs dipped into the cold, soothing waters, lost in the quiet of that late, haunting hour. The night has taken over everything around you, leaving nothing but a sea of darkness and the soft glow of the moonlight on your face. The world is asleep at 2:30 AM, and you are facing your inner suffering.

Your mind is a blank space, an empty surface just ready for anything to take up residence. However, what captures your attention is a vivid, agonising loop—a movie of flashbacks that follows the lines of your suffering. One scenario after another appears before you, merciless and cruel, exposing the injuries you've sustained and the marks they've left on your soul. It's a painful journey through your own past that never stops.

You've made many cuts with shaky hands in a desperate attempt to distract your thoughts from the internal emotional tornado. These self-inflicted wounds flow blood, which mixes with the pool water to provide an unsettling sight. It seems like the essence of your misery is seeping into the peaceful pool as your sorrow pours into it like a waterfall.

But in this surreal moment, your mind remains unsteady, caught in a maelstrom of emotions. The physical pain is there, tangible and real, but it's eclipsed by the overwhelming flood of memories and feelings. You've reached a point of emotional desolation where you can't differentiate between the cuts on your hand and the scars on your heart.

You find yourself stranded in a pitch-black sea, unsure of where to go. Though it bears witness to your journey, the agony is a companion but a source of little comfort. You're trapped in the deepest depths of your own misery, desperate to escape, yet all you can experience are the unsettling reminders of the past. The moonlight bears quiet witness to your inner suffering, leaving you wondering what, if anything, will lift the covering of darkness from your soul.

"Appa,” she called for her appa; she knew her appa stood behind her.

He was shocked but never settled because somehow, he knew one way or another, he would have to face the truth sooner or later, but it wasn't expected to happen so soon because just a few hours had not even passed when everything was gradually coming to light. For this reason, he hadn't prepared himself yet, or you could say he couldn't muster the courage because there's a big difference between hearing about the truth and actually facing it, which is very difficult for any father.

A mother can release her pain by crying, sharing it, and seeking solace, but a father can neither cry nor express his pain to anyone nor console himself that everything will be okay by crying or lightening his heart. A father has no other option but to endure everything and move forward.

In this case, he cannot hold onto hope or express his pain, nor can he say that everything will be okay, even to the extent of not being able to acknowledge that he is her father, knowing that she thinks her father has passed away. He cannot even say that she should forget everything and move on, despite knowing that what she has endured is not trivial.

No father would be as helpless for his daughter as life has made Mr Kim at this moment.

He cannot cry in front of her or show any emotion. There might not be any father in this world who doesn't shed tears in the pain of his own daughter, to lessen her suffering. Life has brought him to a point where even though he is a father, he cannot claim the right to be one. He cannot lighten his daughter's pain, sit beside her and cry, or provide her with any support.

He has no right to even tell her that her father is not dead, but alive and in front of her, whom she considers her stepfather. He is the only real father to her, whom she has always awaited, and whom she has wished were alive every day. But life has its own plans. Under the same roof, both father and daughter are strangers to each other or are trying to be.

“How can you know it's me?”

“I just smell you.” She said it without any emotion in her voice, which made him ache in his heart.

Again, silence fell, but this silence made a storm for both of them; she was not speaking, nor was he; only God knows how much time they both quit.

Perhaps it was better for both to remain silent at that moment because neither Mr. Kim was in a condition to make his daughter understand anything, nor was she in a state to answer every question. And who knows, their being together on a full moon night might be the only situation where neither was ready to speak, understand, or make others understand. Perhaps it's what God intended, giving them time so that they could understand each other. Who knows if this day is their last day, and in this way, they are expressing all their pain again, and once again, the full moon, the dark nights, the rustling of clouds feel like a peace that has never been felt before, as if time itself has stopped. Now, even time wants to witness this father-daughter relationship. Perhaps even time knows that this moment will never come again.

Her appa is the person sitting next to her with her leg submerged in the pool water at the same moment. While she is immersed in her own thoughts, staring at the moon, her appa is just observing his daughter from top to bottom, and what she is going through lastly, his eyes catch her hand, which is full of blood, and still blood comes out. One thought crosses his mind, though: ‘What a situation you have made yourself princess.’ The mere thought of it makes his eyes well up with tears. Tears were not something he usually let flow from his eyes. He had lost his first wife, the love of his life, the last time tears had dropped from his eyes, but now they have fallen again. First the sorrow of losing his love, and now the fear of losing his daughter.
 

The words echo inside him, full of regret, disappointment, and an intense need to shield you from the suffering that permeates your past existence. His eyes well up with tears, something unusual for a guy who has seen many storms in life. When he lost his first wife—the love of his life and then the mother of his child—tears were the last that came from these eyes. His sorrow never really went away, and new tears are now streaming down his beaten cheeks.

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