summary: you seek solace from your husband after an argument with your daughter. with his encouragement, you extend an olive branch by offering fruit to your daughter, hoping to mend your relationship.
-
you sat at the kitchen table, the weight of the argument with your daughter still heavy on your mind. your temples throbbed with the beginnings of a headache as you tried to fight back tears, feeling like you had failed as a mother.
a gentle hand rested on your back, and you looked up to see jeonghan standing beside you, his eyes filled with concern. "hey," he murmured softly, his touch soothing. "you okay?"
you managed a weak nod, blinking back the tears threatening to spill over. "i just don't understand what's gotten into her," you admitted, "i feel like such a bad mom,"
jeonghan's expression softened as he pulled you into a comforting embrace. "hey, hey, hey, don't say that," he says, his voice gentle yet firm. "teenagers can be difficult sometimes. it's not your fault,"
despite his comforting words, you couldn't shake the feeling of inadequacy that gnawed at you, "but what if i'm doing something wrong?" you whispered, your voice barely audible as doubt crept in.
jeonghan pulled back slightly, his gaze unwavering as he met your eyes. "we'll figure it out together," he promised, his tone resolute. "i'll talk to ara, see if i can get to the bottom of this,"
you nodded, grateful for his support, yet still unsure of how to mend the rift between you and your daughter. as jeonghan made his way to ara's room, you remained seated at the table, lost in a whirlwind of self-doubt and worry.
minutes stretched into what felt like hours as you agonized over the situation, berating yourself for every imagined mistake. the sound of footsteps approaching pulled you from your thoughts, and you looked up to see jeonghan returning, a hopeful expression on his face.
"she's willing to talk," he announced, a hint of relief in his voice. "she's waiting for you,"
you swallowed hard, the knot of anxiety in your stomach tightening. "i don't know what to say," you confessed, feeling utterly lost.
jeonghan offered you a reassuring smile, his hand reaching out to squeeze yours. "just be honest," he encouraged gently. "she's our daughter, y/n. she loves you, no matter what,"
with a deep breath, you pushed yourself up from the table, determination replacing the overwhelming sense of doubt that had plagued you moments before.
retrieving a selection of fruits from the refrigerator, you laid them out on the counter, the vibrant colors a stark contrast to the heaviness weighing on your heart.
as you washed and sliced each piece of fruit with meticulous care, the rhythmic sound of the knife against the cutting board provided a comforting rhythm, grounding you in the present moment.
the familiar act of preparing food, a gesture of love and nurturing, served as a silent apology to your daughter, a tangible offering of reconciliation.
once the fruit was neatly arranged in a bowl, you took a moment to compose yourself, steeling your resolve for the conversation that lay ahead.
with the bowl in hand, you made your way to ara's room, the hallway stretching out before you like a daunting path fraught with uncertainty.
as you reached ara's door, you paused, a knot of apprehension tightening in your stomach. what if she rejected your peace offering? what if she refused to forgive you? pushing aside your doubts, you squared your shoulders and knocked softly, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway.
ara's voice called out from within, her tone guarded yet tinged with curiosity. "come in,"
pushing open the door, you stepped into her room, the familiar surroundings offering a sense of familiarity amidst the tension that hung in the air.
ara sat on her bed, her expression guarded as she watched you approach, uncertainty flickering in her eyes.
setting the bowl of fruit down on her bedside table, you met her gaze, the weight of unspoken words lingering between you. "i thought you might be hungry," you offered softly, your voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability.
ara's eyes softened slightly at your gesture, a flicker of warmth breaking through the walls she had erected. "thank you." she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
taking a seat beside her, you reached for a piece of fruit, the simple act of offering nourishment serving as a silent plea for forgiveness.
as ara accepted the fruit with a small nod, a tentative smile gracing her lips, you felt a glimmer of hope stir within you.
perhaps, in the sweetness of the moment shared over a bowl of fruit, you and your daughter could begin to mend the fractures that had formed between you, one slice at a time.
