✓ UNLIKELY MATCH | HEESEUNG

44 - A Bitter Homecoming

SENA'S POV

Going back home feels like a betrayal. The place that holds all my childhood memories and the love I thought I had with my parents now feels tainted, a facade built on lies I don't think I'll ever forgive. 

I step into the familiar garden where Mother used to tend her roses, meticulously pruning each bloom until they were perfect. Every corner seems to mock me. Every flower seems to jeer at my pain. The once comforting sight of the garden now feels like a cruel reminder of the deception that underpinned my entire childhood. I force myself to keep walking, each step feeling heavier than the last.

"Sena," She whispers but her voice feels like shards of glass scraping against my ears. "You're here."

For a moment, I am truly a ghost. I am nothing but a collection of memories of stolen moments of affection and a chilling betrayal at the lake. The woman before me, the woman I once called Mom, is a stranger draped in a familiar face.

"Yes," I mutter, the word hollow and empty, mimicking the vast emptiness within me. I want to run to her, to have her run her fingers through my hair and tell me everything will be alright, the way she used to after a bad dream. But I know that's just a fantasy, a longing for a mother's love that was never truly mine to have. And the memory of the cold water holds me rooted to the spot. "I'm here to see Father." 

"Ah," I watch as she falters for a moment, her eyes darting away from mine as if unable to meet my gaze. "Of course," She finally manages, her voice strained. "He's in his study." 

I nod silently, not trusting myself to speak. Pushing past the memory, I silently walk past her as if she's nothing more than a stranger in a familiar skin. Funny how a lifetime of love could be turned into hatred in a matter of a few seconds. Funny how the rose garden that was once a source of childish wonder now reeks of a suffocating perfume. 

My steps carry me towards the imposing oak doors that lead to the study, a room that always felt like forbidden territory. It holds the faint scent of pipe tobacco and leather, a ghost of my father's presence. Today, however, I'm not afraid. I don't wait to take a deep breath or to steady my nerves. I don't knock on his door, I simply push it open and step inside, my presence in this house is already a declaration of war. 

Father stands next to his coffee table, a steaming mug clutched in his hand. Time seems to warp and twist as our eyes meet. "What do you think you're doing?" Irritation flickers across his face, a flicker quickly replaced by a mask of forced composure. Gone is the distant, imposing figure I remember from childhood. In his place stands an aging man, his once-sharp features replaced by a terrible hollowness. "How dare you set foot inside my house after what you've done?"

I take a seat on the couch across his desk and look around, wondering how a room that once felt so sterile and intimidating now seemed oddly comforting. The worn leather armchair where he used to sit, judging my every move, now appeared inviting. Perhaps because the man occupying it was no longer the same. "What I've done? Perhaps you mean finally standing up for myself after years of taking your shit?" I'm no longer the child he could bully into submission. He could shove his approval down his throat and choke on it for all I care. This time, my voice wouldn't crack, wouldn't beg for the affection he couldn't seem to give.

He shrinks back at my words, the hollowness in his eyes deepening. The cup in his hand trembles and I relish in his momentary discomfort. It's a small victory, a taste of the power I never had before. "Watch your tone, Sena. You're still my daughter and you still owe me respect." 

"I'm only your daughter when you choose to be a father," I scoff, my voice laced with a bitterness that lingers in the air like the scent of old pipe tobacco. "Respect is a two-way street, Dad. And frankly, yours has been in short supply for far too long." If a mistake is what he thinks I am, then I'm going to be so much worse. "I satisfied your greedy desires for far too long and I will be damned if I let you guilt-trip me back into that role again." 

"You will regret this—"

"Would I?" I cut him off, my voice surprisingly steady despite the tremor in my hands. "Regret what? Finally speaking my truth? Finally demanding the respect I deserve? For years, you hid behind your silence, expecting me to be the obedient daughter, the perfect reflection of your desires. But I'm not that girl anymore. I don't need your approval or anything coming from you because it's all so damn twisted and stained by your neglect. I'm here today to ask for one single thing. My shares of the company."

Father's face goes ashy white. The bluster he'd tried to muster moments ago evaporates, replaced by shock. Perhaps he genuinely hadn't anticipated this sharp turn in the conversation, but I spent hours and hours looking for information about his history with the woman who birthed me and left me on his door stairs, only to pass away a few months later. "My inheritance. My mother's share of the company."

Seeing the shock on his face, a flicker of morbid satisfaction warms my chest. Perhaps the truth has teeth after all. "Your mother's share?" He scoffs, the bluster returning, albeit weaker than before. "There is no 'share' for her. The company was always mine."

"Always yours?" I echo, my voice rising. "Convenient, isn't it? A way to rewrite history, to erase her contribution entirely." He opens his mouth to retort, but I cut him off with a sharp gesture. "Don't you dare insult my intelligence. I was a mistake, wasn't I? But I'm still your daughter and I'm going to haunt you for the rest of your life with this truth." I know this company thrived because of both of them. My mother's creativity and passion were the heart that balanced his cold logic. And yet, here he is, trying to pretend she was nothing but a silent ghost in the machine. 

"You will not get any inheritance from me," He spits, his voice laced with venom. "You think you can come in here and demand what's rightfully mine? You're delusional." I never thought I would ever pity my father, but I guess there's a first time for everything. 

"Heeseung threatened you, didn't he?" I cross my legs, leaning against the couch's backrest, my gaze piercing through his facade. The mention of Heeseung makes my heart ache and I look down at my finger where his ring used to be. The diamond band is gone, reminding me of the gaping hole his absence has ripped into my life. "I believe it was enough to make you realize you cannot deny justice any longer. This company may be yours legally, but morally, a significant portion belongs to my mother's legacy. Consider this a chance to rectify a past wrong, or else, this mistake will haunt you far worse than any inheritance ever could. And when it does, dragging your past into the light, this company and everything you've built could crumble around you."

My words fill the air of his study as I rise from the couch and make my way out of his study for one last time. The woman I thought was my mother stands motionless by the doorway. Her lips are pressed into a thin line, and her hands clench and unclench at her sides. "Sena, what are you—"

"Don't you have anything to tell me?" My steps come to a halt but I don't look at her. I don't want to see the pity, the confirmation of everything I already know. Let her squirm. Let her face the consequences of her actions for once. 

Silence falls upon us like a suffocating blanket. None of us seems willing to break it, but then she speaks and I wish she didn't. "I hated you," The anger that had been a white-hot ember in my chest flickers. Here it is, the confirmation I craved, the truth I dreaded. The woman who tucked me into bed at night, the woman who pretended to care, confesses her true feelings. She hated me. "I hated what you reminded me of and I hated how I couldn't escape from it. But I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted any of this."

Her words hit me like a wave, washing away some of the anger and resentment, leaving behind a hollow ache. Is it possible to hate someone and still love them? I don't know anymore. All I know is that I can't bear to stay in this house a moment longer. 

"I'm glad you did. It's easier this way, don't you think?" The smile I offer her isn't sunshine and rainbows wrapped in accepting an apology. Rather, it's a cold, brittle and broken thing, reflecting the fractured mess of our relationship. She flinches as if my smile is a knife twisting in an old wound. Maybe it is. Maybe it's the only way to cut the ties that have bound us together in this twisted pretense. "At least now we both know where we stand."

For a brief moment, I see a flash of the woman who raised me, the one who taught me how to ride a bike and bandaged my scraped knees. But that image is quickly overshadowed by the cold, harsh reality of her confession. I turn on my heels and walk away, out of the house where I lost my innocence and lost myself. There's nothing left to say, no words that can mend the gaping hole her admission has ripped open in my heart.