Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Eun-hae
Friday evening, the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow over the neighborhood. Eun-hae had just settled into her room, enjoying the sense of calm that the weekend brought. As she scrolled through her social media, a notification popped up: Heeseung had started following her.
Her heart skipped a beat. She quickly followed him back, feeling a flutter of excitement. She couldn't help but smile as she clicked on his profile, curious to learn more about him.
Heeseung
Meanwhile, Heeseung was lying on his bed, his phone in hand. When he saw that Eun-hae had followed him back, he felt a surge of happiness. He tapped on her profile, eager to see her posts. As he scrolled through her photos, he admired her radiant smile, her love for music evident in numerous pictures of her at the piano. One post in particular caught his eye: a picture of Eun-hae with a little girl, both of them beaming at the camera. The caption read, "Sister time with my favorite girl."
Heeseung smiled. They looked so cute together, and he could see the love and bond they shared. It warmed his heart to see this softer side of Eun-hae.
Just then, his phone rang. He sighed when he saw his mother's name on the screen. Reluctantly, he answered the call. "Hi, Mom."
"Heeseung, I've been hearing that you haven't been focusing enough on basketball," his mother said, her tone sharp and disapproving.
"I have been practicing, Mom," Heeseung replied, trying to keep his frustration in check.
"Not enough, clearly. You need to understand the importance of this. Your father and I have high expectations for you. Do you want to be a failure in our eyes and the world's?" Her words were like daggers, each one hitting its mark.
Heeseung clenched his jaw. "I know, Mom. I just... I'm trying my best."
"Trying isn't enough. You have to excel, Heeseung. This family has a reputation to uphold. Your father is a renowned lawyer, and I'm a successful model. We can't afford to have you drag us down."
The call ended with his mother hanging up, leaving Heeseung feeling drained and frustrated. He threw his phone onto the bed and ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm the storm of emotions inside him. He felt trapped, constantly living under the shadow of his parents' expectations.
In a desperate bid for solace, Heeseung pulled out a worn guitar from under his bed—a secret he had kept from his parents. Music had always been his escape, a hidden passion that brought him peace. He strummed the strings gently, the familiar sound calming his nerves. He began to sing a song he had written himself, pouring all his frustrations and sadness into the melody.
As he played, he felt the tension ease from his shoulders. The music filled his room, creating a sanctuary where he could be himself, away from the pressures and expectations of his family. No one knew of his musical talent; it was his private refuge.
Heeseung lost himself in the music, his fingers dancing across the strings and his voice rising and falling with the emotions he had kept bottled up. For a few precious moments, he felt free—free to be who he truly was, not the person his parents wanted him to be.
When he finally set the guitar down, he felt a sense of calm wash over him. He knew that Monday would bring its own challenges, but for now, he had found a brief respite in his music. And perhaps, just maybe, getting to know Eun-hae could be another source of light in his life.
Eun-hae
The weekend arrived with a flurry of chores and responsibilities for Eun-hae. Her father had left early in the morning, as he usually did, leaving her to manage the house and take care of her younger sister, Iseul. At just six years old, Iseul was full of energy and curiosity, and keeping up with her was no small feat.
"Eun-hae! Can we play now?" Iseul asked, tugging at her sister's sleeve.
"Not right now, Iseul. I have to clean up the kitchen first," Eun-hae replied, trying to hide her exhaustion.
The day passed in a blur of sweeping, mopping, and cooking. Between attending to Iseul's needs and maintaining the house, Eun-hae barely had a moment to herself. Her thoughts drifted to the upcoming week and the looming necessity of finding a part-time job. With their financial situation becoming increasingly strained, she knew she had to contribute.
Saturday afternoon, Eun-hae bundled Iseul into a coat and set off into town. They visited several stores and cafes, but every place either wasn't hiring or required more experience than she had. She tried to keep a brave face for Iseul, but each rejection felt like a blow to her already frazzled nerves.
By the time they returned home, Eun-hae was drained. She prepared a simple dinner for herself and Iseul, who chatted happily, oblivious to her sister's stress. As the evening wore on and Iseul's bedtime approached, Eun-hae found herself anxiously awaiting her father's return.
It was late when her father finally walked through the door, looking more tired and worn than usual. Eun-hae felt a surge of frustration rise within her.
"Where have you been?" she demanded, her voice sharper than she intended. "You said you'd be home earlier."
"I had work," her father replied curtly, avoiding her eyes as he hung up his coat.
"Work? You mean the high-end job you always talk about? Because it seems like you're never around to actually help out here!" The words burst out before she could stop them.
Her father's face darkened, and he turned to face her fully. "Eun-hae, you have no idea what you're talking about."
"Then enlighten me," she shot back. "Because I'm here every day, taking care of Iseul and this house, while you're off... who knows where!"
"Enough!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the small living room. "You think it's easy for me? You think I enjoy seeing my children struggle?"
Eun-hae felt tears sting her eyes, but she stood her ground. "Then why aren't you here more? Why don't you help us?"
Her father's shoulders slumped, and for a moment, he looked defeated. "Because the job I have isn't what you think it is," he said quietly. "I don't work in an office. I work at a convenience store. I didn't want you to know because I was ashamed. But it's the only job I could find."
Eun-hae stared at him, stunned. The image she had of her father crumbled, replaced by a man weighed down by his own failures and insecurities. She felt a pang of guilt for yelling at him, but the tension between them was too thick.
"I didn't know," she whispered, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I'm sorry."
Her father sighed deeply, his own anger melting into sadness. "I'm doing the best I can, Eun-hae. But I need you to understand that it's not easy for any of us."
The room fell into an uncomfortable silence. Feeling overwhelmed, Eun-hae turned and fled to her room. She closed the door behind her and collapsed onto her bed, letting the sobs she had been holding back finally escape. She cried for her father, for herself, and for the heavy burden that seemed too much to bear.
In the darkness of her room, Eun-hae wished for a way to make things better, to ease the strain on her family. But for now, all she could do was cry, hoping that somehow, things would get better.
