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┈┈∘┈˃̶ ＳＥＯＮＧＨＷＡ ˂̶┈∘┈┈
" 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭." | ONE WEEK LATER |
The days had turned into a relentless sequence of restrictions and control, ever since my father decided to take over my daily routines while my mother was abroad. His excuse to the school about my prolonged absence was that I was unwell, a blatant lie that added another layer of absurdity to the whole situation. It felt as if he was orchestrating my misery, his presence at home ensuring that I couldn't escape his oppressive oversight.
That evening, as I descended the stairs with the intention of quickly grabbing some water and retreating back to my room, I heard my name being called. I snapped my head around to see my father sitting across from someone in the living room, but I initially turned away, determined not to get drawn into another of his schemes.
"I want you to meet your boyfriend—since you want to sneak with that low class. That ends—no argument, he will attend school with you," he said casually, as if he was discussing something as mundane as the weather.
I froze mid-step, my hand tightening around the banister. "You're not serious—" I muttered under my breath, disbelief and anger coursing through me.
But my father just clasped his hands together, his expression one of cold resolve. "I'm very serious. Tomorrow, you two go to school together," he declared, his tone brooking no room for argument.
Fury mixed with a sense of helplessness washed over me. This was another level of control, a new tactic to keep me under his thumb by integrating his rules into every aspect of my life, even dictating my relationships. I clenched the water bottle in my hand, the plastic crinkling slightly under the pressure.
Without another word, I turned and walked back up the stairs, each step heavier than the last. My mind raced with thoughts of how to handle this new development. It wasn't just about resisting my father's tyranny anymore; it was about protecting someone else from his manipulative reach.
As I reached my room, I shut the door quietly behind me, leaning against it as I tried to collect my thoughts. Tomorrow was going to be another battle, another day to navigate the minefield my life had become. But I knew I had to find a way to fight back, to protect not only myself but also the person my father was attempting to use as a pawn in his controlling games.
As I stepped onto the balcony, the cool night air brushed against my face, providing a momentary respite from the suffocating atmosphere inside. The quiet of the evening contrasted sharply with the turmoil in my heart. I clutched Hongjoong's notebook, the one containing the poem he had written for me—a tangible reminder of the genuine connections I yearned for, not the orchestrated relationships my father tried to impose.
Opening the notebook, my fingers traced the well-worn pages, each line of the poem resonating with the sincerity and depth of feeling that Hongjoong had shared. The words were a stark contrast to the artificiality my father intended to enforce through this new arrangement. Reading them, I felt a wave of sadness, tinged with the warmth of the memories of moments spent with Hongjoong. His presence in my life was a source of strength, yet now it felt like a distant echo muffled by the current chaos.
