Colors Of Warmth | Seulrene

TWENTY THREE

ECHOES OF THE PAST

It had been days since the family began their vacation, spending their time immersed in the peaceful rhythms of village life. They would stroll through the narrow streets, taking in the rustic charm and absorbing the stories and history that seemed to whisper from the ancient buildings. Irene, typically recognized wherever she went, found comfort in the fact that in this remote village, no one knew her. Here, she could simply exist—free from the pressures of fame and public life. It was a relief that allowed her to breathe a little easier each day.

During their walks, they often stopped to chat with the locals. The villagers were kind and curious, yet unaware of Irene’s status, which made the interactions feel genuine and relaxed. It was as if they had stepped into a simpler life, far away from the whirlwind of the outside world.

Meanwhile, Yerim and Mingyu continued to grow closer, though their bond was not new—it had roots. Mingyu had always been part of their lives, and now, during their stay, he visited regularly. He would often come over, filling the house with his laughter as he played with Yerim. Irene and Seulgi watched this with quiet satisfaction, admiring how much the two enjoyed each other’s company. Mingyu, a kind-hearted and respectful young boy, had easily endeared himself to everyone. In the past few days, Seulgi and Irene came to appreciate just how good-hearted he truly was, and seeing him interact with Yerim only strengthened their fondness for him.

In the afternoons, the family would return to the ocean. There was something about the sea that called to them, the gentle lapping of the waves calming their spirits. Irene found solace in the sound, as if the sea itself whispered words of reassurance that everything would be alright. It was here, by the water, that the weight of her past began to lift. Her recent troubles, the overwhelming thoughts of her stepmother, started to fade into the background, replaced by the serenity of this place.

As the vacation drew to a close, Irene and Seulgi had made a decision—they were going to buy the house. It wasn’t just a beautiful home; it felt like a refuge, a place where they could retreat whenever life became overwhelming. The thought of owning a piece of this tranquil world made their hearts swell with excitement and hope for the future. They approached the caretaker, a kind, elderly man who had grown fond of them during their stay. His eyes twinkled with happiness when they shared their plans.

“I’ll inform the owner right away,” he said with a smile, clearly delighted that the house would be in such good hands.

On their final day, the family soaked in every last moment. They wandered through the village one last time, revisiting their favorite spots, and spent time by the ocean, allowing the sounds of the waves to fill the silences between them. Tomorrow, they would return home and face the realities they had left behind. But for now, in this quiet moment, there was only the present, and Seulgi couldn’t help but feel grateful. Irene seemed at peace—her smile was genuine, and her laughter no longer carried the weight of her past. The memories of her stepmother and the pain she had endured were fading into the background, and Seulgi silently hoped that this newfound peace would last.

Yerim sat cross-legged on the floor, her brow furrowed in concentration as she stared at her drawing. Her small hand gripped a crayon tightly, her face scrunched in frustration. She had just been told they were going home tomorrow, and the sadness in her chest felt too big for her little body to contain. Without realizing it, she pressed too hard on the crayon, and it snapped in her hand. She sighed heavily, her gaze shifting to Mingyu, who sat beside her, completely absorbed in his own drawing. He was quiet, focused, and content—unlike Yerim, who was struggling with the thought of leaving him behind.

They had spent so much time together during this trip, and now, in the living room with their papers and crayons spread out around them, Yerim couldn’t shake the sadness. Mingyu, just like Yerim, was quite talented in drawing. His attention to detail was remarkable for someone his age, and his latest creation was no exception.