Faking It

12. Shadows of a past

The sun streamed through the ornate windows of the Kim mansion, casting intricate patterns on the polished marble floor. Young Jisoo, no more than eight years old, sat cross-legged in the middle of the expansive living room, surrounded by a collection of plush toys, books, and crayons. The smell of freshly baked cookies wafted in from the kitchen, mingling with the faint scent of lavender from the flowers in a vase on the table. But despite the cheerful scene, Jisoo's heart felt heavy.

Jisoo giggled as she animatedly performed a puppet show for her stuffed animals, each voice a whimsical rendition of her family members. She held up a teddy bear, pretending it was her older sister, Soojin.

"Look at me! I'm the best big sister!" Jisoo said in a high-pitched voice, her laughter echoing off the walls. But as her laughter faded, it was replaced by the distant sounds of raised voices from the dining room.

"Jisoo needs to learn discipline!" came her father's voice, deep and commanding, like thunder rumbling in the distance.

"She's just a child!" her mother's voice responded, equally firm but filled with an undertone of desperation. "You can't expect her to behave like an adult all the time!"

Jisoo froze, her heart pounding. The joy of her puppet shows evaporated as the harsh reality of her family's expectations settled around her like a suffocating blanket. She pressed her ear against the wall, trying to make sense of the heated conversation.

"Look at Soojin and Seola—both excelling in their studies! And Minseok is already so responsible. Jisoo needs to catch up," her father continued, his tone growing more impatient with each word.

Jisoo's stomach twisted into knots. She knew she wasn't like her siblings. Soojin was always the top student, her smile bright and radiant, as if she could do no wrong. Seola had a gift for music that captivated everyone, her melodies echoing through the house like sweet, comforting lullabies. Even Minseok, despite being younger, was a budding athlete, admired and cheered for by everyone. And then there was her—Jisoo, the invisible one, the black sheep, who struggled to keep up, lost in the shadows of their brilliance.

"What's wrong with wanting to be different?" she whispered to herself, but the question lingered, unanswered and heavy on her heart.

"Jisoo's a free spirit," her mother argued. "She just needs a little more time to find her path. You can't rush her."

But Jisoo could feel the weight of her father's disappointment pressing down on her like an anchor, pulling her deeper into despair. She wanted to be like her siblings—she truly did—but the harder she tried, the more she felt lost, as if she were drowning while they swam effortlessly above her.

In a moment of defiance, Jisoo stood up, brushing the dust off her skirt, and stomped out of the living room. "I'll show them," she muttered, but deep inside, doubt crept in, whispering that she was never enough.

The sprawling gardens beckoned her outside. As she stepped through the ornate double doors, the sun bathed her in warmth, a stark contrast to the chill settling in her heart. She loved the gardens, her little escape from the chaos of family expectations, but today even the beauty felt tainted.

The flowers swayed gently in the breeze, their colors vibrant and alive, but Jisoo felt numb, as if she were watching the world through a glass wall, unable to touch or be part of it. Kneeling beside a patch of daisies, she began to imagine a world where she could be whoever she wanted, a world where her family's pressures didn't exist.

Just then, a soft voice interrupted her thoughts. "What are you doing, Jisoo?" It was Soojin, standing at the edge of the garden, arms crossed, a frown creasing her forehead.

"Nothing," Jisoo replied, trying to sound casual, but the quiver in her voice betrayed her.

"Looks like you were talking to flowers again," Soojin teased lightly, but the smile didn't reach her eyes.

Jisoo pouted. "They listen to me," she murmured, wishing desperately for someone to truly hear her.

Soojin knelt beside her, picking a small flower and holding it delicately between her fingers. "You know, you don't have to try to be like us. Just be you. That's enough," she said, but the words felt hollow to Jisoo.

"But Dad wants me to be perfect," Jisoo whispered, tears stinging her eyes. "I can't seem to do anything right."

Soojin shook her head. "Dad just wants you to be happy. He doesn't always know how to show it. Sometimes, he thinks that pushing us is the best way."

"But what if I don't want to be pushed?" Jisoo asked, her voice trembling, her heart aching with the weight of her struggles. "What if I want to be... different?"

Soojin reached out, placing a reassuring hand on her sister's shoulder. "Then be different. You have to find your own way, Jisoo. It's okay to be scared. Just remember, we're here for you."

But the reassurance felt like a fragile bandage over a deep wound. Jisoo couldn't shake the feeling that her family's love was conditional, based on achievements and accomplishments that she seemed incapable of grasping.

"I'll try," Jisoo said finally, her voice barely above a whisper, a small smile breaking through her sadness, but deep down, she wondered if trying would ever be enough.

As they sat together in the garden, surrounded by the vibrant colors of nature, Jisoo felt the shadows of her family's expectations loom large over her. She wanted to believe in her sister's words, to find solace in the beauty around her, but the ache of inadequacy lingered, a constant reminder of how she fell short.

She picked a flower, its petals soft and delicate, and tucked it behind her ear, but even that small act felt like a betrayal to the truth she couldn't escape.

Today was supposed to be a step forward, but with each breath, the suffocating weight of her family's expectations pressed harder against her chest. As the flowers danced around her, Jisoo felt more isolated than ever, caught between the vibrant life around her and the dark, consuming shadows of her own doubt.

And in that moment, surrounded by the flowers and her sister's comforting presence, she couldn't help but feel a little more lost, a little less like herself.