The Echoes of the Piano

Unspoken Regrets

The sun was setting when Hanni and Minji finally returned to Hanni's family home. The car ride had been quiet, and Hanni had hardly spoken a word. Her heart weighed heavy with the finality of Haerin's departure, her sister's cold silence, and the immense distance that had grown between them. As they stepped into the grand foyer, the air was thick with an unspoken tension.

Hanni could feel it—her mother was waiting. She had prepared herself for this conversation, but she couldn't stop the tremor in her hands as she entered the living room.

Her mother, Jeong Joong ah, sat near the fireplace, a soft glow from the flames reflecting on her weary face. The once-vibrant woman, always dressed in elegance, now seemed fragile—diminished by time and illness. Hanni had not told her mother the full extent of Haerin's departure, but now, she had no choice but to.

She swallowed hard and approached her mother. "Mom... Haerin won't be coming back. She's transferring to another school," Hanni said softly, her voice tinged with sadness.

Her mom face crumpled, and the tears she had been holding back spilled out. She covered her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. "No... no, not my daughter, not my Haerin," she whispered, almost as though she couldn't believe it.

Hanni sat down next to her, trying to comfort her, but it was clear that her mother was beyond consolation. Her mom had always been a proud woman, a strict mother who pushed her children hard. But now, Hanni saw her mother for what she truly was—a woman overcome with regret, guilt, and sorrow.

"I failed her, Hanni," her mom cried, her voice broken. "I always thought if I pushed her enough, she would become the best. That she would make me proud. I thought that was the only way to show her love. But I... I never showed her what she needed most—my love, my care, my understanding."

Hanni's heart ached at the sight of her mother's tears, and yet, she couldn't help but feel a pang of anger. The years of manipulation, the favoritism, the pressure—it had been too much for Haerin to bear. But now, hearing her mother's words, Hanni also realized the depth of her mother's regret.

"I was so hard on her," her mom continued, her voice quivering. "I treated her like a doll, something to be displayed and perfected. But I never saw the person inside. The girl who just wanted to be loved for who she was, not what she could accomplish. And now I've lost her."

Hanni's eyes filled with tears. She knew how much Haerin had suffered, how deeply her sister had been wounded by their mother's demands. But hearing her mother's confession—seeing her mother so vulnerable—brought a sense of empathy to Hanni's heart.

"She... she won't forgive me, Hanni," her mom whispered, her voice barely audible. "Not after everything. I've pushed her too far. And now, she's gone. She left. And I may never get to see her again."

"Mom, please..." Hanni whispered, taking her mother's hands in hers. "We can still fix things. There's still time."

But her mom shook her head, her eyes filled with a kind of resigned sorrow. "No, Hanni, it's too late. The damage is done. All I ever wanted was to be proud of her, but I never realized that the only thing she wanted was my love. And now... she's gone. I may never see her again."

The quiet sobs of her mom filled the room, and for a long moment, Hanni just sat there beside her mother, unable to speak. There was so much hurt, so much pain between them, and it seemed like everything had unraveled in the blink of an eye.

Then, her mom whispered, barely above a breath, "I wish she knew... I have cancer, Hanni."

Hanni looked up in shock, her breath caught in her throat. "Mom, what... what do you mean?"

Her mom hands trembled as she wiped her eyes. "I didn't want to tell her, not yet. But I don't have much time left. The doctors say it's terminal. And I... I don't know how much time I have before I'm gone. I wanted to make it right. I wanted her to forgive me. But now, I'm afraid it's too late."

The world seemed to slow down around Hanni, and for a moment, nothing made sense. Her mother, the woman who had always seemed so invincible, so cold and perfect, was fragile—broken, both physically and emotionally. Hanni realized that she had never truly understood how much pressure her mother had been under, how much fear she was hiding behind her sharp exterior. But even so, the damage had been done. The wounds couldn't be healed overnight.

Hanni leaned in, wrapping her arms around her mother. "Mom, I'll do everything I can. I'll tell Haerin... I'll make her understand. I'll make sure she knows you love her. You have to know that we still have time. We can fix this. You can fix this."

But her mom only shook her head again, a deep sadness in her eyes. "I don't know if I can ever fix this. I just want her to know before it's too late. I don't want her to hate me when I'm gone."

Hanni sat in silence, her heart heavy with the weight of her mother's words. She wished things had been different. She wished her family wasn't so broken, that Haerin hadn't felt so alone. She wished she could turn back time and give Haerin everything she had needed. But most of all, Hanni wished she could take away her mother's pain, just as she wished she could undo the hurt that had been inflicted on her sister.

Minji, standing quietly by the door, watched the scene unfold. She could feel the tension in the room, the rawness of it all. She knew there was nothing she could do to change the past, but maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance for the future.

And in that quiet, emotional moment, Hanni knew one thing for certain: she would do whatever it took to get her family back together, even if it meant facing the painful truth about herself, her sister, and the family she had grown up in.

But whether Haerin would ever come back was something only time would tell.