People Watching ★ 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐒𝐮𝐧

24: The Weight of Silence

Sunghoon's steps were slow as he trudged through the worn-down house, every creak of the floorboards beneath him amplifying the silence hanging in the air. The house, a decaying structure that had once been a home, felt more like a prison to him now. His father's voice—sharp, cold, and demanding—echoed in his mind as he made his way up the stairs.

After he dropped Sunoo off, he had hoped for a quiet evening, but his father's wrath had a way of ruining any peace he might have had. It always seemed like no matter what he did, it was never enough. No matter how hard he worked to prove himself, it was as though his efforts didn't matter. Nothing ever mattered to the chief of police.

When Sunghoon reached the top of the stairs, his mind wandered back to the countless times he had been in trouble at college. It wasn't that he'd been a troublemaker—far from it. But there were moments when things went wrong, when his friends found themselves caught up in bad situations, and Sunghoon was always the one to take the fall. It was something that had become second nature to him, like some unspoken agreement that if someone needed a scapegoat, it would always be him.

He thought of the incident during his freshman year, when one of his roommates had thrown a party that got way out of hand. The neighbors had called the police, and the noise complaints had escalated to something more serious. Sunghoon's friends had scattered, hiding in different rooms, leaving him to deal with the aftermath. When the officers arrived, he was the only one standing there, and without a second thought, he'd taken the blame for the entire thing.

"It's my fault," Sunghoon had told the officer, his voice steady despite the tension rising in his chest. "I was the one who planned the party."

He had barely gotten a word in before his friends had started texting him, begging him not to say anything. But Sunghoon had already made up his mind. He would take the heat. It wasn't the first time, and it wouldn't be the last.

That incident had resulted in a mark on his record, something that stayed with him long after the party had ended. His friends didn't even thank him for it. They moved on with their lives, and Sunghoon was left to pick up the pieces, shouldering the weight of their mistakes alone.

Then there was the time during a field trip, when one of his classmates had gotten drunk and caused a scene. The school had been ready to expel him, but Sunghoon stepped in. "I had been drinking too," he lied, even though it was far from the truth. He had stayed sober, but it didn't matter. His classmate was a popular athlete, someone who had the potential to make a difference in the school's reputation, and Sunghoon was just the quiet, unnoticed student who never said much.

Once again, he took the blame.

Even when things seemed like they were spiraling out of control, Sunghoon's actions remained constant. He protected others, even if it meant sacrificing his own future. He told himself it was the right thing to do, but in the end, it always left him feeling more isolated. More alone.

The worst part was that no one ever seemed to see the weight of what he was carrying. His friends moved on, oblivious to the consequences, while Sunghoon was left to deal with the fallout. His grades slipped, his reputation became tarnished, and all the while, he told himself he was just doing the right thing.

It had never been enough for his father. When the college incidents came up, when Sunghoon had to explain why he was in trouble yet again, his father had only one thing to say: "You're weak. If you can't control your own life, how do you expect to lead others?"

Those words always stung. His father didn't understand. He couldn't. He wasn't there when Sunghoon needed someone to help carry the burden. All those times Sunghoon had stood up for others, had taken the fall for them—his father saw none of it.

And now, as Sunghoon stood in his room, the silence pressing down on him, he felt that familiar weight. The weight of being the one who always had to make the sacrifice. He wasn't allowed to make mistakes. He wasn't allowed to have a life of his own. All he could do was protect the people around him, even if it meant pushing himself further into the dark.

The memory of his father's harsh words lingered like a bruise, and Sunghoon couldn't shake the feeling that, no matter how much he gave, it would never be enough.