Annyeongz One-shots

77. Wrong

The day Yujin first met Wonyoung was etched in his memory like a scar that never quite healed. It was a crisp autumn afternoon in Seoul, the kind where the leaves crunched underfoot and the air carried a hint of impending rain. His father, a stern businessman named Mr. Ahn, had remarried after Yujin's mother passed away five years earlier. The new wife, Mrs. Kim, was a gentle woman with a warm smile and kind eyes that seemed to see right through people's defenses. She brought with her a daughter, Wonyoung, who was just one year older than Yujin—23 to his 22.

The wedding had been small, intimate, held in a quaint garden venue on the outskirts of the city. Yujin stood there in his ill-fitting suit, arms crossed, watching as his father exchanged vows with Mrs. Kim. Wonyoung, dressed in a flowing pastel dress that accentuated her graceful figure, stood beside her mother, her long dark hair cascading over her shoulders. She looked every bit the picture-perfect daughter: poised, intelligent, and radiating an effortless charm. When the ceremony ended and the families mingled, Wonyoung approached Yujin with a bright smile.

"Hi, I'm Wonyoung," she said, extending her hand. "I guess we're siblings now. This is exciting, isn't it? I've always wanted a brother."

Yujin glanced at her hand but didn't take it. His expression was a mask of indifference, his blue eyes— inherited from his late mother—cold and distant. "Yeah, whatever," he muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets and turning away to stare at the horizon. He could feel her gaze lingering on him, confused and a little hurt, but he didn't care. From that moment, the tone was set.

As the newly blended family settled into their spacious home in a quiet suburb, the dynamics became painfully clear. Mr. Ahn doted on Wonyoung almost immediately. She was the academic star—top of her class in university, majoring in literature with a minor in philosophy, always buried in books or discussing profound ideas over dinner. "Look at Wonyoung," his father would say, beaming with pride as she shared her latest essay or achievement. "She's going places. You could learn a thing or two from her, Yujin." It stung every time. Yujin, studying engineering at the same college but struggling with motivation, felt like an afterthought. His father had always been harder on him because he was "the man of the house now," expecting him to toughen up without the coddling. But with Wonyoung around, the favoritism was blatant. Dinners turned into monologues about her successes, while Yujin's questions about his day were met with curt nods or criticisms.

In contrast, Mrs. Kim—his stepmother—was a beacon of warmth in the cold household. She noticed Yujin's withdrawn nature and made it her mission to check on him. Every evening, she'd knock softly on his door, asking if he needed anything. "You did well on that project, Yujin," she'd say, even if it was just a passing grade. "I'm proud of you." Her praise was genuine, unforced, and it chipped away at his defenses, though he'd never admit it. She baked his favorite cookies, left notes encouraging him to open up, and defended him in subtle ways when his father grew too harsh.

Wonyoung, oblivious to the undercurrents at first, tried relentlessly to bond with her new stepbrother. She saw him as family, someone to share laughs and secrets with. "Hey, Yujin, want to watch a movie tonight? I heard that new thriller is amazing," she'd suggest, popping her head into his room. Or, "Let's grab coffee after classes tomorrow. We go to the same college—it's perfect!" But Yujin always refused, his responses clipped and evasive. "No thanks," he'd say, not even looking up from his phone. "Busy." Deep down, resentment brewed. Why did she have to be so perfect? Why did his dad light up around her but dim around him? It wasn't her fault, but in his eyes, she represented everything he lacked.

Yujin's rebellion manifested in late nights out. He'd roar home on his sleek black superbike, the engine's growl announcing his arrival long before he pulled into the driveway. College parties, aimless rides through the city, anything to escape the suffocating atmosphere at home. His father hated it. "Where have you been?" Mr. Ahn would demand, his voice rising like thunder. "You're wasting your life!" Yujin would shrug, mumble something about studying with friends, and retreat to his room. But the tension built, a storm waiting to break.