MOTHER | vsoo |

05: Remember

"Aren't these your favorite, Eun-ji?" Jisoo asked softly, holding out a purple tulip she'd plucked from the lush, freshly mowed lawn. Her smile was tender, but there was something hesitant in her voice—something fragile.

"No, mom. These are my favorite!" Jung-mi chirped, clutching a Northeast wildflower in her tiny hands. My chest tightened at her words. I guess I should start calling her Eun-ji now—Jisoo insisted on it. If I slipped and called her by her real name, I'd pay for it. Jisoo would make sure of that.

It had been three weeks since Jisoo was discharged from the hospital. The doctors said I could bring her home, but only if she agreed to it. She hadn't. Of course, she hadn't. Jisoo was as defiant as ever, though the spark of the woman I'd married still lingered beneath the surface. To keep her calm, they'd told her I was just a family friend. A friend. I nearly laughed at the absurdity of it.

Jisoo frowned, her gaze fixed on the wildflower in Eun-ji's hands. "No," she murmured, her voice cracking. "You've always liked tulips. Ever since you were little. You're... different now." Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, and Eun-ji turned to me, her small face pleading for rescue.

I sighed, closing the book I'd been pretending to read. Rising from the porch, I walked over to them. "Jisoo," I said gently, crouching beside her. "I think playtime is over for now. Eun-ji needs a bath before dinner, right?" I smiled and tickled Eun-ji's tummy, earning a bright giggle.

Jisoo nodded but didn't move, her fingers brushing against the tulip in her lap. Her expression was distant, lost.

Scooping Eun-ji into my arms, I carried her inside. As I passed through the kitchen, I noticed it was empty. Irene wasn't there. Dinner wasn't even started. A knot of frustration tightened in my chest.

"Go start the water for your bath, sweetheart," I told Eun-ji, setting her down. She skipped toward the bathroom, leaving me to head upstairs. The house was too quiet, and I had a bad feeling.

I pushed the bedroom door open to find Irene sitting at the edge of the bed, her head slumped forward, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. The sight of her like this only deepened my irritation.

"Why haven't you started dinner yet?" I demanded. She didn't respond.

"Yah! Bae Joo-hyun, answer me!" My voice rose as I crossed the room, grabbing her chin to force her to look at me.

Her face told me everything. A red bruise marked the side of her head, and her wrists were blue and raw, laced with fresh cuts. I let go of her with a frustrated sigh, rolling my eyes.

"You said you stopped cutting," I muttered, turning my back to her. The silence stretched between us until a soft, bitter laugh escaped her lips.

"You think this is funny?" I snapped, spinning back around.

"Yeah," she said quietly, her sad eyes locking onto mine. "This pain is nothing compared to what you do to me."

Her words made me freeze. I stared at her, my hands trembling slightly as anger and guilt warred within me. Slowly, I reached for her wrist, gripping it tight enough to make her wince.

"Nobody is allowed to hurt you but me," I growled, my voice low and venomous. "Not even yourself. You wanna die? Go ahead. But don't act like Jang-mi doesn't still need you."

That struck a nerve. Irene's expression crumpled, and she pushed me away, scrambling to her feet. "I-I'll go make dinner," she muttered before rushing out of the room.

I stood there, my chest heaving as the weight of my words settled over me. I hated her, didn't I? Then why did seeing her hurt twist something deep inside me? Irene had helped me during the worst period of my life, but I didn't owe her anything—not my love, not my loyalty.

"Ah... I must be losing my mind," I muttered, rubbing my temples. My eyes fell on the picture frame sitting on the nightstand. I picked it up and stared at the photo—me, Irene, and Jang-mi.

I remembered the day she insisted we take it. I hadn't wanted to, but I gave in, as I always did with her. It was our first "family" photo. The thought made me sick now. Shoving the frame down, I left the room and headed downstairs.

"Mmm, smells good already, Irene," I began as I stepped into the kitchen, only to freeze at the scene before me.

"Stay back! I'll kill you, I swear I'll kill you!" Irene screamed, clutching a large knife in her trembling hands. She held Jang-mi close to her chest, shielding her from Jisoo, who was clutching her bleeding wrist.

"What the hell is going on?" I growled, rushing to Jisoo's side. "Jisoo, are you okay? What happened?"

Jisoo's face was pale, her eyes distant and glassy. She whispered, barely audible, "I remember now..."

Her words sent a chill through me. I grabbed her shoulders, shaking her slightly. "Remember? What do you remember, Jisoo? What are you talking about?"

Her gaze finally locked onto mine, dull and accusatory. Her trembling hand reached up to point at me.

"It was you," she said, her voice hollow. "You killed her."

My breath caught in my throat. "I... I killed who?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Her lips trembled before she spoke again. "Me. Eun-ji. You're the one who killed us."

The words hit me like a blow to the chest. I staggered back, memories I had buried deep clawing their way to the surface. The screams. The blood. My recklessness.

"No..." I whispered, shaking my head. "No, that's not true."

But the truth was undeniable. I had killed them—through my actions, my carelessness. Everything that had happened was my fault.

"I'm sorry," I croaked, my voice breaking as the weight of my guilt crashed over me. "I'm so fucking sorry..."

The sound of Jang-mi's cries and Irene's frantic shouting faded into the background as I sank to my knees, consumed by the past I'd tried so desperately to forget.