father | jun | wen junhui

Chapter Three

Nabi

My head turns slowly away from To Kill a Mockingbird as I hear the front door opening.

Auntie Aera came rushing in with two paper bags in hand.

I got off the sofa and took a bag from her then went over to the kitchen island and placed it on top.

Auntie Aera does the same then starts unpacking the groceries and putting them into the shelves and cabinets.

"You don't have to do shopping for me auntie," I say as I start unpacking the other bag. "You've done so much for me already."

She chuckles lightly, "of course I do, you're practically my daughter." She takes the last of the vegetables and puts it in the fridge. "Sit down, let me take care of you. You must have had a long day at school." She rushes me towards the metal island stool.

I sit obediently.

She quickly unpacks the last of the bag I was unpacking then comes over and sits on the other stool beside me. Only then did I realise the red moon on her jacket. It was the same one Junhui had on his.

"What's that symbol for?" I asked nodding towards it.

"Oh this?" She looks down at her jacket then back up at me. "It's a common clothing brand here in Seoul. Have you seen it anywhere else?" She asks casually.

I nod. "Yeah. My classmate was wearing a leather jacket with that same symbol on it."

"What's her name?" She smiles.

"His name is Junhui. Wen Junhui."

Her smile starts to disappear as she shifts uncomfortably on her seat.

"Do you know him?" I asked a little suspicious.

"Yeah, I heard he's a bad kid. It's better to stay away from him. Okay, Nabi?" She smiles lightly again. "I don't want you falling in with the wrong crowd."

I wanted to ask where she heard that from but I just left it. I nodded and gave her a smile back.

"Anyway," she hops off the stool. "I came by earlier and made you food. I made three different dishes and put them in containers in the fridge. I also cooked you some rice." She points at the rice cooker behind me. "It should last you about two or three days but if you run out then don't hesitate to give me a call."

I stand up too and give her a hug. "Thank you auntie." I felt touched at the amount of help she's already given me. First this house and now her cooking? She's literally the mother I once had...

She hugs me back and strokes the back of my head. "I'm sorry to leave you but I do have to go back to work soon."

I pull away slowly. "I know. It's so nice of you to take time off and help me out like this." I had only met her about a week ago when she picked me up at the bus stop with her fiancé. I had contacted her months ago through a letter, explaining who I was and wanting to come and live in Seoul. I left a contact number in the letter and she responded about three weeks later. 

"You look exactly like her," she said the first time she laid her eyes on me. She meant my mother. 

At least I knew two things about her my mom. She looked like me and she is loved by many. Loved enough for one of her best friends from almost two decades ago to help her only born child who, for all she knows, could just be a random stranger.

"I'm glad I get to help you out," she was tearing up a little. "I miss your mother. I really, really do."

I nod. Me too.

She squeezes my shoulders, gives me one last smile then bid her goodbyes.

I let her show herself out then went back to the sofa. I picked my book up again, but this time I couldn't concentrate. I had to keep rereading each paragraph because I was just not taking anything in. Thinking about my mother were distracting me. I put the book down then folded my arms together. I stared at the blank wall across from me. I'm going to find out what happened in my mother's past, I thought.

Why she left Seoul. Why she decided to settle in the farm, back with her parents. Why she never told anyone her plans but this lady she calls Kitty. Why she left my father.

"Who is my father?" I whispered to myself. I got up and went to the small bookshelf jammed into one corner of the room. I bent down eye level with the top shelf then took out the rugged, yellow, journal.

I trace my finger over the golden, hand written title.

SUNNY DAYS

I flipped to the back and took out two developed photos.

One of just a boy looking sweetly at the camera. And the other was of my mother in the most beautiful dress I had ever seen standing next to to a guy in a flash tuxedo. "Is it you, Hong Jisoo? Or you, Wen Junhui."