Aurora | park seonghwa

09: Secrets

The lights were out as I entered the hallway until I passed the living room, the lamp flashing suddenly, revealing dad.

I took a sharp breath, curling my lips inwards to prevent a curse from slipping.

"Good—" he checked his watch before turning to me, "—Night, daughter dearest. Care to tell me where you've been?" A small smile played on his lips as he twiddled his fingers, amused.

I rolled my eyes at his antics, taking a seat on the couch opposite to him. "Out. Clearing my head. Why are you up?"

"Well, my daughter 'stormed off' without a note or anything so I had to wait until she showed up back home." He air-quoted before taking off his glasses, rubbing his eyes. Guilt gnawed at my insides, taking in his obvious state.

He looked tired, probably worried about me even though he tended to downplay that. On top of that he had work in the morning, work things to handle and yet stayed up waiting, hoping I would return.

"How'd you know I would return? I could've run away for all you know?" I mumbled, picking up bits of pilling from the couch avoiding his gaze.

"For starters, you don't have a job or a place to stay. You're too 'self sufficient' to stay with any one of your friends. You worry they'd be burdened. Also, you know that would aggravate the situation. Need I go on?" Dad rolled his eyes, finishing in a bored tone as I crossed my arms, smiling slightly. He knew me too well and I wondered how much on a different spectrum both my parents were.

I was truly my parents' child.

I licked my lips, swallowing the guilt. "I–I'm sorry. I just needed some air. I should've come back sooner." Dad waved me off, "What's done is done but I hope you won't repeat it—No, wait! I'm sure you won't."

My lips tugged upward at his attempt to be stern before they dropped into a frown. "If she doesn't repeat what she does again, I won't." I whispered, drawing my knees to my chest as I rested my head on them.

"She won't."

"That's what you tell me each time, Dad."

He let out a sigh, folding his glasses into their case. "Parenting is tough, Aurora. Parents make mistakes. Repetitive mistakes. Of course there's no reason to not hold them accountable. Accountability is what helps them learn and grow." I nodded slowly as he paused, collecting his words.

"But at the end of the day, they do care about you. They do want the best for you but it's what they feel is the best for you. So that's where, I think, you both clash. She does feel bad about it, though." He ended glancing at me and I snorted.

"She really does, each time. And she does show you the next day."

"Her making tea and snacks randomly doesn't excuse her from owing me an apology, Dad. Accountability, like you said."

"But it's what you can get out of certain people. Some people don't change, no matter how much you try. The best you can do is accept their efforts, for your own sake."

I remained silent, pondering over his words, how they were already put into effect the past years.

"It's not that you don't already, I'm not saying that. What I'm getting at is that life isn't meant to be blissful y'know, it–it's like having one pillow instead of two. Two pillows, amazing sleep. One is comfortable sleep. But you're comfortable, nonetheless. Now imagine no pillows, no comfort, barely any sleep. "

He spoke as if I understood while I was just baffled as he continued. "So mom is a...one pillow case."

He snapped his fingers, pointing at me, "Bingo! I'm a two pillow case, just so you know."