Standing up slowly, Esme's gaze landed on a grand tree in the distance. Beom was standing beside it, his imposing frame a stark contrast against the ancient trunk. But next to him was something—or someone—that drew her attention.
It was a figure that looked exactly like her, yet there were differences. The woman had the same features—her hair, her face—but her eyes were a deep, haunting greyish hue. Her skin was fair and smooth, untouched by the trials that had weathered Esme.
Esme felt a chill run down her spine, the sight of this unfamiliar reflection unsettling. Then, a voice broke the stillness, soft and sweet, echoing like a chime in the air.
"Mama!"
Esme turned abruptly, her heart pounding at the sound. There, standing a few feet away, was a younger version of herself. Five years old, full of life, her bright eyes sparkling with innocence, two playful ponytails bouncing as she stood with a small yellow school bag on her back.
