Chapter 6: Beneath the Surface
The weeks that followed Ki-Joo's vulnerable admission marked a subtle, yet undeniable, shift in his relationship with Jo Yi-Su. Although he wasn't the kind of man to wear his heart on his sleeve, there was something different about the way he interacted with her now. His guarded demeanor softened ever so slightly, and he started allowing her into the smallest corners of his life.
For Jo Yi-Su, this was a victory—a small, precious crack in the walls Ki-Joo had built around himself. She began to see glimpses of the man beneath the stoic mask: his dry sense of humor, the faintest curve of his lips when he found something amusing, and the rare moments when he would open up about his day.
But as much as Ki-Joo was changing, there was still a heaviness in his heart, a weight that refused to be lifted. And Jo Yi-Su could sense that the source of that weight was tied, inextricably, to his mother.
---
One late afternoon, Jo Yi-Su found herself at the local park, sitting on a bench under the shade of a large oak tree. She had invited Ki-Joo to join her, hoping that the change of scenery might help him relax. To her surprise, he had actually agreed.
When Ki-Joo arrived, he was dressed casually in a simple black sweater and jeans, his dark hair slightly tousled by the breeze. He looked less like the polished, aloof man she was used to seeing and more like someone who had just stepped out of a quiet daydream.
"Sorry I'm late," he said as he approached.
"You're not late," Jo Yi-Su replied with a smile. "I was just enjoying the view."
Ki-Joo sat down beside her, his gaze following hers to the tranquil lake in the distance. For a moment, they simply sat there in comfortable silence, listening to the rustle of leaves and the distant laughter of children playing.
"I used to come to a park like this with my father," Ki-Joo said suddenly, his voice low and contemplative.
Jo Yi-Su turned to him, surprised by the unexpected confession. "You did?"
He nodded, his eyes fixed on the water. "It was one of the few times he seemed... happy. He wasn't a bad father, you know. At least, not at first. He used to take me fishing, or we'd fly kites together. But then, as I got older, he started changing. He became more distant, more focused on his work. It was like he stopped seeing me as his son and started seeing me as an extension of his ambitions."
Jo Yi-Su listened intently, her heart aching for the little boy Ki-Joo had once been. "That must have been hard," she said softly.
"It was," Ki-Joo admitted. "I didn't understand it at the time. I thought I'd done something wrong, that maybe I wasn't good enough for him. And then, one day, he just... left. No explanation, no goodbye. Just gone."
Jo Yi-Su felt a lump form in her throat. "Did he ever try to contact you after that?"
Ki-Joo shook his head. "Not once. It's like he erased us from his life."
The pain in his voice was palpable, and Jo Yi-Su wanted nothing more than to reach out and take his hand. But she knew that Ki-Joo wasn't the kind of person who sought comfort in physical gestures. Instead, she offered him her quiet support, letting him know through her presence that he wasn't alone.
"It wasn't your fault," she said gently. "You were just a child, Ki-Joo. Whatever issues your father had, they were his, not yours."
He let out a bitter laugh. "Try telling that to my ten-year-old self."
Jo Yi-Su smiled sadly. "If I could, I would. But maybe it's not too late to tell your present self."
Ki-Joo glanced at her, his expression softening. "You really don't give up, do you?"
"Not when it comes to you," she replied without hesitation.
For a moment, Ki-Joo said nothing, his gaze lingering on hers. Then he turned back to the lake, his posture relaxing slightly. "You're too good for someone like me," he said quietly.
Jo Yi-Su frowned. "Don't say that. You're worth more than you give yourself credit for, Ki-Joo. You just need to believe it."
---
Later that evening, Ki-Joo returned home, his mind swirling with thoughts of the past and Jo Yi-Su's unwavering belief in him. He found his mother in the living room, surrounded by stacks of paperwork.
"Busy as always," he remarked as he walked in.
Su-Mi looked up, her eyes lighting up at the sight of her son. "Ki-Joo. How was your day?"
"It was fine," he replied, sitting down across from her.
They fell into a familiar rhythm of small talk, but Ki-Joo couldn't shake the conversation he'd had with Jo Yi-Su earlier. He wondered if now was the time to address the unspoken tension between him and his mother, the tension that had been building ever since his father left.
"Mother," he said after a long pause, "why didn't you ever talk to me about Father? About why he left?"
Su-Mi froze, her hands hovering over the stack of papers. "Ki-Joo, that's... not an easy topic to discuss."
"I know," he said, his voice steady. "But I think we need to talk about it. I need to understand."
Su-Mi sighed, setting the papers aside. "Your father was a complicated man. He loved you, in his own way, but he was also selfish. He wanted freedom, independence, power. And when he felt like he couldn't have those things with us, he chose to leave."
Ki-Joo's jaw tightened. "So, it was never about me?"
"No," Su-Mi said firmly. "It was never about you. It was about him and his inability to handle responsibility."
Ki-Joo leaned back, her words both a relief and a sting. "Then why do you push me so hard? Why do you act like I have to make up for his failures?"
Su-Mi's eyes filled with regret. "Because I didn't want you to turn out like him. I thought if I kept you focused, if I pushed you to succeed, you'd never feel the need to walk away from your responsibilities. But I see now that I might have been wrong. I might have pushed you too much."
Ki-Joo looked at her, a mixture of anger and sadness in his eyes. "You didn't just push me, Mother. You made me feel like I had to be perfect, like I couldn't make a single mistake. Do you know how suffocating that is?"
Su-Mi's shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry, Ki-Joo. I never wanted to hurt you. I just... I didn't know how else to protect you."
For the first time, Ki-Joo saw his mother not as the strong, unyielding woman she had always appeared to be, but as a person—flawed, vulnerable, and doing her best in the face of unimaginable pain.
"I don't want to be like Father," he said softly. "But I also don't want to live a life that isn't mine."
Su-Mi nodded, tears glistening in her eyes. "I understand. And I'll try to be better, Ki-Joo. For you."
---
That night, as Ki-Joo lay in bed, he felt a strange sense of peace. The conversation with his mother hadn't fixed everything, but it was a start. And for the first time in years, he felt like he could breathe.
As he closed his eyes, his thoughts drifted to Jo Yi-Su, the one person who had seen through his defenses and believed in him even when he couldn't believe in himself.
Maybe, just maybe, there was hope for him after all.