"Sister, how many chapters will you write?" Minjoo asked, her voice full of excitement.
Eun-ha paused for a moment, her gaze distant as she thought, before answering with a smile. "I'm not sure… maybe ××× chapters."
"That many?" Minjoo gasped, her voice filled with surprise.
Eun-ha chuckled softly, amused by Minjoo's reaction. Then, Minjoo tilted her head, her curiosity growing. "Sister, what do you wish to become?"
Eun-ha raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in her eyes. "In the novel?" she asked, teasing.
Minjoo shook her head. "No, in the real world."
Eun-ha's expression softened for a moment, a hint of mystery in her smile. She leaned closer to Minjoo, whispering something in her ear. As she pulled back, a mischievous grin spread across her face.
Minjoo blinked in surprise, and then burst into laughter. "Hahaha!"
Eun-ha joined her, her laughter light and full of warmth.
Then Eun-ha turned the question back on Minjoo. "And what do you wish to become, Minjoo?"
Minjoo hesitated for a second, a playful spark in her eyes. She leaned in and whispered something in Eun-ha's ear.
The two of them laughed together, their joy echoing through the room like a melody—uncontrollable, free, and pure.
In that moment, it was as if nothing else mattered. Time stood still, and for a fleeting moment, they were just two sisters, sharing dreams and laughter, their bond stronger than anything else in the world.
Eun-ha turned to Minjoo with a soft smile that carried the weight of a thousand unspoken truths. "Minjoo, didn't you once say you wanted to be my first fan? Well," she paused, her voice trembling slightly, "I want to be my top fan."
Minjoo's eyes widened in surprise. "What? But… won't people talk? Won't they judge?" she asked, her voice hesitant, almost breaking.
Eun-ha's smile grew, calm and resolute, like a quiet flame in the darkness. "Do their words matter, Minjoo? Isn't it worth it to love yourself first? Isn't it worth being your own biggest supporter, even when no one else is?"
"If I can't, you will. And if we both can't, someone else will," Rose said softly, her voice steady yet tender.
"I used to be afraid," she admitted, her gaze drifting as if lost in a memory. "Afraid that no one would love my Book, that it would mean nothing."
She paused, and then, as if breaking through the weight of those fears, a gentle, radiant smile graced her lips."In this endless world, there will always be someone who sees it, who feels it. Even just one is enough, don't you think?And-"
Her gaze softened, and her voice grew quieter, as if she were speaking not just to Minjoo, but to herself. "You know, I really love my characters. More than anyone might understand. Sometimes, I feel like they're pieces of my soul, scattered across the pages. Sometimes…" She hesitated, her voice catching as if the next words were too fragile to say aloud. "Sometimes, I dream of a child.
"He calls me 'Mom.'" Her voice broke, and she let out a soft, bittersweet laugh. "Can you imagine? Me? I'm not even married. But in those dreams, when he calls me that, I feel… complete. Like I've found something I didn't even know I was missing." Her eyes glistened, and her smile faltered. "I love him so much, Minjoo. So much that it hurts. That's why I made him the main character of my novel.
"In the dream, he looks at me with these big, bright eyes, and he says, 'No matter what happens, I'll save you.' Every single time, he says it. And every single time, I wake up wondering…" She paused, her voice a fragile whisper. "What is it I need to be saved from?"
Minjoo's chest tightened, her heart aching at her sister's words. She reached out, her voice shaking as tears filled her eyes. "Sister… I would have saved you. A thousand times, I would have saved you."
Eun-ha turned to her, tears glistening but refusing to fall, her smile tender and filled with quiet acceptance. She gently placed her hand over Minjoo's, her touch warm yet feather-light. "Minjoo, you already did. You saved me once, and that was more than enough. You worked so hard, harder than anyone ever should. But now…" She took a deep breath, her voice steady but full of emotion. "Now, it's your turn. Look after yourself. Take care of your heart, Minjoo. You deserve that."
Minjoo stared at her sister, her own tears falling freely now, her thoughts a storm of love and sorrow. But, Sister, she thought, her heart breaking, there is nothing left in me—nothing at all—except you.
I don't know exactly when it all began—perhaps I was too young to understand. But if I had to guess, it started the day my brother left.
When he walked out that door, it felt like the world collapsed.
I remember begging my father, clinging to his arm, pleading with him not to hurt her anymore. "Please," I whispered, "please don't hurt her."
But all he said was, "Prove your worth."
Those words haunted me. To prove my worth, I threw myself into the only thing I could control—work. I worked until my body ached and my mind felt like it would shatter. Day and night, I studied relentlessly. I poured every ounce of myself into books, numbers, and exams.
I thought that if I just became perfect—if I was the best at everything—he would finally see me. He would finally stop.
I became the top student in my school. People smiled at me, praised me, called me gifted. Teachers said I was destined for greatness. My classmates admired me.
But none of that mattered. None of it made him love me.
My sister might have thought I was loved. She might have believed I was cherished—the pride of the family.
But I wasn't.
No matter how hard I worked, no matter what I achieved, he never saw me. He never cared.
I wasn't loved.
I was just a shadow in a house filled with broken pieces.
I sat alone in my room, the faint light of the moon seeping through the curtains. The silence was deafening, wrapping around me like a cold, suffocating blanket. I pulled my knees to my chest, hugging them tightly, as the thoughts I'd been avoiding all day came crashing in.
It wasn't our fault.
I pressed my forehead against my knees, trying to steady my breath, but the words echoed louder in my mind. What happened to us… it wasn't because of anything we did. We were just children.
My hands clenched into fists, nails digging into my palms. It's the adults' fault. It's the world's fault. They were supposed to protect us, weren't they? They were supposed to love us, to keep us safe. Instead… My chest tightened, and I bit my lip to keep the tears at bay. Instead, they hurt us. They left us with nothing but scars and questions we'll never have answers to.
I looked at the faint outline of my desk in the corner, the papers scattered across it. It reminded me of Eun-ha, sitting at her desk with that little smile she always wears, writing as if the world outside doesn't exist.
She blames herself, I thought, my heart aching. She carries it all, like it's hers to bear alone. Like she's the reason for everything that went wrong.
I wiped at my face roughly, my fingers trembling. But it's not her fault. It never was. It's not mine either. None of this was ever ours.
The room felt so quiet, so still, yet inside me, it was chaos. My thoughts screamed, but my voice remained silent. I want to tell her. I want to say it out loud—shout it, even. But what would it change?
I closed my eyes and rested my head against the wall, a tear slipping down my cheek. One day, I'll tell her.