When Eun-ha's eyes fluttered open, the faint light in the room felt like needles stabbing her already fragile body. The ache coursing through her was unbearable, each movement a fresh reminder of the broken pieces she had been forced to carry for years.
Her mother sat at her bedside, silent, her face lined with guilt and exhaustion. Minjoo was there too, carefully helping her sit up, her hands gentle but trembling. The concern in her sister's eyes was the only warmth Eun-ha felt in the cold room.
Then she noticed them—an old man and the woman who had slapped her father. They stood at the edge of the room, hesitant, their expressions heavy with sorrow. The woman stepped closer, her voice soft but filled with regret. "Are you alright?"
Eun-ha frowned, her voice hoarse yet cutting. "Who are you?"
Her mother hesitated before answering, her voice barely a whisper. "She's… my mother."
Eun-ha's lips curled into a bitter smile, dark and humorless. "Your mother? You must be so happy, finally reunited after all this time." Her tone dripped with sarcasm, her words as sharp as glass.
The old woman didn't flinch. She reached out, her weathered hands clasping Eun-ha's trembling ones. "It's all our fault," she said, her voice cracking. "If only we had taken you and your mother away from him. If only we had been stronger."
The old man nodded, his eyes filled with remorse. "We should have come for you. We should have fought for you."
Eun-ha wanted to respond, but the sound of shuffling made her freeze. Her father knelt on the floor before her, his head bowed so low it almost touched the ground. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking. "For everything. I'm guilty. I was a monster, and I deserve every ounce of your hatred."
Eun-ha's stomach churned as she stared at him. A wave of nausea and disgust rose within her, but it wasn't just directed at him—it was for all of them.
Her dark eyes swept over the room, taking in the silent, judgmental faces. A bitter, hollow laugh escaped her lips. "What right do any of you have to look at him like that?" she said, her voice low but razor-sharp.
Her words hung in the air, suffocating. "Are you any different?" she asked, her gaze burning holes into each of them. "Where were you when we needed saving? When the monster you speak of tore us apart, where were your righteous faces then?"
No one answered. No one even tried. Their silence was as loud as thunder, and it broke something in her.
She let out another laugh, cold and cruel. "Funny, isn't it? How he's suddenly so sorry now. Where was that guilt when it mattered? Where was that guilt when we were screaming for help, when we were drowning in the life he gave us?"
Her chest heaved as her pain became unbearable, but the agony in her soul eclipsed the physical torment. Tears streamed down her face, her voice cracking as she screamed, "How dare you ask for forgiveness? Who gave you the right? Who saved me when I needed saving? Who?"
Her trembling finger pointed at each person in the room, sparing only Minjoo. "Was it you? You? You?"
Her voice dropped to a whisper, venom dripping from every word. "None of you. None of you did anything."
Her breathing was ragged, her tears blurring her vision. "Get out," she spat, her words trembling with raw anger. "All of you. I don't want to see your faces ever again. You make me sick."
Her father tried to reach for her, his lips trembling as if to protest. But before he could say a word, Minjoo stepped between them, her face streaked with tears but blazing with anger. "You heard her," Minjoo said, her voice shaking but firm. "Leave."
And one by one, they left. The door closed with a soft click, but the weight of Eun-ha's words lingered in the air, suffocating and heavy.
Eun-ha collapsed back onto the bed, her body trembling from exhaustion and pain. Silent tears streamed down her cheeks, her sobs muffled by the pillow.
Minjoo sat beside her, her arms wrapping around her sister's fragile form. "I'll never leave you," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Never."
In the quiet of the room, Eun-ha finally allowed herself to cry, her tears carrying the weight of years of pain, betrayal, and sorrow. It was the only release she had left.
Eun-ha lay quietly for a moment, staring at the ceiling as her tears slowly dried. The weight of everything pressed on her chest like an anchor. She turned her head slightly, her voice barely audible, trembling with pain and regret.
"Things would've been different… if I was strong," she whispered, her words a fragile confession. "Don't you think, Minjoo? If I'd been stronger, none of this would've happened. None of us would've suffered like this."
Minjoo froze, her eyes wide, her lips parting as if to protest. Then, gently, she reached out and grasped Eun-ha's hand. Her own voice was firm, steady, but tinged with heartbreak.
"Sister," Minjoo said softly, yet with unshakable conviction, "you are already strong. You've always been strong."
Eun-ha turned her head, her tired eyes meeting Minjoo's. "How?" she whispered, her voice cracking. "I was weak. I let everything happen. I couldn't fight. I couldn't protect us."
Minjoo's grip tightened on her hand as her tears fell freely now. "No, Eun-ha. You endured. You stood up even when the world kept beating you down. Strength isn't about never breaking—it's about picking up the pieces, no matter how much it hurts."
Eun-ha's lips trembled, her breath hitching as her tears began to fall again. She closed her eyes, Minjoo's words weaving through the cracks in her heart, offering the faintest light in the darkness.
"You've always been strong," Minjoo whispered again, her voice a quiet promise, her hand holding onto Eun-ha's as if she would never let go. "And I'll remind you every day until you believe it."
Eun-ha's fragile body lay lifeless as the nurses rushed her through the hospital corridors, the wheels of the stretcher clattering against the tiled floor. Her face was pale, almost ghostly, and her arms hung limply by her sides. Machines beeped in the background, a haunting reminder of how dire her condition had become.
As the nurses and doctors wheeled her into the emergency room, three figures appeared at the end of the hallway—a young girl and two boys. They froze at the sight of Eun-ha, their faces twisting with shock and worry.
"Eun-ha!" the girl cried out, her voice trembling as she started running after the stretcher. "Eun-ha, wait!"
The two boys followed close behind, their steps hurried and frantic.
But before they could get closer, Minjoo stepped in front of them like a shield, her eyes blazing with fury. She raised a hand, stopping them in their tracks.
"What are you doing here?" Minjoo asked, her voice sharp and unrelenting.
The girl looked at her, her face pale with concern. "I saw Eun-ha being taken by the nurses. What happened to her? Is she—"
Minjoo didn't let her finish. Her voice cracked with anger as she cut her off. "You abandoned her. You left her when she needed you. What right do you have to ask about her now?"
The tallest boy stepped forward, his expression filled with guilt. "Minjoo, please… we didn't mean to abandon her. We just—"
"Just what?" Minjoo snapped, her voice trembling. "You turned your backs on her when she needed someone—anyone. And now you want to act like you care?"
The girl began to cry, her hands clasped tightly together. "Minjoo, we didn't know how bad it was. We didn't—"
"You didn't want to know,"
"She doesn't need people who abandoned her," Minjoo whispered to herself, her voice breaking. "She needs people who never would've left in the first place."
The girl's voice broke as she spoke, her words trembling with emotion. "But my brother… he died saving her. Do you have any idea how much pain I've been in since then?"
Minjoo's expression hardened as she took a step closer, her voice cold but trembling with restrained anger. "It wasn't her fault," she said sharply. "Your brother chose to save her because he loved her. Do you think she wasn't in pain? Do you think she didn't suffer when she lost him?"
The girl's tears began to fall, but Minjoo didn't stop. Her voice grew louder, the weight of her anger and grief spilling over.
"She loved him, too. She's been carrying that pain every single day, even when no one was there to hold her. And now, do you know what's happening?" Minjoo's voice cracked as her tears began to flow. "She's dying. She's dying because of everything she's endured—every ounce of pain that's been thrown at her."
Minjoo pointed at the girl and the boys, her voice raw with emotion. "Isn't that what you wanted? To see her suffer? Well, here you go. She's slipping away right in front of you. Are you happy now?"
The girl couldn't hold back anymore and burst into sobs, her hands covering her face. The two boys lowered their heads, their own tears falling silently.
The group stood there, overwhelmed by guilt and sorrow, as Minjoo turned back to the glass, her eyes fixed on Eun-ha's fragile form. The monitors beeped steadily, a fragile rhythm that could shatter at any moment.
Minjoo whispered, more to herself than to anyone else, "She didn't deserve any of this… none of it."