The shop was dimly lit as the evening crowd dwindled, the faint hum of conversation replaced by the occasional clinking of glasses and the soft scrape of chairs.

Mrs. Yu worked methodically, wiping down the counter with precise, practiced movements. Every so often, her gaze flicked toward the front window, where the streetlights bathed the pavement in a soft glow. She glanced at the clock on the wall, her brow furrowing before scoffing under her breath.

"Stupid," she muttered, shaking her head with a mix of frustration and resignation. Her hands moved quicker as she cleaned up, thoughts racing through her mind.

My poor daughter, starving herself and defying me for… this? And that kid—didn’t even keep her promise for a few days. Her hands moved quickly, her brow furrowed in frustration and resignation. She stepped outside to collect the chairs, signaling the end of the day.

Just as she reached for the chairs, the sound of hurried footsteps broke the silence. Mrs. Yu turned, her eyes narrowing as a panting Winter appeared at the front of the shop. The girl’s face was flushed, a bead of sweat sliding down her temple as she offered a bright, slightly nervous smile.

“Good evening, Mrs. Yu,” Winter greeted, her voice breathless but cheerful.

She straightened her posture, and took out from her bag, holding out a small notebook with both hands as though it were an offering. Her heart raced—not just from the running—but from the weight of the moment.

Mrs. Yu stood frozen, her eyes narrowing as she stared at Winter, then the notebook. She didn’t say a word, her silence was heavier than any reprimand. Winter’s smile faltered slightly, and she gulped, her hands trembling ever so slightly as she extended the notebook further.

“Um… I wanted to give this to you,” Winter said, her voice quieter now.

Mrs. Yu’s glare didn’t waver. Without a word, she turned on her heel, shaking her head slightly as she carried a few chairs inside. The sound of the door clicking shut made Winter’s shoulders sag. She glanced down at her shoes, biting her lip, unsure if she had just made things worse.

But wait. Why didn’t she yell?

Winter thought, her stomach twisting. Slowly, she followed Mrs. Yu inside, hesitating at the threshold. She shifted her weight, her steps careful, as though the wrong move might set off an invisible alarm.

Mrs. Yu set the chairs down with a sharp thud, crossing her arms as she turned to face Winter. For a moment, neither spoke, the silence stretching uncomfortably between them.

Winter swallowed hard and, with a nervous glance, stepped forward. She placed the notebook on the table gently, her movements deliberate. The tension in her shoulders betrayed her nerves, though she kept her head slightly bowed.

Reaching into her bag, Winter pulled out a single white rose—a symbol of respect and pure, but also new beginning. She placed the flower atop the notebook, the petals trembling slightly as her hand lingered for a second.

“Goodnight, Mrs. Yu,” Winter said softly, her voice steady despite the hammering of her heart. She bowed slightly, holding her position for a moment before straightening up and turning toward the door.

Mrs. Yu remained silent, her eyes fixed on the notebook and flower. She didn’t move, didn’t speak, even as Winter stepped outside and gently pulled the door shut behind her.

Winter stepped outside, exhaling deeply,her tense shoulders relaxing as a small smile tugged at her lips.

She didn't yell..., she thought, a flicker of hope warming her chest.

Inside, Mrs. Yu stood unmoving for a moment longer. Her gaze softened as she looked at the flower and notebook, her fingers brushing over the delicate petals. She let out a deep sigh, her eyes flicking toward the door where Winter had just left. With a shake of her head, she picked up the notebook and placed it carefully on the counter, on top of others.

_

The soft glow of Karina’s phone screen dimmed as the call ended, leaving her sitting on her bed with a small, lingering smile. Winter’s voice still echoed in her mind, comforting and grounding her in a way nothing else could.

But the moment of calm was shattered when the door flew open. Mrs. Yu stormed in, her expression a mix of worry and fury, with Yun trailing behind her, his face tight with unease.

Karina froze, her heart racing as her mother’s piercing gaze locked onto her. Mrs. Yu didn’t say anything at first, her eyes narrowing as if trying to piece together Karina’s thoughts without her saying a word. Under the weight of her mother’s stare, Karina dropped her gaze to the floor, her fingers clutching the edge of her blanket.

“Jimin,” Mrs. Yu began, her voice sharp and biting.

She sighed heavily, turning her gaze toward Yun for a moment before stepping closer to her daughter. With a swift motion, she pushed Karina aside, startling her as she reached under the blanket. Karina flinched, instinctively pulling back, but it was too late—Mrs. Yu had already grabbed her phone.

Holding it up, Mrs. Yu’s glare deepened, the light from the screen illuminating her stern face.

“What is this?” she demanded, her voice shaking with a mixture of anger and disappointment. Her gaze flicked between her children, sharp and unyielding. “Explain. What is this?”

Karina opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Yun stepped forward, his expression tense but determined.

“Mom, it’s too much,” he said firmly, his tone carrying a hint of defiance.

Mrs. Yu turned to him, her anger now directed at her son.

“Too much?” she repeated incredulously.

Her voice rose as she continued, “Too much? This—this disobedience? You think I’m being too much?”

“Yes!” Yun’s voice was louder now, frustration evident in his face. He took a step closer, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Can’t you see how much she’s suffering? Hurting? She’s your daughter, Mom. And you’re being selfish!”

Karina’s chest tightened, felt a lump form in her throat as she watched her mother and brother argue, the tension in the room unbearable. Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks as she tried to stifle her sobs. She buried her face in her hands, shaking with guilt and sadness.

Mrs. Yu’s face contorted with pain and frustration. She opened her mouth to retort but stopped mid-sentence, her hand suddenly flying to her head. Her expression shifted, a flicker of discomfort crossing her face as she stumbled slightly.

“Mom!” Yun’s anger melted into panic as he rushed to her side, his hands steadying her. “Are you okay?”

Karina stood up quickly, her own tears forgotten as fear gripped her. She reached out hesitantly. “Mom…”

Mrs. Yu stand up still, calming herself down, signaling them to stop.

“It’s okay,” she said quietly, her voice much softer now.

She straightened herself, though her movements were slower than before. She looked at Karina, her eyes filled with a mix of disappointment and concern.

“Come down for dinner,” she said simply, her tone leaving no room for argument.

With that, she gently shrugged off Yun’s supporting hands and walked out of the room without another word, leaving her children in stunned silence.

Yun let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. Without looking at Karina, he muttered something under his breath and quickly left the room, his footsteps echoing down the hallway.

Karina stood frozen, her body trembling as fresh tears streamed down her face. She bit her lip, trying to muffle her cries, but the weight of the situation crushed her. Guilt, sadness, and frustration swirled in her chest, leaving her breathless.

She took a shaky breath, wiped at her eyes, and stumbled toward the bathroom. She splashed cold water on her face, trying to regain her composure. Without looking in the mirror, she grabbed a towel and dabbed at her face hastily.

Downstairs, the kitchen lights welcomed her, but the warmth did little to ease her chill. She inhaled deeply, bracing herself for what came next.