The boxes of cash were her savings. The clean house was a house without the man she’d loved. The distance wasn’t because she didn’t want to come home—it was because she couldn’t bear to face me and pretend everything was okay.
“All this time,” I whispered, “I thought you were alive and well—and I was jealous of your money. I was lonely. I cried every Christmas because you weren’t there. And you… you were grieving alone.”
She reached for my hand. “I’m sorry, Mom. I thought I was protecting you.”
“You were,” I said. “But you were also hiding from me. And I can’t bear that. I can’t bear the thought that you carried all that weight alone.”
The Reunion
We talked for hours. We cried. We held each other.
She told me about Kang Jun—their life together, his sudden death, the business she’d built out of grief. She told me about the loneliness, the sleepless nights, the fear of telling me because she was afraid I’d blame her for leaving.
