Chapter 1
Looking up at the pretty, chocolate-box house in the chilled night air, I knew no one was home. There was an air of stillness to the place, even from the outside.
Behind me, the red glow of the retreating taxi’s lights grew smaller as it wound down the narrow lane that led to my parent’s house, leaving me in the greying light of dusk. Few street lights marred the picturesque country lanes around here, the closest one too far away to catch me in its orange glow.
Wearily, I dropped my sparse belongings on the gravel driveway and approached the dark house. The first real silence I’d experienced in the past twenty-some hours settled on me. It was unnerving.
With barely any thought, I dug around underneath the concrete mole ornament next to the front door, feeling for cold metal and drawing it out. The key glinted in the weak porch light as I slid it into the lock, feeling the tumblers give way. I pushed the front door open and put the key back under the mole,reaching out blindly to flick the hallway light on. The bright flare made me squint. The sudden image of the familiar front hallway giving me a sense of déjà vu, as if I’d gone back in time.
“Mum? Dad?” My voice echoed through the still house. I felt like an idiot. Of course they weren’t here, but it had been habit to call out.
I retrieved my bags and brought them into the house, not bothering to move them further than the front hall. My old rucksack felt at home here, contrasting with the almost-new, designer luggage I’d borrowed from Jihoon that very much did not.
Now that I was here, I didn’t know what to do. I was home, but I was also a guest. An unexpected one, at that. I’d meant to call my dad once I’d landed, but my Korean sim card hadn’t worked, and unlike in Seoul, the UK hadn’t quite caught up with having WiFi everywhere. I hadn’t even been able to contact Joon.
My phone had eventually run out of battery, and it was lying dead in my pocket. An expensive brick that seemed to remind me of the fragility of my connection to the world I had left behind.
A hum of frustration coursed through me, a jittery, nervous energy that almost felt like the vibration of plane engines. The feeling had stayed with me all day – on the train from London to Cumbria, and then in the taxi from the train station to home.
Each stage had taken me further, and further away from the life I’d been trying to build and closer to something I didn’t know how to face.
Somewhere in the middle of my journey, I’d begun to feel the uncomfortable twist of shame in my gut. Shame that it had taken me so long to leave Korea, because really, it hadn’t been a choice. Becka had been right to scold me, but I’d been so wrapped up inmy own drama that I hadn’t let the reality of my mum’s illness sink in. Maybe it had been easier that way.
Now that I was home, anxiety replaced the shame. I moved through the house like a ghost, going from room to room, silently cataloguing all that was different, and taking comfort in the things that remained the same.
I tried to call my dad on the landline in the hallway, but his phone was off. I tried to call Joon, but it went straight to voicemail. I swallowed a groan of frustration as I tried not to slam the phone back in the cradle after another failed attempt, and just as I felt the pull of a downwards spiral, the metallic clank in the front door’s lock brought me back to the present. A moment later the door opened.
He was clearly so tired that he didn’t see me or even notice the fact that both the door had already been unlocked, and that the hall light was on. Just for a moment I got to see the unguarded, unfiltered expression on the face of the first man I’d ever loved.
“Papa,” I breathed, both a homecoming and an exhalation of relief.
His body paused even as his eyes dart up to meet mine.
“Kaiya?”
I laughed. “Who else?”
I burst into tears. The culmination of nearly a full day of travel and the relief of seeing him after so long.
He reached for me, grasped at me to pull me close to his warm, familiar body. The smell of his wool jumper tickling my nose as I pressed my face into his shoulder made me feel like I was a small child, all over again.
We clung to each other for a moment before he pulled back, holding me by the shoulders as he looked at me as if expecting to find something wrong.
“How are you here?” He rasped, sounding like he hadn’t slept in days.
“Well, I got on a plane, and then took a taxi from the airport-”
Unbidden, the memory hit me full force. West Hollywood. A villa. A whole world apart. I took a deep breath and willed my body to stay upright, even as it felt as though I was caving in.
Forcing a smile onto my face, I said instead, “Plane, trains and automobiles.”
He laughed, and it was exactly as I remembered it.
Chapter 2
“Here you are, love.” Dad put a mug down on the table in front of me, curls of steam wafting up from the murky yellow liquid. I eyed it sceptically as he took a seat next to me, putting his own mug down.
Camomile tea. Neither of us really liked it, but Mum always had a cup in the evenings, and I guess he was just used to making it.
