Page 4 of Scarbound

“Strong like you?” Noeul asked, with a sharp voice.

“I don’t have the strength to discuss this again,” his father interrupted, his voice firm. “It’s been months since we last sat down together. Today should be calm. Today we remember your brother. Let’s eat in peace.”

The irritation settled in Noeul’s chest. His father had always avoided confrontation, sweeping problems aside instead of facing them. He had so much to say… but what was the point? The damage had already been done.

They ate in silence, the soft clink of chopsticks and spoons filling the room.

After a moment, his father cleared his throat. Regret softened his expression. “It’s good that you’re here. I know… today is difficult for you too.”

Noeul nodded, unable to speak. His mother reached for his hand and squeezed it. The touch brought a small comfort, but the grief remained, heavy as ever.

He waited until the meal ended before speaking.

“I’m leaving for New York.”

His voice sounded indifferent, despite the turmoil beneath it.

“What?” His mother reacted first. “When?” Her chopsticks hit the table with a sharp clatter.

“The day after tomorrow.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “No. I can’t bear losing you too.”

He placed a hand on her back, stroking it gently.

“You’re not losing me, eomma. I was hired for a well-paid position. I’ll be able to help with Ji-Woo’s tuition.”

His father shot him an angry look and took a sip of the soju.

“There are good jobs here,” he said. “Why go so far away?”

“Appa… I need a fresh start.”

“So soon after graduating?” his mother protested. “We barely had time together.”

“Maybe it’s better this way,” Noeul replied quietly. “I don’t have friends here anymore. And Ji-Woo doesn’t even want to be in the same room as me.”

“He does want you here. You know that. We all do.” His mother reached for his hand. “Please, son. Don’t go. Please.”

He wanted to tell her there was nothing left to keep him here, but he couldn’t. It might be the last time he saw them like this.

“Don’t you need a visa to work in the U.S.? I heard from a colleague it’s very difficult to get one.”

“I already have a work visa,” Noeul replied.

“What about housing? Renting there must be expensive. I can’t afford to help you.”

“I never asked you to. The company provides accommodation for its employees.”

“Tsk.” His father clicked his tongue and looked away. “Do what you want.”

As they ate dessert, his mother spoke about Gong, small memories, jokes from past meals, moments of laughter from a time when harmony still existed in their family.

When the meal ended, they cleared the table in silence, together but distant. In another life, shared pain might have drawn them closer. Instead, Noeul stood among the people he loved and wondered when home had become a place where he no longer belonged.

Before leaving, he stepped into the hallway and took out his phone. His thumb hovered over Haneul’s name. He didn’t know why he still had the number saved. Perhaps deleting it would make something too final.

He opened their old conversation.