Chapter 7: Flashbacks
1306 Words
Chapter 7: Flashbacks
The night air carried the scent of autumn leaves and car exhaust as Yeonwha and Hana stepped out of the cab, arms heavy with shopping bags. The school shopping trip was a success, at least on paper. Bags of notebooks, new uniforms, socks, a pair of shoes Hana had fallen in love with at first sight, and some glossy, unnecessary stickers they both swore were essential.
Yeonwha pulled away, tires crunching against the gravel driveway of the estate. The mansion loomed over them like a sleeping beast, elegant and very quiet.
"He’s not back yet," Yeonwha said, trying to sound casual, glancing up at the darkened upper floors. “We’re safe for now.”
Hana gave her a small, tired smile, brushing hair away from her eyes. “We didn’t even buy snacks. What if he gets mad?”
“He won’t. It’s not like he’s keeping track of what snacks I eat.”
“Is he?”
Yeonwha didn’t answer.
They entered the house quietly. Hana’s new school shoes clacked softly against the polished wooden floors as she walked. She looked around the expansive hallway, still unfamiliar, even after weeks of living here. The silence pressed against her ears.
They dumped the bags in the parlor and, on a whim, Yeonwha turned on the projector. An old romance movie flickered onto the wall, grainy and slow. Hana curled up under a throw blanket, and Yeonwha joined her on the floor with a bowl of cold rice crackers.
Minutes turned into an hour.
“I don’t think she ever loved him,” Hana said suddenly.
“Hm?” Yeonwha looked over.
“The woman in the movie. She always looked... scared.”
“Maybe she didn’t know what love looked like.”
“Or maybe he made her forget.”
Yeonwha didn’t answer. Her hand found Hana’s and squeezed gently.
Then—
A slam.
The front door snapped open like a gunshot, echoing through the silent house.
Both girls froze. The sound of heavy, unhurried footsteps followed. Polished shoes against marble. Purposeful. Controlled rage.
Yeonwha rose quickly, panic flickering in her eyes.
Sun-Woo stepped into the parlor.
Tall. Sharp. Drenched in cold air and authority.
His coat was still on, the collar upturned. The moment he saw them—both of them sitting on the floor, laughing moments earlier, watching a movie when the house should’ve been dark and still—his expression shifted.
His happiness, whatever remained of it from the day, evaporated.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” His voice wasn’t raised at first. It didn’t need to be. It carried like thunder laced with restraint.
Yeonwha stood straighter, instinctively stepping forward. “I was with her, her-she just got back, I thought—”
“What do you mean you just got back?!” he barked.
Yeonwha shivered.
"W-we went to a shop for school items. I wanted her to select the ones she wanted," Yeaonwha said, trying her best to be composed.
The warmth drained from the room.
“This should be the last time she leaves the house without my permission,” he said, now facing Hana. "Do you also understand?!"
Hana nodded. Tears gather in her eyes. She kept on wondering what was going on. Has Sun Woo always been like this?
Yeonwha opened her mouth. “Sun-Woo—”
“Shut. Up.”
Yeonwha’s lips closed. Her eyes were already wet.
Hana slowly rose, her feet unsure.
“You—upstairs. Now.”
“But—”
“Now, Hana!”
The shout cracked like a whip.
She jolted. Her legs moved before her thoughts caught up. She ran past him, not daring to meet his eyes.
As she vanished up the stairs, he turned again.
“And you...” He stepped toward Yeonwha. “Know your place. In this house, your thoughts don’t matter unless I ask for them. Is that clear?”
Yeonwha nodded quickly, but her voice trembled. “Yes, Sun-Woo-ssi.”
He didn’t wait for more. He turned and walked away, his figure cutting a shadow into the staircase.
Yeonwha stood there for a long time, the silence heavier than before, her throat burning with unspoken regret.
---
Upstairs, Hana stood awkwardly in the middle of Sun-Woo’s room.
Her room. The bed was too big, the lights too dim. The scent of his cologne haunted the air.
She was still catching her breath when the door opened.
Sun-Woo didn’t look at her.
He walked straight to the tall locker near his desk, opened it, and began checking the shelves. His jaw was tight. His shoulders were rigid.
A pause.
His hand hovered over the pillbox.
Another pause.
“You didn’t take your medication this morning.”
His voice was quieter, but it was the calm that came before the breaking.
Hana didn’t respond.
“I said,” he turned, pills in hand, “you didn’t take your medication.”
She hesitated. “I forgot.”
“You forgot?”
He advanced so quickly that she stumbled back.
“You’ve been sick for years. "Do you even know what happens when you forget those pills?”
“I didn’t mean to—”
“Shut up.”
Her eyes welled. Her hands trembled.
“You want to get better, don’t you?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.
She nodded.
“Then don't mess with your medications. Sit”
She obeyed.
He shoved the pills into her hand, then held out a bottle of water.
“Take them.”
Her fingers shook as she brought them to her lips. The water spilled a little down her chin. She wiped it quickly.
He watched her the entire time, eyes like glass.
The moment the pills went down, she felt the world spin. The panic hadn’t stopped. Her chest still thudded wildly.
And then—
The headache.
Sharp. Sudden. Drowning.
She gripped her head. “No... no, it’s happening again...”
Her breath grew frantic.
“I can’t—what’s happening to me? Brother!!”
She screamed.
Sun-Woo moved. “Hana!”
But she was slipping, knees to the floor, curled like a wounded animal.
“I remember something. Fire, fire, fire!!—”
He froze.
“ I don't want to go there!.. I beg you! Stay away from me!! I won't go!!”
Her memories were blurry; they were slipping through fast.
“Stop it,” he whispered.
“I don't want to go there!! I'm sorry!! ”
“Stop.”
“Not there!!,” she sobbed. "I don't like it there!"
He knelt and cupped her face, forcing her to look at him.
“Stop remembering,” he said gently. “It’ll only hurt you.”
“Please, don't, take me there.” She was already sobbing.
His face didn’t flinch.
“I know.”
He got her back into bed. Silent. Distant. Cold.
She stared up at the ceiling, tears slipping down her temples. As everything was slowly calming down. Her panting was decreasing, but the fear in her eyes was clear.
He left.
The room was quiet.
She didn’t know how long had passed before he returned, freshly showered, hair wet and sticking to his forehead.
He smelled of mint and silence.
He lay beside her.
Close. Too close.
His arm hovered above her, like a shield or a trap.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, softer than ever.
"You scared me." She whispered.
His voice dropped into a whisper. But I also stayed. I’m still here. Isn’t that enough?”
She didn’t answer.
He reached out, brushing her hair.
“You’re safe now,” he said, lips near her temple. “Don’t think too much. Just rest.”
In the darkness, she wondered:
Was this safe?
Or another kind of cage?
- Writer
