HOMECOMING SHADOWS
751 Words
The drive to the airport was shorter than he expected, but each passing mile weighed heavier on Choi Sung’s chest.
The morning sky was the color of wet cement, muted and undecided, as if the world itself braced for the conversation he couldn’t escape anymore.
He tightened his hands around the steering wheel, his mind already rehearsing what he would say — and how little it would matter once the words left his mouth.
There were some truths you couldn’t soften.
He caught sight of her before she spotted him, weaving through the crowd of arriving passengers, dragging a pink suitcase behind her.
Mi-na looked different. Not in the way of hairstyles or fashion — she still wore her favorite oversized hoodie and ripped jeans — but something deeper, more settled.
Like the girl he kissed goodbye had been replaced by a woman shaped by months of being away.
When she finally saw him, her face lit up, and for a moment, Choi Sung allowed himself to smile back, pocketing the ache behind his ribs.
She rushed toward him, suitcase abandoned halfway, and threw her arms around his neck, squeezing so tightly that he almost forgot the weight he carried.
"Appa," she breathed against his shoulder, and just like that, the air between them felt lighter.
He held her a little longer than necessary before stepping back. “You look good,” he said, voice almost betraying him.
She grinned and punched his arm playfully. "I survived."
They retrieved her luggage and made their way to the car, her chatter filling the space he hadn't realized had grown so hollow without her.
She told him about her classes, her roommates, a horrible meal she tried to cook. He laughed at all the right places, nodded along, letting her words wrap around the silence he couldn't bear to break yet.
It wasn’t until they were halfway home, the skyline of Seoul bleeding into view, that he found the nerve to speak.
“There’s something you should know,” he said, voice steady, though every nerve in his body screamed otherwise.
Mi-na leaned back in her seat, expression curious. “Okay...?”
He cleared his throat, feeling ridiculous for being so anxious, but there was no easy way to say it. “Your mother and I… we’re no longer together.”
The words dropped between them like a stone into still water, the ripples immediate and violent.
She stared at him, disbelief flickering across her features before settling into raw, unfiltered shock.
Then — a sharp bark of laughter, hollow and disbelieving, before she blurted out, "Oh, what the f**k?!"
Choi Sung flinched instinctively.
Mi-na, realizing her outburst, slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes darting to the quiet, conservative families in nearby cars.
Color rushed to her cheeks, and she mumbled, "Sorry, sorry — I forgot. Korea."
He almost smiled despite the situation. Her spirit had always been fire — something she inherited from Eun-mi without a doubt.
But the weight in her voice afterward left no room for humor.
“How?” she whispered finally, staring out the window as if it would offer answers.
He swallowed thickly. “It wasn’t sudden. Things… things have been unraveling for a long time.”
She didn’t respond, but he could see her reflection in the glass, the tight set of her jaw, the way she blinked hard like she was forcing tears back into their wells.
The pain in her face gutted him. He wanted to reach across the console, to grab her hand like he used to when she was little, but something told him she wouldn’t let him.
The rest of the drive passed in a heavy silence, the kind that filled every crack and corner until there was no room left for anything else.
He let her have the silence. Let her process.
There were no words that could fix this.
When they pulled into the driveway of what had once been their family home, Mi-na didn’t move immediately. She sat stiffly, staring at the front door like it was a stranger’s house.
“This is still your home,” he said quietly, almost afraid she wouldn’t believe it.
After a long pause, she nodded, pulling her suitcase from the backseat without a word.
Choi Sung watched her walk up the path, her shoulders squared but her steps uncertain.
And for the first time since the divorce, he wondered if any of them would ever really come home again.
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- Writer
