Chapter 17 🥬
The whole family sat in silence. Everyone was lost in their own thoughts. Lin He felt especially guilty. He didn't mean any harm—he just blurted something out like a typical sibling would. But he never expected their mother to get so angry.
"Don't scold the child while we're eating," James said, trying to ease the tension. "Milim, go take a shower if you don't feel like eating. You have a part-time job tomorrow, don't you?"
Facing his daughter, James felt powerless. Life was just too busy. It wasn't that he didn't want to guide his kids or care for them deeply—he just couldn't find the time, always caught up in work.
"Okay," Milim answered softly, following his suggestion to break the awkward mood. She set down her chopsticks. "You guys enjoy the meal. I'll take a bath first," she added, keeping her eyes low.
Every time her mother scolded her, she would act cold and stubborn. But once the anger faded, the hurt came in full force. Deep down, she believed she was a failure—and that maybe she deserved being scolded.
'No matter how much time I have, I can only come up with shallow thoughts. I can't even think seriously about my future,' she thought to herself.
As hot water poured over her in the shower, Milim cried quietly. When she returned to the room, her face felt warm. She thought bitterly, "How pathetic am I?"
A knock came at the door. It was her father. While his wife washed the dishes, he took a moment to check on his daughter.
"Hey, don't take it to heart. Your mom's just stressed lately. Her new job has been tough," James said gently. "You know how she is—she always wants to do everything perfectly."
Milim sat on her brother's bed. She was glad her face looked red from the heat, not from crying. "It's okay. I understand what she said wasn't wrong," she murmured.
But deep down, she couldn't help thinking, 'I really don't have any money to waste.'
"Don't take it too seriously," James sighed. Then he paused before adding, "Your mom and I just want the best for you. We're just scared you'll struggle too much in the future. If we were rich, we wouldn't ask you to work so hard. But reality is harsh. In this world, if you don't have skills or money, you can't even survive."
"Yeah, Dad. I get it," Milim replied. For the first time, she looked straight at her father's face—his almond-shaped eyes looked just like hers.
James remembered how obedient Milim had been as a child—bright, smart, and rarely disobedient. He sighed again. 'This child's always been too well-behaved… too rigid.'
"Well, Dad's going to go watch TV now. Go to sleep soon, okay? Turn on the air-conditioner if it's hot. Don't try to bear it. If you're uncomfortable, so are we."
"Okay, Dad," Milim answered softly.
Outside, Lin stood awkwardly by the door. He had come to get his clothes for a shower but didn't want to interrupt. Once James left, Lin stepped in.
"Sis, I'm sorry," he said right away.
Milim, drying her damp hair, didn't look at him. "Sorry, but I won't give you any snacks," she teased, picking up her towel and rubbing her head more.
Lin pouted, turned to get his clothes, and noticed something odd in the closet. There were bags of snacks neatly stacked in the corner. They looked delicious even through the packaging.
After Lin left, Milim's phone buzzed. She already had a feeling who it was.
She picked it up. "Hello?"
It was a video call.
"Your phone doesn't have a dual camera?" Dylan asked as the screen stayed dark.
Milim almost jumped. His voice was loud. She fumbled with the phone and soon, Dylan's handsome face appeared on the screen.
"Mister Dylan…" she muttered.
She didn't even think about how messy she looked. Her hair was wild like a bird's nest, her eyes were red from crying, and the camera was too close—basically showing off her nostrils.
Dylan stared at the screen. He had never seen anyone look so awful. But oddly, it didn't feel wrong.
"You should dry your hair after a shower. Don't you know it's easy to catch a cold with the air conditioner on?" he said.
"I'm not used to using a dryer," she replied, still drying her hair by hand.
Then Dylan noticed the bunk bed behind her.
"Who are you sharing a room with?"
"My brother."
"Who sleeps on top?"
"We take turns. If I feel sick, I sleep on the bottom."
Dylan clenched his jaw. 'Why did I ever let her go home? Just look at this cramped place. Can she even move around?'
"Shhh, be quiet!" Milim panicked. "Why are you like this? You always regret your promises."
"Then tell me," Dylan said seriously, "Will you sleep on the top or bottom tonight?"
"I'll sleep on the bottom," she mumbled. "It's safer."
Dylan's face softened a little. "You really need to move out. Your place isn't suitable."
"My brother just finished showering. I can't talk now," she said quickly and hung up before he could stop her.
Dylan stared at the empty screen, fuming. He kicked the bedside table in frustration.
'Text? You think texting is the same as seeing your face?'
Still, he messaged her.
Dylan: Move out. You know what's best for you. Even if you don't care about yourself, think of the child in your belly. Don't act so stubborn.
Milim saw the message and sighed.
'Two people scolded me today. My mom… and a stranger.'
She dropped onto the bed and shoved the phone under Lin's pillow.
Lin, who was pretending to study at his desk, turned and asked, "What's wrong? Are you still mad?"
Milim shook her head. "I'll take the bottom bunk. You sleep on top."
She got up, grabbed the snacks from the closet, and offered them to him.
"If you agree, I'll buy you delicious food every day."
Lin's eyes lit up. The treats looked expensive and tasted even better.
"Where did you get these?" he asked. "They taste rich."
"Someone gave them to me," she answered quickly. "Don't ask too many questions."
"Who?" he asked through full cheeks.
"A male classmate. He likes me."
Lin blinked. "Did you say yes?"
"Not yet," Milim said.
Her phone buzzed again under the pillow. She brushed crumbs off her hands and stood.
"Lin, eat quietly. I'm taking a call."
"Okay," he nodded.
Milim lay back down, turned on the fan with her foot, and picked up the phone.
"Why didn't you reply?" Dylan's voice was calm but clearly annoyed. "I was worried."
"I'm eating what you sent me," she said, popping a walnut into her mouth.
Dylan could hear her chewing through the call. 'This is what it feels like to talk to someone so young… I feel ancient.'
"Is it good?" he asked.
"Yeah. It's fragrant and crunchy. But if I eat too much, I'll get heaty."
"Then eat less," Dylan said, trying to be patient. Then, more gently, "Why were your eyes red earlier? Did you cry?"
Milim glanced at Lin and lied, "Water got in my eyes."
"Be more careful next time," Dylan said.
Milim blinked. 'Why is he so gentle on the phone… but scary in person?'
"Go to sleep early. I'll come get you tomorrow."
"Okay. Bye."
A short silence.
"Goodnight."
"Goodnight."
The line didn't end. After a moment, Milim hung up herself. 'So it wasn't my imagination. He really is nicer on the phone.'
With that thought, she yawned and closed her eyes.
Thirty kilometers away, Dylan was still stuck in the sound of her soft goodnight, playing it over and over in his mind.
What frustrated him more was that the memory he tried so hard to forget came rushing back—the night in the chaotic bar, where the drunk girl had asked, "Big brother, can you do me a favor?"
Dylan gritted his teeth. He took off his shirt and walked straight into the bathroom.
He needed a cold shower.