The early afternoon sun filtered softly through the white lace curtains in Linda's room. She sat cross-legged on the velvet settee, her eyes fixed on the TV screen as the latest episode of her favorite mystery drama played faintly in the background.
Then her phone buzzed, drawing her attention away from the screen.
She leaned forward and picked it up. The display showed a new message notification. With a curious frown, she tapped the screen to reveal a short message:
Hey, Linda. Remember me? I am Sara, we took a flight together. Can we meet?
Linda's brows lifted in surprise. Of course, she remembered Sara—the woman she had first spoken with the day she arrived in town. Sara, baby Jack's mum. They hadn't spoken much since then, just exchanged brief greetings.
Before she could even process the first message, another ping followed.
[Location attached]
A restaurant. One Linda recognized—modestly upscale, tucked near the edge of the commercial district, several miles away.
Her frown deepened. The message had no explanation, only a location. The abruptness of it stirred unease in her chest. Her instincts whispered that this wasn't just a casual reunion.
Without hesitation, she reached for the remote and turned off the TV. Rising quickly, she slipped into her coat, snatched her keys from the bowl on the counter, and walked briskly to the garage. She chose her electric bike, mounted it, and rode off.
The cold wind brushed against her face as she sped along the road, and her thoughts circled around Sara's message like restless birds.
---
By the time Linda arrived, the sun had begun dipping slightly westward. The restaurant stood inviting, framed with glass panels and green potted plants at the entrance. She parked the bike carefully at the designated corner, locked it, and stepped inside.
The place buzzed softly with late lunchers and murmured conversations. Linda's eyes swept the room until they landed on her—Sara.
She was sitting alone by the window. Her posture was slightly hunched, shoulders caved inward as if the weight of the world rested on them. Her fingers curled tightly around a glass of water, and when she looked up, her lips stretched into a tired, fragile smile.
"Hey," Sara said softly, standing to greet her.
"Hey," Linda responded warmly, wrapping her in a brief but firm hug before taking the seat opposite her.
"How's baby Jack?" Linda asked the moment she sat down.
"He's fine," Sara replied weakly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Linda's brows furrowed. "What's wrong?" She could feel the heaviness radiating from Sara like a shadow. This was, in truth, their first real conversation since meeting on the plane to Seoul.
Linda remembered how polite Sara had been on the flight. But this wasn't the same woman. This Sara looked nervous, worn down, fragile.
"Are you… alright?" Linda asked gently, her eyes searching Sara's face for answers.
Sara's lips trembled. She swallowed hard, but this time she couldn't hold it back, the tears spilled over.
"I'm not," she whispered, her voice breaking. "It's been so hard, Linda."
Her fingers shook as she wiped at her cheeks, then she began to speak. Her words came soft at first, like she was afraid her husband could hear her.
"The thing is… I stayed in Busan after I gave birth to Jack. It was the only place I could hide. My husband, Jin-Ho—he changed after I left Seoul. The man I married… he stopped being the man I knew. He started drinking with his friends, coming home late, and when he was home, he was angry. Angry at me. At everything."
Her voice broke, and she paused, swallowing down a sob.
"One night… he hit me. Not just once. Over and over. He said it was my fault. That I was weak. Useless. I tried to protect Jack, but I was so scared."
Linda's breath caught. She reached across the table, taking Sara's trembling hands into her own, grounding her with warmth.
"Where is Jack now?" she asked softly, afraid of the answer.
Sara's eyes darkened.
"I left him with my sister. Her house is crowded, she has a husband and four kids. I wanted to stay there too, but there's barely enough room. I visit Jack whenever I can… but my husband mustn't know."
Tears spilled freely down her cheeks, dripping onto the table.
"I didn't tell anyone. I was ashamed. But when I came back to Seoul, everything got worse. Jin-Ho was colder. I even saw him with other women. He laughed when I asked him about us."
Linda's chest tightened. She squeezed Sara's hands gently, her voice softener as she said.
"Why didn't you tell me before?"
Sara shook her head, defeated. "I didn't want to burden you. And I was scared you'd think less of me."
Linda's voice turned fierce, protective. "You could never be a burden. You're stronger than you know."
Then, lowering her tone, she asked, "Sara… apart from hitting you and treating you badly… what else did he do?"
Sara's lip quivered. Her gaze dropped to the untouched glass of water. Her fingers gripped the edge of the table so tightly her knuckles turned white.
"A lot," she whispered, almost choking on the words. "Things I never told anyone."
Linda stayed quiet, her eyes soft but unyielding, giving her the space to let it out.
"He would insult me. All the time," Sara said bitterly, though her voice still shook. "He'd call me a useless girl from the countryside. Say I was lucky he even married me. That I had nothing before him. He'd laugh at my accent when he was with his friends."
Her voice dropped lower, almost ashamed.
"Especially the women, his female friends. He'd insult me right in front of them. They would laugh too. I wasn't his wife. Not the mother of his child. Just… some stupid woman he kept around."
Linda clenched her jaw, fury flashing in her eyes, but she stayed still for Sara's sake.
Sara pressed on, as though once the dam had broken, the flood couldn't be stopped.
"He made me do everything. The cooking, cleaning, laundry, even when I was heavily pregnant with Jack. He never helped. Not once. And if I was late with anything, he'd scream at me. Throw things. One night he grabbed my wrist so tight.."
Her hand drifted unconsciously upward, rubbing her wrist as if the phantom pain was still there.
"He clenched it so hard, I thought he'd break it. Just because I forgot to iron his shirt. Then he went out partying like nothing happened."
Linda's eyes darkened, her breath heavy. "He parties a lot?"
"All the time," Sara said, dabbing at her tears. "Late nights. Clubs. Drinking. With those women. Once, he didn't come back for two days. And when he did, he blamed me for 'making him mad.' He said I was boring. That I didn't know how to be a real woman."
Her voice cracked on the last word, and she looked up, her face pale, her eyes swollen from crying.
"He made me feel like I was nothing. Like I didn't matter. And for a long time… I believed him."
Linda's throat tightened, but she leaned forward, gently touching her friend's hand again. Her voice was steady, but her eyes glistened.
"You are not nothing, Sara. Don't you ever believe that again." She took a deep breath. "Is there anything else I need to know?"
"Yes!" Sara said suddenly, her voice shaky she sat up cleaning her face.
"Then tell me," Linda urged, locking eyes with her. "I need to know everything."
And so, trembling but determined, Sara continued her story.