The house had always been quiet, but tonight the silence felt heavier, suffocating. The weight came not from the walls or the dim light, but from the man sitting at the kitchen table—an "uninvited guest" whose very presence turned the air sharp.
Clink.
The sound of porcelain touching wood broke the stillness.
The old man, silver-haired and straight-backed, let his gaze sweep slowly across mother and son. Then he sighed, low and grave, before leaning forward and suddenly clasping An Phong's cold hands in his.
The touch jolted through An Phong like a surge of ice. His instinct screamed to yank free, but the man's grip only tightened. A faint click of the tongue—displeasure flashing across that stern face.
Then came the words.
"An Phong. Would you like to come live with me?"
It sounded like a question. But beneath the weight of his voice, it was anything but. When this man spoke, his tone carried the weight of command. Only fools pretended not to hear it. And tonight, An Phong played the fool.
"Excuse me? What do you mean, Grandpa?"
His voice stayed even, but sweat dampened his palms under the elder's grasp. He didn't dare look up. He didn't need to—the tension in his grandfather's lips was enough to tell him where those eyes had turned: toward his mother, sharp and cruel.
A dull ache pressed against his chest.
The old man clicked his tongue again, this time pressing harder on An Phong's hands before patting them with mock affection. His voice dropped lower, every syllable weighted, a parody of warmth.
"Do I really need to repeat myself?"
The kitchen seemed to collapse in on itself. All An Phong could hear was the pounding of his own heart, fast and uneven, like prey cornered.
"Yes, sir…"
His head bowed lower, lips sealed.
"An Phong," the old man continued, voice dripping with false concern. "It seems your mother hasn't decided whether to move back in with me. You know, I've always worried about you, ever since she pulled you away."
Lies, An Phong thought bitterly, lips twitching.
"Life outside isn't easy, is it? Your mother works all day and late into the night. And your father… always away on business trips."
Lies. You drove him out. He only sneaks back when he dares.
"Look at you, poor child. The heir of the Ha family, living like this, dragged away by that… conniving woman."
The words sliced the air. His mother stiffened, shoulders trembling as her lips pressed tight.
Hearing her insulted twisted something deep in An Phong, but he didn't move. He couldn't. Every time his grandfather came, the words fell like knives, and every time, his mother bled silently. All he could do was sit there, swallowing his fury, regretting the fate that had bound her to this family, to this man.
"An Phong. Ha An Phong." His name dropped like stones. "Tell me… when will you return home?"
Slowly, An Phong raised his head. His pale face showed nothing, but his eyes locked on his grandfather's.
"This… isn't my home?"
The old man's expression hardened. Anger burned in his gaze, but he swallowed it down, voice smoothing again. Only An Phong, the sole male heir, could speak to him this way without punishment.
"Of course this isn't your home. Blood of the Ha family doesn't belong in… a place like this."
Every word was aimed like a dagger at his mother. To him, this house was unworthy, a cage too shabby for his precious heir.
"Look at you," the man pressed on. "So thin, so lifeless. A few more years like this and I might not even recognize you. That would be a tragedy."
A chill crept down An Phong's spine, but his face remained a mask.
His grandfather leaned closer, grip unrelenting. His voice softened into a near-whisper, coaxing, poisonous.
"Come back. Everyone misses you… your mother too. The family is waiting with open arms. Isn't it time to return where you belong?"
Where I belong? An Phong's thoughts darkened. You mean the golden cage you've built. The one where every bar is another chain around my life.
His mother's voice trembled, breaking through."Dad… please, that's enough. An Phong needs rest—"
A single glare cut her off. His eyes told her plainly: stay out of this. Her throat closed, words strangled before they could escape.
Satisfied, he turned back to his grandson. His hand shifted, reaching to pat An Phong's as though in comfort.
But—
Smack.
An Phong jerked his hand free, knocking his grandfather's away.
For an instant, the old man froze, shock flickering before anger surged. His face darkened—until An Phong's voice cut through, low and steady.
"After graduation."
"…What?" The man blinked.
An Phong met his gaze, eyes like glass."After high school. I'll return to the 'home' you want."
A beat of silence—then laughter boomed through the kitchen.
"Good. Very good! Finally, some sense. You've grown wiser than your mother. Excellent. I'll wait for that day. It won't be long now."
His laugh echoed, hollow and triumphant.
His mother sat stunned, face drained.
An Phong sat still, expression blank, but his fists under the table clenched until veins rose against his skin.
Only after the car rolled out of sight, the night swallowing its tail lights, did the house fall quiet again.
Then his mother whirled on him, gripping his shoulders, her voice breaking with panic.
"What were you thinking!? Why would you agree to go back there? Do you want to throw yourself to the wolves?"
Her desperation made his chest ache. She had suffered enough for him. Gently, he brushed her hands away, forcing a faint smile.
"Don't worry, Mom. I'll talk to him. I'll handle it."
"Handle it? I'm going insane here!"
He tilted his head, studying her face. His voice dropped, soft but cutting."Do you regret it, Mom?"
"…What?"
"Do you regret having me?" His smile curved deeper, sharp with something bitter. For once, he wanted her to feel the same helplessness, the same resentment he had carried all these years.
Her eyes filled with tears. "No. Never. I've never regretted having you… not once."
"Then don't worry anymore. Trust me. I'll take care of this."
She had no words left. She only pulled him into her arms, sobbing, clutching his fragile frame. He held her back, eyes distant, unreadable.
Later, when she had wiped her tears and forced a shaky smile, An Phong's voice turned almost light.
"Mom? I want to sign up for Taekwondo. Can I?"
She blinked, startled. A shadow of old memories flickered in her gaze, but then she smiled, smoothing his hair.
"Why? Did someone at school bother you?"
"No. I just… want to try something I actually like."
For the first time, her son had asked for something of his own. Her heart swelled.
"…Of course. When do you want to start?"
"Tomorrow."
"Alright. I'll take you myself."
"That's not necessary. I can go alone."
"Nonsense. A mother should bring her son on his first day. I'll meet the teacher, make sure they look out for you."
At that, An Phong's face lit up, rare joy flickering across it, his eyes crinkling as though a piece of sunlight had broken through the clouds.
"Thank you, Mom!"