TOMORROW | Changbin

01||Our new home

The depth of human duplicity can be breathtaking. We create facades of warmth and commitment, weaving promises that shimmer like mirages in the desert. Yet, beneath the surface, a different truth can lurk. When the storms of life gather, these fair-weather companions vanish, leaving us stranded in the wreckage of our shattered dreams. The embers of hope we clung to, fueled by whispered affections, now lie cold and ashen. We are left to face the flames of our own despair, the bitter aftertaste of betrayal clinging to our hearts
 
And something of the sort happened to me too.

The final box thumped onto the floor with a dull thud, the echo swallowed by the oppressive silence of the apartment. "All done," I whispered, the words tasting like dust and defeat.

I turned, hearing Haein, struggling with an overflowing box. A weary sigh escaped her lips as she lowered it onto the counter.

"Finally," she groaned, wiping sweat from her brow.

"Thanks for helping, Haein," I rasped, my voice thick with emotion. We shuffled out of the kitchen, the silence punctuated only by the rhythmic creak of floorboards beneath our tired steps. We collapsed onto the living room couch, a shared sigh hanging heavy in the air.

It had been a whirlwind move, a hasty decision fueled by heartbreak that had me scrambling to get out of Yonginsi as quickly as possible. The place was a chaotic mess - cardboard boxes overflowing with my life, plastic bags clinging to furniture like ghosts, packing peanuts clinging stubbornly to everything.

If it hadn't been for Haein, my ever-reliable best friend, I'd probably still be knee-deep in packing peanuts two days later. Her presence, a beacon of unwavering support in the storm of my emotions, was the only bright spot in the sea of cardboard.

Haein opened her mouth to speak, but the sound was cut short by the patter of tiny feet. Aeri, my four-year-old daughter, emerged from the guest room, rubbing her sleepy eyes. Her lower lip wobbled in a pout, a stark contrast to the bright pink pajamas adorned with cartoon unicorns.

"Mama?" she rasped, her voice thick with sleep.

The sight of my daughter, so innocent and oblivious to the emotional earthquake that had shattered our world, was a punch to the gut that stole my breath. Here I was, drowning in the wreckage of a failed relationship, a broken family, a hasty move that uprooted not just my life but hers, and the only thing this tiny human craved was the comfort of my presence. A lump formed in my throat.

"I'm here, baby," I managed, my voice hoarse. I forced a smile.

A part of me, a broken, yearning part, ached for the one who walked away four years ago. I craved for him to see this, to understand the future he'd so carelessly discarded. But that dream, like our love, lay buried beneath the dust of his indifference.

Now, all I had left was the fierce, all-encompassing love for this little girl, a love that burned brighter than the despair threatening to consume me. It was a love that would guide me, piece by broken piece, towards a new beginning, a future I would build for her, even if it meant building it alone.

Aeri stopped rubbing her sleepy eyes and shuffled towards me. I scooped her up, the weight of her familiar and comforting in my arms. Settling her on my lap, I pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "Did you sleep well, sweetheart?"

She simply nodded, burrowing her head against my chest in a silent contentment that warmed my heart.

Haein, Aeri's absolute favorite human ever (well, besides me, of course!), couldn't resist chiming in. Spotting the sleep clinging to Aeri's eyes, she cooed, "This little munchkin must be hungry!" Haein leaned down, her nose bopping Aeri's in a gentle nudge making her erupt in a fit of giggles, her whole body wriggling with delight