Stepfather || Hyung Line

Chapter 39

I wanted to open the box and the letter, but something told me I should wait for the next morning. Every five seconds I threw a glance at the purple box and the envelope staring at me from the top of my dresser. I couldn't sleep at night, because of how utterly restless and confused I was.
How did my parents know him?
What did he do to them?
Who is he to me that I got emotionally shaken up at the prospect of him leaving?
Eventually, amidst all the questions, my eyes slowly shut closed, only to open again at four in the evening the next day.

Fxck. It was time.

I called my mother and father up to tell them about the "gifts." As soon as I uttered the name Kim Seokjin, she ran up to me, attempting to snatch the letter off the table, but only to be blocked by my father.
"Let her read it, Nami," he said with a weak voice. I eyed them, then pulled out the letter.

It was written in neat small handwriting, the ink a bit smudged.
Dear Child,
I didn't even know what to write after "Dear", because I'm such a bad father that I don't even know the name of my own child. Wherever you are, I hope you and your mother are doing well. I know it's stupid of me to say that after leaving you two in state that I did. I left your mother the day I found out she was pregnant with you, to go live in America. But after a few years, I realized that I was lonely to the point where even the walls of my own house did not want to talk to me. In those days, I thought about you and your mother a lot. I thought about whether you'd successfully come into this world, and if you did, what you looked like. I secretly hoped that you had some kind of feature of mine, even though I had no right. The thing is, that I am not your father. I am not. I was too oblivious to you to even qualify as a stranger, and even though I didn't deserve it, I wanted to at least see if you and Nami were okay. I wanted to see who was taking care of you. I wanted to just pat your head once, just to say sorry. Because I am sorry. I'm sorry, Nami for ruining your life. For breaking your trust. For leaving you alone to fend for yourself and not even leaving you a place to stay. I'm sorry, my baby, for not being there for you. I don't know whether or whether not someone else was, but if so, I am forever thankful to them.
And to my child's real father, if any man is fortunate enough.
Thank you for accepting the two beings who I never valued. Thank you for giving the love and the care that I never could. Thank you, really, for repairing all the damage that I had done. Thank you, for replacing me. Because whoever you are, I am sure you are much better than I.
I don't know whether I'll actually find you or not. I've come to Korea solely to find you, and catch a slight glimpse of my son or daughter, and then go back. By the time you've read this, I've reached somewhere across Korea, where no one will ever find me, to at least try to make up for my sins and start the remainder of my life again. I know you must hate me, and it'd be unnatural of me to expect anything otherwise, but I'd like to say one last thing: I'm sorry for breaking you, and I'm thankful to you for teaching me what it means to be sorry. Because if you didn't, who knows how many lives I'd have ruined.
I love you, child. But don't, by any means, love me, okay?
Goodbye.
Kim Seokjin

When I lifted my head from the letter, all I saw was my father, not Kim Seokjin, but Min Yoongi, smiling at me through his tears. My hand went up to the one lock of blue hair I had. All the stories I had ever heard of evil stepfathers and their torture vanished from my head.

That night, I had called Mark to the park. I told him everything as we sat together on the park bench. He held me tight the entire night, which was exactly what I needed.

It took me a few days to process everything, but one thing never changed: Min Yoongi, by hook or by crook, would always be my father, no matter what happened. He was the man who took me to candy shops as a child, who taught me everything I knew, was my best friend, and the best husband to my mother. He was an angel from heaven, and I was his daughter. Nothing could change that, ever.

So, years later, when my own daughter was six years old, and her school invited all the grandparents, she took my father. And the last verse of the song she sang for him was no matter how or when or where, I know you will always be there.