The house felt unbearably quiet.
Mi‑un stood near the doorway, her bag resting at her feet, the child asleep in her arms. Morning light spilled through the window, touching MK's photograph one last time. She bowed deeply before it, her lips trembling.
"I'm leaving now," she whispered. "Please… watch over us."
MK's mother stood in front of her, hands clenched tightly in her shawl. Twenty years ago, she had lost her son. Today, she felt as though she was losing the last piece of him.
"So this is goodbye," she said softly.
Mi‑un nodded. "Just… for now. I need to go back. I need to raise him where I can breathe."
MK's mother stepped forward and gently touched the child's cheek. Her eyes filled instantly. "He's warm," she whispered. "Just like MK was."
Mi‑un broke down then. "I'm scared," she admitted. "Every night I'm scared. What if I fail? What if I can't protect him?"
MK's mother pulled her into an embrace, careful not to wake the child. "Listen to me," she said firmly. "You are not running away. You are choosing life. And that takes courage."
She reached into her pocket and pressed something into Mi‑un's hand—a small pendant, old and slightly worn.
"MK used to wear this," she said. "Take it. Wherever you go… you are family. You will always be my daughter."
Mi‑un cried silently, her shoulders shaking. "I'll come back," she promised. "I swear."
MK's mother nodded, though her heart knew how far this goodbye truly was.
---
The airport was chaos.
Voices echoed. Announcements rang out. And then there were her parents.
"What is wrong with you?!" her mother shouted, tears streaking down her face. "Do you have any idea what you're doing?!"
Her father slammed his hand against the railing. "You disappeared for years, and now you return with a child and expect us to accept this madness?!"
Mi‑un stood frozen, clutching the baby closer.
"You ruined your life!" her mother cried. "Your future, your name—everything!"
Mi‑un's voice shook, but she did not step back. "My life was already broken," she said quietly. "This… this is how I survive."
Her father laughed bitterly. "Alone? In a foreign country? With a child? Do you think love is enough?"
Mi‑un finally looked up, her eyes red but unflinching. "Love is the only thing I have left."
People stared. Whispers spread. Her mother collapsed into tears, sobbing uncontrollably.
"Why are you doing this to us?" she begged.
Mi‑un lowered her head. "Because if I stay… I'll disappear. And I won't let him grow up watching me disappear."
She kissed her mother's forehead gently. "I'm sorry I couldn't be the daughter you wanted."
Then she turned.
Each step toward the gate felt like tearing something out of her chest. Her hands shook. Her legs felt weak. But she did not stop.
At the gate, she paused and looked down at the sleeping child.
"I don't know what kind of world I'm taking you into," she whispered. "But I promise… I will never abandon you. Even if the whole world turns its back on us."
She stepped onto the plane.
As it lifted into the sky, Cambodia slowly disappeared beneath the clouds. Mi‑un pressed her forehead against the window, silent tears falling.
She was alone now.
No promises.
No safety net.
Only a child… and a past she could never escape.
But somewhere deep in her chest, beneath the fear and grief, something else existed
.
Resolve.
And that resolve would carry her through the years to come.