The 'Dad' Habit Returns
Life never goes according to plan.
……
I tossed and turned all night. Run away, reform. Those two words bounced around my head like ping-pong balls. Lying in bed, sitting in the chair, even in the bathroom—it was all I could think about. In the end, no answer came.
"Ugh……"
It was probably morning. I finally pried my eyes open, and sunlight streamed through the window. The sun was already high in the sky. The clock read… ten a.m.
I'm not getting any work done.
From the day I was hospitalized until now, I hadn't touched freelance gigs or personal commissions. Our house still didn't have Wi-Fi anyway. I tried firing up my laptop in offline mode to at least sketch something, but I couldn't focus. My mind was stuffed with worries about what to do with Kim Bom.
If this keeps up, I'll end up going back to being Ha-kko the artist.
Sure, the emoji stickers were selling well, but it was a one-hit wonder. I couldn't live off them forever. I couldn't afford to slack on work. Especially now, with hospital bills piling up. Even with insurance, a private room wasn't cheap.
"Ughhh……"
I glanced around the room. Ever since checking out yesterday, I'd been cooped up in this damn place. Walls, ceiling, floor—the same scenery day in, day out. It just made the worries tangle worse.
"Yeah. Time to get some air."
To cool this stuffy head, fresh outside air would help. A walk might clear my mind a bit.
I slipped on my slippers and stepped out the front door, heading to the yard to open the gate. Creeeak— The rusty iron gate groaned open with its usual screech. It had been like this since we moved in. I kept meaning to oil it but put it off every day.
The moment I stepped outside.
Tap, tap.
Sudden footsteps. Someone moving in a hurry.
I turned toward the sound. It was Kim Bom. She was right there, just a few meters from my house. One foot lifted mid-step, like she'd frozen while walking.
"Ah……"
The sound escaped us both at once. From my mouth, and hers.
Why is she here?
Kim Bom was in her usual white sundress. But not her usual lively self. The dress, always neatly pressed before, was wrinkled and messy. Dark circles under hollow eyes, face pale as a ghost.
"……"
Time seemed to stop. We just stared at each other, rooted to the spot. No words.
Probably…
I could guess what happened. She must've wanted to apologize. Came all the way here. But when it came to knocking, she lost her nerve. So she'd been pacing nearby. Then… I suddenly appeared.
A breeze blew. Her hair fluttered. She didn't move. Like a statue. And neither did I.
What should I say? Did I even need to say anything? Pretend I didn't see her and walk past? Or go back inside?
Options flashed through my mind, but my body wouldn't budge.
……
How many seconds? Minutes? We stood there.
I looked her over carefully. Just a few days apart, but the changes were obvious. Cheeks hollowed out. Shadows under her eyes. Clear signs of sleepless nights and skipped meals. She was biting her lip—not drawing blood, but it was pale white. And her hands, clasped tight like she was fighting anxiety, knuckles bone-white.
Can a person change that much in days?
She looked like a scared kid terrified of being abandoned by her parents. That's what came to mind. Kim Bom was a grown woman in her mid-twenties. Yet right now, she seemed so much younger. Pitiful. Precarious.
Run away, reform, danger, soul erasure possibility. Words I'd agonized over for days resurfaced.
I had to judge rationally. Weigh it coldly. No letting emotions sway me.
But… suddenly, all those logical words felt meaningless.
Screw it.
I cursed myself inwardly. Cursed Yeoreum. Called myself a pushover, an idiot. Just like how Han Minseo got wrecked by Choi Seori without a plan in the first world, maybe this was Yeoreum's original nature bleeding through.
Still, I couldn't help it. Right now, I liked Kim Bom. I couldn't just ignore her crumbling under her own sins.
I took a step. Slowly toward her. One step, two. Her shoulders twitched. I thought she might bolt, but she couldn't. Frozen in place.
I reached out. Her hand was ice-cold. Even in summer. I wrapped both of mine around it. Yeoreum's small hands couldn't fully enclose it, but I tried to share my warmth.
"Long time no see."
I tried smiling naturally, casually. But my voice cracked a little.
"You okay?"
Her eyes widened. Lips parted like she wanted to speak. But nothing came for a while. Then her eyes started to redden.
"F-Fine… I'm fine."
The short reply was hoarse. Her throat must've been too tight.
"Standing here's gonna hurt your legs."
I tugged her hand gently.
"Let's walk a bit first. Grab some food. You haven't eaten breakfast, right?"
She nodded, a faint smile. Barely there. Tears welled, threatening to fall. But… her lips curved up, just a little.
I started walking first, guiding her arm. She followed. Side by side, we went.
No running away now.
I thought as we walked. Right or wrong? No idea. Just followed my heart. But it was fine. At least in that moment, it felt like the right path.
……
Days passed since I took her hand that day. I decided to forgive Kim Bom.
She had strangled me—that was fact. The heart attack it triggered nearly killed me—fact. But she saved me too. Called 119, followed to the hospital, waited through it all.
Above all, her state when we reunited said it all. Hollow cheeks, sunken eyes, trembling voice. Putting it together, I believed she'd regretted and repented enough.
I messed up too.
I denied her delusion too abruptly. Tried shattering a worldview built over twenty years in an instant. No wonder she snapped. Somewhat understandable.
Should've approached slower, more carefully…
Anyway, things were back to normal now. Today, I was working in Kim Bom's living room. My laptop screen showed a character design from a freelance job. Kim Bom was in the kitchen, cooking something. The rhythmic chop-chop of knife on cutting board drifted over.
Now we can build a normal relationship.
That incident let us understand each other deeper. Learned traumas, saw wounds. Now we could start a truly healthy romance.
That's what I believed.
……
Evening. We were prepping dinner together in her kitchen. I peeled potatoes; she simmered doenjang jjigae.
"Potatoes done. This good?"
"Yeah, perfect."
Cozy vibe. More relaxed than before the strangling, even.
As I sliced potatoes, she tasted the stew with a ladle.
"Dad, how's the seasoning?"
My knife stopped mid-air.
…What?
She looked at me, ladle in hand. Expression casual as ever.
"U-Um, I'm Yeoreum, Bom."
I said it softly, not wanting to startle her.
"Huh?"
Her face stiffened slightly.
"Oh, sorry. My bad."
She laughed awkwardly. Cheeks maybe a bit flushed.
Still can't let go of her dad.
I get it. Twenty years of longing. Bound to slip sometimes.
"It's fine. Happens."
I smiled, and she relaxed, focusing back on cooking.
The doenjang jjigae was delicious.
……
Next afternoon. Weeding the vegetable patch we'd made together. The lettuce had grown nicely—harvest soon.
"Dad, should we pick the lettuce now?"
…Again?
My hoe hovered in the air.
"It's Yeoreum."
"Oh, right! Sorry."
She scratched her head.
That evening, watching TV.
"Dad, change the channel?"
Next afternoon, working at the fortune-telling shop.
"Dad, need tea?"
Several times a day. Started with once or twice, but the frequency was climbing.