Don't Abandon Me, Dad!

I was exceptional.

By my senior year of high school I already stood six-foot-three, with a natural athlete's coordination and proportions that turned heads. Even a little training packed muscle onto my frame as if it belonged there. And my mind? Frustratingly sharp. A modest amount of studying was all it took to rank first in the entire school.

Born to a businessman father and a professor mother, I suppose that was only to be expected. The family was genuinely wealthy. We had a housekeeper, lived in a three-story house with a yard, and kept three imported cars in the driveway.

Unlike the usual cliché of the spoiled rich kid, I was neither arrogant nor lazy. When effort was called for, I put in more than enough of it. The result, naturally, was a place at Hankuk University's College of Medicine — the most prestigious national university in the country.

My dream was to become a surgeon. A thoracic surgeon, at that. It was a specialty most medical students ran from, but I had a romance with it. I had fallen in love with a documentary about thoracic surgeons who operated for dozens of hours at a stretch, pulling people back from the brink.

My parents wanted me to choose a specialty where I could earn money comfortably, but they couldn't stop me. They were mature people. They respected my decision and spared no support.

Wanting to finish my mandatory service quickly as a regular enlisted soldier, I enlisted after completing my first year. After I returned to school, I spent about half a year adrift. People say the army makes a man of you. For me it was the opposite. The compass of my life, so certain before I enlisted, spun wildly as if it had met a magnet. Puberty, which I had thought would never arrive, had come far too ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠late.

And it was during that period of wandering that I met my wife — in a general-education course called Portrait Photography Practicum.

The goddess of the College of Arts. People always swarmed around her. But she chose me as her partner.

"If this photo takes first place, you have to grant me one wish! Deal?"

I thought she was joking. But it became reality, and she and I started dating.

Those were dreamlike days. She held me together completely when I was coming apart. She gave me direction so I could throw myself into my medical studies. She made me into a real man, and she helped me work off my stress.

The happiest period of my entire life was then.

But where there is an uphill, there is a downhill. I never imagined that peak of happiness would come barreling down the slope without a single brake.

The hardest period of my entire life arrived during my internship after graduation.

My father's business collapsed. The impregnable fortress that had seemed like it would never fall crumbled like a sandcastle. My parents, fleeing from debt collectors, died when their car went off a cliff.

They were not people who would take their own lives. But suicide was how it was ruled. I was certain the debt collectors had done it. I simply couldn't prove it. I had no power whatsoever to uncover the truth.

After the inheritance waiver and the funeral, I had nothing left. I had been a flower in a greenhouse. When the glass shattered and the cold wind blew in, I died helplessly.

"You seemed like the kind of guy who could do anything, oppa. But now you're a lost cause. Bye."

She had been the girlfriend who caught me when I was wandering in college, so I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠thought she would save me this time too. That was a massive delusion. The moment she confirmed that every last shred of my potential had vanished, she discarded me without a second thought.

It was so hard I wanted to die. So I actually tried.

Night. The rooftop of the university's main building. I stood on the railing.

With a jolt, the words my ex-girlfriend had hurled at me came back.

I… had been that, hadn't I?

So why couldn't I do it now?

That was it. I had talent, but in the end I was someone who shone through effort. My heart had broken, so I had stopped trying, and that was why I had become a wreck.

The students walking below all looked happy. Why? Why did I have to be the only one miserable while they got to be happy? I wanted to be happy again, too. If I died like this, it would be too unfair.

Alright. Let's try. If it still doesn't work, then I'll die.

I took the dagger the world had plunged into me and turned it into medicine, and in doing so I earned another chance to live. I clawed my way forward through sheer spite and grit, holding onto the belief that I could overcome anything.

I moved into the hospital. Eating and sleeping there, I repeated the same cycle: effort, and then more effort. And in the end, I made it. I became a thoracic surgery specialist at Hanguk University Hospital.

"I'm sorry, oppa… I didn't mean it."

My girlfriend asked to get back together. More than the image of her discarding me without mercy, the thought that this was something I had fought for and won back through my own effort loomed larger — and so I was able to take her back.

The woman I reunited with had changed. She was far more aggressive in bed. Before, she refused to have sex without a condom, but after we got back together she even let me go without one, and allowed withdrawal.

In the end we jumped the gun. A pregnancy before marriage.

"Oppa, you don't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠have any money. Let's just skip the wedding."

We started married life with nothing but a marriage registration, no ceremony. And not long after, a cute daughter was born.

She was like an angel sent down from heaven. So I named her Min-ah.

I had become a specialist, but the work only got worse. Thoracic surgeons were especially scarce. With almost no one who could replace me, I was worked to the bone. There were times I pulled three consecutive all-nighters.

But I was happy. Because I had a family. A beautiful wife. And a daughter so precious it would have hurt to rest her in my own eye.

"Daddyyyy!!"

The moment I walked through the door, my entire body wrecked, my daughter would come toddling out to greet me on clumsy little steps. She really was an angel. No matter how hard things got, seeing my daughter made everything melt away.

That was it. I was certain I could weather any hardship because of my daughter.

I was one of the top thoracic surgeons in the country. The more I ground my body down, the more money came in. I even lucked into a modeling gig for the nation's top automobile company and shot a commercial. In no time, our family's finances recovered to something close to what they had been when my late parents were alive.

Work at the hospital was already overwhelming, so I left the household finances entirely to my wife. But something was going increasingly wrong between us. I gave her enormous amounts of money, and she wanted even more. I couldn't give her that. Giving her what she wanted would have meant going into debt.

My parents had been ruined by debt. That was why I had sworn I would never take on any. I believed it would be the very thing that destroyed our family.

When I didn't give my wife what she wanted, our relationship steadily deteriorated. Our marital relations had already been dead for a long time. Blame for me kept spilling from her mouth. Neglecting the family… not earning enough money.

Fine. I thought it was all my fault.

Until I heard a shocking story from a school senior I happened to run into.

Come on. No way.

At the time I brushed it off as nothing, but with the ongoing cold war with my wife, the suspicion kept growing.

The conclusion that I needed to confirm those suspicions came after she had a huge fight with me at an amusement park, then abandoned me and the child and left the park alone.

The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠suspicion that tormented me most was about my daughter. Min-ah.

When I looked at other friends' children, there was always some feature that resembled a parent. But in Min-ah's face, there was nothing of mine except the eyebrows.

I didn't want to suspect her. I hated myself for even thinking it. How could I possibly doubt a daughter so precious it would hurt to rest her in my own eye?

But once suspicion had bloomed, it wouldn't die. It grew larger and began to run wild.

To kill the suspicion, I needed evidence.

In the end… on the day Min-ah turned eight, I requested a paternity test.

I hoped it wasn't true. I believed it wasn't. It was a test I had commissioned simply to put my suspicions to rest.

But the heavens once again gifted me a mad kind of despair.

It felt as if the sky were collapsing. My daughter wasn't my blood. What kind of nonsense was this.

Shock. Rage. A maddening rage directed at my wife.

She was no longer my wife. An enemy. A mortal enemy I would bury until nothing of her remained in society.

I hired a private investigator to tail her. And her shame was exposed all too easily. My wife was keeping a second household with a young fitness trainer.

I gathered the evidence and filed for divorce. My wife grovelled, begging and begging for me to let it go. But I couldn't. I knew the only reason she was asking for forgiveness was money.

I threw her out of the house and had everything her hands had touched hauled away as garbage.

After everything was dealt with, Min-ah remained.

My daughter was crying.

"D…ad… I'm scared… don't do this……"

That daughter who had been so cute now looked utterly hateful. And so I decided to dump her on my wife.

"Dad… where are you going? Huh?"

I didn't answer. Min-ah just kept sobbing at my savage behavior.

I met my wife and fought with her again. Take her. I can't take her. She refused stubbornly. A divorced woman with a child would have been fatal, I suppose.

In the end I didn't get what I wanted. When I stormed back to the car, fuming, Min-ah was standing beside it. Clutching her favorite stuffed bear tight against her chest.

It was winter. Min-ah's face and hands were all red and freezing.

"Dad… are you going to abandon me?"

She was a child, but she seemed like an adult. Those eyes of Min-ah's, brimming because she was holding back her tears, began to melt my frozen heart in an instant.

"Dad… I'll… I'll do well in Mom's place… I'll keep my room tidy… I'll take out the trash… I'll cook… and I'll give you love too… so please… don't abandon me……"

A daughter's tears were a powerful thing. Regret for my insane behavior began flooding in until I thought I would go mad with it.

"Ah— Min-ah… Min-ah!!"

I snatched her into my arms. Tears began pouring down like mad.

"Dad's sorry!! My daughter!! Min-ah is my daughter!! Never!! I'll never abandon you!! Never, for as long as I live!!"

"Dad… do you love me??"

"I love you!! More than anyone!! I love you the most!!"

"I'll love only you, Dad… so you can never… never abandon me."

Only after hearing me say I loved her did my daughter finally let the tears fall.

The divorce was finalized. I decided to raise my daughter myself.

I began raising her with painstaking devotion. For her sake, I quit the university hospital. If I kept a job that demanded all-nighters at all hours, I wouldn't be able to raise her properly.

Breaking the vow I had made never to take on debt, I borrowed money and opened an orthopedic clinic in the storefront in front of our house. It was a desperate measure for a man with no parents of his own, trying to raise a daughter.

It didn't go well at first, but in a place with no tertiary-hospital emergency rooms like a university hospital, enough patients came that it became reasonably profitable. I had no intention of making serious money.

And so Min-ah grew up well. Her grades were excellent. Her looks were beautiful, taking after her mother.

We slept in the same room until she was in middle school, but once she entered high school, my daughter declared she would sleep in her own room.

"Good night, sweetheart."

"Yeah, Dad. Thanks for today, too. I love you."

"I love you too."

After making sure she was asleep, I went into the study. An old computer sat there.

On days when my ex-wife came to mind, I always headed for the study. The porn folder I had hidden away so carefully. I turned on the computer to find it.