Time: 4:07 AM
The apartment is silent except for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the ticking wall clock.
(Mao lies on her futon, eyes open. Minho is curled up beside her, asleep with one arm across her stomach. She hasn't slept. Her eyes are dry now, not because the tears are gone—but because her soul feels empty.)
Knock knock.
A low, tired knock on the sliding door.
Father (soft voice):
"Mao… Are you awake?"
(Mao gently lifts Minho's hand off her and tiptoes toward the door. She slides it open and finds her father—Geto—standing with his arms crossed, face pale and lined with exhaustion.)
Mao (whispers):
"Yes, Papa?"
Father:
"…Come outside. I need to speak with you."
Mao (gently):
"What is it, Papa?"
Father (quietly):
"…I wasn't going to say anything yet. But after I saw Minho tonight… after I looked at your mother's pillow still warm—I realized there's nothing left here."
Mao (softly):
"Nothing?"
On the Balcony
The door clicks softly behind them as Mao and her father step out onto the narrow balcony. The city is quiet, save for the occasional hum of a faraway car or the low buzz of flickering neon lights in the distance. The wind is sharp tonight—cool and indifferent. It slips between them, tousling Mao's loose strands of hair, brushing gently against the single potted plant her mother once watered every morning without fail. It hasn't bloomed since she died.
Geto's hands rest on the cold metal railing, knuckles pale. He stares down at the sleeping street, at the faded outlines of their neighborhood painted in blue-grey shadows. He says nothing at first.
Mao stands beside him, small and still. She doesn't press for words—she already knows.
Father (shakily, after a long pause):
"We're leaving… After the funeral. I've made the decision."
(He swallows hard.)
"We'll go to Japan. To my uncle's place. They said they'll help. I've already begun arrangements."
Mao's eyes don't move. She gazes into the night, expression unreadable. But inside her, something wrenches. A quiet, sudden void begins to open behind her ribs.
Father (lower voice):
"I know it's sudden. You've built a life here… your school, your friends. Dan…"
The name hangs like smoke in the air.
Father (sighing):
"I'm asking you to leave everything behind."
Mao draws in a breath that shakes a little in her chest but doesn't show on her face. Her lips part—then close again. Finally, she speaks, voice almost too soft to hear:
Mao (quietly):
"As you wish, Father."
Geto turns to look at her. Her face is calm, too calm. It frightens him in a way that grief never did. Not even when they buried his wife.
Father (tiredly, almost begging):
"You don't have to act like this. You can be sad."
Mao doesn't respond. Her eyes flicker for a moment, a blink too long.
Then, she whispers, gaze locked on the darkened horizon:
Mao:
"Mama once told me… 'If you're unhappy, then you smile. If you're happy, you smile. Because if you break, the family breaks.'"
Her voice doesn't waver. But Geto flinches like she's just slapped him.
Father (hoarsely, eyes lowered):
"She always put too much on your shoulders…"
Mao lowers her gaze and gives a gentle bow.
Mao:
"I'll go back to Minho. He's still sleeping."
She steps away barefoot, her steps soft on the cold concrete, like she's vanishing into a memory. Geto remains frozen, one hand over his mouth, unable to chase after her.
The balcony feels colder when she's gone.
---
🚪: Inside the House
The hallway is dim. The only light spills from the moon outside the curtained window. Mao pushes the door open and slips back into the bedroom. The scent of her mother's old hand cream still lingers faintly on the quilt. Minho lies curled up in a soft mess of blankets, one small hand resting near his cheek, his little chest rising and falling with deep, peaceful breaths.
Mao crouches beside the bed, brushing a strand of hair away from his forehead. For a moment, her throat tightens. Her fingers hover near his cheek.
Mao (inner thought):
He doesn't even know yet. When he wakes up tomorrow, he'll still call for her. And I'll have to answer.
Her fingers curl slightly, pulling away before she lets the pain fully bloom.
She stands again, stepping out carefully. Her footsteps glide silently across the tatami. She heads toward the bathroom, pillow clutched tightly in her arms like a lifeline.
In the Bathroom
The door clicks shut, and Mao turns the lock slowly. The fluorescent bulb above buzzes quietly, casting a pale, sterile glow. She lowers herself to the cold tiled floor, her legs folding beneath her.
She presses the pillow hard to her face and lets herself fall.
Her body jerks with the first sob, then another, and then the floodgates open.
She bites into the pillow, hard—so hard it hurts her jaw. But she can't let the sound out. If Minho wakes up, if her father hears—she'll have to stop. So she muffles the storm, lets it claw through her silently. Her shoulders tremble as though she's collapsing from within.
Mao (inner monologue):
I don't want to go… I don't want to leave Dan…
He was my spring.
My breath on cold days.
My reason for waking up when everything felt grey.
But Mama is gone now.
And Minho… Minho only has me left.
She gasps for air through the pillow, soaked and smothered.
If I break, he'll break.
If I cry in front of him, he'll fall too.
He's still too little to carry grief.
Mao lifts her head for a moment, the pillow slipping from her lap. Her face is streaked with tears, her eyes raw. She curls into herself, arms hugging the pillow to her chest like it's all she has left.
Mao (barely whispering):
"Goodbye… Dan…"
She doesn't say it louder than a breath.
But it feels louder than a scream inside her.
Outside, the first tendrils of dawn begin to reach across the sky. The black dissolves into soft grey, then pale gold.
In the quiet apartment, the framed photo of her mother flickers gently in the morning light—almost like it's smiling.
And inside the bathroom, the girl who used to love in silence now sits with red eyes, a cracked heart, and a vow stronger than steel:
To never let anyone see her shatter.
Because if she breaks…
Then the world her mother left behind might fall apart too.
And she is determined—no matter the cost—
To be the sky that holds her family together.
.....