Chapter 103.1

Chapter 103.1

A sleek, modern apartment. A necklace with a pendant of diamonds and sapphires. The big sedan that drove her to the language school every morning. And André de Lafayette…

It all felt like a dream.

Was this what Cinderella felt when the magic on her pumpkin carriage faded away?

After pushing her suitcase into her old room, Miran went into the bathroom, stripped off her clothes, and stood under the shower.

The water crashed down like a summer downpour, roaring against the tiles. Only then did her face twist, and she broke down crying, sobbing like a child.

When she finished showering and saw her swollen eyes, nose, and lips in the mirror, she let out a sigh.

“I’ll just say it’s because I couldn’t sleep on the plane.”

Which wasn’t a lie.

She’d spent the entire flight sniffling, worried about Juran. When the meal came, she wiped her tears and forced herself to eat. Then, when she started crying again thinking she might really never see André again, a flight attendant handed her a little pastry shaped like a fried dumpling, and she took one.

Her stomach churned, but after paying extra to change the ticket date, she couldn’t let the meal go to waste. So she finished every bite and before she knew it, she was back in Korea.

She’d always been slow to react. When something big happened, she seemed fine at first, but once time passed and the tension faded, she’d break down hard.

That was exactly how it was now. When she’d left New York, she’d thought she could handle everything. But standing here, back home, she regretted it. She was terrified of what she’d done. And every time she thought of André, her chest stung, like a needle pricking deep inside.

Just then, the front door opened.

Miran threw open the bathroom door, and Juran, who had just stepped in and was taking off her shoes, dropped it to the floor in shock.

“Unni!!!”

Miran rushed over and threw her arms around her. Still dazed, Juran came to her senses and glared, biting down hard in frustration.

“You… what on earth! What are you doing here? Didn’t I tell you not to do anything stupid? I told you to finish your studies before coming back! Why can’t you ever listen, you troublemaker!”

Juran, trembling as she stood up, smacked Miran hard across the back.

“Ow! Why are you hitting me? That hurts! How could I not come? I haven’t even gotten to call her Mom once. If she dies like this, what am I supposed to do?”

When Miran shouted back at her, Juran’s hand froze midair. The color drained from her face.

“How… did you find out?”

Her voice crumbled like a fallen autumn leaf.

“Is that really what matters right now?”

Miran burst into tears.

Juran staggered and grabbed onto the shoe cabinet for support. Miran slipped her arm around Juran’s shoulders.

“Come inside first. You look like you’re about to collapse.”

Practically dragging her along, Miran brought Juran into the living room and sat her down on the sofa. Juran, pale as a sheet, blinked over and over.

Through her teenage years, Miran had suspected it here and there. It wasn’t that there had been a clear reason. Just stray thoughts that slowly took root in her mind.

Then, in her final year of high school, she found out the truth by accident. After her father’s memorial service, she had gone to bed early. Waking up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, she overheard her three older sisters chatting over glasses of soju in the living room.

“Honestly, Juran’s amazing. She’s struggling so hard to send Miran to a four-year university when that girl can barely study to save her life. Only a real mother could do that.”

“Kang Yeongran, will you shut up already?”

Juran hissed at Yeongran to be quiet, but Geumran chimed in.

“Yeongran’s not wrong. You got top grades and still couldn’t go to college, and now in our situation, a four-year university is way out of reach. Miran’s just lucky she’s got you. No, she’s lucky she’s got Mom.”

It should have been shocking, but strangely, it wasn’t.

The woman she remembered as “Mom” was little more than a warm smell and a pair of wrinkled hands. She was the one who brought snacks or sweet candies from the corner store every night, doting on Miran. The real mother figure had always been Juran.

In every childhood photo, it was Juran who held her or took her hand. It was Juran who came to school, packed her lunch, and took her to the hospital whenever she got sick.

Juran poured her entire life into raising Miran without a single complaint. When Miran was accepted into a four-year university, even though the tuition would clearly break her back, Juran had cried tears of pride.

Telling her not to let anyone look down on her, Juran handed over thick envelopes of cash from her part-time job at a barbecue restaurant. Even with their poor circumstances, she broke open her savings account to send Miran to New York for language study.