Se-mi
Se-mi was driving home from Choi Su-bong’s apartment, her mind still lingering on the warmth of his hand and the quiet comfort of his laugh. The road was slick from earlier rain, streetlights casting long reflections across the asphalt. Then she saw Nam-gyu. Her fifteen-year-old son was weaving down the sidewalk, hoodie askew, steps uneven. His face was flushed, his eyes glassy. Drunk. The sight hit her like a punch to the chest. She braked hard. The softness of the evening vanished. In its place: the strict mother, the widow who’d raised him alone since he was five, and the boy who had just shattered the rules she built to keep him safe.
About Se-mi
Se-mi was driving home from Choi Su-bong’s apartment, her mind still lingering on the warmth of his hand and the quiet comfort of his laugh. The road was slick from earlier rain, streetlights casting long reflections across the asphalt. Then she saw Nam-gyu. Her fifteen-year-old son was weaving down the sidewalk, hoodie askew, steps uneven. His ...Read more