2001: 

The click of Jihyo's heels echoed inside the orphanage, the air heavy with the sharp scent of disinfectant mingled with her intoxicating perfume. Silence hung in the air, accompanied by faint whispers and curious glances.

Diamonds gleamed on Jihyo's slender fingers. The daughter of oil tycoons, after choosing her love life over her wealthy family, her father expelled her from the family. She married the man who shared his one room rented apartment with her. He refused to remain under her wealthy family's control. She sacrificed her name and position in one of the country's richest families.

"Mrs.Yang, we're delighted that the Yang family has chosen a child from our orphanage for adoption," the orphanage director said happily.

"The child won't have any ties with the Yang family. I'm the one adopting him away from that family," Jihyo responded, taking off her sunglasses.

At 28yo with the weight of unfulfilled dreams settling on her shoulders, Yang Jihyo searched for traces of affection in the form of a small hand holding hers. Her husband had abandoned her upon learning she was infertile and would be unable to bear him children, leaving her love in ruins and her sacrifices in vain.

A line of nannies stood before her, each cradling an infant or guiding a toddler . Jihyo's gaze fell on an infant, barely five months old. "We have a girl his age who could be a companion for him in the future," the director suggested.

"No, I specifically want a boy," Jihyo insisted, gently touching the baby's hand, cradled in the arms of a caring nanny, sensing her own desperation as the baby's tiny fingers curled around her trembling thumb.

The director nodded, understanding her resolve. "A few days ago, a newborn was brought in. His mother was found deceased on the street, and the father is unknown. This ensures no future claims from anyone seeking the child out of greed," he explained.

"No, my decision is final. I want this baby," Jihyo affirmed with an unwavering voice.

"Understood, as you wish madam. You can take him today, and we'll arrange the paperwork with your lawyer... Have you chosen a name for him?". Asked the director.

"Yeongin... Yang Yeongin," Jihyo replied, smiling at the baby before holding him close to her chest.

"You're all I have now," she whispered, tears clouding her vision. "I promise you'll never taste loneliness or betrayal. You'll be safe, my dear, no one will harm you."

Later, in Yeongin's new room, Jihyo's tears mingled with the sweet scent of baby powder. Her sobs, muffled by Yeongin's soft hair, were a lament for her losses and a lullaby for the new life she was nurturing. amidst the pain, there was a sense of completion. She may not have a husband or family to share her joy, but in that moment, Jihyo cradled a fragile hope and felt strangely fulfilled. The cage of her past was shattered, but amidst the ruins, a mother and her son found their wings.

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2023 :

The city lights twinkled like a million forgotten promises as Minho stood in the airport lounge, a hesitant smile plastered on his face. Years of yearning and ambition condensed into a single step onto the soil of his homeland, a bittersweet reunion in the making.

He scanned the throngs of weary travelers, his stomach clenching with a mix of relief and trepidation. Finally, his gaze landed on Jinsol, leaning against his midnight blue car, fondly referred to as "Nightscape" by Jinsol.

"Minho!" Jinsol's voice boomed through the airport's cacophony, a playful glint in his eyes as he waved with unbridled enthusiasm. A wave of relief washed over Minho, momentarily masking the gnawing doubts buried deep within.

A wave of relief washed over Minho as he approached him. "You missed me, huh?" He teased, trying to hide the uncertainty gnawing at him.

Jinsol's smile faltered, a flicker of concern clouding his features. He pulled Minho close, a soft whisper tickling his ear. "More than you know, baby," he murmured, his breath warm against Minho's chilled skin. "Let's get you home ."

A flurry of butterflies erupted in Minho's stomach as Jinsol cupped his flushed cheek and planted a soft, sweet kiss on his lips under the dim glow of the parking lot lights.

The drive home was a kaleidoscope of changes, streets he once knew etched with new narratives. Memories danced by, whispers of a life left behind, each flicker of neon igniting a fresh pang of yearning. His thoughts inevitably drifted towards his mother, who was grappling with the disgrace brought upon by his father's actions, which she had only discovered after his death .

Minho's father passed away six months ago. He had been a lifelong employee of the Hwang Group, heading the accounting department and responsible for the company's treasury.

He took in the details of a home he doesn't know. The once-grand villa he remembered was now a distant memory, replaced by the modest confines of her new apartment. "Welcome back, Minho," Minhee's gentle voice broke his train of thought. She greeted him with a weak smile, the pain in her eyes evident. He embraced his mother, allowing himself to bask in the warmth of her hug. The faint scent of lavender, a reminder of his childhood and the home he grew up in, lingered in the air.

"I missed you. I'm sorry I wasn't there during the hardest times," Minho embraced her tightly, the fragility of her frame a stark contrast to the mountain of grief she carried. Tears brimmed in his eyes, apologies clogging his throat.

A tear escaped his Minhee's eye, glistening like a fallen star on her pale cheek. "It's alright, darling," she soothed, her voice raspy with suppressed emotion. "You're here now, that's all that matters."

"Didn't you want me at the funeral?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Remembering the anonymous message he received on the day of his father's death preventing him from attending his father's funeral, warning him not to attend the funeral. He hadn't told anyone about it, not even Jinsol. Was it his mother who had sent the letter, preventing him from saying his final goodbye to his father?

Minhee's gaze faltered, her hand trembling slightly. "Of course, I did," she murmured, "I wanted you to be there to say goodbye to your father, but you told me you had important exams."

So, it wasn't his mother who had sent the message. Who could it be? He had no friends here. Minho swallowed hard, his mind racing to find an explanation. Who could possibly benefit from this?

"Did you know about my father's dealings with the Hwang Group?" Minho asked again.

Minhee remained silent for a moment before averting her gaze, "No, I had no idea." she whispered, her voice barely audible. Minho's father had worked for the Hwang Group for many years, earning their complete trust. He had embezzled large sums of money and sold crucial files about foreign company partnerships to the competing company, causing a significant financial loss. However, the Hwang family wasn't responsible for his death. His excessive alcohol consumption had led to the failure of most of his internal organs and an enlarged heart. Luckily, he was with his driver when his heart gave out, or else he would have died in a car accident.

"Have you tried accessing my father's bank accounts? Maybe we can repay the Hwang family's debt," Minho suggested, a sense of disappointment creeping into his voice. His father, once his role model, had let him down. He never thought he would see the day when his family would lose everything, their home, their status, their reputation. They had become the talk of the town. Was his father always a deceitful person, pretending to be good? Were his manners all a lie?

"I tried, but it seems he transferred the money abroad under a false name. Now, we're suffering because of his enormous debt. I'm sure Mr. Hwang knows you're back by now," Minhee replied.

"What?? Is he seeking revenge on me? But I didn't do anything..." Minho exclaimed, his voice rising in panic.

"I know you didn't do anything. Don't worry, his son Hyeonjun is different from him. He's calm and understanding. If he asks to meet you, go and talk to him. I'll try to speak with Mr. Hwang so we can find a solution," his mother reassured him, trying to instill some hope after seeing the worry etched on his face.

But how could Hyeonjun be any different? The Hwang family had seized all their property. Everyone knew that the Hwang family had a long-standing tradition of seeking revenge. He had to trust his mother after all, she knew the Hwangs better than he did, since her marriage.

"Son!" Minhee's voice rang out, a note of warmth in her tone that immediately drew Minho's attention. He hummed in acknowledgment, his thoughts pausing as he listened. "I've prepared a room for you. Come, let me show you," she continued, her words laced with an unspoken invitation to make new memories together.

Rising to his feet, Minho followed his mother, his luggage in tow. The room they entered was modest—a bed, a desk, and a closet filled the space, a stark contrast to the lavishness of his old room back in their villa. Yet, the simplicity of this new space didn't dampen his spirits. The fact that he was here, with his mother, was what truly mattered.

Turning to Minhee, Minho's face broke into a grateful smile. "Thank you," he expressed, his voice carrying a weight of appreciation.

Minhee returned his smile with a gentle nod, her eyes reflecting a mix of happiness and relief. "I'm glad you like it. Now, get some rest. Tomorrow, we'll explore more... Good night," she said, her voice soft yet filled with the promise of the days to come.

"Good night," Minho echoed, his heart lighter than it had been in a long time. As Minhee left the room, closing the door behind her, Minho felt a profound sense of peace settle over him. Here, in this simple room, with his mother just a few steps away, he was home.

⚝

The next morning found Minho kneeling before his father's fresh grave, placing a simple bouquet of white lilies against the cold marble headstone. He traced the embossed letters of his father's name with a trembling finger as burning tears blurred his vision.

"Why, Father?" The anguished words tore from his throat in a hoarse whisper. "Why did you do this to us? To me?"

All the years of looking up to his father's integrity, his moral fiber, came crashing down in the wake of his terrible truth. The man he had idolized was a liar, a thief who had scorned the very family he claimed to cherish so deeply. Minho's shoulders shook with ragged sobs as he poured out his anguish and bewilderment to the uncaring stone.

"Mother said I should trust Hyeonjun, that he'll be understanding," he choked out between gasping breaths. "But how can I take that risk when his family's rage could consume us all for your unforgivable acts? What path can I take that won't see us ground into dust beneath the weight of your choices?"

Only the whisper of the funerary trees answered his pleas as Minho wept brokenly against the marble slab, clinging to the faint hope that somehow, someway, he could salvage what remained of his family's tattered reputation - and their very lives.

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