Page 64 of Tell Me Where It Ends

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I gather Hondongi, who cries miserably the entire car ride, his anxiety mirroring my own. When I pull up to the old house, I park around the corner. I don’t want the neighbors—or the paparazzi—to see my car here.

The smell of the house, a noxious mix of stale tobacco and neglect, hits me first.

My father is in the living room, propped up on the couch, looking alarmingly pale and frail. The sight breaks my heart, triggering that rush of sixteen-year-old fear and helplessness, despite the decades of resentment I have built up.

“Min-hee-ah?” he tries to speak, his voice rasps.

“Appa,” I say, my voice quiet. “Yeong-gi told me everything.”

“He’s a good boy. He’s worried about me.”

“He’s a gambler, Dad. And he’s a liar.” The words are blunt, but I’m done softening the truth. “And I can’t do this anymore.”

“What… what are you saying?”

I don’t have the mental bandwidth to answer him right now. I retreat to my childhood room before I start to cry—from seeing him in that state and knowing Yeong-gi will keep benefiting from this situation, regardless of whether Dad lives or dies.

My room looks exactly as I left it when I debuted: a time capsule of a girl who dreamt of anything but this life. Faded Sailor Moon posters still cling precariously to the yellowed wallpaper.My favorite has always been Sailor Jupiter, the strong and courageous one.

I sigh at the sight of Hondongi, who has found a new hiding place: under my bed. I dread the dust and grime I’ll have to clean from his fur later, realizing I haven’t cleaned this room since I moved to the dorm with the other Jellypop girls at seventeen.

I continue my walk to the small wooden desk, where I used to keep my diary, daydreaming about becoming a K-pop idol and quitting school.

I did it. But at what cost…?

Then I pull open the shallow center drawer, looking for some old paperwork. Tucked deep in the back corner, where the drawer meets the wood, is a folded, heavy cream envelope. It definitely wasn’t there before.

My blood freezes. It is addressed simply to: Min-hee.

My hands begin to shake. I recognize the handwriting instantly. It’s Mom’s.

I pull the envelope from the drawer, fingers trembling slightly. The cream-colored paper feels heavier than it should. I unfold it carefully, and thescrawling handwriting, the signature of my Mom, spreads across the page:

Min-hee,

I don’t know where to start, or if these words will ever reach you the way I hope. I am so sorry—for leaving, for being selfish, for not fighting harder to keep our family together. I tried, I really did, but the darkness around us feels too heavy, and I can’t manage it anymore. I hope you can understand that it is never about you. It is about me failing.

You are already strong, darling, even now, still just a girl. I know you will become someone truly remarkable—someone who will escape this house and find the light. I believe in the woman you will become.

If one day you can forgive me, and if you want to find me after you’ve made your own way, I will be waiting in Jeju, and it will bring me joy to see you again.

With all my love,

Mom

The edges of the letter press cold against my fingers, and I feel a quiet shift inside me. The tears flow automatically from my eyes, but I don’t sob.The words hang in the room, filling the space I thought had long been empty. Years of unanswered questions, frustration, and anger suddenly feel… lighter, softer, somehow held in her words.

Yeong-gi shuffles past the doorway. I hold the letter tightly, my voice low but steady. “This… why did I only just find this now?”

Yeong-gi stops, and his eyes dart nervously to the letter, then back to me. He shrugs, playing dumb. “Oh… that. Yeah, I might have packed it with Mom’s stuff when she ran away. Remember? You weren’t here either then. I thought it was just another documents, she didn’t leavemeanything anyway.”

The final sentence hangs in the air, thick with unspoken resentment and raw jealousy. It wasn’t an accident; he stashed it, ensuring Mom’s last message never reached me.

The fury that erupts in me is cleansing.

I am done.