The truth untold

The apartment was a quiet sanctuary, a stark contrast to the cacophony of the city outside. Sunlight filtered through sheer curtains, casting dancing shadows on the worn parquet floor. It was a space imbued with the gentle hum of domesticity, a place where the weight of the world seemed to soften at the edges.

At the heart of this tranquil abode was Joohan's mother, a woman named Eun-ji. Her days were a rhythmic ballet of routine, punctuated by the soft ticking of the grandfather clock and the distant rumble of traffic. She moved through her tasks with a quiet efficiency, her hands deftly managing household chores while her mind wandered through a labyrinth of memories.