Mr and Mrs Micawber arrived.

After a week, Miss Dora called Kay to ask about her parents—but she didn't get an answer. Kay had lied to all of them, and now she was caught in the very web of deception she'd spun. Embarrassment pressed heavily on her chest, more suffocating than guilt.

She was worried. Deeply. At this point, she had no idea where her parents were. They'd been out of touch for years. The silence wasn't new, but now it mattered—more than she'd expected. The uncertainty loomed over her like a shadow she couldn't outrun.

Time is a storm in which we all get lost. History repeats itself, sometimes in echoes, sometimes like a slap. And the past—especially the ugly parts—never stays buried. It always finds a way back, whether gently or with a crash.

And then… fate twisted.

Whether it was good luck or a cruel joke, she couldn't say. After three and a half years, her parents returned to their hometown. She spotted them at her restaurant—just sitting there, like any other customers.

Her stomach dropped. Her breath caught in her throat.

Her heart began to pound, harder with each step she took toward them. Her emotions twisted—confusion, fear, hope, guilt. It felt as if even a stranger could see her heart vibrating in her chest.

Finally, she reached their table. Her hand trembled slightly as she tapped her mother's shoulder.

Mrs. Micawber turned around.

Her face froze. Shock rippled through both her and Mr. Micawber. She stood up on instinct, arms halfway open—but stopped herself.

Years of memories returned like a flood. And still, Kay didn't hesitate. She wrapped her arms around her mother, clinging tightly.

Mrs. Micawber's eyes welled with tears. Whatever had happened, she was still a mother.

Mr. Micawber cleared his throat, trying to give her space—but also, trying to control his own emotions. Kay stepped toward him, eyes pleading. But he raised his hand, halting her mid-step.

She understood.

She glanced at her mother again. There were tears in her eyes. Kay knew her mother was soft-hearted. Eventually, forgiveness would come.

Still, she wasn't focused on the reunion. Not really.

Her mind had already moved ahead—strategizing. This was luck. Pure luck. She didn't have to search for them; they came to her. And now, she could use this opportunity to convince them to meet Miss Dora—to finally seal her marriage.

But deep inside her chest, a quiet fear whispered:

What if they say no?

Tears welled in her eyes—but they weren't real. Not truly. Crocodile tears slipped down her cheeks as she stared at her mother. Mr. and Mrs. Micawber were still too stunned to speak.

She wiped her face, composed herself, and smiled.

Kay (gently):

Mom, Dad… I can't even explain how happy I am right now. What a surprise. It's so, so good to see you both.

Mr. Micawber (coldly):

I wish we could say the same.

Kay (softly):

Dad, I'm sorry…

Mr. Micawber:

Oh really? You're sorry now?

Kay:

I mean it. I truly am.

Mr. Micawber:

Sorry? For what exactly? Have you done something wrong?

Kay (timidly):

Dad…

Mr. Micawber (with pain):

You're saying you're sorry now? "Sorry… sorry for what, Kay?"

She stood still. Silent. Letting him speak.

Mr. Micawber (angrily):

Is it for abandoning a child and calling him a burden? Trash? Garbage?

Or is it for blaming us—for making your life a hell? Tell me. If you forgot, I'll remind you. Every single word you ever said.

Mrs. Micawber gently took his hand and patted it, trying to calm him. But his eyes stayed fixed on Kay—full of rage, hurt, disbelief.

Then his phone rang.

It was an important call. He took it, turned away, and walked out of the café without another word.

Kay stood there, frozen. Her brain struggled to process what had just happened.

She returned home that evening and went straight to her room, shutting the door behind her.

As always, when the world spun out of control, she turned to the mirror. It was her place of self-dialogue, of honesty—or delusion.

She leaned forward, looking at herself. Then, smiling brightly, she spoke.

Kay (cheerfully):

What a stroke of luck… Thank you, God. You always help me when I'm in trouble. Once again, the perfect solution.

She held her smile for a moment… then it dropped.

Kay (shaking her head):

Are you insane? What are you even saying? Just think, Kay…

Am I lucky? Or the most cursed girl alive?

Tears began to stream down her cheeks. She didn't stop them.

Kay (whispering):

I'm very, very unlucky…

Her hands gripped the edge of the dressing table. Her shoulders dropped.

Silence. Heavy and full.

A few minutes passed.

Suddenly, she looked up. Her face changed. The sadness dissolved. A smirk tugged at her lips as she wiped away the tears with her fingertip.

Kay (coldly):

Poor people. They still think their pathetic little words can break me.