SOLINKA AND HAK SENG

Reluctantly, I slid into the back seat next to Mom, my mood simmering with frustration. The car door closed with a heavy thud, and for a moment, the air felt stifling.

Mom turned to me, her sharp eyes scanning my face.

"What's going on with you? What's this look on your face?"

Her question hung in the air, the kind that demanded an answer I wasn't ready to give.

"What? What are you planning to tell me now? And why didn't you say anything before they arrived?" I snapped, my voice sharp with anger.

"Don't you dare speak to your mother like that!" Dad's tone was firm, a clear warning.

"Why didn't you let me know ahead of time that he and his parents would be joining us for dinner?" I demanded, my frustration boiling over.

"And what if we had?" Mom shot back, her eyes narrowing. "Would you have run away again?"

"Mom!" I protested, but she wasn't done.

"You left this house because of him, didn't you? You rejected the match I proposed, so tell me now—what is this all about?"

My chest tightened as her words sank in. 

"When did you even start talking to both of them?" I asked, my voice quieter now, but no less bewildered.

How did Hak and my parents even know each other? They hadn't known a thing about him for nearly five years—the five years I'd kept him a secret.

"About two months ago," Dad replied, his voice steady, though there was an edge of something unspoken behind it. 

"He came to our resort and approached me."

I let out a bitter laugh, the sound sharp and hollow in the stillness. 

"Oh, so that's when we broke up then," I said, the words tasting like acid on my tongue.

Mom sighed, her voice soft but firm. 

"It doesn't matter that you were separated before. What matters now is that you've reconciled."

"I don't want to," I said quickly, a knot tightening in my chest.

Mom's brow furrowed in confusion. 

"What are you doing? What do you really want? I don't understand you. You said you wanted to choose your own partner, and now, when we finally agree with you, you reject it. You're being too much, I just… I don't even know how to respond." Her words fell like stones in the room.

I hesitated, unsure how to voice the hurt that lingered. 

"He cheated on me," 

I whispered, the words slipping out before I could stop them. The weight of it felt unbearable, pressing down on my chest, demanding to be released.

Mom's reaction was swift, too quick, her dismissal so absolute it felt like a slap. 

"Cheating? Men cheat. It's just what they do."

My heart twisted. 

"How could you say that?" The disbelief in my voice barely covered the hurt.

"Why can't I say that?" she shot back, her tone sharp.

"But… she's your niece," I stammered, trying to make sense of the coldness.

"So what?" Mom replied, the indifference in her words cutting deeper than I expected.

"Do you know about this, too? Did Hak tell you?" I turned to Dad, his silence answering more than I wanted it to.

I was frozen, the words caught in my throat. Speechless.

"She didn't know her place, your cousin!" my mom added, her voice as cold as stone.

I couldn't hold back the tears anymore, and they spilled down my face in silence.

"...Mom… what did you say?"

She cast a glance at me, a flicker of guilt crossing her face, but her posture remained unwavering. Dad, lost in thought, averted his gaze, retreating outside with a quiet, deliberate step. Mom inhaled deeply, steadying herself, before continuing.

"Hak Seng said he's taken care of it, that it won't resurface again. You need to be mature enough to let it go, sometimes. Didn't you notice your father doing the same? I chose to let it slide, for the sake of our family. And if you can't move past this, then…"

"I am not you!" I interrupted, the words bursting out before I could stop them, too raw to hold back any longer. I couldn't bear to hear it.

She fell silent, her expression softening with a touch of sorrow. For a moment, she said nothing, the air between us heavy. Then, in a tone laced with gentleness, she spoke again, hoping her words might ease the ache she knew had settled in my heart.

"He even stepped in to help us with some of the business matters—did you know that? Or were you content to just stand back and wait, watching to see if it would fall into someone else's hands? Now, with mom and dad growing older, I've been thinking. I always thought you would take over our business in Siem Reap—it's so precious to us. Your little brother plans to marry someone else out there, but we want you to carry on the legacy of our ancestors…"

"But I can't... I've already told you!" I protested, my voice faltering.

"We even accepted a gift—a dowry, you know," she continued, her voice firm but laden with expectation.

I was speechless. The words stuck in my throat, the weight of it all leaving me frozen, unable to respond.

"Are you using me, or selling me?" I asked, my voice tight with a mixture of anger and disbelief.

She paused, as if weighing her words carefully before speaking. 

"I don't know why you'd think that. Everything is almost done now. Just be ready. I don't want to see your face like that again. Is that clear?"

I didn't answer. Without another word, I turned and walked away, the silence between us as heavy as the unspoken truths hanging in the air.

I burned with the urge to fight, to rebel against the suffocating civility of the dinner party. Every nerve in my body screamed at me to rise from my seat, to abandon it all—the polite smiles, the hollow laughter, the oppressive weight of expectation. One part of me whispered fiercely: stand up, walk away. Don't look back. Ignore the pleading voices calling my name, the hands reaching to hold me back. Leave it all behind—my family, Hak Seng, this entire life. And never, not for a single moment, let myself think of returning.

The other side of me keeps me silent. It holds me back because… because I can't help but feel sorry for my mother, for my father… and for myself, lost and unsure of what to do.

I remember my mother's smile, bright and full of happiness in that fleeting moment. If I were to run away again, what would she do? How could I bear the thought of her falling ill, of her suffering—because of me? The mere thought claws at my heart.

But now, every part of me feels like it's breaking, pulling me in different directions, tearing me apart.

Continued...