Minjae return home

Minjae stood outside the familiar house, the place he had once called home but had been forced to leave behind. His hands trembled slightly as he gripped a neatly wrapped box of cake in one hand and a bouquet of fresh flowers in the other. He had dressed in a clean, formal yet modest outfit, hoping not to intimidate but to show respect. Yet, his heart pounded against his chest as he debated whether to press the doorbell.

Would she even recognize him? Would she slam the door in his face?

Before he could make a decision, the door creaked open.

His mother stood there, her face older than he remembered, her tired eyes widening in shock as she took in the sight of the well-dressed man before her. For a moment, she looked confused, her gaze flickering from the bouquet to the cake, and then back to Minjae's face.

Her expression hardened. "If you're here for money, I don't have any," she said in a shaky voice. "My husband is already dead… I can't pay back anything anymore. Please, just—just leave."

Minjae's breath hitched.

She didn't recognize him.

She thought he was a loan shark.

His grip tightened around the bouquet, and his lips parted, his voice coming out hoarse, almost broken.

"M-Mom…" a single word hung heavy in the air.

His mother froze. Her eyes darted across his features again—this time, slower, more carefully. The lines of his face, the shape of his jaw, the deep gaze that once belonged to a mischievous boy she had scolded countless times.

Her lips trembled."…Minjae?"

Her tired, wrinkled eyes darted across his features again—this time, slower. Her pupils dilated in disbelief as she took in the familiar lines of his jaw, the deep-set gaze that had once belonged to a mischievous little boy she used to chase around the house.

Her lips quivered. Her hands, aged and frail, reached out shakily, gripping the sleeve of his coat.

Minjae swallowed hard. He nodded. "It's me, Mom. I'm home."

Her entire body trembled as she gripped his sleeve even tighter, pulling herself closer. Her wrinkled hands pressed against the firm muscle of his arm—he was no longer the scrawny boy she once knew. The warmth of her touch sent a painful ache through Minjae's chest.

He called out to her again, softer this time—"Mom...."

And just like that, she broke.

A sob tore from her throat as her tears fell uncontrollably. Her fingers dug into his coat like she was afraid he would disappear again. But just as Minjae was about to comfort she slapped him as a sharp sting burned across his cheek, the impact echoing in the quiet evening air.

Minjae stood frozen, stunned, as his mother shook with emotion, her tear-streaked face twisted in anguish.

"You…" she gasped between sobs. "You left us! You left me! Do you know how long I waited? How long I prayed? Every night—every damn night, I wondered if you were dead in some alley!"

Minjae clenched his jaw, his own eyes stinging.

His mother's frail fists pounded weakly against his chest before she gripped the fabric of his coat again, her knees nearly giving out.

"You stupid, stupid boy… you never even came back…" Her voice cracked. "I thought I lost you forever."

Minjae couldn't hold back anymore.

His arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly as she sobbed against him.

"I'm sorry, Mom" he whispered. "I'm so sorry…"Minjae's body trembled as he clutched his mother tightly, his forehead pressing against her frail shoulder. He didn't care how weak he looked, how vulnerable he felt—this was the moment he had been yearning for.

A choked sob escaped his lips as he bent down, his tall frame curling toward her, desperate to feel all of her warmth. His hands gripped the back of her cardigan, clinging onto her like a lost child who had finally found his way home.

His mother's touch was gentle despite her earlier anger. Her wrinkled hands shakily patted his head, fingers combing through his hair like she used to when he was young.

"There, there,my baby" she murmured, her voice soft but still thick with emotion. "You're back now… that's all that matters."

Minjae's breath hitched as he buried himself further against her, inhaling the familiar scent of home—the faint traces of laundry detergent, the old wooden furniture, and something indescribable that he could only call comfort.

She kept stroking his head, her other hand rubbing slow circles against his back, soothing him like she used to when he had nightmares as a child.

Minjae squeezed his eyes shut.

For years, he had convinced himself that he didn't need this—that he had grown past the need for a mother's warmth.

But now, standing here, sobbing into her embrace, he realized just how much he had missed her.

How much he had needed her.

His mother brought him inside, still gripping his sleeve as if afraid he would disappear again. Minjae followed, his steps slow, taking in the familiar yet distant scent of home. The small apartment hadn't changed much—same old wooden table, the faint smell of herbal medicine lingering in the air, and the creaking floorboards he once used to run across as a kid.

She sat him down by the kitchen table, wiping the remnants of tears from his face with trembling fingers. "You've grown up so much, very handsome too" she whispered, her voice filled with a mixture of sadness and relief.

Minjae let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "You've gotten smaller, Mom."

She playfully swatted his arm, making him grin as he reached for the cake box he had brought. With steady hands, he sliced a piece for her and placed it on a small plate. She took a bite, her lips curving into a warm smile.

"This is good" she mumbled.

Minjae smiled, taking a bite himself. For a moment, the heavy air lightened as they laughed, talking about small things—the weather, how she's been, and how Jihoon was doing in college.

Then, the laughter faded as Minjae placed his fork down, his expression turning serious. "Mom," he started carefully, "how much did Dad owe before he died?"

His mother's smile faltered, and she let out a heavy sigh. "Too much..." she admitted, her gaze dropping to her lap. "Even after his death, they still come knocking. I've been trying my best, but… I just have to deal with it."

Minjae's jaw clenched. He had already known this.

"I found out a while ago" he admitted. "I sent my people to investigate."

His mother's head snapped up, her eyes wide in shock. "What?"

"It's already settled."

She blinked, staring at him in disbelief. "How is that possible?" Her hands trembled as she reached out, gripping his wrist. "Where did you get the money, Minjae?"

Minjae exhaled deeply, leaning back slightly. "I'm in a good business now," he said vaguely. "I became a manager and built my own company."

His mother narrowed her eyes, her expression unreadable. "Minjae… are you telling me the truth?"

He hesitated for a brief second before forcing a reassuring smile. "Of course, Mom. I worked my way up."

He couldn't tell her the whole truth—not about his past, not about Kangwon, and definitely not about the things he did to survive.

His mother studied him for a long moment before sighing, her fingers tightening slightly around his. "You're not in trouble, are you?"

Minjae shook his head. "No, I promise."

She sighed in relief, patting his hand. "I don't know how you did it… but thank you, Minjae."

His throat tightened.

If only she knew that he got his hands dirty and became a thug, will she still accept him as her son?

His mother suddenly sighed, stirring the tea in her cup absentmindedly. "What about Jihoon? How is he doing?"

Minjae's expression softened at the mention of Jihoon. "He's been doing well. I've been watching over him a lot, especially since we work at the same company now." He chuckled lightly. "Technically, he works for me."

His mother's eyes widened in surprise. "Really? That's unexpected." She paused, tilting her head. "You've always cared for Jihoon… even after everything."

Minjae only smiled faintly, sipping his tea to avoid answering directly.

His mother suddenly leaned in, a curious glint in her eyes. "Then what about you, Minjae?"

He raised an eyebrow. "What about me?"

She gave him a knowing look. "Are you seeing anyone? You're successful now, handsome—" she gestured at him with an amused grin, "—you must have women lining up for you."

Minjae nearly choked on his tea. He quickly set the cup down, his ears burning. "Mom…"

"What?" She laughed. "I'm just asking. You're not getting any younger. I was hoping you'd bring home a nice girl one day."

Minjae cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "I'm… not planning on that right now." His fingers curled around the cup, his heart tightening at the thought of Jihoon. "I have other things to focus on."

His mother hummed in thought, watching him closely. "I see…"

She didn't push further, but Minjae could feel the weight of her unspoken questions.

If only she knew. His heart wasn't empty—it was already full of someone. But that someone was a person he could never tell her about.

Minjae hesitated, staring down at his half-empty cup. A thought had been gnawing at him ever since he stepped into the house, something he had never dared to ask before. He took a deep breath, steadying himself before speaking.

"…Mom." His voice was unusually quiet, almost fragile. "What did I really mean to this family?"

His mother blinked in surprise, setting her cup down. "Minjae…"

"I mean, I know I wasn't blood-related," he continued, his fingers tightening around the porcelain. "But was I ever really… part of it? Or was I just someone you had to take in?" His voice cracked slightly, betraying his emotions. "Was I just… temporary?"

His mother reached across the table, placing her wrinkled hand over his. "Minjae, listen to me." Her voice was firm, but warm. "Even if you weren't born into this family, you were always part of it. Brother or son, friend or family—it doesn't matter. You're someone we care about. Someone we love."

Minjae swallowed hard, his chest tightening. He didn't realize how much he needed to hear that.

She sighed, her fingers gently squeezing his. "I won't lie. Your father was harsh on you. Too harsh. And I know you ran away because of it." She paused, looking away as if recalling painful memories. "But Minjae, I never blamed you for leaving."

Minjae's breath hitched.

"I only blamed that you never came back."

He felt something deep inside him crack at those words.

She let out a small, tired chuckle. "Your father… he was a jerk sometimes. He should've said better things to you. Should've treated you better. And maybe, just maybe, if he had…" She trailed off, shaking her head. "You wouldn't have had to grow up so fast."

Minjae clenched his jaw, his emotions overwhelming him. He had spent years believing he had been unwanted, that running away was the only choice he had. But now, hearing this…

His mother squeezed his hand again. "But you're here now. That's what matters."

Minjae's eyes stung as he nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry… for everything."

His mother simply smiled, brushing a hand over his hair like she used to when he was younger. "You don't have to apologize, my son."