Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Nadine hesitated at the threshold of the dining area, her heart pounding in her chest. The familiar weight of anxiety pressed down on her, making her breaths shallow. She took a moment to steel herself before stepping inside, her footsteps heavy and hesitant.

The room was warm and elegant, the long dining table already set with fine china and fresh flowers. Nadine's gaze swept over the room until it landed on her mother, seated gracefully beside her father at the right side of the table. Leane Kim, as composed and beautiful as ever, noticed her daughter's presence and rose from her seat with a radiant smile.

"Nadine," her mother said warmly, walking toward her with open arms. Before Nadine could react, she was pulled into an embrace. Her mother's touch wasn't unfamiliar, yet it still sent a cold shiver down her spine. The proximity—the feeling of being so close to this woman—brought with it a wave of anxiety that made her stomach churn.

"Seems like you've gained some weight, huh?" Leane said, laughing as if making a harmless joke. But Nadine knew better—it wasn't a joke. It was a warning.

Nadine froze. Her mother's expensive perfume filled her lungs, pulling her unwillingly into the past.

Six Years Ago

"Stop eating, you pig!" her mother's voice thundered through the dining room, echoing off the marble walls.

A sharp slap on Nadine's hand made her drop her fork, the clatter startling her. She stared at the plate of food in front of her—her first meal of the day—and then up at her mother, whose face was twisted in disgust.

"You should stop stuffing yourself like some peasant," Leane scolded, her words cutting deeper than any slap could. "Do you even see yourself in the mirror? You're pathetic."

The words hit Nadine like a slap across the face. Her hands trembled as she tried to form a response, tears welling in her eyes. "Bu-but…" she stammered, her voice barely a whisper. "I'm hungry."

"And look how you behave! You're embarrassing me!" Leane snapped, ignoring her daughter's plea. "You're nothing but a disappointment." Maybe being a chubby 14 years old girl really embarrassed her mother.

Nadine's world crumbled further as her mother grabbed her arm and yanked her away from the dining table, dragging her toward the stairs. "Lock her in her room," Leane ordered one of the house helpers coldly. "And don't feed her anymore. She's already eaten enough to last a year."

The helper hesitated but nodded, a look of pity flickering across her face. Later that night, she sneaked into Nadine's room with a single bar of chocolate in hand.

 "Nadine-ssi," she whispered, placing the chocolate in her trembling hands. "I'm sorry I can't give you more."

Nadine took the chocolate, her tears spilling over as she whispered, "Thank you."

After the helper left, Nadine sat on the floor, clutching the chocolate in her small hands. It should've been a comfort, but instead, she began to sob uncontrollably. She blamed herself for eating too much, for making her mother so angry. That night, she made a promise to herself: she would stop eating.

And so began her descent into anorexia—a silent rebellion against her own body and the way it betrayed her mother's expectations.

Present

Nadine blinked, shaking off the memory as her mother pulled away from the hug. Leane's hands lingered on Nadine's shoulders, her sharp eyes scanning her daughter from head to toe, as if measuring her against an invisible standard.

Nadine's chest tightened, but she forced herself to nod, saying nothing.

Growing up as the daughter of a retired model was never easy. Leane Kim, a famous supermodel of the 1980s, had spent her entire life in the spotlight, and she expected Nadine to do the same.

Her mother's obsession with appearances had suffocated her for as long as she could remember—always monitoring her meals, her weight, her clothes. It was no wonder Nadine had developed such a complicated relationship with food and her own body.

But Nadine wasn't the same person she'd been back then. She wasn't that scared little girl anymore. She had taken all that pain and all that pressure. However, being back here, in this house, made it harder to hold onto the strength she thought she had after years receiving help from psychiatrist.

As she took her seat at the dining table, Nadine reminded herself to breathe. She had survived before, and she would survive again.

"Cahh, let's eat now that everyone's here!" Grandpa's voice rang out, commanding attention in the cozy dining room. His grin was wide, his energy infectious as he reached for a bottle of wine from the sideboard.

"For today's special guest," he added with a wink at Nadine, "I've even taken out my favorite wine, just for you."

Nadine couldn't help but smile at his gesture. "Thank you, halabeoji," she said softly, the familiar warmth of his presence tugging at her heart.

"Glad you're home forever now," grandma chimed in, her voice filled with genuine happiness as she took a sip of her wine.

"We missed you so much," she added, her eyes lighting up as she looked at Nadine.

"You guys just saw me last week, remember?" Nadine teased lightly, raising a brow at her grandparents. Her grandparents had just gone to New York to visit her before heading to Orlando for their yacht trip.

Grandfather and grandmother burst into hearty laughter. "Hahaha! It's not the same," granfather said, waving a hand dismissively.

"Exactly!" Liam chimed in, his tone playful yet sincere. "It's just better having you here in person, dongseang."

Nadine felt a flicker of warmth at their words, though a faint pang of guilt accompanied it. Her return hadn't been as joyful for her as it clearly was for them. But she pushed the thought aside, wanting to stay in this moment for a little longer.

"Oh!" grandmother exclaimed suddenly, clapping her hands together. "I made your favorite—spicy fish soup. Leane, please help me serve it to Nadine," she said, addressing Nadine's mother. "You should've seen how she devoured the dish when I prepared it for her last week. She always said mine was the best!"

Nadine froze as her grandmother's cheerful words landed like a weight on her chest.

Her mother, Leane, rose gracefully from her chair, an elegant smile pasted across her face as she reached for the dish. "Of course, eomeonim," she replied smoothly. As she set the steaming bowl in front of Nadine, she leaned in close, her voice dropping to a low whisper.

"I can see now why you've gained some weight," Leane said, her tone laced with quiet venom. "I've told you before, this kind of food will only make you look bloated."

The words struck Nadine like a slap, their sting immediate and sharp. She kept her gaze firmly on her plate, willing herself not to react, not to show the anger and hurt bubbling beneath the surface. She pressed her lips together tightly, trying to swallow the lump forming in her throat.

The spicy fish soup sat before her, its once-beloved aroma now triggering a wave of nausea. Her stomach churned as her chest grew tight, and her breaths came shorter and faster.

"Excuse me," Nadine said abruptly, her voice barely above a whisper. She pushed back her chair and hurried out of the dining room, ignoring the concerned glances from her grandparents and brother.

Once she reached the bathroom, she closed the door behind her and leaned heavily against it, her hands trembling. The pressure she had been holding back surged forward like a tidal wave.

She knelt by the toilet, gripping the edge as her body convulsed, expelling everything she had eaten earlier. Tears streamed down her face as she gasped for breath, her mind spiraling into that familiar, dark place of shame and self-blame.

When it was over, she sat on the cold tile floor, her body shaking and her chest heaving as she fought to regain control of her breathing. The fish soup… the whisper… the memories—all of it had come rushing back, dragging her to a place she thought she'd escaped.

 "You're so quiet tonight, my dear. Is there anything wrong?" Nadine's father's gentle voice broke through the hum of laughter and chatter echoing from the greenhouse. His eyes, warm and piercing, locked onto hers. The way he looked at Nadine made it impossible to hide. He had a way of reading her, like an open book, in a way no one else could.

Nadine shifted under his gaze, hugging the soft throw tighter around her shoulders. "I'm fine," she replied, with a voice softer than she intended. "Just having a hard time adjusting to the weather. It's so chilly here compared to New York." It wasn't entirely a lie. The winter breeze that seeped into every corner of the mansion did feel unfamiliar after so many years away. But the real chill—the one that made her hug herself tighter—came from a place no blanket could touch.

Her father's brows furrowed slightly, as if he could sense the half-truth behind her words. Growing up, she always thought she'd bond more with her mother especially when she was send to New Zealand, her mother even followed Nadine to New Zealand for a few years before deciding to return to Korea. But as Nadine grew older, she realized it was her father who truly saw her. In her darkest moments, he was her superhero. Her shining knight who could pull her out of the depths of despair with just a few kind words. He had this way of reminding her that it was okay to stumble, okay to be less than perfect. Sometimes, though, his ability to see through her terrified her. It felt like he could uncover the parts of her that she wanted to keep hidden—the parts that were fragile, broken. The truth she wasn't ready to admit, even to herself.

"Well, the cold can be unforgiving," he said, his tone gentle but probing. "Just remember, you don't have to adjust to everything all at once. Take your time, Nadine." He reached out, patting her hand in a way that was both comforting and grounding.

Before she could respond, a burst of laughter echoed from the greenhouse, breaking the intimate moment between them. Her brother's voice carried through the crisp air, teasing grandmother about her newfound passion for gardening. "I think halmeoni might just move in here permanently," Liam joked, his voice loud enough for all of them to hear. "Halabeoji's going to have to fight for her attention!" "Stop teasing me, you rascal!" grandmother's voice rang out, full of mock indignation but layered with joy. "If you keep that up, I'll ban you from my greenhouse altogether." Her father chuckled, the sound low and familiar. "Your halmeoni hasn't been this excited in years," he said, a small smile playing on his lips. "That greenhouse was the best gift your halabeoji could have given her." Nadine followed his gaze toward the glass structure that now stood proudly in the corner of the garden. Strings of warm fairy lights lined its roof, casting a soft glow against the dark evening sky.

Inside, she could see grandfather adjusting a row of potted plants while grandmother fussed over a blooming orchid. "I should join them," Nadine said, standing up and wrapping the throw around her like a cocoon. "Don't let Liam rope you into watering duty," her father teased with a wink. "He's already convinced your halmeoni he's an expert gardener." Nadine smiled, the warmth in his voice easing the weight she'd been carrying all day. As she walked toward the greenhouse, she could hear Liam's laughter again, joined by the soft murmur of her grandparents' voices. It was a scene of happiness, of family. Yet as she stepped through the glass doors, the familiar scent of soil and fresh blooms surrounding her, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was standing on the outside looking in.