"You should go back to Korea and…" My mom's voice cracked as she tried to hold it in, but the sobs spilled through anyway, "…Let's end this here."
I pressed my face closer to the small gap between the door and the wall, barely breathing. My heart was pounding so loud, I was scared they'd hear it.
"B-but, Teresita… how about the kids? Let's fix this, okay? This will pass… it'll all go away." Dad's voice was shaking. His eyes—red, tired, swollen—looked like they'd been crying long before I got there.
I bit down on my lip to stop myself from making any sound. I didn't want them to know I was there. I just stood quietly in the hallway, watching shadows move through the light spilling from their bedroom. I kept thinking, maybe if I stayed silent, this would all stop.
"Let's end this here." Mom's voice was colder now, almost like she made up her mind days ago. "If you want to bring Selen with you… then go. She's your child, anyway."
My breath hitched.
What did she just say?
"What?" Dad asked too, his voice small.
"Sam will stay." She didn't even flinch. "He's not your son, anyway."
Dad looked like someone had pulled the ground from under him. He wasn't crying anymore. He wasn't even blinking. Just frozen—like his whole world shattered and he didn't know which part to pick up first.
"…Is this really because of that leaked article?" he asked quietly. "Or… is it because of him? Again?"
Mom let out a laugh that didn't sound like her at all. It was sharp, painful—half crying, half mocking. "Stop being paranoid."
Then she stood. Her movements were stiff, like she didn't even want to be in the same room anymore. She walked toward the door, and I panicked. I turned and ran barefoot down the hall, careful not to make noise as I slipped back into my room.
I buried my face in my pillow as tears started pouring again. I couldn't take it anymore. My chest hurt. My eyes were burning. My hands were trembling. I didn't understand everything, but I knew something was wrong. Really wrong.
I'm just eight.
I have school tomorrow.
Why do I feel like my whole world is falling apart?
I hugged my pillow tighter, soaking it with tears. My breath came in hiccups. I just wanted this to stop. I just wanted to wake up and find out it was all just a bad dream.
But I cried until my eyes gave up and I finally fell asleep.
---
The next morning, everything felt off.
Mom was in the kitchen, but she wasn't humming like she usually does. She didn't even glance at me when I walked in. Her eyes were blank, lips tight, and she just kept stirring the coffee like she wasn't really there.
Dad wasn't home. Not even a note. Not even a goodbye.
I wondered if maybe he had work early. But… deep inside, I knew it wasn't that.
I didn't ask. I couldn't.
At school, I kept everything together. I smiled when I needed to. Answered questions. Laughed at my seatmate's jokes. I made sure my grades didn't suffer. I couldn't let the mess at home touch the one thing I could control.
My drawings.
Drawing made me feel like everything could still be okay. Today, I finished something special. A picture of our house—the four of us together in the front yard. I spent all lunch break coloring it perfectly. Blue skies. A bright yellow sun. Mom in her favorite red dress. Dad smiling beside her. Sam and I holding hands.
I got a perfect score for it.
And for the first time in days, I felt proud of something.
I held the paper close to my chest the whole way home, careful not to fold it. I couldn't wait to show them. Maybe, just maybe, if they saw it… they'd remember.
How it used to be.
I love drawing so much. It's the only way I feel like I can show how I really feel without saying anything out loud. That's why, when our teacher asked us to draw something important to us, I didn't even hesitate. I drew my family.
Smiling.
Together.
Happy in a small house with flowers in front and a big sun above us.
Because that's how I want us to be. That's how I want to believe we still are.
The school bus dropped me off near the gate, and I hugged my drawing the whole way home like it was made of glass. I was so excited I didn't even care if I looked silly grinning all by myself.
I rushed inside the house, dropped my bag on the floor without even removing my shoes, and ran straight to Mom and Dad's room. Dad's car was parked in the garage, so I knew he was home.
"Mom! Dad!" I called, my voice full of energy as I opened the door with a big smile, already imagining them hugging me after seeing my drawing.
But as soon as I stepped in, that smile slowly faded.
They weren't happy.
They weren't talking.
They just stood there—Mom sitting on the edge of the bed, eyes dull and tired, and Dad leaning against the wall with a face I couldn't even read. His jaw was tight, and his eyes looked like they had too much to say but were too tired to speak.
"Seleneia…" My mom said, her voice heavy. "Go to your room."
I froze.
I don't know how to explain it, but it felt like something sharp stabbed right through my chest. Like the little dream I was holding—my perfect picture, my happy family—it just slipped out of my hands and broke into pieces.
I didn't say anything.
I couldn't.
I turned around and ran. Not to my room. Not upstairs. I just ran.
Out the door. Past the garden. Across the street. Until I reached the small village playground where Sam and I usually played when things were still okay.
I sat on the swing, the old one with the squeaky chains, and slowly looked at my drawing. It was still in perfect condition. All the colors still bright. The four of us still smiling.
But my tears started falling onto the paper, and they made little spots on it. The smiles on the faces I drew didn't feel real anymore.
I thought I was lucky. I thought I had everything—I'm smart, I love to draw, and people always say I'm pretty. I thought we were a perfect family.
But maybe I was wrong.
Maybe things are changing now… and I can't stop it.
The tears kept coming. I tried wiping them away, but they wouldn't stop. It was like I was crying for something I didn't even understand yet. Something bigger than me.
"Woah."
I blinked and turned my head.
There was a boy standing beside the other swing, squinting at my drawing with wide, curious eyes.
I frowned a little, not in the mood to talk. "What?"
"Did you draw that?" he asked, pointing. "That's beautiful."
I looked at him—he had messy hair, slightly tanned skin, and his shirt was a little too big. He didn't look like someone I knew from school.
"Go away," I muttered, wiping my eyes.
"I'm serious! It's amazing." He smiled. "I can only draw stickmen, and even those look weird."
His face scrunched up like he was offended by his own drawing skills, and despite everything, I almost laughed. Just a little.
I don't know why, but something about him felt light. Like sunshine peeking through after a really dark cloud.
"Wanna play?" he asked, kicking the dirt beneath the swing.
I sniffled, wiped my face with the back of my hand, and tucked my hair behind my ear. "Okay."
He grinned. "What's your name?"
"Seleneia."
His eyes lit up. "Like the moon?"
I rolled my eyes, half-smiling now. "No. It's Seleneia. Not Selenia. Everyone always says that."
"Oh. Sorry." He scratched his head. "My name's Lovec."
"Love?" I repeated, raising an eyebrow, then playfully tapped his arm. "That's… a little too much."
"I don't have a crush on you!" he quickly said, hands up in defense. "It's Lovec. With a 'C'. But it's silent."
I squinted at him. "Huh?"
"Never mind," he grinned.
We ended up playing around the playground—tag, the slide, even pretending we were superheroes saving the world. I haven't laughed like that in days. Maybe even weeks.
The sun started to set, painting the sky orange and pink, and for a little while, everything felt… okay.
I forgot the shouting. I forgot the tears. I forgot the silence in Mom's voice and the confusion in Dad's eyes.
He made it easier to breathe. Like someone lifted the weight off my chest, even just for now.
And as we sat on the swings again, just watching the sky, I smiled to myself.
I hope I get to play with him again tomorrow.
He's the first friend I've ever made.