The walk home felt longer than usual. The sky was gray, low clouds pressing down, and Seo Yoon felt it echo in her chest.
The moment she stepped inside, tension wrapped around her like a heavy blanket. Her parents' voices carried through the house—sharp, impatient, and cold.
"Seo Yoon, why is your room such a mess?" her mother snapped, her words slicing like knives.
Her father's footsteps followed, heavier this time. "Do you even care about this family?"
Seo Yoon froze, carefully folding the quiet strength she had built that morning into a protective shell. She didn't answer. She never did. That had been her strategy for years. Silence was safer than words.
Dinner was tense, the air thick with criticism. Every bite she took was measured, every nod rehearsed. She smiled faintly when spoken to, careful to keep her composure intact. Inside, the storm churned—anger, fear, frustration—but outwardly, she was still the perfect daughter.
Later, when the house finally quieted, Seo Yoon sat on her bed, tracing the edges of her notebook. Her hands shook slightly, but she didn't cry. Not yet.
This was another battle. She had survived before, and she would survive again.
Her smile, her armor, her shield—they wouldn't fail her.
Because even if the world behind her door was cruel, the world inside her mind was her own. And there, she could plan, she could fight, and she could grow stronger.
Tonight, like every night, she whispered to herself: I will not break. I will not give up.