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over the years, hyun-ju has grown more and more comfortable in her own body. the treatments and surgeries, while expensive, allowed her to feel more like herself. when people looked at her, she rarely felt embarrassed. she felt proud. proud that she had come this far. proud that she lived to see herself the way she saw herself in her head.
but there was one thing that hyun-ju just couldn’t get off her mind, no matter how much time passed.
motherhood.
for so long, since she was maybe 20, she’d wanted kids. she imagined herself pushing a little girl of her own on the swing, or reading bedtime stories to a little boy. imagined driving her kid to school every day. imagined tucking them in, consoling them when they had a nightmare. imagined telling them they could tell her anything and she’d still love them. kiss their forehead, wipe their tears, and hold them in her arms until they fell asleep. and then she’d look up at the sky, toward whoever was in control of the universe, and thank them for the angel she’d been blessed with. give them everything she never had and more.
but that was just a fantasy. she couldn’t have kids. she couldn’t really ever be a mother, could she?
“what are you gonna do when all your friends around you start having kids, huh?! you’re gonna end our bloodline just like that?” her father yelled at her the day she came out. “you will not disgrace this family! you will not bring shame upon us!”
she flinched. tears welled up in her eyes, but she tried to hold it together. she promised herself she wouldn’t cry, wouldn’t let them get to her.
it was here that hyun-ju knew there was no going back from this. she looked to her mother, who stood in front of the stove, saying nothing. her back was turned, but she could see her hands shaking. she was careful not to intervene.
she wished she would.
hyun-ju left that day and never returned. she hadn’t spoken to her parents in years, phone call or visits. she was scared to. scared her father’s face would twist in disgust when he saw her long hair, and her feminine clothing, and her ring-clad fingers.
2024. she survived squid game, just barely. it was a scar that would never fade, but she distracted herself with her new life. days full of the sun on her face, or nights full of stars illuminating her beautiful features. summer weekends full of trips to the beach, sand beneath her feet. random hours where she’d glanced at the diamond upon her finger.
she was playing with na-yeon when the phone rang. the little girl was now 9, still wearing adorable hats and little dresses hyun-ju bought her.
“i’ll be right back,” she smiled at the girl, who nodded and continued to move a piece on the board game they were playing.
she picked up her phone, seeing a number she hadn’t seen in years. her hands trembled, and she debated clicking decline. she ultimately decided to answer, hoping the conversation wouldn’t go south.
“mom?” her voice broke, and she cursed herself for it.
the line was silent for a few moments, a soft sigh on the other end. “hyun-ju,” a soft voice responded.
“mom… how are you? are you alright…?” despite years of absence and estrangement, hyun-ju found that she missed her mother. she was always soft with her, even when she watched her father kick her out. she kissed her cheek and sent her on her way, tears welling in her eyes as they bid each other goodbye.
“oh, i’m fine. i was just going through some old photos, sitting in my chair since my knees are getting weaker… i found a picture of you on your 10th birthday. ah, you looked so happy, with your little hat. your cousin had hers a week later and i remember you just staring at her dress as she blew out her candles.”
“the pink one?” hyun-ju asked softly, feeling her eyes become wet. she wiped at her tears, looking back at na-yeon to make sure she didn’t notice.
“the pink one. with the uh… all the sparkles and ruffles. the thing was an eyesore, but you wouldn’t stop looking at it.” she laughed, the same laugh hyun-ju had grown up hearing.
“it was a little over the top, yea.” hyun-ju laughed, shifting the phone to her other ear.
“god, how i wish i could go back. hold you in my arms again.” she said, her voice growing sadder.
“mom? why’d you call… after this long?”
the line was silent for another few moments, then another sigh.
“what your father said all those years ago… i still think about it. i wish i would’ve said something, anything, but it was like my lips were glued shut. i was surprised, hyun-ju. i hadn’t expected that from you. and he told me it was for the best that you had left, but i kept remembering holding you when you were just a baby. my baby. i dreamed you came back to me, but i’d wake up still next to your father, and just stare out the window, wondering where you went.”
hyun-ju didn’t know what to say to that. what could she possibly say?
“i’m… in thailand.” she hesitated briefly, but it wasn’t like she’d come see her. maybe she’d tell her father, but he’d just pretend he hadn’t heard, continuing to live his life as if he had no children.
“ahh. thailand. do you like it?”
“i love it. it’s beautiful.” hyun-ju smiled. thailand was her happy place. she’d live there forever. her and gyeong-seok had already decided.
“is it just you? or…”
“i’m engaged, actually. mom… he’s wonderful. he cares about how i’m feeling, he’s sweet, he makes me feel like the only… the only woman in the world. and he has a daughter. every day, i’m more and more proud to know her.” hyun-ju looks back at na-yeon, who is none the wiser of the conversation going on.
“hyun-ju… forgive me but… don’t you want children of your own, hyun-ju?” her mother asked nervously, like she was embarrassed to be asking.
hyun-ju thought for a moment. years ago, maybe she’d say yes. all those times she imagined herself carrying a child of her own, nursing it in the early days, watching it grasp onto her finger and coo up at her. hear its first words be something along the lines of “mama.”
but truly, the moment she met na-yeon, the desire for a ‘biological child’ left her. the simple relation of blood was not more important than the smile na-yeon gave her each time she saw her. was not more important than the way she curled up against her when she was sleepy, or the way she held onto her hand when they walked to the park after school. was not more important than the way she told her she loved her when she would cry and hyun-ju would wipe her tears. was not more important than the way she'd draw pictures of her little family, labeled ‘mom, dad & me.’
did she ever wish she could give na-yeon a sibling, someone to play with and annoy? sometimes. but as long as na-yeon expressed no want for one, neither would she.
na-yeon was her daughter. her baby. biology be damned.
“she is my own. she’s my daughter because i say so. because she says so.” she says confidently.
she could practically hear her mother smiling, and she breathed a sigh of relief.
“you love her.” she responded. it wasn’t a question. she was sure of this.
“more than anything, mom. more than anything.” hyun-ju smiled fondly.
after she hung up the phone, she went back to the living room where na-yeon had turned her attention to the tv. she was starting to doze off, remote in her hand, but she sat up as she sensed hyun-ju enter the room.
“you took so long!” na-yeon stood up, ever the drama queen.
“it was only 30 minutes, silly.” hyun-ju laughed, pinching the girls cheek.
“ow, mom. it felt like 30 hours!” she twisted her body, her arms softly swinging.
in the end, hyun-ju was the one thing she always wanted to be. a mom.
when gyeong-seok came home from work that evening, hyun-ju told him about the phone call. he was conflicted at first, a little worried that the conversation went south, but was smiling by the end.
“ever since you’ve come into our lives, na-yeon has been the happiest i’ve ever seen her… when you’re not around, she goes on and on about how much she misses you. we went to get groceries the other day, and she told me i should buy flowers for mom. for you.” gyeong-seok grabbed her hand. “she loves you, hyun-ju. i love you.”
after everything that hyun-ju had been through, she found that her life was all she could ever ask for. she was in thailand, soon to be married to the man of her dreams, with a daughter who she’d burn the world for.
“i love you, too. you and our daughter.”