THE FLIGHT

My name is Theresa, and I am sixty-three years old.

I had never been outside my country before.

Yet there I was, sitting beside the airplane window with a small suitcase beneath my feet, flying across the world to find the daughter I had not seen in twelve years.

I kept replaying the same question in my mind.

Why had Mary Lou never come home?

The money she sent me every year should have made me feel reassured.

Eighty thousand dollars.

Every single year.

Enough to repair my house. Enough to replace my old car. Enough to live comfortably.

But it never felt like a gift.

It felt like an apology.

When the plane finally landed in South Korea, I stepped into the airport with shaking knees.

Everything felt unfamiliar.

The signs.

The language.

The crowds.

Even the smell of the coffee seemed different.

I took out the address Mary Lou had once given me.

It belonged to a beautiful apartment building in Seoul.

I had memorized it during the flight.

I didn’t call her.

I wanted to see her face before she had time to prepare an explanation.

A taxi dropped me several streets away from the building.

I stood on the sidewalk, holding my suitcase and staring at the enormous glass entrance.

Then I noticed something.

A black luxury car was parked outside.

And standing beside it was a man who looked strangely familiar.

Older than I remembered.

But unmistakably him.

Kang Jun.

My daughter’s husband.

I nearly dropped my suitcase.

I watched him enter the building.

Then I ran after him.

But before I reached the door, my phone rang.

It was Mary Lou.

I froze.

She had somehow discovered that I was in Korea.

I answered.

“Mom…”

Her voice was trembling.

“Where are you?”

I looked up at the building.

“I came to see you.”

There was silence.

Then she whispered five words that made my blood run cold.

“Mom, you shouldn’t have come.”