This Burns My Heart Page 0,53

asking if they had seen a lost child. Strangers sitting by the food stands started to look in her direction and point, and soon she realized it was not sympathy in their eyes, but irritation and disgust. As she approached them, they would immediately shake their heads and bury their noses in their steaming bowls of soup. Some of the women, mistaking Soo-Ja for a beggar, grabbed on to their own children, wanting to protect them from her. She was made to feel like a woman sick with some terrible malady, one that could be easily contracted. One misguided look and her fate could become theirs. But she could not stop; she had to ask every single person in that square if they’d seen her daughter.

Soo-Ja could not stand the growing panic she felt as she gathered more and more nos, each shake of their heads getting her farther and farther away from Hana. As she approached men walking toward her, they would avoid eye contact and sidestep, quickly striding past her. Some of the women listened, especially the older grandmas, their eyes full of kindness. A couple of them offered her a glass of water and warm wheat dumplings, which she refused.

Na-yeong reached for her, looking spent and worn out. “I’m going home,” she said, her voice cracking a little.

“Good.” Soo-Ja nodded. “You go home and tell your father to let Min know what happened. Min can come help me look for our daughter. They will take it more seriously, at the police station, if it’s the father who’s there to talk to them.”

“Now you’ve really gone insane,” said Na-yeong, her voice rising. She sounded so much like Mother-in-law, thought Soo-Ja. That was a favorite word of hers—insane. Michyeoss-eo. “You want my brother to go to the police? They’ll arrest him right then and there. He can’t leave his hiding place!”

“Then am I supposed to look for Hana alone? And why aren’t your mother and father here to help me? She’s not just my daughter, she’s also their sonjattal!” Soo-Ja knew the only people who’d help her were her own parents and her brothers, but they were three hours away by train, and it was night already.

“I want to go home! I don’t think you’re going to find her!”

Soo-Ja grabbed Na-yeong by the arms again and shook her. “I am going to find Hana. What you just said, I’m going to forget it ever came out of your mouth. Because if I don’t watch myself, I might just kill you with my bare hands.”

Na-yeong cowered, averting her gaze. Two or three people stopped to watch their argument. Upon seeing them, Soo-Ja let go of Na-yeong and asked them if they had seen a little girl on her own. They shook their heads. Soo-Ja did not notice Na-yeong running away. She felt as if her sight had narrowed into a circle, and everything outside it had turned into a blur.

All night, Soo-Ja kept wandering through the streets, reaching for strangers who were like buoys in the cold sea, only to be tossed back by them every time, her body growing more and more unsteady as the imaginary waves beat against her. She was in such agony she could hardly stand. And the more desperate she became, the more cruel and cold the people around her grew, until boys began laughing at her and the food stand keepers started to shoo her away from customers. She was like the lowliest of beggars, pleading with no dignity or self-respect, but with tears streaming down her face and questions that were not questions but cries. She needed to tell everyone that her daughter was missing; the pain inside her was so big, the only way to bear it was to give a slice of it to every single person in the world.

Piercing cold air, cold enough to break.

An hour or so after midnight, the town square started to become more and more deserted—noodle stand owners packing red tents, fruit peddlers putting away bruised pears, drunks staggering elsewhere—until not a soul walked the streets other than Soo-Ja, shivering in the wind. Snow began to fall little by little, dancing in front of her. Initially, it acted like a friend, glad to see her. Then, more like a spurned lover, quickly covering the ground, and turning it thick and slippery. She had nowhere to go, not a won in her pockets. Soo-Ja could not go back to her in-laws’. She could not add to the