me and said, ‘I don’t trust anyone when it comes to my daughter’s safety.’”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I’m telling you that Yena lived her life for you, and that was a good thing. Because before you were around, she had nothing to live for. Someone like us with nothing to live for is a dangerous thing. I should know.”
“She shouldn’t have dedicated her life to me like that.” Now Miyoung pressed her hand against the tree, like it could bring her closer to her mother. If she pressed hard enough, she could almost feel a warmth.
“I’m telling you that you saved Yena’s life. The last eighteen years of her life, she was the happiest I’d ever seen her. Well, as happy as Yena could be.”
Miyoung shook her head, but some of the tension that came with guilt melted away.
“And what if I don’t know if I can be happy without her,” Miyoung whispered.
“You can be,” Junu said. “But it won’t be easy to get there.”
“I had to let her go,” Miyoung finally said.
“You did. It was more than just the tear between worlds. With her lingering here, you weren’t able to actually mourn her. You were still holding on to the ghost of her. Just like I did.” Junu let out a long breath. “I let my ghosts drag me into darkness for too long. You should learn from my mistakes. Take this time to move on.”
Miyoung knew it had been right to let go of her mother. But she hated that she felt like her mother had just died all over again. It was like the pain would never abate. Like she’d live this way forever. “When will I feel better? When will I stop hurting so much every time I think of her?”
“Maybe never. You might never fully stop hurting.”
“Why?” Miyoung whispered, and she didn’t know if she was asking him or some heartless god.
“There’s no getting over losing someone. You’ll never go back to how you lived before,” Junu said. “You just learn how to live a different way.”
“Are you still going to leave?” Miyoung asked quietly. She hated that she was scared of losing him. Junu had become a strange part of her life. Not really a friend, though she thought she could trust him like one. And not really like family, though he annoyed her like one. Maybe something a bit in between? And after she’d lost so much, she couldn’t risk letting him go without asking. At least she had to ask.
“I’m not sure,” Junu said slowly.
“What will you tell Somin?” Miyoung asked.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’m scared to say goodbye to her.”
Miyoung laughed. “You should be. She’ll beat the crap out of you.”
“She deserves better than me.”
“Isn’t it up to her to decide what she deserves?” Miyoung asked.
Junu scowled at that, and Miyoung recognized the look. It was a look of someone who knew they were wrong but didn’t want to admit it. “What if she doesn’t want me to stay?” His voice shook, and Miyoung’s heart softened a bit.
“I’m not sure what Somin wants. But for what it’s worth, I want you to stay.” She didn’t look at him as she said the words. It was embarrassing. And she didn’t want to hope that he’d say yes.
“Really?” Junu sounded surprised.
Now Miyoung did look up, her eyes meeting his. He watched her cautiously. Like he was afraid to hope, too. “Yes. I’d like you to stay.”
Junu nodded. “Then maybe I should stay.”
70
MIYOUNG SAT AT her desk on Monday, staring at the crisp page in her workbook. With school started again, she had something to occupy her days now. Though, she’d fallen sorely behind at the beginning of the school year from so many tardies.
Other students mingled around her since it was free period. Many of them were using the time to study since the suneung exams were closer than ever.
Miyoung still wasn’t used to the idea that she was at the same school she’d attended last year.
Usually Miyoung never lasted past a few months, let alone a whole school year.
True, there was that period of time last winter that she’d been gone. Hunting for a cure to her missing yeowu guseul. She rubbed a hand against her chest. There was still a strange hollow feeling beneath her ribs, like a part of her heart had been ripped free. But she felt the beat beneath her palm, and she knew she’d be okay. She was mortal now. Truly mortal. It’s what she