Chapter 55. Study Abroad

He used to barge through that door every day without hesitation.

But now, knowing his mother was inside, Taeseong couldn’t bring himself to move.

He took a deep breath in, then out.

The massive front gate made him feel like the little boy from long ago.

“No. I’m not that kid anymore.”

Clenching his fists, Taeseong murmured while pressing his lips together.

He had been hurt by her—missed her for that, and even hated her.

But he hadn’t been able to erase all the love he held for his mother.

And now, he was determined not to be hurt by her again.

Having composed himself, Taeseong stepped inside the house.

There was a different chill in the air than usual.

After Taeseong’s father died in an accident, Chairman Joo had asked Choi Myeong-eun—his daughter-in-law and Taeseong’s mother—to stay in the house.

At first, Choi Myeong-eun had intended to obey.

It was only natural that her young son would need her.

But soon enough, the roles of “mother” and “Choi Myeong-eun the person” began to clash.

Choi Myeong-eun had always had a strong sense of self.

Ironically, that was what had attracted Taeseong’s father so deeply, and the two had fallen madly in love.

After persistent wooing, Choi Myeong-eun had eventually fallen for him.

She had felt that with this man, she could build a peaceful life and have a normal family.

For a woman who had always lived boldly, becoming a daughter-in-law of a chaebol family was a huge decision.

She believed it was the perfect choice. That belief lasted—until her husband died.

She had briefly forgotten the eternal truth that nothing is eternal.

Her husband didn’t even live long enough to see what could be called “forever.”

At first, she tried to stay strong.

But gradually, she began longing for the past—the time when her identity and dreams had come first.

Choi Myeong-eun was not devoid of maternal love.

She just had a stronger desire for self-fulfillment.

Eventually, when Taeseong turned nine, she chose to be selfish and left the house.

Chairman Joo pleaded, even fought with her, asking if she could live without ever seeing her son again.

But it didn’t work.

In the end, Chairman Joo had to admit he couldn’t keep her here.

To her credit, Choi Myeong-eun never tried to take Taeseong with her.

She knew a woman chasing her dreams wouldn’t be able to properly care for a child.

So Taeseong was left behind—motherless.

As he stepped into the parlor, Taeseong came face-to-face with a mother more awkward than any stranger, for the first time in eleven years.

“Taeseong, is that you?”

Choi Myeong-eun stood up and spoke with a faintly trembling voice.

She looked every bit the part of someone from the art world.

Her curly hippie perm, bold golden earrings, the tattoo peeking out from under the sleeve of her loose blouse—

The former chaebol daughter-in-law now radiated the aura of a complete artist.

In person, she seemed even more free-spirited than the twice-Cannes-nominated filmmaker he’d seen in the media.

“Taeseong-ah, it’s Mom.”

Taeseong stared silently at her, as if confirming her identity—and his.

Then, without much expression, he looked aside and added something obvious.

“And that’s Mr. Antony.”

Taeseong spoke with a flat tone.

Antony was Choi Myeong-eun’s famous business partner—and her common-law husband.

Though they hadn’t held an official wedding, in the West, such cohabitations were commonplace.

“Ah, Taeseong, it’s your first time meeting him, right? Antony is, well…”

How strange—bringing him all the way here, yet hesitating to introduce him.

“I know. Director Choi Myeong-eun’s business partner, husband, and a renowned animation director.”

“How did you—?”

“We have internet here too.”

Taeseong replied blandly and sat opposite her.

“Why are you here?”

Choi Myeong-eun sat as well, glancing nervously at Chairman Joo.

“Well…”

Finally, the Chairman, who had been watching silently, spoke up.

“She said… she came because she missed you.”

Although he had seemed tense until now, his voice was unexpectedly calm.

But Taeseong’s eyes sharpened.

‘So missing someone is this easy to say, huh.’

So much time had passed between them.

It wasn’t some insurmountable gulf like the Milky Way between lovers, or a forbidden Pandora’s box.

It was just a neighborhood stream. One could cross it with a few steps—though it might wet your ankles a bit.

But she never bothered. And now she says she missed him?

His mouth tasted bitter.

“If you missed me, why didn’t you ever call?”

There was no way the words would come out kindly.

“Taeseong.”

Chairman Joo called him sternly.

Taeseong was reliable and mature—but he could also be stubborn when he made up his mind.

He feared the two might end up fighting, even after she had flown here for over twelve hours.

As her former father-in-law, he had resented Choi Myeong-eun in the past.

But he couldn’t instill that resentment into Taeseong. She was still his mother.

Yet contrary to his hopes, Taeseong remained cold.

“I believe in actions more than words.”

Even Antony, who didn’t understand Korean well, could tell this wasn’t a heartwarming reunion.

His concerned blue eyes watched Choi Myeong-eun’s pale face closely.

“Taeseong, the truth is… I really did miss you…”

Her eloquence, so flawless in both English and Korean at public events, now broke down.

Chairman Joo stepped in.

“She said she often asked Jincheon about you when you stopped contacting her.”

“…What?”

The unexpected comment furrowed Taeseong’s brow.

At last, prompted by the Chairman, Choi Myeong-eun explained.

“When you started puberty, I got the sense that you were uncomfortable around me. I didn’t know how to reach out.”

“…”

“I never forgot you, not for a moment. That’s why I’d ask Jincheon how you were doing sometimes.”

Her voice was full of regret.

For a moment, Taeseong felt his head spin.

He had assumed she didn’t care about him at all… But now she said she’d always thought about him?

Even though he’d drunk recently, claiming to be an adult now, he wasn’t prepared for something like this.

Choi Myeong-eun reached under the table and lifted a large bag.

She began pulling out items—proof for the son who didn’t seem to believe her.

“These are birthday gifts I bought for you every year, but never had the courage to send.”

She explained each item as she laid them out:

A warm sweater for his 14th birthday. Soccer shoes for his 15th. A camcorder for his 16th.

A necklace for 17. An autograph from his favorite director for 18.

And then… nothing.

There was no gift for his 19th birthday.

As she laid out the pile of belated gifts, Choi Myeong-eun opened her dry lips.

“For your 19th… I heard from Jincheon that you wanted to become a film director. So I made up my mind then—to come see you.”

“…”

“I thought that if you hated me, I wouldn’t even be able to send the gift. So I had to give it to you in person.”

Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

“Back then, I was just so exhausted. I chose what was easiest for me… but I shouldn’t have.”

The regret was thick in her voice.

While she spoke, Taeseong gradually straightened his back. He finally opened up.

“I never only hated you. I was angry when you left… but I missed you, too.”

His voice dipped, then rose again, clearer.

“Eventually, I even understood why you left—to find your happiness as a person, Choi Myeong-eun. Not that I hoped you were happy every single day…”

“Taeseong—”

“If I really hated you, I wouldn’t have dreamed of becoming a film director.”

His usually calm voice trembled slightly.

“So… I want you to know—I never truly hated you. Please don’t misunderstand that.”

Letting those words out brought him a sense of peace, as if he had finally placed the period on a sentence long left unfinished.

“So, Taeseong…”

But soon, his expression twisted again in confusion.

“What do you think about… studying abroad in America with me?”