“Vela, don’t make decisions while you’re emotional. We can go back to that house, sweetheart.”
“Enough, Mom! Don’t ever come to that house. I’ve made up my mind to leave, Mom. Let me stay away so you and Dad won’t be ashamed in front of everyone here.” Novela packed her clothes into a large suitcase. She turned her back on her mother, unable to bear seeing the woman who had given birth to her looking so sad. “Please, Mom. Let Vela leave. Let Vela atone for what she’s done.”
Selena could only resign herself to the decision her daughter had made. The still-beautiful woman no longer wanted to stop her daughter from leaving—not because she didn’t love her, but because she realized Vela was no longer a little girl.
Meanwhile, Vela had finished packing her clothes and was ready to leave the room. Before she could actually step out, Vela suddenly hugged her mother. She began crying again in that warm embrace. “Forgive me, Mom. Forgive your foolish daughter,” she said through heart-wrenching sobs.
Selena began crying too. “It’s all fate, sweetheart. Your father and I will always keep in touch with you. Whenever you return to Seoul, the door to this house will always be open to you. No matter what happens, you’ll always be our daughter, sweetheart.”
“Mom!”
“Stop crying. I don’t like seeing my daughter cry like this.”
After hugging and comforting each other for several minutes, Novela and Selena left the room.
In the living room, Gibran was still sitting there with a blank stare. His eyes remained fixed on the wall, unwilling to turn toward his daughter. Seeing him like that made Novela’s heart feel as if it had been pierced by a thousand needles. This wasn’t what she wanted, but it had already happened, and nothing could change it now.
“Dad?”
“Go, Vela,” Gibran said softly. His voice was hoarse as he held back the sobs threatening to escape again. “You have to learn to take responsibility for yourself,” he continued.
Novela lowered her head, her heart aching. She knew her father was deeply disappointed and hurt by her. Whatever he was going to say, Novela was ready to accept it, even if it broke her heart.
Selena? The woman stayed silent too, afraid her husband would become even angrier.
With heavy, unsteady steps, Novela dragged her suitcase out of the luxurious house she had lived in for decades. Tears began streaming down her cheeks again. Leaving her father and mother had never once appeared in her dreams. Yet today, the woman had to do it because of a terrible mistake no one could ever forgive her for.
Novela passed through the gate of her home, then stopped in the street and turned around to look at the house one last time.
“Goodbye, Dad. Goodbye, Mom. Goodbye, Seoul,” she whispered.
Novela got into the taxi she had ordered earlier. Then the woman threw away the phone she often used to keep Max updated. This time, she was determined to erase all her memories of that country.
Meanwhile, inside the large house, Gibran sobbed after he could no longer see his beloved daughter. The man slowly shook his head, still unable to believe the fact he had learned just an hour ago. Only last night, they had still been happy, laughing together and sharing funny stories. And today, it felt as if his body had been hurled from a great height after learning that his daughter was pregnant and Max had refused to take responsibility.
“What sin did I ever commit, Sel? Why did God have to punish my daughter like this?” he wailed through his tears, already embracing his wife, who was crying too. “Why couldn’t I be the one punished instead?”
Selena rubbed her husband’s back as he looked utterly broken. The man who was usually so dignified had now fallen apart before her. “Let Novela go. Let her calm down. I believe Novela can get through all of this on her own. She’s a strong child. So let her leave for the next few years.”