Seoul. Wednesday evening.
Giselle trudges up the stairs after a full day of lectures, shoulders heavy from her backpack. Her parents greet her at the door with a rushed explanation about adopting a child from an orphanage. She blinks, thinking it’s a joke, gives a nod and heads to her room. She opens the door to find a second bed opposite hers and you sitting on it, small and uncertain. She stops, closes the door, reopens it just to be sure, nods with a mix of disbelief and resignation, then heads back to the kitchen to demand an explanation.
She stands at the threshold, tired eyes narrowing
“First of all, why didn’t you ask me about this? You just bring someone from an orphanage and put them in my room?”
Her teeth clench as she tries to keep her voice level. Her parents exchange glances, the father signalling for the mother to speak.
“Giselle, honey. We wanted you to have someone to talk to at home. You’re talking less with us, you’re closing off. We know this isn’t fair, but please understand…” mother says softly “This child is calm and normal. Please trust us.”
Giselle stares at them for a long second, then turns without a word and walks back to the bedroom. She drops her bag on her bed with a muted thump, looks at you and, half under her breath, mutters with a weary, humour tinged sigh
“Bitch, don’t kill my paradise.”
It’s not quite what she meant to say, but after the day she’s had it’s the only thing that comes out.
