I couldn’t bear the thought of any threat to Bijonne’s safety. When she was nearly abducted, the pain felt like my heart was collapsing. I couldn’t imagine living without her.
“It’d be difficult,” I said.
“Then why ask?”
She stared at me, her green eyes so calm they seemed impenetrable, like those of an old soul who’d given up on the world.
Did I make her this way?
The realization hit me like a bolt.
What had I been doing while my daughter grew to have such eyes?
The carriage stopped. My mind was a whirlwind, but my body moved mechanically. As Bijonne stepped down and stumbled, I instinctively grabbed her hand.
Her warmth spread through my palm, clearing the chaos in my head. There was no need to overthink or hesitate.
“It’s difficult, but not impossible,” I said.
If it were what my daughter wanted, I’d make it happen.
Whatever it took.
Act 2: The End, and the Beginning
Heavy rain poured through the gray alleyways, weaving between the forest of buildings.
A tiny life shivered in the cold, unnoticed by the hurried passersby chasing their own paths.
“Oh, a puppy!”
Just as its life seemed to flicker out, a young voice found it. Yellow rubber boots, like a chick’s hue, splashed through puddles toward it.
“Mom, it’s a puppy!”
A child in a matching yellow raincoat waved frantically at her mother.
At the urgent call, the mother, holding an umbrella, hurried over, frowning.
“Jia, I told you not to run—the ground’s slippery. What if you fall?”
“Mom, a puppy!”
Ignoring her mother’s scolding, Jia flapped her arms in excitement.
Her mother’s gaze followed Jia’s pointing finger to a small flowerbed between gray buildings. Amid overgrown weeds, a sodden bundle of golden-brown fur trembled.
“Who would abandon a puppy here?” the mother murmured.
“Mom, can we take it home?”
Jia’s eyes sparkled as she looked up, pleading. She’d long begged for a dog, clasping her hands tightly.
“Please? We can’t leave it—it’ll catch a cold!”
The tiny, shivering body was pitiful.
But despite her concerned expression, the mother’s response was firm.
“No.”
It couldn’t be helped. Living in an apartment, they weren’t equipped to keep a pet. It would only cause trouble.
“It’s my birthday today—I want the puppy as my gift. I don’t need anything else!”
Today was Jia’s eleventh birthday. They were out to meet her father and pick a present. Jia clutched her mother’s clothes, shaking them.
“Mom, I want to take it!”
“I said no. Do you think raising a dog is easy?”
The abandoned puppy tugged at her heart, but she couldn’t act rashly. Someone else would take it, she reasoned, though unease lingered.
“I’ll take care of it! I don’t need birthday gifts anymore, okay?”
“No means no.”
“Your Highnesses, what are you doing out here?”
A man interrupted the bickering mother and daughter. Jia’s face lit up as she recognized him.
“Dad!”
“Whoa, my little princess—you’re getting my clothes wet!”
He laughed heartily, lifting his raincoat-clad daughter into his arms.
“Dad, I want to keep the puppy!”
“A puppy?”
“There, there!”
Jia pointed at the puppy, eyes gleaming.
“I want it for my birthday!”
“Jia, I said no,” her mother interjected.
“Daaad!”
Her pleading and cheek-rubbing softened her father’s awkward smile.
“Honey, a puppy might be tough…”
“No! I want the puppy!”
Tears welled in Jia’s eyes—she’d never been so insistent. Her father, heart wavering, looked to his wife.
“She wants it so badly, and it’ll die if we leave it. Why don’t we take it?”
“I’m worried too, but…”
The mother trailed off. She’d been firm with Jia, but leaving the shivering creature was harder than she’d thought.
“We could try raising it, and if it’s too much, send it to my parents in the countryside,” her father suggested.
“I’ll take care of it! I’ll bathe it, feed it, everything!”
Jia sensed her mother’s hesitation and pleaded with desperate eyes.
“Mom, please!”
Her mother looked between Jia and the puppy. Her daughter’s longing and the pitiful creature tugged at her.
“You’ll take good care of it?”
“Yes!”
“If you neglect it or mistreat it, it’s going straight to Grandma’s.”
“Yes, yes!”
With a sigh, her mother relented. Fearing a change of heart, Jia quickly slid from her father’s arms and scooped up the puppy.
“Mom, it’s so cold!”
“We’d better stop by a vet first,” her father said.
As her parents searched for a nearby animal hospital, Jia spoke to the puppy nestled in her arms.
“Puppy, we’re going to live together now. Isn’t that great?”
The trembling puppy felt icy. Jia hugged it tightly.
“It’s okay. I’ll be with you from now on.”
In its fading consciousness, the puppy felt the warmth of her small embrace, hearing the faint thud of her heartbeat.
For days, Jia hadn’t come home.
Torong lay curled by the door, waiting endlessly for her return.
It wasn’t just Jia. Her parents hadn’t returned since leaving with her days ago.
The once-lively house, filled with nightly chatter, was eerily silent. An ominous feeling gripped Torong.
I don’t want to die.
Torong didn’t understand death, but Jia’s anguished cry—“I don’t want to die”—echoed vividly.
It was the first time Jia had looked so heartbroken, crying harder than when scolded by her mother.
“Why aren’t you eating?”
Mrs. Kim, watching the house in their absence, clicked her tongue at Torong’s refusal to eat. In days, the puppy was skin and bones.
No matter how close she held the food, Torong ignored it. Unable to force-feed, Mrs. Kim looked at the puppy with pity.
“Does it know Jia’s gone, even though it can’t speak?”
At Jia’s name, Torong’s ears twitched faintly, unnoticed by Mrs. Kim.
Dehydrated and weakened from days without water or food, Torong’s condition was dire. But Mrs. Kim, unfamiliar with pets, assumed it was just hunger.
