Home?
Months have passed since Sowon returned to live with her mother. She had assured herself at first that it was only a brief pause before deciding what to do next. But as the days passed, she found herself in a limbo—neither here nor there, simply existing.
Her mother did her best to make her feel at home, making her favorite dishes, conversing with her over morning coffee, and pretending not to notice when Sowon spent hours looking blankly at the television, lost in contemplation. But no amount of warmth could fill the void she felt inside.
And then comes the day when she could finally move into her own home. It was meant to be a fresh start. A new beginning.
Sowon arrived at the house and took a deep breath before exiting the vehicle. The sky was gloomy, and the air felt heavy, as if nature itself weighed on her chest. Meonji growled happily behind her, tail bouncing as it sniffed around, unaware of the emotional tempest gathering inside its owner.
She carried her suitcases in alone, their weight insignificant compared to the invisible burden she had been carrying for months. The house was stunning—exactly what she had envisioned. Spacious and stylish, with huge windows that let in plenty of light. Every piece of furniture was handpicked, the colors were gentle and neutral, and everything was in fantastic condition.
Upon entering, she was overwhelmed by a sense of emptiness.
The silence was terrible.
She dropped her luggage down at the door and stood still for a time, letting her gaze move over the immaculate interior. It appeared to be a home, but it did not feel like it. There were no clutter from three girls living together, no discarded jackets by the entrance, and no aroma of Eunha's perfumes in the air. There were no sounds of laughter, no fighting in the kitchen over who would wash the dishes, and no distant hum of music from Sinb's room.
It was only her.
Just silence.
She breathed shakily and ran her fingers over her hair. Wasn't this what she wanted? She has her own room. A place where she might finally breathe, free of the sorrow of the past. So, why did it feel like she had just walked into a stranger's home?
Meonji around her feet, whining quietly as if aware of her distress. She crouched down and ran her fingers through its fur. "It's just us now, huh?" she said softly, faking a little smile. Meonji wagged its tail and licked her palm in response, yet the warmth failed to reach her heart.
She tried to occupy herself by unpacking, moving from room to room, and meticulously arranging her goods in their respective areas. Her closet was full of clothing she no longer had plans to wear. Her kitchen was well supplied, but she realized she wouldn't be cooking for six anymore. The dining table had six chairs, but there was only one dish to set.
She took out her phone without thinking, her fingers lingering over the group chat, which had long since gone silent. The most recent communications were from weeks ago—a courteous exchange of updates, nothing like the chats they used to have. Eunha and Umji were drowning in their studies, pouring themselves into a future they had previously put on hold. Yerin and Yuju thrived as solos.
And Sinb?
Sowon's heart squeezed as she gazed at the name. There were no updates. No messages. Not a single call.
They were formerly inseparable, despite their constant arguing. Sinb was always the one who pushed against her, challenged her, and eventually followed her lead. But suddenly it felt like she had vanished completely.
Sowon locked her phone and tossed it to the counter, inhaling through her nose. What did she expect? That everything would return to its previous state? That someone would stroll through the door and end the agonizing silence?
She came into the living room and sat on the soft couch. It was comfy, expensive, and carefully chosen. Nonetheless, she felt no attachment to it. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, determined not to cry.
Home was not a place. It had never been.
Late-night sessions at home left her fatigued but determined to keep going. After a successful performance, they hugged one other and muttered encouraging words. Home was waking up to the sounds of Sinb and Eunha arguing over the bathroom, Yerin blaring music at full force, Yuju singing absentmindedly in the kitchen, and Umji laughing at everyone.
Home was them.
And now, she was alone.
The realization settled deep in her bones, heavier than anything she had carried into the house.
For the first time in a long time, Sowon allowed herself to grieve.
She drew her knees to chest and buried her face in her arms, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. Meonji cuddled up next to her, rubbing its small body against her, as if to console her.
She had been their leader, the one who was expected to be strong and have the answers. But now, with no one watching, she could say it: she had no idea how to do this. How to move on. How to survive without them.
How to be oneself after losing all that defined her.
The silence persisted, pushing in on her like a ghost from the past. She knew, with a heavy heart, that it might never go away.