Yuna's Past

I didn’t let go of her until her shoulders stopped shaking.

I released her slowly, like she might shatter if I moved too fast. She stepped back half a pace, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve.

“...Do you… want to come inside?”

She hesitated for a sec. But then… she nodded.

So I stepped aside and held my door open.

“Just… for a minute.” she murmured, as if she had to justify it.

Yuna stood there awkwardly for a second, eyes flicking over my shoes, my couch, my half-open laptop on the table… like she was trying to memorize the layout in case she needed to escape fast.

“This is… your place.” she whispered almost to herself.

“Yeah…” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “It’s not exactly a museum… You can sit wherever.”

She chose the small dining table while I grabbed her a glass of water. I slid it toward her. She stared at it for a moment before taking a tiny sip.

The silence stretched.

I didn’t want to push her into talking. I just wanted to be there for her, nothing more.

But she surprised me.

“You know…” she said suddenly, very quietly. “I’m not good at this.”

“At… sitting? Or drinking? You want to sit somewhere else?”

“No. At being taken care of. It feels… suspicious.”

Is she… finally opening up?

I leaned back. “Why?”

“Because usually… when someone is kind to me, it means they want something later…”

That hit hard.

“Then let me be the exception. I don’t want anything from you.”

She looked at me for a second. But after meeting my eyes, she instantly looked down again.

“Um… earlier…” her hands tightened around the glass. “When you hugged me… I … I wasn’t expecting that.”

“You looked like you needed one.”

Her cheeks tinted pink.

She stared at the table.

“...There’s… something you said…” she murmured. “People only say sorry that much when someone taught them they’re a burden.”

She swallowed.

“That… hit harder than you think.”

I waited, afraid that interrupting her would make her retreat again.

“It made me realize something… about… why I’m like this.”

She took a shaky breath.

“Ive never really talked about this with anyone before. And I don’t know what’s okay to tell you and what isn’t. It might sound… awkward. Or embarrassing. But I feel safe… if it’s you… Ren.”

She swallowed.

“So…” she continued “can I tell you something? About my past?”.

I nodded immediately.

Too quickly, probably. But she didn’t seem to mind.

She folded her hands on the table and let out a slow breath, shoulders sagging just a little.

“My father… was very strict.” she began quietly. “Not abusive. Not… violent. Just cold. And demanding… Always demanding. He only ever gave me ‘love’, when I did something right.”

Her voice grew smaller.

‘You must do better’

‘Stop being lazy’ even though I tried everything I could.

‘Don’t embarrass us.’

‘Stop being lazy’

“If I cried, he said I was dramatic… If I was scared, he told me to toughen up. If I failed at something… he didn’t yell… he just looked at you like you were a walking failure.”

She gave a tiny, humorless laugh.

I felt my nails press into my palm under the table.

“So I learned…” she went on. “to not make mistakes… to not ask for help… to not bother anyone.”

She looked up at me.

“To not be a burden.”

My chest clenched.

She looked down again quickly, like she regretted meeting my eyes.

“Because of my dad, I tried way harder than anyone else my age. At everything.. It probably made me stand out. But not in a good way. I never really had friends.. I tried to… once. But the way I was… it made me an easy target. The kind of person people hurt just to feel less small themselves. But as a kid, you don’t look at it that way.”

She scratched her arm absently.

“I think I cried more in one month of middle school than I ever did in my whole life before that… ”

She tried making it sound like a joke. It clearly wasn’t.

She sighed softly.

“When I was a teenager, I told my father about my dream. Maybe a singer… or… well… do stuff on the… internet. Maybe JodyTube or something… you know what I mean?” she laughed awkwardly, looking a little embarrassed when she said it.

A pause.

“He laughed at me. He told me that dreams like that were useless, and I should find something that wouldn’t embarrass the family.”

“...Yuna…” I whispered.

She lifted her shoulders in a small shrug.

“So… I stopped dreaming for a while. Stopped… wanting things.”

She exhaled slowly.

“And then… the CEO showed up in my life.”

“The CEO?”

“The man from yesterday… my boss. He is the CEO of the agency he was talking about.”

My breath caught.

“He told me I had talent. Said he believed in me. Said I could become something… special.”

Her fingers tightened.

“I was stupid, Ren… I believed him.”

I didn’t interrupt.

“He said everything I ever wanted to hear. That I wasn’t a disappointment. That my dreams weren’t worthless.”

Her voice trembled.

“But… he didn’t really care about me. Just what I could do. And when he realized how… insecure I was, he used it.”

Her head lowered.

“He talked me into signing a contract with his agency… I didn’t read it properly back then…because I trusted him… For a while, everything went smoothly. But as I started to get more popular… and… something else had happened… he made me feel like I owed him everything. Like I had no right to refuse anything… I… became someone who apologized for everything. Someone who thought… if I wasn’t perfect, I deserved whatever came next.”

A long, heavy quiet settled between us.

I let out a slow breath.

“Now I finally know…”

“Huh?”

“After everything you went through with your boss… and the way your dad raised you… it makes sense… When you were good enough… or quiet enough… you’d be allowed to exist. I get it.”

“That’s why… it was so overwhelming when you said I wasn’t a burden.”

I reached across the table, palm facing upward.

“Give me your hand.” I said softly.

Her eyes widened.

“H-Huh?”

“Your hand.” I repeated. “Please.”

Slowly, cautiously… she placed her hand in mine.

I held it gently.

“Listen to me carefully.” I said. “You’re not a burden. And you will never be one.”

Her lips quivered.

“You deserve people who care about you. Without conditions. Without contracts.”

Her fingers curled around mine.

“And… if you want someone by your side… someone who’s not using you… I’m right here. As long as you want me to be.”

“...Why?” she whispered. “You barely know me. Why… are you like this?”

I squeezed her hand a little.

“Because I know what it looks like when someone’s drowning quietly.” I said. “And because I don’t need to know everything to care.”

She looked away, covering her mouth with her free hand as if to hide how close she was to crying again.

I released her hand gently.

Then pulled my phone from my pocket and placed it in front of her.

“I don’t want you to deal with this alone anymore… So here.”

She blinked.

“...What? I already have a phone”

Damn. She actually never had any friends.

“My number. I want you to have it. If anything happens… anything at all… you call me. Or text me… Or… knock on the wall again. I don’t care. Just don’t handle everything alone. Promise me that… please.”

Her breath hitched.

She took my phone with shaky hands, typing in her number.

When she handed it back, her eyes were glassy again.

“...Thank you, Ren. Really… I… promise.”

I smiled at her.

And then, gently:

“...Can I ask you something?”

Her posture stiffened.

“Um…okay.”

“What exactly do you do for work?”

Her reaction was immediate. She froze, shoulders rising defensively.

“I…um… well…” she forced a smile. “It’s complicated.”

I really don’t want to push her. But not knowing anything about the details will make it harder for me to help her…

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

She laughed weakly.

“It’s better if you… don’t worry about that part. Really.”

I watched her carefully.

She was deflecting like crazy.

And something in her expression told me that pushing now would only make her shut down again.

“...Alright.” I said finally. “I won’t ask. Not now.” Even though I had a bad feeling about it. What could a young girl work for, when she sleeps the whole day and makes weird noises the whole night? I just hope it’s none of these weird things I used to watch when I was a teenager…

Relief washed over her face.

But before she relaxed fully, I added quickly.

“But one day… I hope you’ll tell me.”

She nodded slowly.

“...Yes. One day.”

A softer silence fell.

She seemed calmer now. More grounded.

But then my eyes drifted toward her belly. Around 28 weeks along.

Almost at the finish line. I think around 40 is when babies usually come.

And something struck me.

“...Hey.” I said. “random question.”

She tilted her head.

“With your sleep schedule… when do you even plan to go to your childbirth preparation classes? Or did you start them already?”

Her expression instantly went black.

“...My… what?”

I stared at her.

“Birth preparation… Breathing techniques, labor positions, what to pack for the hospital… all that stuff.”

She blinked rapidly.

“That’s… a thing?”

Oh god.

“Yuna…” I said slowly. “You’re supposed to start those around week 28. They last 6 to 8 weeks.”

She looked horrified.

“...I had no idea. I… I have no mom and dad who would tell me. I didn’t even tell them about my pregnancy.”

Man this hurts. But if those stupid parents won’t be there for her, I will be.

“You didn’t look it up?”

She covered her face.

“I didn’t even think about it. I’ve seen it in some TV shows, but I thought only snobs participate in that sort of stuff.”

It was my turn to sigh.

“Okay. Then we’ll think about it now.”

“We?”

“Yes, we. As I said, you’re not dealing with all of this alone anymore. And I didn’t just mean the situation with your boss. When I say ‘all of this’ I really mean ‘all of this’.” I said, pointing at her belly.

“...Thank you, Ren.”

—-----------------

Before she left that evening, she stood in the doorway, looking like she wanted to say something.

She wasn't able to say it though. Even though I know a lot now, there’s this one piece of the puzzle she just wasn’t able to tell.

“Goodnight, Ren.” she finally said.

“Goodnight, Yuna.”

The door shut quietly behind her.

And I stood there, heart full and heavy all at once.

She wasn’t ready to tell me everything.

But she’s told me enough.

And whatever came next…

I’ll fight alongside her.