Chapter 12

12

A week had passed since I confided my worries to Chivonn, and I had managed to avoid any encounters with Kaito, much to my relief. I felt a false sense of security wash over me, like a thin veil shielding me from the trouble he brought. After that fateful night, when I'd kicked him in the nuts and made it clear I wasn't to be messed with, I had hoped he would finally get the message.

As I drove back to my parents' house, the familiar streets blurred past, and I allowed myself to breathe a little easier. Maybe things would finally settle down. Yet, as the memories of Kaito's dark gaze and cocky smirk lingered in my mind, I couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't over. I remained on edge, half-expecting him to materialize out of the shadows at any moment.

The familiar sight of my parents' house, with its neatly trimmed lawn and warm, inviting fa?ade, brought a different mix of relief and dread. I pulled into the driveway, mentally bracing myself for the inevitable interrogation that awaited me. Despite my efforts to stay positive, I couldn't shake the knot of anxiety that always accompanied these visits.

As I stepped out of the car, my mother appeared at the door, her face lighting up with a forced smile that did little to mask her underlying concern. "Mae, you're here! It's been too long."

"Ma, I was here like a week ago," I said, sighing. My father joined us, standing beside her in the doorway. "I brought some groceries to help out. I hope that's okay."

"Yes, yes. Come. Come inside," my mother urged, taking the bags from me with a mix of relief and expectation. "You know, we worry about you. How are things going? Do you have enough to eat? Your cheeks are not so puffy today."

I always found it strange how well-being in our culture seemed inextricably linked to food. It was as if nourishment was the ultimate measure of love and care. No matter what else was happening in my life, their focus always shifted back to my meals—whether it be too much or too little. I could almost hear the unspoken rule: if I wasn't eating enough, then everything else fell apart.

I smiled weakly, trying to deflect the weight of their concern. "I'm fine, really. Just busy with work. We've had a lot of clients lately." But even as I said it, I felt the familiar pang of guilt. Their worries were genuine, and I didn't want to add to their burdens.

My father, who was now preparing tea in the kitchen, glanced over with a sigh. "That's good to hear, but you really should consider a more stable job. Tattoos are fine, but they're not exactly a secure future. The clients can fluctuate, yes?"

I felt a familiar surge of frustration while I started putting their groceries away. Their fridge looked a little empty and I began to wonder if my parents were sharing some of their food with the neighbors. "I'm doing what I love, and it's working for me. Even with a few clients, the money is good, Pa."

My mother looked at me with a pained expression. "But Mae, don't you want to be settled? A ‘normal' job would offer more security so you do not have to worry about how many people come in. We just want to see you safe and comfortable."

I could feel the pressure mounting. "I'm managing just fine, Ma. I'm the one bringing you groceries. It's not the job, okay? The job is good. It's always good."

"And what about finding a husband?" My mother's tone was insistent, almost pleading. "You're not getting any younger, Mae. It's important to have a family, to settle down. We've been waiting for you to give us grandchildren."

And there it was. The biggest elephant in the room. In our culture, familial success was measured not just by personal achievements but by the brood of grandchildren that followed. Their expectations loomed over me like an unyielding shadow, a constant reminder that my life choices were still seen through the lens of tradition. The thought of fulfilling that role felt heavy and suffocating especially in the midst of this Kaito nonsense.

I couldn't help but wonder if I'd ever meet those expectations while trying to carve my own path. Kaito's relationship had made me hesitant to embark on any new ones.

The familiar guilt began to creep in. "I'm focused on my career right now. I don't want to rush into something when I'm not ready. I mean, I can always find you guys a little dog to take care of."

My father joined in, his voice tinged with the disappointment I knew was coming. "It's not just about expectations. It's about your future. We worry about you being alone and without support. It's not easy out there, you know."

"I understand, Pa," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

My mother's face fell, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, constricting my chest with discomfort. "We just want what's best for you. It's hard for us to see you alone. We worked so hard to give you a good life."

Guilt, thy name is family. "I'm doing my best to balance everything, Ma. I want to make sure you're okay."

"But Mae-Mae," my mother said, her voice quivering, "we've given you everything we could. We sacrificed so much for you to have opportunities, and now it feels like you're throwing it all away. What will happen to us if something were to happen to you?"

Please don't do this right now .

The guilt was overwhelming, and I struggled to maintain composure. "I'm trying to make sure you're taken care of. I brought groceries to help out, and I'm always here to support you. I just need you to understand that I'm doing what feels right for me."

My father chimed in. "We just want you to be happy, but we're also worried. You're our only child left, and it's hard not to think about what could happen."

His words felt like a hammer in my gut. Everyone had lost loved ones during wartime in the motherland, including my own family.

As the conversation continued, the guilt trips and unspoken expectations weighed heavily on me. My parents' concerns, though rooted in love, felt like an unrelenting pressure to conform to their vision of a "successful" life.

I stood up, relief and lingering guilt consuming me. "It will be okay. I promise."

"Mae-Mae," my mother said, her voice barely above a whisper. "All we have is family."

I know, Ma. Believe me, I know.

As the early afternoon sun cast long shadows, I busily moved about my childhood home, trying to find a productive way to help my parents. Since they voiced their concerns about finances, I decided it might be a good idea to offer some practical help. After a bit of persuasion, I convinced them to let me sort through some of their unused items to see if we could sell anything for extra cash.

We started in my old bedroom, a space filled with old boxes, dusty furniture, and a tangle of memories. My mother hovered nervously while I pulled an old, cobweb-covered trunk she probably found at a thrift store.

"I don't know, Mae," she said hesitantly. "A lot of these things have sentimental value. Your father and I keep them because they mean something to us."

"I understand, Ma," I said gently. "But we could really use the extra cash right now to start a little savings account for you and Pa. And we can always keep the things that truly matter. Let me just see what we have here and we can decide together."

I chose not to mention that I'd been quietly building my own savings at the bank, just in case anything happened to me. They didn't need that kind of stress.

My father grunted in agreement from the corner of the room, a bowl of porridge in his hands. "We trust you, Mae-Mae. You've always been smart. But be careful with what you touch. Some of these things are precious to us."

I carefully opened the trunk and began to sort through its contents. Old family photos, faded letters, and vintage, traditional sarongs came into view. I tried to set aside items that seemed less emotionally charged—books, old kitchen gadgets, and worn-out furniture.

As I sorted through my parents' things, I couldn't help but chuckle at the irony. Here I was, probably just recycling the same thrift store treasures they'd collected over the years. Half of this stuff had probably been in the neighborhood longer than I had.

A yard sale might be a better idea, but then I imagined the scene: all the neighbors showing up, each one clutching their own mismatched knickknacks, and it would be like a competition of who could unload the most bizarre trinkets. "Look, I have three of those ceramic cats!" someone would exclaim, and I'd just shake my head. Honestly, half the people around here were probably trying to get rid of the same stuff.

I sighed, smiling at the thought. At least we'd all be in it together, drowning in a sea of secondhand odds and ends. Maybe I should consider a consignment shop or something.

As I dug deeper, my hand brushed against something unusual. I pulled out a small, velvet pouch that had been tucked away in the corner of the trunk. It felt surprisingly heavy for its size. My curiosity piqued, I opened it to reveal an old pendant—a delicate piece with intricate designs that seemed out of place among the other items.

"Ma, Pa, do either of you recognize this?" I asked, holding up the pendant.

My mother squinted at it, her brow furrowing in confusion. "No, I don't know what that is. We've never seen it before."

My father joined us, his face reflecting the same bewilderment as he scrunched his nose. "It doesn't look familiar. Are you sure it was ours?" He turned to my mother. "Did you borrow anything and forget to give it back?"

She scowled and put her hands on her hips. "We borrow things like pots, not pendants. Who borrows an item like that?"

I ignored their bickering and continued. "It was in this trunk with all the other things…" Holding it in front of me, I examined the pendant more closely, running my fingers along the design. "It does look pretty old, though. Maybe I can do some research online to see if I can find out more about it."

My mother's expression shifted from confusion to concern. "Yes, you do the internet and see if the google tells you what you need to know. If it doesn't belong to us, maybe it's better to leave it alone."

"I'll be careful," I reassured her, slipping the pendant into my pocket. "It might not be worth anything, but who knows? It could have some history."

With the pendant safely tucked away, I continued sorting through the room, selecting items that seemed less personal for sale. I noticed my parents' reluctance as we decided what to let go of, but I tried to reassure them.

"I know it's hard to part with things," I said softly. "But this is going to invest for the future. We can keep what's most meaningful to us."

My mother sighed, her gaze lingering on a box of old keepsakes. "It's not easy, Mae."

"I know, Ma. Change is hard. Believe me, I know. But we're doing this for a good reason," I said, offering a supportive smile. "And if it helps you guys, it's worth it. Plus, we can always keep the things that really matter."

Eventually, we managed to sort out a small pile of items for sale. The process was bittersweet, but my parents seemed to accept it with a mixture of resignation and relief. As we finished, I made a mental note to research the pendant later and see if it held any significance.

Later that evening, after the visit was over and I was back home, I noticed something colorful sitting at my front door as I pulled into my driveway. I stepped closer and my heart sank—a bouquet of vibrant flowers that looked way too expensive for this part of town.

I knew exactly who left these: Kaito.

A mix of frustration and familiarity washed over me. Who else would try to invade my space like this, even after everything? I glanced around, half-expecting to see him lurking nearby, but the street was quiet with all the familiar cars on the street. With a mix of annoyance and dread, I bent down to pick them up, inhaling their sweet fragrance, but it did nothing to soften the disdain I held for him.

Setting the flowers down on my neighbor's steps, I hoped they would serve a better purpose, like brightening the old lady's day. She always appreciated small gestures, and maybe these blooms could bring a smile to her face. I made sure to take the card from the bouquet, knowing it would only complicate things if Kaito's name was on it.

As I tucked the card into my pocket, I felt a mix of guilt and relief. It was one less reminder of his presence in my life, one less thread connecting me to the chaos he brought. I stepped back, glancing at the flowers one last time before heading inside, my mind swirling with thoughts of the pendant and the mysteries it might hold .

I moved to my computer and pulled the pendant from my pocket, its weight feeling heavier in my hand before I set it on the desk. I began searching online for any clues about its origin, my heart racing with anticipation. The intricate design and the metal's patina suggested it might be quite old, maybe even significant.

As I scrolled through various images and articles, I stumbled upon threads about ancient Asian myths and legends. I found myself pulled into a rabbit hole of lore I had never expected. Stories of old gods, celestial beings, and mystical creatures unfolded on the screen, each one more fantastical than the last. I read about deities who controlled the elements, guardians of the earth, and tragic tales of love and loss that spanned centuries.

What started as a simple search for the pendant's origins spiraled into a labyrinth of myths and cultural narratives. My mind raced while I clicked through pages that spoke of auspicious symbols and omens, ancient rites, and forgotten practices. The more I read, the more I felt like I had wandered into an entirely different world, one filled with symbolism and secrets that felt far removed from my everyday life.

I couldn't help but feel a mix of fascination and frustration. Was I even on the right thread? This wasn't what I had signed up for when I wanted to know about a piece of jewelry; it felt like I had ended up in a scholarly debate rather than a simple history lesson. The glowing screen felt oppressive, and after another moment of confusion, I shut my computer down, leaning back in my chair. I let out a heavy sigh, trying to shake off the overwhelming sense of being lost in something I didn't quite understand.