We were all wrong. Father's voice was calm but tired, and Mother bowed her head to the side, tears silently rolling down her haggard cheeks. It was a conversation I overheard at the door of the study, as if swept away by the harsh cold wind, cold and helpless.
This home is no longer the warm and harmonious home I once knew. From the moment I stumbled upon that heartbreaking text message on my father's phone, all order, trust, and peace were shattered. I think I should be angry, I should be roaring, but I just felt hollow, a boundless hollowness. My parents' love for me used to be the whole of my world, but now, that love is like a broken mirror, reflecting only the cruel reality.
Soon, I found a male ring in my mother's bag. The unfamiliar name, the name that was clearly not the father's. I realized that my father was not the only one who betrayed. My mother, too, cheated on her. This fact pierced my fragile heart like a sharp knife. Their fault was a betrayal of each other, and a betrayal of me, a child.
We were all wrong. That phrase echoed in my ears, whipping my soul like a merciless whip. I don't know how to face such parents, let alone this broken family. In the midst of this, I seem to see their helplessness and confusion, and I also feel that they are still full of love for me.
I began to face the secret alone, and it weighed down on my heart like a heavy stone, making it impossible for me to breathe. I didn't dare to reveal it to anyone, not even to my parents. I don't want to cause them more pain, and I don't want them to know how much their mistakes have cost me.
But I knew that I couldn't just let things go. I need to find answers, I need to understand their choices, I need to forgive their mistakes. Because no matter what, they are still my parents, and I still love them dearly.
Maybe that's the price of growth, the fact that we don't want to see. In the face of such facts, I can only choose to understand, accept, and grow.