8

Why Me? Why You?
(Why did I love you who cannot love?)

We struggle to teach others how to love us.
In that struggle, we often forget how to appreciate the love they already give us as only they can give it.
There are two parts to a gift -- the giving and accepting. Neither can be dictated.

- Nancy Taylor Robson

In one of her classes, here is what Moon Byulyi has said.

"Humans, we were born imitators." She told the rows of students that were busy taking notes as she went on. "First babbles, first walk, almost everything we did was done with the intention to imitate. No wonder we sound like the books we've read, the places we've been to, people we interacted with along the way… Family, friends, even the most distant strangers." The professor trails her fingers along the metal rail, determining the number of steps around the podium before moving on. "The desire runs so deep that we start to lose track of whatever we are supposed to be in the middle."

Byulyi tends to treat herself and the subject she taught as two different matters, but now she wonders whether they rooted down even more than she expected.

On the day of the accident, she forbade anyone to visit her in the hospital. Even her mother. After weeks, she and her girlfriend (now ex) drifted away, and the first sight that greeted her in the apartment was of her mother's back at the dining table, heaving shoulders and sobs. Everything will be alright, she said. Your father is even sadder than I am. But we will be with you every step of the way. You can count on us.

First of all, she knew the dad part was a lie. Her father is the kind of businessman that accepts nothing below perfection. She could imagine his straight, no-nonsense frown as he was struck with immense disappointment by the faded possibility of an heir to his line of business. And the incoming chore to find another successor.

Not like this is the first time she has disappointed him before.

Her mom was the same victim of disappointing hopes, and although Byulyi has forced her to bear with her 'lack' of accomplishment, Byulyi cannot imagine her mother facing another day of this certain situation pushed down . A certain situation of having a daughter going blind.

Graduated from a good university, applying for a good job with a decent girlfriend, after all attempts to steer off the expectations, she's still a mere imitator to her father's standard: a decent successor. Even when she applied as an educator. It's just a phase, because she will always find her way back into the company.

Even if it takes a car accident to bring a prodigal child back home.

"Things at your apartment are about to be relocated. You can choose which one to leave behind. Your father already has plans for you. For us." She stands up and puts her hand on Byulyi. "Everything will be alright."

She should go away. She has to.

--

30 minutes before the start of Chapter 1.

It's an empty night, devoid of all pedestrians. Moon Byulyi was about to have an encounter that changed her whole life, but that didn't stop her from sporting a touted brow. A sign of a bad mood. Her eyes were acting up again. There's a rumor of hooligans running to the disabled and screaming to their faces. You should be careful. But she forgets that entirely and in the spur of the moment, taking out a white cane with much reluctance and starts tapping on the asphalt.

That was before her bag was yanked to the back and she jerked to the side but it was too late to retaliate. Condescending laughs invade her senses as she is pushed to the side. "Are you blind?", "Are you blind?", "You must be faking it.".

The mood that had already gone sour and her fingers whitened from impossibly tight grip on her cane, mustering all the hate into it and she waved it in haphazard movement to the side. An agonizing howl from someone, later complaining their cheek had been slashed. Good. For the most twisted reason she needs somewhere to vent tonight. No one is to blame for the deteriorating sight. A glimpse of the sight unseen, she can feel a presence behind her back and thwart a cowardly attack by ing the cane behind, choking another brat by its stomach so hard that his puke sprayed in the air. He coughed his lungs out and although blurry she could still make out the scene of his goons coming to him, gathering to check his condition. Doesn't matter. Might be the perfect chance to grab her bag and bail--

Something blunt hit her in the face and she couldn't quite place her nose as she fell on her back, the laughs and sneers descending when she tried to recover from something that felt like a slap. A flash of the conversation on the day of that accident passed through in a rough awakening.

Glasses can solve this, but it is highly possible for the vision to worsen in the long haul,

Let's leave it at that. What kind of resolution does one need for a fate that's already resolute?

You will get through… whatever this thing that's happening right now. The heir of the Moon family will get through everything. Now is the time to get your act together and stop fooling around with something so trivial as… teaching a bunch of immature kids.

Blind. Not blind.

How does it matter again?

--

Byulyi woke up to find herself laid near the pedestal, clearly unconscious from the unfortunate encounter. Her entire body ached all over and she jerked at every movement, parched throat and dry lips. How long has she been unconscious? Half an hour later, as she checked her watch with a frown.

Her bag was nowhere to be found. She's sure she can find it at the nearest garbage dump somewhere.

But right now, she just wants to go home.

--

Byulyi hates asking for help. She hates hates hates it so much. Especially from a stranger. The awkwardness, she can never stand. How does one approach someone at night in this random bus stop without sounding creepy at all?

But this woman in front of her. Byulyi will give anything for those shoulders to stop shaking. Is she cold, or crying? Byulyi can never tell. It's not like she isn't aware that the fabric of clothing isn't that helpful against the night air. Whatever makes that bunch of brat interested to snatch her jacket as well.

"Excuse me."

Keep your distance. Don't sound too friendly unless you want to sound like a creep. Byulyi heard a soft gasp that soon dimin