Once. Twice. Three times.
Yeong-gi’s name flashes on the screen.
I sigh, torn between picking it up and letting it go to voicemail. Eventually, I give in—it’s hard to ignore that small voice in my head reminding me he’s still my family.
“Min-hee,” he says, his voice heavy with that fake sincerity he only uses when he needs something big. “I’m sorry about last time. I swear, Dad sounded worse when we talked on the phone. I’m just… worried about him, that’s why I came to find you. You know I can only depend on you.”
I don’t answer. I’ve learned that silence unsettles him more than words ever could.
“It’s not about Dad this time,” he rushes on, his pitch sliding neatly into place. “This is a real thing. I’m talking angel investors, Min-hee. I just need a tiny bit of seed money. This time, I’mserious. It’s solar panels for home electricity—huge market in Indonesia and Thailand. It’d be a shame to miss out on this opportunity because… everyone needs electricity, right?”
I inhale slowly, resisting the urge to cut through the bullshit right there. Another “big idea.” Another attempt to pull money from me, wrapped in business buzzwords. Same old song.
Across the table, Shin quietly polishes his glasses, calm and unbothered. I borrow a little of that calm, letting it steady my voice.
“Yeong-gi,” I say finally, the firmness in my tone surprising even me. “I’ll call you back.”
I end the call, with no intention of actually calling him back. It’s just easier to say that—because if I keep talking to him for another minute, I might explode.
Shin stops polishing his glasses. He looks up, pushes himself off the floor, and takes two steps toward me, tucking the cloth and glasses neatly into his glasses case.
“Your brother?” he asks, his voice quiet but sharp. “What does he want now?”
I flinch, embarrassment creeping in. “Another business venture. Angel investors. In other words, he needs money.”
Shin exhales. He doesn’t sigh at me, but for me. He sits down on the couch beside me—closer than he usually does—and turns my face toward him with a gentle hand.
“Min-hee,” he says, his gaze clear and steady. “Family isn’t supposed to be a loan.”
I shrug, suddenly feeling small and fourteen again. “I’m all he has.”
“You can’t be his safety net forever. Every time you give him money, you keep him from standing on his own.”
The phrase safety net stings more than it should. He’s right. The life I’ve built—the one I’m clinging to now—feels more like a tightrope, and they’re shaking it from below.
I twist the phone in my hand and think over his words for a while.
“I’m going to call him back,” I say, the decision settling in my bones.
“Good,” Shin says. He shifts slightly closer on the couch. “It’s time.”
I dial the number. My brother answers on the first ring.
“Min-hee? So what do you say?”
“I don’t have any money for you,” I say, cutting to the chase.
The silence on the other end is loud and immediate.
“I’m done with the loans, Yeong-gi,” I continue, my voice steady and flat. “It’s enough.”
I end the call, the line going dead immediately. My hand trembles, but this time it’s not from fear—it’s from the force of a boundary finally held.
Shin shifts closer, sliding an arm around my shoulders. His hand is warm and reassuring. “Let it go, Min-hee,” he says softly. “You’ve carried them long enough.”
***
Tuesday morning, I’m ripped from a dead sleep by my phone buzzing on the nightstand. Not a soft chime, but the harsh, insistent buzz of an email notification.What now?I thought. Every time my phone rang or buzzed these days, I flinched a little.
