The dinner table was filled with laughter and the sound of utensils clinking against plates. Kim did his best to join in the conversation, but his thoughts kept drifting to the day he had just experienced. He focused on the positive aspects of university life—the new friends he was meeting, the opportunities for learning, and the promise of a better future. He intentionally avoided talking about the challenges, the discrimination, and the harsh realities that had already begun to weigh on him. His parents didn’t need to know about the struggles, not yet.

As he spoke, he kept his voice steady and his face neutral, trying to hide the fatigue in his eyes. He was careful to keep his hand hidden beneath the table, where the bandage on his wrist wouldn’t be visible. He had sprained it earlier in the day while hurrying off the bus, but it wasn’t painful enough to warrant concern. Still, he didn’t want to worry his parents. They had enough on their plate already, and he wasn’t about to add another burden.

"How was your first day? Did you make any friends?" Ji-yeon asked between bites of food, her eyes wide with curiosity.

Kim nodded, forcing a smile. "Yes, I met some good people. They're friendly. I’m sure I’ll get along with everyone. It’s a big change, but I’ll manage." He didn’t mention the quiet exclusion he had already felt, nor the way he had been made to feel out of place among the wealthier students. Instead, he spoke about the professors, the interesting courses, and the feeling of being in a new and exciting environment.

Ji-sung leaned in, eager to hear more. "That’s great! I bet you’re going to do amazing things there, Hyung!" he said with a grin.

Kim smiled at his brother, touched by his faith in him. "I’ll do my best," he said, trying to keep the weight of his words light.

As they continued eating, his mother watched him closely. She always had a way of reading her children, especially Kim. The slight furrow in his brow, the way his fingers fidgeted with his chopsticks—it was all there, the signs that something was off. She had raised him to be strong, but she knew him too well to believe that everything was truly okay.

After dinner, when the table had been cleared and the evening had settled into a peaceful quiet, Kim retreated to the living room, feeling the exhaustion of the day catch up with him. He had barely had a moment to himself since arriving home, but now, finally, there was a lull.

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His mother approached him, a small bottle of ointment in her hand. "Kim," she began softly, "I noticed you were holding your hand awkwardly during dinner. What happened?" She sat down beside him, her gaze soft yet concerned.

Kim froze, momentarily caught off guard. His mother’s perceptiveness was something he had never been able to escape. He had hoped to go unnoticed, to avoid any questions about the bandage, but she had seen through him.

“It’s nothing, Eomma,” he replied quickly, trying to brush it off. “I slipped while getting off the bus earlier today. It’s just a small sprain. It doesn’t hurt much.”

His mother’s expression shifted, though. She didn’t look convinced. "Kim, you should have told me," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "Why didn’t you say anything earlier? You could have hurt yourself more."

Kim felt a pang of guilt. He hadn’t wanted to worry her, but now he could see the concern in her eyes. “I didn’t think it was serious,” he said, avoiding her gaze. “It’s really not that bad. I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

But his mother wasn’t easily reassured. She gently took his hand, examining the bandage with a practiced eye. "If you’re in pain, we can go to a doctor, you know," she said, her tone laced with concern.

Kim shook his head, the thought of seeing a doctor feeling like one more thing he couldn’t afford to add to his already growing list of problems. "I’m fine, really. It’s nothing that needs a doctor. Don’t worry about me, Eomma," he insisted, hoping she would let it go.

For a moment, there was silence as his mother studied him, her eyes searching his face. Then, with a soft sigh, she relented. "Alright, but if it gets worse, you let me know. I don’t want you to suffer in silence." She patted his hand and gave him a small smile.

Kim nodded, grateful for her understanding. "I will," he promised. He didn’t want to cause her any more stress than she already had.

As the evening came to a close, the family settled into their respective routines. Kim's father retired to his study, his usual quiet, steady presence providing a sense of stability. His siblings, tired from their own day, went to bed with the usual chatter and laughter. But for Kim, sleep didn’t come easily.

He lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling as the events of the day replayed in his mind. Tomorrow would be another challenge. His first full day of classes would begin, and the pressure to prove himself would only grow heavier. The thought of facing the harsh realities of university again made his stomach churn, but he couldn’t let that show. He had to be brave. He had to be stronger than ever before.

Kim closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He couldn’t afford to be weak. Not now. He had to stay focused, for his family’s sake. They had placed all their hopes in him, and he couldn’t let them down. As he drifted into a restless sleep, the promise he had made to himself earlier in the evening echoed in his mind. He would face whatever came next with unwavering resolve. His future—and theirs—depended on it.