The morning sun filtered gently through the cream-colored curtains of Linda's bedroom, casting a warm, golden hue across the room. The chirping of distant birds and the rustle of leaves outside her window added to the serenity of the early hour. It was one of those rare mornings that felt calm and gentle—as if the world had hit pause for a moment. The subtle breeze that slipped in through the slightly open window carried the crisp scent of early dew and blossoming flowers. It was peaceful, almost poetic.
Linda stirred beneath her covers and slowly opened her eyes, blinking away the remnants of a dream she couldn't quite remember. Her body felt heavy with exhaustion, and as she sat up in bed, a dull ache reminded her of the previous night. She glanced down at herself, realizing she was still in her school uniform from the day before. Her skirt was crumpled, her blouse slightly creased.
She sighed softly and rubbed her eyes.
"I must've been really tired," she mumbled to herself.
Last night, after returning from Jae Min's apartment, she had fallen onto her bed without even bothering to change or remove her shoes. The mix of emotional weight and physical exhaustion had swept her into sleep the moment her head hit the pillow.
She let out a lazy yawn and slowly slid off the bed, her bare feet touching the cool wooden floor. Her gaze shifted absently around her room until something caught her eye—the framed portrait on the wall beside her bookshelf. It was a photo of her younger self, maybe six or seven years old, dressed in a frilly white dress, sitting on a pink velvet stool with her hands clasped in her lap. Her eyes sparkled with innocence and wonder, framed by her thick styled curly hair.
She stood up and walked toward it, pulled by a soft thread of nostalgia. Carefully, she lifted the frame from the wall and turned it over. On the back, written in a delicate, flowing script, was a short but powerful message:
"You are special. Love, Mama."
She stared at the words for a long time. A strange warmth fluttered in her chest, followed by a tightening feeling she couldn't name. Her fingers grazed the handwritten message as the past came rushing in like a silent tide.
FLASHBACK
She was five years old—small, curious, and full of questions about the world. At that age, every little thing seemed larger than life. She had a neighbor back then, a woman known for her opulence and a sharp tongue. Her name was Lady Tasha, though most people simply called her Lady T. She lived in the sleek villa two blocks down and had a daughter around Linda's age—Ana.
Ana was fair-skinned with silky, platinum-blonde hair and icy blue eyes. Linda, drawn to her beauty and poise, had tried countless times to make friends with her. But Ana never responded kindly. She often ignored Linda, rolled her eyes at her attempts, or dismissed her with snide remarks.
Then came the day Linda would never forget.
It had been a bright summer afternoon. Linda had seen Ana playing outside her gate with a skipping rope. Gathering her courage, Linda walked up with a hopeful smile.
"Hi Ana," she said sweetly, hands behind her back.
Ana stopped skipping and turned to look at her. Her eyes narrowed.
"Why are you always following me?" she snapped.
"I just wanted to play," Linda replied, shy but genuine.
Ana looked her up and down, disgust crawling across her face.
"You're a black ugly duck. I don't play with people like you."
The words hit like stones.
Linda took a step back, her eyes wide with confusion. "That's not nice," she said softly.
But before she could say more, Ana shoved her hard. Linda stumbled and landed on the ground, her elbow scraping against the pavement.
"Stay away from me!" Ana shouted.
That's when Lady T came out, saw Linda on the ground, and immediately assumed she was at fault.
"You little brat!" the woman snarled. She rushed forward and grabbed Linda by the arm, yanking her up roughly. "I've warned you before! Stay away from my child!"
Before Linda could react, the woman slapped her, then pushed her again. Linda shrieked in pain and shock.
"Get your filthy hands off her!"
Mrs. Lee, Linda's guardian, came charging out from their gate, her eyes blazing with fury. She shoved Lady T away and stood between her and Linda.
"You dare lay a hand on my daughter again, and I swear—"
"Oh please," Lady T hissed, "you should thank me for putting that jungle monkey in her place."
Mrs. Lee's eyes widened with horror.
"You should be ashamed, Mrs. Lee," Lady T continued. "You went all the way to some godforsaken forest to adopt a wild animal, and now you want her to mix with decent children?"
"You are mentally unstable," Mrs. Lee snapped. "I won't let you project your sickness on my daughter."
"Oh, and what would you know about motherhood? You're barren! A barren woman who picked a black monkey just so people would stop talking."
That word—barren—stung more than any slap. Linda could feel Mrs. Lee's hand tighten around her protectively.
Mrs. Lee shouted back, her voice breaking, "You may have a child, but you'll never know what it means to love one."
Lady T scoffed, flipped her hair, and stormed off with Ana, who cast Linda one last cruel smirk.
Later, back inside their home, Mrs. Lee was still pacing, visibly shaken.
Linda walked up to her, her small voice trembling. "Is it true? You're not really my mom? That I'm a monkey from the forest?"
Mrs. Lee knelt down immediately, her hands gripping Linda's shoulders.
"No. No, sweetheart. You are my daughter. That woman is sick in the head. Don't listen to her."
"Then why do I look different from everyone? Why is my skin darker? Why isn't my hair like theirs?"
Mrs. Lee took a deep breath and sat down, pulling Linda gently onto her lap.
"Listen, when I was pregnant with you, your dad had a very close friend—he was a Black man. He was wise, gentle, and incredibly smart. He always said he hoped our child would have a spirit as strong and beautiful as his. Maybe, just maybe, that wish came true. Maybe the universe made you extra special."
Linda's eyes lit up slightly. "So I'm special?"
Mrs. Lee smiled. "So special that no one else in this country looks like you. That's your magic."
"And my hair?" Linda asked, tugging at her thick curls.
Mrs. Lee stood and playfully pinched her nose. "Well, how about we go shopping? New hair care, skin care, and the best makeover in town. Let's turn this lion's mane into golden silk."
Linda giggled. "Okay!"
And so they did. That day, Mrs. Lee took her to the mall. They visited a luxurious spa where Linda got a gentle massage, a hair treatment, a facial scrub, and her very first manicure. Then came the photo shoot. Linda wore the frilly dress Mrs. Lee picked out, posed with wide eyes and a hopeful smile—and clicked that very picture.
PRESENT
Linda stood in her room, holding the frame close to her chest. A small laugh escaped her lips.
"What a silly little girl I was," she whispered. "So naive."
She gently returned the portrait to the wall, smoothing it into place with care. The warmth of the memory lingered like sunlight on her skin.
With a renewed sense of calm, she stretched her arms and headed into the bathroom, ready to start her day—not just as a student preparing for exams, but as the girl whose difference was her strength, and whose mother taught her to shine.