Chapter 9: The Blame That Broke Something Else
The sound of shattered glass echoed down the hallway.
Yunseo had just stepped out of the bathroom when the commotion began — voices rising in the living room, his father's sharp tone cutting through.
He padded quietly down the hall, heart already racing.
Then he saw it: a broken model plane on the floor, pieces scattered like fragments of a memory. It had been Minjae's — a birthday gift from their father, something the two of them had built together last month.
Minjae stood nearby, wide-eyed and quiet. His hands were at his sides. Yunseo looked at him, trying to read his face — was he scared? Angry? Hiding something?
Their father's eyes turned on Yunseo like a spotlight.
"Did you do this?" he asked, voice cold.
Yunseo froze. "What?"
"Don't play dumb. You've been angry, distant — and jealous ever since Minjae got here. I warned you to get along."
"I didn't touch it!" Yunseo said quickly, his voice cracking. "I didn't even go near the shelf."
"You're the only one who was upstairs today!" his father snapped. "Why can't you just admit it for once?"
From behind the couch, his mother appeared — silent, eyes flicking between her husband and her son. Her lips parted, as if she wanted to speak. But no sound came out.
Yunseo looked at her. "Mom…"
She looked away.
That was the worst part.
Not the accusation. Not the fact that Minjae said nothing, didn't even seem to know what to say.
But that his mother — the one person who used to stand up for him — stood still now, eyes downcast, hands clenched in her sleeves.
"She always lets him talk over us now," Yunseo thought bitterly. "Maybe she's afraid he'll leave her too."
"You've become ungrateful," his father continued. "Minjae hasn't done anything to deserve this. You owe him an apology."
Yunseo felt like something cracked inside. Not loudly like the plane — just quietly, like something inside him gave up.
He didn't say another word. Not when they made him sweep the broken pieces. Not when his mom gently touched his shoulder and whispered, "Just let it go."
Not even when he heard Minjae's voice later behind the bedroom door saying, "I don't think he did it…"
Yunseo lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, tears silently sliding into his pillow.
If this was what it meant to "make space" for someone new, then maybe there was no room left for him at all.