On the flight, Theresa replayed every memory: Mary Lou’s laughter as a child, the arguments about Kang Jun, the quiet wedding she never attended. Doubt gnawed at her—was she about to ruin her daughter’s life, or save it? When the plane landed, the foreign signs and unfamiliar language made her feel small, but the thought of turning back felt worse than any fear.

With only an old address and a crumpled photo, she navigated the city, each step heavier than the last. At Kang Jun’s apartment door, her hand shook as she knocked. It opened slowly. There stood Mary Lou—older, tired, yet unmistakably her child. For a moment, neither spoke. Then her daughter’s eyes filled with tears, the practiced distance shattering. In that fragile silence, Theresa understood: “doing well” had never meant happy, and coming here was the first choice her daughter hadn’t had to make alone.