When Theresa stepped into the arrival hall in Seoul, her heart pounded louder than the noise around her. She had memorized the photo of Mary Lou’s last video call, searching every face for the woman her daughter had become. Minutes felt like hours until she finally saw her—thinner, older, but unmistakably Mary Lou, standing hesitantly by a pillar, as if unsure whether to approach or run.

Their embrace was awkward at first, then desperate. In the cramped apartment Mary Lou shared with her husband, the truth unraveled in pieces: the debts, the long working hours, the arguments, the shame of not living the life she had promised her mother. “I said I was doing well,” Mary Lou whispered, tears falling, “because I didn’t want you to worry.” Theresa held her tighter. “I would rather worry with you,” she said, “than be comfortable without you.”