Scar

Kim Jiho watched the children with envy as they raced past him, their laughter filling the air.

"How nice it would be if I could run like them," he mused, a wistful smile playing on his lips.

His gaze lingered on the carefree kids for just a moment, their energy and vitality a stark contrast to his own tired and sluggish steps.

With a quiet sigh, he continued his journey toward home, savoring the leisurely pace.

The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the street.

The thought of his parents growing worried as evening descended prompted him to quicken his pace.

But just as he started walking briskly, a sudden twinge of pain shot through his right knee, causing him to wince.

He winced, clutching his aching knee. The pain was a cruel reminder of his physical limitations, and he couldn't help but feel a tinge of frustration.

Yet, determined to reach home before darkness completely enveloped the neighborhood, he pressed on, his steps now measured and cautious.

After some time, he turned onto the familiar street where his family's home stood. The warm glow of the porch light beckoned him, offering a comforting contrast to the encroaching darkness.

With a sense of relief, he reached his front door and paused for a moment to catch his breath.

He took in the familiar scent of his mother's cooking wafting from the kitchen and the distant sound of his father reading the newspaper in the living room.

Entering the living room, his father looked up from the newspaper and smiled, "Jiho, you're back! How was your day?" Jiho managed a tired smile, "It was good, Dad, just a bit tiring."

His mother, bustling around in the kitchen, chimed in, "Dinner will be ready in a few minutes, dear. Why don't you rest for a bit or take a bath?"

Jiho nodded gratefully and headed to his room.

As he passed by his mother, she couldn't help but express her concern, "You've been working so late lately. I worry about your studies. Your finals are coming up, and you need to focus on them too."

Jiho nodded, understanding the gravity of his mother's words. Balancing work, studies, and the responsibilities of home was challenging, but he was determined to do it.

His mother then placed a hand on his shoulder and said gently, "Remember, Jiho, if your job ever becomes too tiring and interferes with your studies, don't hesitate to talk to us. We can find a way to manage things together."

Her words brought a sense of comfort to Jiho. For a moment, the fatigue accumulated throughout the whole day disappeared.

As he eased himself onto his bed, he couldn't help but reflect on the day's journey.

He had just finished another grueling shift at his part-time job, where he worked tirelessly to support his family.

After a brief rest in his room, he decided to freshen up before dinner.

The day's labor had left him feeling sweaty and tired. Before entering the bathroom, he took a fresh set of clothes and a towel.

Upon entering the bathroom, he started undressing himself.

As he undressed, he couldn't help but feel the weight of the day lifting from his shoulders.

However, he couldn't help but notice a faint scar on his right knee. It was a reminder of an accident, a testament to the resilience he had developed over the months.

Not long ago, he had harbored dreams of becoming a talented runner. He had dedicated himself to rigorous training, striving to excel in the sport he loved.

Every morning, he would lace up his running shoes and hit the track, the rhythm of his footsteps bringing him closer to his aspirations.

However, just a few months ago, disaster struck during a critical race. As he pushed his body to the limit, a sudden misstep led to a painful fall.

His right knee bore the brunt of the impact, and he knew instantly that something was seriously wrong.

The injury proved to be severe, requiring surgery and months of grueling rehabilitation.

Jiho's dreams of becoming a professional runner were shattered, and in their place remained the scar on his right knee—a constant reminder of the abrupt change in his life's course.

Even though it had faded over time, that scar on his right knee remained a constant, bittersweet reminder of everything he had lost.

As he stood in the warm water, running his fingers over the faded but indelible mark, tears welled up in his eyes.

That scar was more than a physical blemish; it was a painful testament to the dreams that had slipped through his fingers.

It was a constant reminder of the athlete he used to be, the aspirations that had been shattered, and the future that had crumbled before his eyes.

'I really hate this scar.'