{"id":7206,"date":"2026-03-27T16:52:47","date_gmt":"2026-03-27T03:52:47","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/madame-dee.com\/?p=7206"},"modified":"2026-04-30T00:21:18","modified_gmt":"2026-04-29T11:21:18","slug":"sum-xian-at-the-incheon-airport","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/madame-dee.com\/index.php\/2026\/03\/27\/sum-xian-at-the-incheon-airport\/","title":{"rendered":"At the Incheon Airport"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Xi’an, All things start<\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Life had grown dull, so I decided to ruin it beautifully.
(From an Instagram post, October 14, 2017)<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The dry sandwich had no taste. My eyes, still heavy with sleep, ached as I stared blankly out the window. Outside, a plane cut through the air with a low whirr. The sky was blindingly bright blue.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was perfect weather for leaving.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Incheon Airport departure area was crowded. People who are waiting for a plane look so different. Some people were focused on their phones or laptops, and others talked with companions. Some held shopping bags stuffed with duty-free purchases, while others spoke on the phone, as if saying their final goodbyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Among all those lively, animated faces, feeling like I was the only one wearing an empty face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I had held a plan to leave Korea for the last three years. It was my life bucket list\u2014I wanted to see the world.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But somewhere between, the meaning of this journey had changed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My parents divorced. I separated from the siblings I lived with. I left the neighbourhood where I had spent almost my entire life. The work I once loved became nothing more than routine after five years. I had a falling-out with my closest friend and cut off contact. I became sensitive, withdrawn, isolating myself from everyone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My life had never been entirely stable. Still, I believed it wouldn\u2019t change.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And suddenly, the base of my life collapsed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was left over in a place without a roof to shield me from the rain, nor solid ground to stand on. I wanted to scream for help, but my pride wouldn\u2019t allow it. I hid my hurts below a smile and swallowed my pain in silence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The poison building inside me began to tighten around my throat. I felt like I was suffocating.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So I bought a plane ticket.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was the first real action I had taken since deciding to travel. And the following year, a journey that once had a purpose turned into an escape plan\u2014a way to avoid reality.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When had that shift begun?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

If I hadn\u2019t called the police that day\u2026 would things have turned out differently?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Even after a year, the memory remained vivid. Without thinking, I reached up and touched my earring. The small thing in my earlobe suddenly felt bothersome.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I should have taken it off.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When I got slapped on the face and thrown to the ground, the first thing I saw was the small earring, stained with blood. Those things I liked, now because of tainted, I knew I wouldn\u2019t wear them again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Slowly, I tried to stand myself up from the floor. My head rang. Without even thinking to wipe the blood from my ear, I picked up my phone with trembling hands.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

1, 1, 2.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A number I had never dialled before\u2014awkward, unfamiliar, despite how accustomed I was to violence disguised as discipline.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The officer who answered said they would come right away. While I waited, I shut the door and paced the small room anxiously.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Strangely, from outside the door came the sound of the television. As if it were any ordinary weekend evening, my father had begun watching TV.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My father.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A man who had neither loved nor liked me from the moment I was born\u2014who treated me as little more than an accessory of the family.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ll give you when you become a proper human being.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The words echoed in my ears, sharper than a slap.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That arrogant tone\u2014like a judgment by some honourable god\u2014made my body shake.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

What had I done to deserve this?
What was the reason to begin of the fight? Money? Pride?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It started with living expenses. The money I had always sent to my mother suddenly became an issue. Once voices were raised, my father, as always, lost control of his temper. What began as a dispute over money turned into accusations\u2014that I was an incompetent daughter who couldn\u2019t even keep a simple promise.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I snapped back. Said he was no different. Bought up the student loan he had promised to repay after I graduated\u2014
a promise he had never kept.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I had never truly expected him to repay it. I had two younger siblings still in university. So I quietly paid it off myself, with my meagre salary. Not once had I seriously intended to demand that money from him. I had only said it to defend myself against his barrage of criticism.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And then he said it again:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou should become a proper human being first.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My blood boiled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I had never been a proud daughter of his standard. I had graduated from an unremarkable university far from Seoul and worked at an ordinary small company.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But I had lived diligently. Even while repaying the heavy debt on my name, I still gave money to my parents. And whenever my father asked to buy something for his pleasure, I complied without complaint.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And yet, he didn\u2019t even treat me as human.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t need it. I won\u2019t take your filthy money.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The words slipped out, driven by wounded pride\u2014
And then he struck me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There was no time to react.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As soon as I hit the floor, I straightaway came to my senses. In the house, it was just the two of us. There was no one to protect me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So I picked up my phone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The police arrived sooner than I expected. But as in most cases with domestic violence, there was little they could do. I barely remember what I said during the brief questioning. My attention was entirely on my father\u2019s voice in the living room.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

While I trembled uncontrollably, his voice remained calm. There was no trace of guilt.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After a few questions, the officers asked what I wanted to do.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I said I would go to a friend\u2019s house.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I gathered only the essentials and stepped outside. My father didn\u2019t even glance at me as I left with the police.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I went straight to my friend H\u2019s place. The moment I saw her after getting off the bus, I broke down. She held me without a word while I cried like a child.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Even though it was her newlywed home, she welcomed me without hesitation and gave me a room. That night, with her and her husband, I washed away my pain with a few bottles of soju\u2014and tears.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The next day, I woke up late and found a long message from my father.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

[I\u2019m sorry about yesterday. But you should understand me as well.]<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I read the first line\u2014then deleted the message.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was something I had wanted to hear my whole life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019m sorry.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And yet, his first apology meant nothing to me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After that, we had a few more clashes before my parents divorced\u2014but that was the end of it. Once we were family, but after all, we became strangers who no longer had to meet each other.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

To me, my father became someone less than a passerby on the street.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And what remained in his place were many layers of wounds.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The unpleasant memories weighed on me, making my eyelids heavy. I just wanted to board the plane and sleep.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Even as I left home that morning\u2014my mother seeing me off, a massive bag on my back\u2014it didn\u2019t feel real. The bus ride, the rushed check-in at the airport\u2014it all felt like a part of a dream.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Even now, sitting in the departure hall, I couldn’t feel reality.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I couldn\u2019t even remember my mom\u2019s face this morning.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And strangely, that didn\u2019t make me sad.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

[Asiana Airlines flight OZ347 to Xi\u2019an is now boarding.]<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The announcement echoed overhead.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stood up and joined the line. I handed my ticket to the flight attendant and stepped onto the plane.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Only after taking my seat did it begin to feel some realism\u2014that I was leaving.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But I didn\u2019t feel excited.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

If anything, I felt calmer than usual.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And so began the greatest escape of my life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The plane lifted into the sky. The impossibly clear blue wrapped around me. It felt as though it were welcoming me\u2014
Or perhaps gently telling me, you\u2019ve done well.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It really was perfect weather for leaving.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Xi’an, All things start Life had grown dull, so I decided to ruin it beautifully.(From an Instagram post, October 14, 2017) The dry sandwich had no taste. My eyes, still heavy with sleep, ached as I stared blankly out the window. Outside, a plane cut through the air with a low whirr. The sky was … Continue reading At the Incheon Airport<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":7207,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[78],"tags":[82,85,88,86,83],"class_list":["post-7206","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-sum","tag-essay","tag-find-myself","tag-journal","tag-madam-d","tag-travel"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/madame-dee.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7206","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/madame-dee.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/madame-dee.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/madame-dee.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/madame-dee.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=7206"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"https:\/\/madame-dee.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7206\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":7325,"href":"https:\/\/madame-dee.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7206\/revisions\/7325"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/madame-dee.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/7207"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/madame-dee.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=7206"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/madame-dee.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=7206"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/madame-dee.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=7206"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}