For twelve years, I had learned to live with questions.
My daughter had been only 21 when she married a Korean man and moved away. At first, I thought she would come back within a few months. Then a year passed. Then another.
She never returned.
She called occasionally, but our conversations were always strangely short. Whenever I asked when she was coming home, she would give me the same vague answer.
“Mom, I promise I’ll explain everything someday.”
I never understood what she meant.
Then the money started arriving.
Every year, without fail, my daughter sent me $80,000.
At first, I refused to believe it was really from her. I called her immediately and asked why she was sending so much money.
“You need it more than I do,” she said.
“But where are you getting this kind of money?”
There was a long silence.
Then she simply replied, “Please don’t ask me that.”
