Taeyo’s eyes scan from left to right as he reads the message appearing on his app. “Your halmeoni says, ‘Don’t be angry at your parents. They work hard to provide for you. I know you wish they were home more often. It’s no fun eating dinner alone, and it can get lonely in this big house always by yourself. But you mustn’t forget how much they love you. You must always remember that.’” Taeyo speaks in chunks, reading as fast as the words come through.

Jennie shrinks. It’s like she has turned into a child and is going to start sucking her thumb at any moment. David calmly pats her back.

“Halmeoni?” she whispers, her throat closing up. “Are you really here?”

Then, just as quickly as she softened, she hardens again. She looks at me and glowers. “I bet you’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Seeing me like this. Is that why you’re here? To watch me squirm? Because I’ve got news for you. I won’t break so easy.”

Her outburst takes me by surprise. Sure, I can’t say I’ve ever liked her. I mean, would I ever choose to hang out with her? Heck no! Has she made my life miserable every weekend at Saturday School, and would I like her to stop being such a bully? Heck yes! But that doesn’t mean I want to see her suffer—especially over something so serious. That’s not how I roll.

I hear the bearded man’s words in my head. There are always two sides to every story.

The thing is, I’ve only ever seen the nasty side of Jennie, and I’d assumed she just hated me for some reason. But then I saw her being nice to David at the temple. And now this. Maybe there is more to her than meets the eye.

I keep my mouth shut and signal for Taeyo to keep interpreting for the gwisin halmeoni.

“There’s more: ‘I’m sorry for leaving you without saying a proper good-bye. I had a good life, a long life, and it was my time to go. I felt no pain at the end. But my biggest regret is not having told you how much I love you. I wish I’d told you every morning and every night.’”

He pauses as a new paragraph loads. “‘One of my favorite memories was when I taught you how to make a kite. You were only five, but you picked it up so fast and you were so proud of your creation. You cried when the one I made you—Mr. Magpie—got caught in the tree and ripped. I know you fly a kite for me every year on the date of my passing, and it makes me so happy to see it soaring in the sky.’”