You Did Well

Having stepped out into the garden to find the film crew, Jaein spotted Jeonghyeon leaning against the stone wall and immediately turned to leave.

"Oh, Hyeongsu. Come out for some fresh air?"

But he'd already recognized her, and Jeonghyeon struck up a conversation. When Jaein turned back around, their eyes met. White smoke curled up from the cigarette wedged between his fingers.

"Ah, sorry. One sec."

Noticing her gaze lingering on the cigarette, Jeonghyeon hurriedly stubbed it out.

"You didn't have to do that."

"I was just finishing it anyway. Coming out in the middle of dinner?"

"Yes. But what are you doing out here, not eating? It's the middle of the meal."

Though, of course, the meal wasn't exactly proceeding normally.

"It sounded like you were filming something, and, well, TV appearances aren't really my thing."

"Ah."

"Why did you come out, Hyeongsu?"

Jaein nodded as if that made sense, and Jeonghyeon glanced toward the mansion before asking.

"He's giving you a hard time even though hyung's right there inside?"

At the rather blunt question, Jaein's lips wavered.

Well... that's technically true.

After all, she was the one who'd dropped the bombshell this time. While she managed an awkward smile, Jeonghyeon spoke again.

"That won't do. And here I heard he was going to shield you properly from now on so the family can't give you any more grief."

"Who said that?"

"Your husband."

Jaein's eyes went round.

Apparently assuming she'd been in the dark, Jeonghyeon wore a troubled expression.

"Oops—was that a slip of the tongue? Hyung feels really sorry toward you, Hyeongsu. He said he had no idea you'd been suffering through all that bride duty at the family house."

At his words, Jaein's lips trembled almost imperceptibly.

"He says he doesn't want a divorce. Not that it's any business of mine—married couples' affairs and all."

She already knew he didn't want the divorce.

So he really was sorry.

Jaein's eyes sank deep. The Taeha she'd reunited with was undeniably different from before. It would have been nice if it were actually some accident-scrambled memory instead of the real thing.

Will he go back to being the sunbae I knew once his memory returns someday?

Just thinking that made the area around her heart grow heavy. Which meant that, over the past few days, she'd somehow gotten used to this Taeha.

"Oh, I'm getting a call. I don't want to go back in."

"Go on ahead. I was just heading out to find the film crew anyway."

"Ah, right—the film crew you called for. Got it."

Only then understanding, Jeonghyeon turned to go first. As she watched him walk away, Jaein spoke up.

"Oh, and—late as it is, thank you for coming to my dad's funeral."

At the sudden words, Jeonghyeon stopped and turned around. The memory of that funeral had flashed through her mind unbidden.

"If it hadn't been for you, I'd have sent Dad off alone at the burial procession."

She remembered it clearly—not a single soul from her in-laws' family had come, right up until the moment the coffin was carried out. On the first day, she'd been too frantic to notice. On the second, she'd sensed something was wrong but told herself they'd come soon. Someone would show up, surely. Taeha was far away, that was all—he couldn't make it back right away. Even if they hated her, surely no one would fail to appear on the day she buried her father.

But anxious premonitions had a way of coming true. Not one member of the Woo family came. The only one who showed up was Jeonghyeon. Aloof as he was, at least he wasn't the suffocating presence the others were.

"That was hyung's—"

Before he could finish,

"Woo Jeonghyeon, everyone's looking for you."

At the voice ringing across the garden, both their gazes shifted. At the end of it was Taeha, walking down the stone-paved path.

"I did see a call come in, yeah."

"Go on in. We're leaving."

"Not staying for dinner?"

"Nope. We're wrapping the shoot and heading out together, so tell them to enjoy their meal in peace."

Taeha had made his way down the path by now and stepped in beside Jaein. At some point, he'd even brought out her coat and handbag.

"Safe travels, hyung. You too, Hyeongsu."

"It's Hyeongsu-nim."

"Ah, right. Hyeongsu-nim, get home safe."

Jeonghyeon gave a tidy, respectful bow mid-wave, then disappeared inside the house. When only the two of them remained, Jaein turned to Taeha.

"Sunbae, are we really leaving?"

"What, did you think we were leaving fake?"

"What about dinner?"

Taeha draped the coat he'd brought over her shoulders and smiled.

"I'm eating it with you. Just the two of us. Cozily."

Outside Cheongdam-dong, Taeha's car came to a stop at a private dining room on the city's outskirts—a restaurant famous for taking only a single party of guests at a set time each evening. It was the kind of place Jaein knew of despite never having had occasion to visit.

"Mr. Woo Taeha, I presume? We've been expecting you. Please come in."

Following the server inside, Jaein glanced around. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows stretched a view of the riverside. It lived up to its reputation for scenery.

As she walked behind the server, Jaein stole a glance at Taeha. Behind them, the trailing staff were visible in the glass. Catching sight of the cameras trained on them, Jaein quietly turned away.

This place doesn't even take walk-ins—when did he arrange for the shoot, on top of the reservation?

So sunbae never intended to eat dinner inside that Cheongdam-dong house in the first place.

A memory surfaced—back before Taeha left for America, they'd gone out for Junhee's birthday. With Taeha there, they'd dined at a lovely restaurant and parted on good terms. After he left for the States alone, it had become Jaein's job to look after Junhee's birthday.

"He's going to shield you properly from now on so the family can't give you any more grief."

"Hyung feels really sorry toward you, Hyeongsu. He had no idea you'd been suffering through all that bride duty."

Jeonghyeon, her brother-in-law, hadn't known that Taeha's family had mistreated her all this time. She knew, in fairness, how hard it would have been for word to reach him in America. The people doing the mistreating were hardly going to volunteer it, and the only one who could have told him was herself—and she'd had no intention of doing so. Even on his occasional visits to Korea, their paths barely crossed, so Jaein had simply concluded that Taeha was callously indifferent to everything concerning her.

And yet.

...Maybe he wasn't completely indifferent after all.

Look at him now, scrambling to patch things up however he could. The problem was just that it had all come too late.

"The cameras are still being set up in the main room, so please wait comfortably here."

Jaein followed Taeha into the temporary room the server had shown them to. It was a pocket of quiet before a meal with no cameras and no microphones—time gifted to them alone.

"I'll come back to escort you once everything's ready."

The room the server left behind was still and silent. As the solitude pressed in on her more than usual, Jaein found herself fiddling idly with an empty glass.

"You did well."

She lifted her head at Taeha's voice by her ear. In case she'd misheard—no, he was looking straight at her.

"Did well with what?"

"Telling your aunts you're done making kimjang for them."

Taeha rested his chin on his hand and went on.

"Telling them to make it themselves if they want it—here's the recipe. I liked that. Why didn't you say so ages ago?"

The corner of his mouth curved sleekly, as if recalling something. Jaein was dumbfounded.

"How could I ever say that?"

"Why not? You just did it fine a minute ago."

That was only because I'd made up my mind to divorce you.

She'd gone bigger than that. The old Jaein was never capable of it.

And this is the woman who stepped into the garden worried she might get sued.

Oblivious to what was going on inside her, Taeha straightened his tilted head and said,

"Right is right, wrong is wrong. You were never shy about saying so back in student council."

"...That was university. This is your family's house, sunbae."

Jaein was hardly a crusader for justice who couldn't stomach any injustice, but she was at least capable of saying no to things that were simply wrong. She was the type to be honest about what she couldn't bear. But once she started working and her father began his battle with illness, she learned to let most things slide with a blind eye. With family to protect, she swallowed the bitterness of office life whole, sweet and sour alike. Enduring had become such a habit that her married life followed suit. She had chosen to become Taeha's wife, so she wanted to bear it as best she could—not knowing that the love was slowly eating away at her.

The longer she endured, the more of a fool she seemed to become. She'd forgotten how to get angry; it truly began to feel as though everything was her fault.

"These are people I have to keep seeing. I couldn't. They're elders, too."

After a brief silence, a voice rang out, and Jaein lifted her head again.

"When I first saw you, I thought you were quiet and timid—didn't talk much. So when you applied to student council, I was a little puzzled."

"..."

"Don't tell me you followed me there because you liked me?"

Excuse me?

He noticed back then?

She'd applied to student council not long after falling for him at first sight. That he knew this left her utterly dumbstruck.

"I remember thinking you were more devious than you looked. You were the hardest worker on the whole council—the girl who followed me there."

"..."

"Meetings, everything. The way you'd say flatly, 'This is wrong,' and stand your ground—I liked that. It was attractive."

A soft smile touched his lips, as if he were replaying the good old days.

"That's who you are, Seo Jaein. It makes no sense for you to change just because you married me."

"..."

"I told you before—do whatever you want. And today? I liked seeing you do exactly that."

At Taeha's unwavering gaze—so steady she couldn't tell if he meant it or not—Jaein's lips parted and closed helplessly.

Why is sunbae going this far to stop the divorce?

Her mouth had gone bitter. If he kept this up, she'd start imagining that they really had been a real couple.

Feeling the bridge of her nose grow hot against her will, Jaein drained her water glass. The cold water seemed to bring a little of her senses back.

"Can I really do anything?"

"Anything you like. I'll cover for all of it."

He'll cover all of it.

In the end, a laugh burst out of her. And strangely, she felt lighter for it—the anxiety that had crept up on her melted away like snow. That boundless, bottomless encouragement of his turned out to be remarkably effective. So much so that it was a shame she was only discovering it now.