Sesame Couple — Episode 8

Taeha slid into his parked car outside Junghyun's residence.

Just as he was about to start the engine, he noticed his phone clamoring for attention. As the saying goes, speak of the tiger and it appears — the call was from Junhee.

"Speaking."

"Taeha, did you finalize the divorce or not?"

Her sharp voice came slicing through the moment the line connected, and Taeha sank back against the seat.

"I didn't attend the confirmation hearing."

A brief silence followed his flat, toneless reply.

"Why? Did she beg you to stay?"

Junhee's voice bristled with thorns when she repeated the question.

"No. Jaein wants the divorce."

"Then why—"

"Because I don't."

"Have you lost your mind? A divorce is not some children's game — how do you expect to overturn it! Enough talk. Attend the second hearing."

Junhee, who always spoke with such refinement, was raising her voice. Taeha could picture it clearly — that normally haughty face contorted out of shape.

"I'd rather not."

With those words, Taeha put on an easy, placid smile.

"It can be overturned. We're in the mandatory consideration period right now, after all. I'm not divorcing Jaein."

At first, he was unmistakably smiling. Then, at some point, the smile simply stopped.

At the same moment, the corners of his mouth — which had curved upward in a pretty arc — quietly fell.

"I neglected her, what with my being overseas. So Jaein has been terribly lonely. Terribly exhausted."

"…"

"I've handed the overseas work off to Junghyun now. I won't be going to America again, either. So don't come looking for Jaein. Call me instead."

Cold eyes turned toward the phone screen.

"Understood, Mother?"

Change was about to begin — and at a terrifying speed, at that.

"Jaein, I'm sorry. I've been thinking only of myself, I think. Come out and let's have a drink and talk it over."

Jaein had turned down Seongho's invitation to the team dinner and left. She hadn't yet made up her mind to do the variety show, and she wasn't in any mood to sit across from Seongho picking at food, either.

A call that had come in right on the heels of Taeha's text message floated back through her mind, and Jaein headed for the hospital — the nursing hospital where her mother, Jiyoung, was staying.

Jaein's late nights at work usually meant she could only visit on weekends, so when she walked the corridor now, the nurses recognized her and greeted her warmly.

"Oh, my — did you get off work early today?"

"Yes, a little early today. How's Mom been?"

"Good, good. She's eating, but she keeps asking for your father."

"Ah. I'll go see her, then."

Jaein gave an awkward smile and stopped in front of the hospital room. Her mother searching for a father who had passed away a year ago meant the symptoms had worsened.

She took a deep breath and opened the door, and the room opened up before her eyes.

Her gaze traveled slowly until it found the window. There sat the familiar figure she knew so well, facing the glass.

"Mom."

At Jaein's call, Jiyoung's head turned from where she'd been sitting with her back to the door.

"My daughter's here?"

"I got off early, so I came to see you."

"Mm. Yes. Have you seen your father anywhere?"

Jaein had been slipping the side dishes she'd bought on the way into the refrigerator, and her hands froze.

At the word father, tears surged up, and it took all her strength to press them back down.

"Whew… it's a little hard to say this to you, but your father didn't come yesterday."

"Dad didn't come?"

"No. He might have gone home, I suppose. Have you seen him, dear?"

Jaein straightened up from tidying the side dishes, and her eyes met her mother's. The worry brimming in them drew Jaein to sit down beside the bed.

"Oh no, Mom. You must have been all alone in the room yesterday, then."

When the father she visited every single day vanished, Jiyoung had decided he was drifting away from her, avoiding her out in the world. When her symptoms were at their worst, she would call endlessly, badgering the nurses to bring him to her.

"Exactly. Give your father a call, would you? Where has that man gone off to? His phone doesn't connect."

"…"

"Something must be wrong. What if he's had an accident?"

Watching her mother fiddle with the phone, Jaein's lips trembled.

Of course it won't connect, Mom.

He's gone.

"Mom. Dad passed away. He can't come anymore."

"What? Your father is dead?"

"He passed not long ago. You went to the crematorium with me — did you forget?"

"Oh. Did I? I didn't know that."

The corners of Jiyoung's eyes drooped pitifully.

"I should have gone first. My husband went before me."

At the wistfulness drifting through Jiyoung's eyes, something in Jaein's chest squeezed tight.

"Don't say things like that. Look — I brought the scones you love. Want one?"

"From Alkongs Dalkong, across the street?"

"Yep. Your favorite, Earl Grey. They had them today, so I bought a whole pile."

"Ooh, lovely. Give me one."

Jaein took out a scone, heaped strawberry jam on it, and handed it over. Jiyoung bit into it and smiled, her eyes folding into pretty crescents — already, the matter of her father quite forgotten.

Watching her, Jaein's heart sank like something weighed down with a stone.

I have to tell her now.

That she was divorcing "Mr. Woo" — whom her mother so adored.

Though Jiyoung had barely laid eyes on Taeha in all five years of the marriage, she was inexplicably fond of him.

"Does our Mr. Woo eat properly, over there in America? I should make him some of that scallion kimchi he loves so much."

"We have this big room thanks to our son-in-law, don't we? Living in luxury in her old age, this mom of yours."

Everyone else she forgot — yet whenever Taeha came up, Jiyoung seemed to grow a little more lucid.

Which was precisely what made the divorce so much harder to bring up.

Every time she visited, she promised herself: I'll say it today. I have to say it today. But the moment she saw her mother's face, her throat closed up and the words refused to come.

Still — it couldn't be put off any longer. Jaein's lips were just beginning to tremble with resolve when a knock sounded and the door to the room swung open.

At first, she assumed it was a nurse.

"Mom, don't you need your blood pressure taken? Maybe save the scone for a bit?"

"Hm? But I want it now."

"Let's have it a little later. One moment, please."

When Jaein hurried to clear away the plate of scones, Jiyoung's face crumpled as if she might cry. Jaein tidied things into some semblance of order and rose from the bed — and as she pulled back the curtain to step out, she stopped dead.

The man who entered as the door clicked shut was Taeha.

He approached with unhurried, uncluttered strides and came to a stop in front of her.

"…What are you doing here?"

"What does it look like? Visiting."

With a perfectly composed face, he lifted the fruit basket he was carrying.

It was meant for one person — Jiyoung — and yet it was big enough to look as though it might burst at the seams. Apples, melons, mangoes — an endless array of colorful seasonal fruit. The sweet fragrance alone was enough to make her dizzy.

"How has she been?"

The sight of him asking after her mother made Jaein blink hard. He was so natural about it that she very nearly answered before she could stop herself.

"Today she's been a little—"

That she'd been searching for Dad — that the symptoms seemed worse.

Reality caught up with her, and Jaein hastily cut herself off. Just as she decided she needed to get him out into the hallway for a moment and reached for Taeha's sleeve —

Sensing the presence, the curtain flew open and Jiyoung emerged.

"Oh! Mr. Woo? Our son-in-law is back!"

"Yes, I'm here, Mother."

"It's been far too long! Come, come, sit down."

Taking Taeha's hand in both of hers and pulling him along, Jiyoung turned to Jaein.

"Daughter, if Mr. Woo was coming, you should have told me. I'd have at least fixed my hair."

"You look lovely as you are, honestly."

"Really? How do you say things so sweetly? And you brought fruit, too?"

"I didn't know what you'd like, so I brought a little of everything."

"Whatever my son-in-law gives me, I love. Shall I peel you a mango?"

"Yes, yes. I'd love that."

Jiyoung told them to wait just a moment and came back with a paring knife. Watching it in her hand, Jaein stepped in, took the mango from her mother's grip, and put it back in the basket.

"Mom, he doesn't like mango."

"You don't like mango?"

"No, thank you. An apple's fine. I'll peel it."

Jaein picked out a few large apples and carried them to the sink to wash them.

Over the sound of running water, she could hear Taeha and Jiyoung talking. Their low, gentle murmur made her heart sink heavy in her chest.

In five years of marriage, the two of them had stood face to face so rarely she could count the occasions on one hand.

That Jiyoung — who'd never even seen his face properly — grew lucid whenever Taeha appeared was still astonishing, still fascinating, and still heartbreaking.

Why, of all the people in the world, did it have to be that man? With her senior, divorce would be the end of it. Full stop.

Swallowing a sigh, Jaein carried the peeled apples toward the bed. The closer she drew, the louder the sounds of laughter grew — the ha-ha and ho-ho of a conversation in full swing.

"And the baby? No grandchild yet?"

At Jiyoung's voice ringing in her ears, Jaein flung the curtain wide open.