Resignation
"Someone already did."
When she turned, Je-heon was standing there in a suit. Because it was a concert, he had even put on a vest and tie. It had been a week since he last showed up at the academy. A week was hardly a long time, and yet it felt as though she hadn't seen him in a month.
It wasn't that she had particularly wanted to see him. While Yeon-jae was entertaining that useless thought, Je-heon swept his gaze over the empty waiting room.
"Where's Ji-woo?"
"He went to rehearsal. The kindergarten division goes on first."
"I'm late, then."
Yeon-jae dropped her eyes again, about to zip her bag shut, when heavy footsteps approached. She glanced up. Je-heon had come over to the sofa inside the waiting room.
"Ji-woo is in the hall."
Thinking he might not have heard her, she said it again. Their eyes met in the mirror. Je-heon seemed to look at her, then sat down on the sofa.
"I heard you."
He heard me. And he's staying anyway?
She felt his gaze on her back and pretended not to. She finished closing the bag. Even after she straightened from her stoop, Je-heon was still watching her. She looked at him, wondering if he had something to say, but the silence only stretched.
"Do you have something you wanted to tell me?"
Je-heon's lips parted, as if he were about to speak, then closed again.
"No."
Yeon-jae's brow furrowed slightly.
"Is your Daejeon trip over now?"
Today was the autumn concert for Ji-woo and Seo-ha, which meant the work Je-heon had been overseeing officially ended today. He seemed to catch the intent behind the question. One corner of his mouth lifted.
"Well. My trip seems to depend on your answer."
She had given him that answer a long time ago. Apparently he hadn't given up.
"Then I'll give you that answer now."
Since he didn't seem to have accepted it, she meant to say it clearly, one more time.
"Thank you for giving Ji-woo such a wonderful opportunity."
No matter how hard Yeon-jae tried, she would never be able to give Ji-woo anything as good as what Je-heon could. She couldn't deny that he had offered the boy something far beyond what they had any right to expect. And the child loved it so much.
"I know the foundation's offer came to Ji-woo because of my connection to Gu-il. I know you were trying to be even more considerate because of that."
Je-heon said nothing.
"I'm grateful. Truly. That part, I am sincerely grateful to you for, Director."
He was a man who had forgotten her, and for that she still resented him. But she knew it wasn't entirely his fault. It was the aftermath of the accident. At first she had resented him so bitterly, but little by little she had come to accept the way things were.
He can't help it either.
There was no point in blaming a man who remembered nothing. The one who needed to let go was Yeon-jae herself. Once she had settled that in her mind, her heart felt lighter. Facing him did, too.
"But I don't believe Ji-woo will be happy playing the piano. The foundation may guarantee success. It doesn't guarantee happiness."
A bitter smile touched Yeon-jae's lips as her childhood rose up before her.
"I was never happy."
It was something she had never once spoken aloud. To deny the foundation had felt like denying her entire life, and so she had never wanted to say it.
"I played the piano as much as I could ever want, and my career as a pianist grew dazzling. But there was no Jeong Yeon-jae in any of it. I didn't even know my mother was sick. What good is burying yourself in the piano? What good is a glittering exterior, when there's no family to share the happy news with?"
"You must know what it means, Director—all those sponsorees who have come and gone over the years. I want my son to live an ordinary life."
Je-heon still said nothing.
"I'm truly grateful. But I will decline the foundation contract."
Yeon-jae bowed her head toward him. And when she straightened, the waiting room door opened.
"Ji-woo's mom, the concert's starting! Oh my—the Director is here too?"
It was Hye-gyeong, Seo-ha's mother, who broke the awkward air.
"We shouldn't just stand here. Come on, let's go."
Before she could hear Je-heon's answer, Yeon-jae was steered toward the hall.
"Ji-woo's mom, our seats are right in the center. They said the Director arranged the good ones for us."
"They really are. These are royal seats."
Yeon-jae sat down with an awkward smile at Hye-gyeong's excited rundown. Even to her eye, their two seats were excellent—only a few rows from the stage.
"Right? The kindergarten's over there. Originally it was sold out, so they said the kindergarten field trip couldn't come, but I guess they worked it out."
Yeon-jae's gaze followed Hye-gyeong's gesture. At the back she could see a familiar teacher and a cluster of children huddled together. It seemed not only Ji-woo's kindergarten but other kindergarten classes had come along on field trips as well.
Her eyes, sweeping the room, stopped at the front. The seats reserved for the symphony staff. In the middle of them, a familiar back caught and held her. It was Je-heon, who until a moment ago had been in the waiting room with her. She was looking at him without meaning to when a voice at her side made her lift her head.
"The Gu-il Foundation's pull really is no joke, huh?"
"It really isn't."
"That's why Ji-woo should play piano too—"
"Looks like it's about to start."
Yeon-jae smiled awkwardly and cut her off. She could already see exactly where Hye-gyeong was going.
Darkness settled over the hall, and then the lights blazed up on the stage at the center. A black Bösendorfer grand piano sat alone in the middle. Behind it, a flowered arch of red roses in full bloom.
While child after child came and went from the stage, Yeon-jae remained indifferent. Not a single performance stayed with her. Someone would play, it would end, she would clap, another team would come on. Over and over.
Time passed that way, and then a voice beside her made her look up.
"And now, our final team."
The very last—Ji-woo and Seo-ha.
On the emcee's cue, the children walked out from the wings, their hands clasped tight. Ji-woo and Seo-ha came to center stage and bowed toward the audience.
"Aigoo, so precious."
Hye-gyeong already had her phone out, busy recording.
Before he had even fully straightened from the bow, Ji-woo's eyes flicked up and began to search. The child's gaze moved as if hunting for someone, then landed on Yeon-jae. As though he had forgotten he was on a stage at all, Ji-woo broke into a bright, open smile. He even started to wave—until Seo-ha tugged him from the side, and he finished the bow.
I can't do anything with that child. Ji-woo, you're supposed to greet the audience. What are you doing looking for Mom?
A smile stole onto Yeon-jae's lips, which had been stiff the entire evening. Around them, small laughs bubbled up; apparently everyone else had found it adorable too.
The greeting done, the children turned toward their places. Seo-ha, two steps in front of the piano, settled the violin she had been carrying onto her shoulder. She looked back at Ji-woo, now seated on the bench, and gave him a look. As if the signal had landed, Ji-woo's two hands lifted lightly and came to rest on the keys.
The melody began with the piano's delicate, gentle syncopation. Over the accompaniment an elegant violin line in E major unfurled, the harmonies gathering and deepening. Whenever Seo-ha moved, her pale pink tulle dress swayed softly with her.
It was a performance so clearly apart from every team that had gone before that every gaze in the hall turned to the stage.
"Oh my—are those really kindergarteners?"
"They're both so good."
Even with the whispers around her, Yeon-jae's eyes would not leave Ji-woo. When he concentrated, his brow would draw up; then, at the melody taking shape under his fingertips, a smile would bloom across his face just as quickly.
A short piece—less than four minutes. In that brief span, Ji-woo was utterly lost in Salut d'Amour. All the way to the moment he pressed the final note. Whatever the piano was to him, the child looked so happy.
The words she had spoken to Je-heon only a little while ago circled in her mind as the piece came to its end, and Ji-woo lifted his head.
Applause burst from every corner of the hall. The children's faces flushed pink. Holding Seo-ha's hand once more, Ji-woo walked out to center stage and bowed. And as the child raised his head, his eyes found Yeon-jae's.
Even across the distance, those bright, glittering eyes seemed to ask her something.
Mom, did I do well?
The tip of Yeon-jae's nose turned red. Afraid the tears might actually come, she put force into her eyes and clapped even harder. He must have seen her smile, because Ji-woo broke into a grin so wide it seemed to fill his whole face. The image of him smiling like that—an ear-to-ear, unguarded joy—was carved into her mind, vivid and complete.