It's Been Five Years

It was Ji-woo's homeroom teacher.

"Yes, teacher. I was just about to head over. Is something the matter?"

Perhaps the child was fussing, waiting for her to arrive. A faint smile touched Yeon-jae's lips as she turned the ignition.

Yeon-jae went rigid at the voice coming through the speaker.

Even after the call ended, Yeon-jae's hands wouldn't stop trembling. A name she could scarcely believe even after hearing it with her own two ears — the entire world seemed to lurch beneath her.

A name she had never expected to hear again. Yeon-jae's heart began to pound.

She arrived at the kindergarten with no memory of how she had driven there, and burst inside. The consultation room, which had seemed so far away, drew steadily closer. As the distance closed, a bright, cheerful voice carried through the door. It was Ji-woo's. And every so often, a low voice that was maddeningly familiar — a register she should have forgotten by now. A low cadence she could never forget.

She brushed past the principal, who had recognized her and was trying to speak, and threw the door open.

The moment it opened, the child facing her recognized Yeon-jae and waved.

"Mom!"

"Ji-woo!"

Relief washed over her at the sight of her son — but only for a moment. Her gaze slipped from the child and traveled to the man standing with his back to her.

A deep navy suit falling from broad shoulders. Hair swept stubbornly upward. The man who had been standing with his back turned began, slowly, to move. Then he was facing her, and the line of his mouth lifted by degrees until a smile appeared. Whether it was a sneer or a genuine laugh, she couldn't tell. His lips parted.

Under a gaze that locked onto hers with relentless, almost obsessive precision, Yeon-jae squeezed her eyes shut.

A thousand tangled thoughts had followed her all the way to the kindergarten. Of all the countless employees at the foundation, why did it have to be Gu Je-heon who came looking? Had he found out that Ji-woo was a child? Was that why he was here?

Or... what if his memories had...

Her heart clenched tight. Yeon-jae squeezed the hands she had clasped together.

At the three syllables carved into her ear, Yeon-jae opened her eyes. Her vision gradually cleared, and the man's face came into focus.

The Je-heon before her was not the slightest bit different from the one who appeared in her dreams every night. Still lofty. Still beautiful. Still brilliant. Unlike her — whose heart felt ready to burst, who wanted to cry, whose entire world was in upheaval simply from facing him — Je-heon gazed at Yeon-jae without once looking away.

As the moment of their meeting stretched on, a long silence filled the consultation room.

"Oh my, do you two know each other?"

Ji-woo's homeroom teacher, who had been standing beside the child, approached Yeon-jae.

"Ms. Jeong. They say Ji-woo plays the piano extraordinarily well. And honestly, I can see it myself. Our piano teacher says so too. And Gu-il is such a famous institution, you know."

"......."

"The foundation is run with complete integrity, and a renowned pianist oversees it personally. If it's Ji-woo, I'm certain he could thrive there."

The teacher prattled on in an excited voice, as if the Gu-il Foundation were some magnificent pair of wings. Yeon-jae, for her part, barely clung to her reason at the mere mention of the name. The past she had forgotten, drunk on the brief reunion, came rushing back all at once.

"And Ji-woo loves the piano. If you two already know each other, perhaps just once..."

"I have no such intention, teacher. Ji-woo, get up. We're going home."

Yeon-jae approached Ji-woo, who was sitting across the table, took the child's hand, and drew him up.

If his memories of her had truly returned — if he had found out about the child — he would never have come to the kindergarten like this. He would have come as Gu Je-heon, not as the representative of the Gu-il Foundation.

Do you even know the child standing next to me is your son?

Yeon-jae swallowed the words that had risen all the way to her throat. He wouldn't know. But not knowing was a crime in itself, wasn't it. Je-heon had forgotten something he should never have forgotten.

"It's extremely unpleasant that you showed up like this unannounced. We barely know each other."

"......."

"Ji-woo, stand up."

Yeon-jae tugged at Ji-woo's hand once more. The child's small fingers clenched the shoulder strap of his kindergarten bag. Remaining planted in his seat, Ji-woo's face was full of reluctance.

She knew perfectly well how much the child wanted to play the piano. But she had no intention of teaching him. And sending him to the foundation was even more out of the question.

"Jeong Ji-woo."

She had just spoken to the child in a stern voice when a quiet chuckle sounded from beside her.

"I thought we knew each other rather well."

At the voice that followed, Yeon-jae turned. Je-heon, who had been sitting still, uncrossed his arms. Then the weight of his body, which had been leaning back, tipped forward, and his eyes locked steadily with hers. The corner of the man's mouth was pulled upward.

Yeon-jae flinched at the word pianist. As if equally startled, Ji-woo, whose hand she was holding, squirmed. When she looked down, the child was staring up at her with eyes grown as wide as fists.

Her memories as a pianist. That was a past she had buried deep when she left the foundation. Not even a recollection worth cherishing — only a painful one. So there had been no reason to bring it up again, no reason she should ever have to hear it spoken.

"The one and only disciple of the great Pyo Myeong-hee."

At the voice unearthing the years she had barely managed to forget, Yeon-jae went rigid where she stood.

"You were a pianist, Ms. Jeong? I'd heard you played the piano, but..."

"......"

"Pyo Myeong-hee is a world-class pianist! To think you were her student — so that's why Ji-woo inherited his talent for the piano from you!"

Unaware of the circumstances, the teacher clapped her hands in admiration. Of everyone present, Yeon-jae was the only one who had gone still.

"She was the pride of our foundation. Ah — Ms. Jeong Yeon-jae used to belong to the Gu-il Foundation."

Hearing about the foundation through his mouth, of all people, Yeon-jae clenched her hands. A hollow feeling washed through her entire body. A man this relentless. How foolish she had been to hope, even for a moment, that his memories might have returned.

"Stop... it."

Even at her warning to stop, the man never once averted his eyes. She could feel his intent not to yield.

"Teacher, we'll be going now. Ji-woo, say goodbye."

Not wanting to expend any more unnecessary emotion, she made to leave the consultation room.

"You're being awfully cold to someone who came all the way from Seoul."

At the voice that rang in her ears once more, Yeon-jae turned around.

Yeon-jae stared at Je-heon with eyes sharpened to a point.

"That's why I'm asking you to spare me a moment of your time. Ji-woo's mother."

He was requesting a conversation nicely enough, but it was as good as a silent threat — asking whether it was really all right to keep talking here. He pointed past Yeon-jae and gave a look. Her gaze followed his.

The homeroom teacher watching the situation with interest. And the moment she saw Ji-woo looking confused, Yeon-jae had no choice but to let go of his hand.

She bit down on her lip. Then, at last, she knelt to meet Ji-woo's eyes.

"Ji-woo, will you wait here for just a moment? Mom has something to talk about."

"Okay. I'll stay here with Teacher!"

Ji-woo nodded vigorously and answered cheerfully, then went back to his seat.

"Don't fight with the ahjussi, okay?"

The word ahjussi, heard through Ji-woo's mouth, drove itself deep into Yeon-jae's chest.

"Of course. I'll be right back after a quick talk."

Yeon-jae smiled, gently ruffling Ji-woo's hair, then turned around. And she approached Je-heon, who was still standing there. The closer the distance grew, the more violently her emotions churned. At last she stopped in front of him.

Yeon-jae looked up at him with eyes thick with resentment, then walked past him and out of the consultation room.

"Let's go."

The words, as cold and sunken as her gaze.