Congratulations on Your Divorce
Yeon-ha rubbed the corners of her eyes after watching the silent captions crawl across the television set diagonally above her desk, then slipped off her titanium glasses. She gave a small yawn and shook her head.
How long had it been since the divorce, really?
Six months earlier she and Kevin Lee had walked through the entire procedure—exchanging the shares each held in the other’s company, settling the division of assets. The official reports had simply lagged because of HLP’s subsidiary IPO.
It hadn’t been a cheerful parting, and the daily racket about it did nothing for her mood.
“Is there really that little else to write about?”
Her voice was dry as she mocked the news, then she put the glasses back on. These days her attention belonged solely to the sheets of drawing paper covering the desk—more precisely, to the sketches inside them.
She had always loved things that glittered, and glittering things had always made her want to draw. At first the family had been proud of her talent; as she grew older the pride turned into pointed looks and quiet pressure.
“Yeon-ha, after the Chairman and your father, you are the one who will lead Songhwa. Grandmother wants nothing more than for you to become the true owner of this house.”
“Yeon-ha, you know Mother can’t stand to lose. Everything your younger uncle holds was meant to be yours.”
She had kept drawing in secret, hiding it from her grandmother’s and mother’s eyes, yet she had never been able to show the work to the world.
Even on the day she entered the strategic marriage with Korean-American Kevin Lee and moved into the New York penthouse, the very first things she packed were those sketches.
Yeon-ha lifted one sheet and slowly scanned it for places that still needed work. Among the countless designs, the one she treasured most was the bracelet inspired by a pair of eyes shattered by the late-afternoon glitter of four-o’clock sunlight.
The paper had yellowed slightly and its edges were worn thin; anyone could see how often she had taken it out and how carefully she had kept it all these years.
It was the very first design she had conceived once she began to devote herself seriously to the craft—still clumsy, and modeling had not even begun. Fortunately she had managed to secure the raw stone in Europe.
Lost in thought, she tapped the desk with the blunt end of her pencil. In the quiet the regular tick-tick of the pencil and the soft sound of her breathing were the only things that moved.
Then the studio door opened and the stillness broke.
“What are you doing that you can’t even hear someone coming in?”
Only one person in the world knew the passcode to a studio whose location even her family did not know, and only one person would enter without knocking. Yeon-ha’s head turned toward the sound.
“I didn’t give you that password so you could drop by whenever you felt like it at this hour.”
She set the pencil down, leaned back against the chair, and folded her arms. Despite the words, a faint note of welcome colored her voice.
At the playful question the man pulled down the mask that had covered half his face. His mouth curved wide, revealing a smile full of attractive dimples. A moment later he flicked the switch by the entrance and killed the lights.
“Noona.”
“Huh?”
From behind the tall man who nearly filled the doorway, a small cake suddenly appeared.
“Congratulations on your divorce~ Congratulations on your divorce~ Congratulations to Song Yeon-ha on her divorce~”
As he came closer, the flat set of Yeon-ha’s eyes folded into a smile.
“Who celebrates a divorce?”
“Of course you celebrate. You’ve completely escaped a loveless strategic marriage.”
“Honestly… thank you.”
It was ridiculous and yet somehow adorable enough to make her laugh. Escape was exactly the right word.
“I figured all that noisy coverage would be stressing you out, so I flew straight over the second work finished.”
He zoomed the cake toward the desk like a toy airplane.
“Whoa—don’t let it go out.”
When the candle flame threatened to die he froze in panic; Yeon-ha smothered a laugh.
Cute as ever.
“With the story this big, I’m probably the only person who’ll congratulate you. Right?”
“Well, true. You know how my family is…”
They don’t care about me.
When she had announced the divorce, the first word out of their mouths had been “loss.” She had never been under any illusion about how they regarded her, yet hearing them talk openly of losses still left a bitter taste.
“But why are you back so early? You said next month.”
As far as Yeon-ha knew, once Je-yoon had overseas schedules he preferred to stay abroad rather than return to Korea. A short trip could stretch into days; a long one into months. Even when she had lived in the States, he would turn a one-week job into several weeks.
“Mmm, I told you. I came to see Noona. The show’s over anyway. Celebrating together is better.”
“……”
“Back then I didn’t get to say it face-to-face.”
“It was enough. You could have stayed longer.”
When she spoke as if the whole gesture had been pointless, Je-yoon clutched at his shirt over his heart as though mortally wounded.
“Ah, so I’m just a cyber friend now?”
“What?”
Yeon-ha let out an incredulous snort of laughter.
“Honestly, it’s been ages since we actually saw each other. A quick meeting in New York at the end of last year, and already more than three months have gone by.”
“Doesn’t feel that long to me.”
“To me it felt like forever. Anyway—aren’t you glad I came?”
Perched on the edge of the desk, he held out the cake.
“Hurry and blow. It’s going to melt.”
Yeon-ha gazed at Je-yoon, his face flickering in the candle’s shadow.
He had debuted as a model in high school through an overseas show for a famous Korean designer. His body was solid rather than the usual gaunt model frame; people had been skeptical until they saw him on the runway and then they had been astonished.
With his open, striking features and sophisticated air, the face that could entrance anyone, his market value had soared almost overnight.
Yeon-ha—businesswoman and soon-to-be designer—and Je-yoon the famous model were bound by something more than mere business.
To her he was closer than family, closer than any hollow member of the Songhwa community. She had met him through “Uncle,” his father, the chauffeur Go Eun-jung.
Go Eun-jung had been the family’s private driver since Yeon-ha’s childhood, a presence of nearly thirty years. Only recently had he undergone surgery to receive an artificial heart valve.
She looked at Je-yoon a moment longer before lowering her eyes to the cake.
“But you did go see your father first, right? You didn’t come straight here…”
“I saw Dad yesterday.”
Yeon-ha spotted the solitary carry-on suitcase by the entrance and frowned.
“You arrived today.”
“Video call.”
Je-yoon. She crossed her arms again, clearly unimpressed.
“You were overseas a long time. You know his condition was bad enough to need surgery. He’s recovering well, of course, but still—”
“It would only be a nuisance if I went right now.”
Je-yoon slid down off the chair, crouched on the floor with his elbows on his knees, and held the cake up again.
“All right. I’ll go soon.”
“Tomorrow.”
“Okay, okay, just blow the candle. It’s melting like my poor heart.”
Above the tiny flame Je-yoon’s eyes glittered especially brightly. Half-lidded, Yeon-ha gave in with a soft whoo and extinguished the flame.
“Happy now?”
“Yeah. Really—congratulations on the divorce. I’m glad.”
“Why are you glad? I’m the one who’s glad. Anyway, thank you.”
“I told you—if Noona’s happy, I’m happy.”
Je-yoon grinned. When had he become this sly? Yeon-ha shook her head and rose, heading for the light switch by the entrance. Je-yoon stood as well, perched on the desk, and followed her with his eyes.
His hands had been tapping excitedly against his thighs; the moment she turned they froze. He read the look that said time for you to leave, yet pretended not to notice and glanced away.
“What about dinner?”
“Something quick.”
Back at her seat, Yeon-ha gathered the scattered sketches and jerked her chin toward the table across from the desk. Je-yoon’s expression twisted slightly.
Barely two bites gone. The cut face of the sandwich had dried out completely. How old was it—had it been lunch? He checked his phone.
22:00
“How many cups of coffee have you had?”
He muttered half to himself; Yeon-ha’s gaze rested on him for a moment. It traveled from his face to the broad shoulders, down the arms, and settled on the hand braced against the desk.
“Je-yoon, give me your hand a second.”
“Grabbing a stranger man’s hand just like that? You can’t be so careless.”
Yeon-ha gave a soft laugh.
“You’re the one who isn’t pulling away while saying it.”
She tugged his hand a little closer, held the ring finger, and checked the ring sketch against it as well.
Je-yoon’s fingers were long, of good thickness, the knuckles protruding in a distinctly masculine way. Fans were always commenting that his hands were too sensual; looking at them, she could see why. He even had insurance on that particular body part. The wrist and the bones that led from hand to arm were as smooth and refined as a polished stone sculpture.
Definitely tempting.
He would make a perfect model for her brand, yet the nature of their relationship kept her from deciding.
Unconsciously she tightened her grip on his finger.
“I keep telling you it’s dangerous. I’m a stranger man.”
“What stranger man? You’re my little brother.”
At her words the smile vanished from Je-yoon’s face as he looked down at the crown of her head.
Little brother, my ass.