The Photograph He Kept

"Yeon-ha! Why has it been so long!"

Mrs. Yoon, who still oversaw the annex of the Songhwa estate, wore that same warm, ample face as she pulled Yeon-ha into a deep embrace.

"You came back from America and never once stopped by. You saw the Chairman at the main house every time, but not us. That hurts, you know? Hmm? Do you have any idea how long we've been waiting?"

Yeon-ha smiled softly and hugged each of the three aunties standing in a row in turn. Then she handed over the gifts she had set down beside her, one by one.

"I've been completely swamped. Here—this is for our Mrs. Yoon! Your son got married recently, right? Please give this to him. It's nothing much. And this is for our Mrs. Oh, and Mrs. Kim."

The three women's eyes welled as they accepted the gifts from the black shopping bags along with the handwritten notes.

"Honestly, you didn't have to bring anything like this."

"Just seeing your face is enough for us, Yeon-ha. After you left for America like that, not even once... How could you not come even once..."

Mrs. Yoon watched with quiet pride as the other two clung to Yeon-ha, teary-eyed. She had come to the annex as the youngest staff member when Yeon-ha's father was still a boy. Seung-hyun had been such a gentle soul, treating her own young son like a brother—she never imagined he would die so suddenly and violently.

Yeon-ha is the spitting image of him. Our young master Seung-hyun... That's why she was always so good to Je-yoon, too.

Whenever Mrs. Yoon looked at Yeon-ha she thought of Je-yoon, and whenever she looked at Je-yoon she thought of Yeon-ha. They had been like close siblings, but she had no idea if they still got along. In nearly ten years she had never seen them visit each other; Yeon-ha remained attentive to Go Eun-jung, yet it seemed she never reached out to Je-yoon separately. Even when Je-yoon came by occasionally to see the women, he never brought Yeon-ha up on his own.

The old days were better.

A faintly bitter feeling settled over her. After the little party today, even Driver Go Eun-jung—who had always called them "Noonim, Noonims"—would be leaving, and that unsettled her more than she let on. She showed none of it.

"Your room is just as it was. We've cleaned it twice a week without fail, so if you're tired, rest a little."

Mrs. Yoon walked with Yeon-ha toward the large room on the east side.

"I have a few things to get ready before the two men arrive. Wow, it's really exactly the same..."

"Of course! Somehow I always felt you would come back. Someday..."

Welcome home. We've been waiting for you right here, just like this. The unspoken words that would have followed seemed almost audible, and Yeon-ha felt a lump rise in her throat. As a child she had been so full of feeling, but the more she learned of reality the more it seemed her heart had turned to tin...

Yeon-ha ran her hands over every corner of the room, tracing the memories. The bed and sofa where she and Je-yoon had read books, the desk where they had studied. She hadn't been in a growth spurt even when she left for the last time, so she couldn't have gotten much taller—yet why did everything feel so small?

I suppose the world I've had to carry has grown that much larger.

Yeon-ha reached for the white gift box that still sat on one side of the desk. Everything that held her precious memories remained intact inside the sixteen-inch box.

I should pick out a few photos for Uncle.

The wedding photo of Song Seung-hyun and Jang Eun-ju; the photo of Song Seung-hyun with a startled expression, ear pressed to Jang Eun-ju's swollen belly; Yeon-ha's first-birthday grab ceremony photo; and the photo from the day Je-yoon first came to this house. The little boy in the picture looked stiff with surprise at having a room of his own. Elementary, middle, and high school entrance and graduation photos; the photo she had taken on Garosu-gil, her heart fluttering as she captured the suddenly grown high-school boy.

"Huh? Why isn't that one here?"

Yeon-ha tilted her head as she flipped through the photos one by one, then rummaged quickly through the box.

"What's missing?"

"Ah... a few photos are gone, but the others don't matter—that one..."

She had been about to take it to America but left it here for sure, afraid it might become some kind of leverage.

"What is it? Hmm? Yeon-ha."

"The one from my nineteenth birthday... with Uncle Eun-jung and Je-yoon at the beach..."

It had been a spontaneous drive. Among the photos taken with a disposable camera from a nearby convenience store, it was the one Yeon-ha treasured most. And it couldn't even be reprinted...

At the sight of Yeon-ha sinking heavily to the floor, Mrs. Yoon's mouth went dry. If it had been valuables she could have rounded up the whole staff to search, but a photo... unless someone meant to sell the three people's relationship to the press, why would anyone need it?

Could it really be something like that? No, no. They're not that kind of people. Wait...

A memory suddenly flickered through Mrs. Yoon's mind.

When was it... five years ago? Four?

The only people who entered the empty room were the cleaning staff. And once, Mrs. Yoon had seen Je-yoon—his hair cut short—coming out of Yeon-ha's room. It had been the day before Je-yoon enlisted. The three ladies had gathered to cook him a meal. When he still hadn't appeared at dinner time and everything stayed quiet, she had headed for the annex.

Je-yoon's room was still there and sometimes used as a guest room, but the Songhwa estate had separate guest quarters, so no one used it. Even the young mistress never insisted it be cleared out, so when he visited he often stayed in the annex rather than the staff quarters. Naturally she had expected him to be in his own room.

"Hm? Je-yoon, why were you coming out of Yeon-ha's room?"

"Ah, well... there's something I gave Noona a long time ago. I thought I might need it in the army."

The Je-yoon Mrs. Yoon saw did not look like someone who had stolen anything. Hands in the back pockets of his jeans, he looked thoroughly at ease the whole time. He came up to her, said he was hungry, and tugged her hand to hurry her along.

If Je-yoon had taken the photo from Yeon-ha's room back then... that actually made a certain amount of sense. Though he wasn't the type to do something like that lightly.

"Yeon-ha, I don't think that's it... but why don't you try looking in Je-yoon's room? After he was discharged he left some of his things here."

"What do you mean?"

Yeon-ha's dazed expression shifted to puzzlement. She looked less offended that someone had touched her things than curious about why he would have taken them.

Mrs. Yoon crossed over to the management wing to prepare the food, leaving Yeon-ha standing blankly in front of Je-yoon's door. She couldn't bring herself to enter the empty room; only the hesitant sound of her footsteps filled the desolate quiet.

"Even if I go in, how would I know where it is?"

Yeon-ha uncrossed her arms and rubbed her forehead. She checked the watch on her wrist. Seven o'clock—their agreed time—was almost here, so better to just ask Je-yoon when she saw him. She turned around.

At the same moment her eyes met Je-yoon's as he stepped inside, toeing off his shoes at the entrance.

"I heard. From Mrs. Yoon."

He looked as if he had come straight from work—his look fully set. The hair he usually left casually tousled was neatly arranged. For some reason the styled version of him felt a little strange, and Yeon-ha stepped back the instant their bodies nearly brushed. She had seen countless pictorials and ads of him, yet seeing him actually styled in person made him feel almost like someone she didn't know.

As Yeon-ha quietly fell into step behind him, Je-yoon's pace slowed.

"Sorry for going into your room without asking, Noona."

"Was it then? When you said you had something to take from my room."

While she was in America she had received an email from Je-yoon. He said he had something of his in her room and asked if he could take it; she had answered that he could take anything else he wanted as well. She hadn't known it was that photo.

Je-yoon nodded and opened the door. He lightly lifted the black military duffel leaning against the nightstand by the bed, unzipped the front pocket, and drew out a palm-sized notebook.

"Looking for this?"

He opened the cover, slid the photo free from its translucent sleeve, and stepped toward Yeon-ha. Yeon-ha closed the door behind her, nodded, and accepted the photo.

The last photo Je-yoon ever took of me.

It captured Yeon-ha at the beach where the sun-glitter on the water had sparkled so brilliantly, jeans cuffs rolled up, bare feet kicking at the sand. Whatever had made her so happy then was gone now—something she could neither find nor invent—and a full, unrestrained smile bloomed across her face.

The corner of Yeon-ha's mouth lifted slightly as she reached for the photo.

"Give it to me."

"What?"

"You have plenty of pictures of me, so I want to keep one of you, Noona."

"No. That one's not allowed. No—this one isn't."

Je-yoon watched with a regretful look as Yeon-ha took the photo with decisive hands. Without another word he straightened the bag and flopped down onto the bed. Yeon-ha sat a little apart and gently shoved at Je-yoon's shoulder, which seemed to be sulking.

"Go Je-yoon, are you sulking?"

"Like I would."

"Then why is this like this?"

She pressed a finger into the crease between his brows and laughed; Je-yoon snatched her finger with sharp suddenness. When her hand tried to pull free he caught it in both of his and rubbed the pad of his thumb firmly along the tip of her finger.

"Hey... what are you doing."

It wasn't as if he were examining her fingerprint... The place he rubbed went white from lack of blood and then flushed color again, over and over. When the hard edge of his nail scraped across, Yeon-ha parted her lips slightly and let out a quiet breath.

"Just wiping off any foundation that might have gotten on you."

"You could just wash it. No need to go to the trouble."

Startled by the unfamiliar tremor, Yeon-ha answered more curtly than necessary.

"Noona."

"Yeah."

"Look."

"......!"

Yeon-ha's breath stopped as Je-yoon's face came close enough for their noses to nearly touch; her eyes flew wide. If she blinked she felt their lashes would brush, so she froze exactly as she was.

"Your handprint is stamped right between my brows."

Je-yoon, forehead completely exposed, tilted his head this way and that as if asking her to look. The mattress sank under his weight and rebounded, and her chest gave a useless little lurch.

"Get off. Go Je-yoon."