The Bucket List of a Married Couple
No matter how much Seonwu chided her—calling for her to scribble down every desire on her phone—Shin Jaye could not bring herself to open the Notes app. She had always thought she had plenty of things she wanted to do, places she wanted to see… yet when it came down to it, nothing sprang to mind.
Seonwu watched her in silence for a long moment. Then he rose from his chair and borrowed a pen and paper from the kitchen counter.
“Write it here.”
“I don’t even know what I’m supposed to write.”
“Just write anything.”
Jaye picked up the pen, thought for a while, and began jotting down whatever came to her one by one.
[1. Drink until the sun comes up — I have to try both cocktails and wine.
[2. Watch a late-night movie — the final showtime.
[3. Go on a trip — at least one overnight stay.
[4. Pajama party — stay up all night talking with the girls. ]
Seonwu looked at the list and let out a soft chuckle.
“Why are you laughing?”
Jaye stared at him in bewilderment. Nothing funny had been written, yet he was grinning as if he knew a secret.
“You want to go out at night and have fun, don’t you?”
“Ah…”
Only now did she realize every single item was tied to the night. She had been about to make an excuse, but something in his eyes made her drop the pretense.
“There’s a curfew at Unamjae.”
“Really?”
“Yes. As a married woman, I couldn’t just wander out after dinner anyway. And I couldn’t sneak out for overnight trips or MTs either.”
There had been another reason she had stayed with her mother-in-law—Seonwu’s role required him to be ready for her at any hour—but she had no choice but to keep her movements in check. Personal freedom had been the first thing cut away.
“So all that pent-up desire finally surfaced?”
“It did, but it was just… a feeling. That’s all.”
If she had known this would happen, she would have written driving license and employment on the very top. Or, failing that, something far more respectable: Broadway, museums, art galleries.
Regret washed over her. One by one she drew a thick line through each item.
Throughout it all, Seonwu watched her with eyes full of quiet pity.
While Jaye had carried the burden of being a married woman for so long, Seonwu had lived his life as if he had no wife at all. The only role he had ever played was coming home to her, signing whatever bills came his way, and calling it a day.
They had shared the same hours of the day, yet the responsibilities and restrictions had fallen entirely on her shoulders. The ink on her back, three lost years of freedom, the stigma of divorce that still clung to her name.
Could money ever repay that? If her mother was right and she was given a fortune, would the guilt of stealing another person’s life finally fade away?
“These four things are just… suggestions.”
While Jaye’s mind raced with the usual endless possibilities, her new list began to take shape.
“Actually… I really want to go to an art theater and see a musical. And I’d love to stand in front of famous paintings at a museum… Oh, and a concert. Concerts…”
“…”
“Seonwu-ssi?”
“Ah, yes. I’m listening. Go on.”
Even as Jaye muttered to herself, Seonwu’s thoughts had already drifted far away.
For some strange reason, every time he saw her plain face, a deep ache stirred inside his chest. No matter what he gave her, it always felt insufficient.
Again today he wrapped his own feelings in the gentle guise of sympathy.
She was pitiful. And that was why he kept wanting to give her something, anything.
Yes, it was pity. Nothing more.
***
Seven in the morning. A black sedan pulled into the underground parking lot of S-Palis Apartment, the residential complex built by Samjeong Construction.
Seonwu had only just stepped out of the car when he spotted a man in a suit running toward him from the far end of the parking garage. Park Huichean, his secretary.
Every day they had driven from Unamjae to the office, but today the order had changed. Park Huichean was now rushing toward the building with a paper bag from a chain of well-known chicken restaurants clutched in his hand.
The driver of the company car stepped out and bowed. Park Huichean straightened his tie and adjusted his collar.
“Director-nim, I’ll bring the breakfast and come back down. Please wait here.”
“Yes, Chief Secretary.”
“I thought this place would only be a second home. I didn’t expect the Director to be living here from day one.”
“My mother-in-law seems to really like the house.”
“Yes. Yesterday when the logistics team delivered the appliances, I came along too. The Director seemed incredibly happy.”
“I figured a chaebol’s wife would behave differently, but seeing her so pleased to have moved out… we’re not so different after all.”
“That’s right. And she’s still so young. I’ll be going, then.”
“I’ll wait here.”
Park Huichean headed toward the apartment entrance.
S-Palis had been built for the middle class. The public areas had used only familiar, mass-market materials. When the director had purchased it, Park Huichean had been surprised—until the night before, when he had caught a glimpse of the couple.
Last night, the young wife had been smiling brightly while tidying the house. Seonwu, in comfortable clothes, had followed her orders—hanging curtains, moving boxes—moving with surprising energy.
Watching them, Park Huichean had found himself smiling. Even the stoic director looked different behind closed doors.
Of course. They were newlyweds living together. Whether the apartment was modest or luxurious, it only mattered that the two of them were happy.
Park Huichean rode the elevator to the top floor and pressed the doorbell in front of the penthouse door.
A moment later the door opened, and the wife wearing an apron appeared.
“Ah… good morning, Chief Secretary.”
A flash of disappointment crossed her face. Park Huichean bowed.
“Excuse me, Chief Secretary. I’m not ready with breakfast yet, so the Director is still getting ready.”
Seeing her embarrassed expression, Park Huichean suddenly understood why the director had told him to bring breakfast. He quickly offered the paper bag.
“The Director asked me to bring you breakfast, so I picked it up.”
“Ah… really? Oh, no—don’t stand in the doorway. Please come in for a moment. While the Director eats, I’ll get the car ready.”
“It’s all right, Director.”
Secretaries were expected to wait outside. Park Huichean refused, but Jaye insisted again.
“No, I’m sorry the Director is late because of me. Please come in quickly.”
Too embarrassed to refuse twice, Park Huichean stepped inside.
Winter morning light poured through the open curtains, warming every corner of the room. The air smelled delicious.
“Do you smell burnt toast? I tried to make it this morning but burned it. My toaster only spits out burnt bread.”
“The setting must be wrong.”
“Setting?”
“Yes. Come inside. I’ll show you.”
“Thank you.”
Park Huichean walked past the short corridor into the living room. From the kitchen came the director’s voice.
“Jaye. It’s set to three, so the toast looks burnt. From now on, set it to one—”
Seonwu, standing in his suit and reading the toaster manual, looked up.
“Oh, Chief Secretary’s here?”
“Yes, Director. The Director said to come in and wait a moment.”
Park Huichean bowed. Jaye placed the paper bag on the dining table.
“Chief Secretary brought the chicken. I’ll heat it up right away. Please eat quickly and go to work.”
“Mhm.”
Jaye went to the kitchen cabinet, searching for bowls and utensils. She opened and closed drawers one by one, clearly unused to the layout.
“Director, there are disposable utensils inside—”
“Yes, Jaye. You can just use the plastic ones.”
“But—”
“It’s fine.”
Jaye finally stopped looking and poured two glasses of water from the water dispenser.
While she did so, Seonwu took two bowls from the bag and placed one in front of Jaye, one in front of himself.
“Has Chief Secretary eaten?” Jaye asked as she approached the table.
It felt awkward to eat alone while a guest waited outside.
“Yes. I ate breakfast before leaving.”
Unamjae had a separate waiting room, but this was a real home. There was no other place to sit.
Jaye went back to the kitchen to start the automatic coffee machine.
“From now on I’ll wake up early and help with preparations so the Director can leave right away. I’m sorry.”
Seonwu looked up from his bowl.
“Am I a child? Do I need my wife to prepare my breakfast before I can leave for work?”
“No, but you still have to eat breakfast.”
“If I’m hungry I can eat something simple on the way. Or I can order from the company cafeteria, or have food delivered to the office.”
Park Huichean, who had just taken the coffee from Jaye, jumped in.
“That’s right, Director. I’ll make sure you don’t go hungry. I’ll bring food from your favorite restaurant if necessary.”
Jaye’s cheeks puffed out at his words. To her they sounded more like a boundary than concern.
“They never skipped breakfast at Unamjae.”
“There was someone who did the cooking there.”
“But still—”
“You don’t have to stay in the kitchen all day like them. Don’t worry about me. Just do what you need to do.”
Seonwu’s words sounded caring, yet Jaye’s expression remained unchanged.
“Just until—”
“No need.”
“…”
Watching them, Park Huichean turned away and drank his coffee in one long gulp.
‘This is good.’
Three years of marriage, and to Park Huichean’s eyes the couple still looked like brand-new newlyweds.
Even compared with his own couple who had married around the same time, he found himself smiling when he looked at them.
“See you later.”
After breakfast, Seonwu and Park Huichean stepped out of the house together. In the elevator, Seonwu’s tone changed.
“From tomorrow, even if Jaye comes in, stay downstairs and wait. Call me on the phone if anything comes up in the morning.”
“Yes, Director. Thank you for today.”
“You’re not bothering me, but I was thinking your wife might be uncomfortable.”
“Yes.”
Park Huichean had noticed that the director’s wife seemed young enough that she had no walls when dealing with people—very different from other wives of chaebols.
“Director, there is one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“Yesterday Logistics Team Deputy Lee Seung-hee brought the appliances, right?”
“Yes.”
Seonwu had called Samjeong Electronics the previous day and asked them to deliver every single appliance. Deputy Lee Seung-hee had picked them up from the Seoul logistics center. Park Huichean had gone along that day too.
“Even though the Director announced he was married, no photos were released to the media. Everyone was probably curious about the wife.”
Seonwu looked at Park Huichean, who was still chattering away.
Unlike the recently hospitalized chief secretary, Park Huichean—promoted to the director’s office this year—was clumsy at his duties but far more talkative than the other secretaries.
“Before, I would say that even if you brought anyone to see the Director, he would feel sorry for them. But after meeting the Director yesterday, you just kept saying how beautiful she is.”
“So what did you say yesterday?”
“What?”
“You said you felt sorry for the Director if you brought anyone, right? What did you say yesterday?”