Hyejeong says: If you’re the woman he’s looking for, I will find you.

Hyejeong's gentleness consoled her as she held Seolhyun close. Seolhyun didn’t want her to ever stop, and Hyejeong didn’t seem inclined to let the younger girl go. Time lost meaning, and Seolhyun didn’t know how long Hyejeong held her.

Then, just when she was least prepared, Hyejeong seemed to snap to attention, become aware of the surroundings. She dropped her arms and stepped away. The girl's movements were so abrupt that Seolhyun nearly stumbled. She might have if Hyejeong hadn’t held her waist to steady her.

Speechless, she stared up at Hyejeong, unable to make sense of what had happened in the past few minutes. Under normal conditions, Seolhyun didn’t give way to emotion, and certainly not in public. But Christmas, that little girl and the memory of losing her own father had struck her hard and there’d been no stopping the barrage of deeply buried feelings. She told herself she was not going to react to that kiss. “I need a cup of coffee,” she murmured. Despite her tears was parched.

Hyejeong nodded.

“I’ll change clothes and be right back.” Seolhyun was sure her voice sounded strained and unnatural. She hurried inside the ladies’ room; once the door was closed she leaned against it and covered her face. Her whole body was trembling. Eventually, when she felt composed again, she straightened and began to dress. To the best of her knowledge, this was the first time she’d ever cried over her father.

Her father had simply walked out of their lives one day as if it meant nothing. As if they meant nothing. The event had forever marked her and Yuna and their mother, as well. And yet he seemed oblivious to the anguish he’d inflicted on his wife and children. His excuse was that he needed to “find himself.” Apparently he couldn’t manage that and be a husband and father at the same time. His was a solitary path, and it didn’t seem to matter how many hearts he crushed along the way.

Seolhyun made every effort to cast all thoughts of him out of her mind. But he was there, as much as she wanted to deny his existence. When Seolhyun had finished dressing, she left her outfit neatly on a ledge near the sink and wrote Moonbyul a note explaining why the shoes and tights were in the garbage. Then she brushed her hair and repaired her makeup.

Hyejeong was pacing in the hallway outside the door. She stopped when she saw Seolhyun and even in the dimly lit hallway she could see that the matchmaker wasn’t quite herself, either. With a hand at her elbow, Hyejeong escorted her back into the mall and toward an exit. “There’s a place close by where we can have coffee.” She reached inside her pocket for her car keys. “I’ll drive.”

Seolhyun didn’t know what was wrong with the restaurants that were within walking distance. However, she didn’t have the energy to argue, so she just followed the older girl. She wasn’t surprised to see that Hyejeong drove a black sports car with a black interior, which was meticulously maintained; she wouldn’t have expected anything less. Hyejeong wasn’t the type of woman who’d have hamburger wrappings and stale French fries littering her vehicle.

They didn’t speak; Hyejeong then flipped on a CD. Seolhyun recognized the calming strains of a R&B song, she wasn’t surprised, although she couldn’t have identified the piece. She leaned back, eyes shut, letting the music flow over her. The restaurant wasn’t really all that close, she noted a little later.

It was perhaps a fifteen-minute drive along the waterfront before Hyejeong pulled into an exclusive housing development. She turned down several streets, then entered a driveway. “This isn’t a restaurant,” Seolhyun said.

“No, it’s my home.”

“Your home?”

“I felt we’d both appreciate privacy for this discussion.” She was probably right.

Hyejeong ushered her inside. The house was spotless. It looked like one of those model homes with everything carefully arranged and color-coordinated, not a thing out of place. No Christmas decorations. Nor did she see a single photograph, and that seemed almost unnatural. Surely there were people in the girl's life, people she loved and cared about. Family. Friends.

Then again, maybe she preferred to keep her distance from others. Maybe she felt her job required it. “Make yourself comfortable,” Hyejeong said and gestured toward the sofa. Then she disappeared into the kitchen through a swinging door. Seolhyun looked out over the Han River, although her thoughts still churned and she hardly noticed the beauty before her. She had a distinct feeling that their professional agreement was about to come to an end. Other than one brief interchange—when she was asked how she liked her coffee—all was silent.

After a few minutes, Hyejeong reappeared with two cups of coffee. She handed Seolhyun one, careful to avoid physical contact, before taking a seat as far away as the room allowed. Seolhyun stared down at her coffee.

“I would like to know what happened back at the mall,” Hyejeong said after a tense moment.

“Okay.” It wasn’t as if they could ignore the episode. “Which part do you want to di