“What do you think you’re doing?”

I looked at him innocently while sipping from my coffee. “What?”

Donghwa arched an eyebrow. “That. That girl,” he pronounced it so quickly like it disgusted him to say it, to have it rolling in his tongue.

“Jihyuk, you mean?” I asked and went back to my paperwork. “She’s moving in with me tonight.”

“WHAT?” He almost pulled his hair from his roots. Slamming his fist on the table, Donghwa leaned over my table and was about to grab me by the collar. This was the true Lee Donghwa, the man who didn’t care whether we were in a public or a private place. What he wants, he gets. This was unlike the Lee Donghwa his colleagues know. People had always thought Donghwa didn’t want to get married because he loved his work so much he didn’t have time for anything else. The truth was that nobody was good enough for a Lee Donghwa.

I grabbed his hand before he could touch me. “What, you’re going to hit me again? I know what you did. I know everything you told Jihyuk. Don’t you see how much you’ve ruined her? Don’t you see how much you’ve ruined me?” I said, feeling angrier and angrier by the second.

“You owe me your life,” Donghwa said, each word heavy and stressed.

“I know,” I replied. “I owe you everything and I’m not denying that. But let me live my life. Let me live a little. Let me breathe a little. Leave Jihyuk and me in peace, I’m begging you.” Then when he didn’t reply, and I felt like he wouldn’t reply, I turned to leave.

“Just try, Lee Donghae,” he muttered through gritted teeth. “Just try and walk out that door and I’ll forget I ever had a brother.”

I was standing in the in-between, the place where there it was either I took it or left it. It was easy, really. Jihyuk or Donghwa. Jihyuk or Donghwa. A girl who never called me by my name or the man who knew me all my life. I opened the door and turned to him before I go. “It was nice working with you, sunbaenim.”

--

She handed me a single box, which I weighed carefully in my hands. “What’s inside?” I asked.

“Clothes,” Jihyuk casually replied and started pacing.

“Don’t you have anything else?” I pressed, noticing how the only thing in her hands is the black skateboard with a skull painted on the front.

She shrugged. “I don’t have anything else.” And I didn’t ask more, though I wanted to know where her shelves and shelves of books were. I wanted to know how she could give up a part of herself so easily, because she was the books she read and she breathes in the texture of each page like oxygen.

We reached the apartment in no time, with me silently storming heaven with prayers that Hyukjae would be presentable and not embarrassing even just for this night. As soon as I opened the door, I knew right then that my prayers have fallen on heaven’s deaf ears.

“I hate this life!” Hyukjae shouted and stomped out of the kitchen. His ears were red and he was nursing his left hand.

Jihyuk ran to him. “What happened?”

“I burned my hand while trying to cook,” he grumbled and collapsed on the couch before kicking his feet up the arm rest.

I sank beside him and left the box on the table. “What have you got there?” he asked, his tone sulking.

“Jihyuk’s clothes,” I said as-a-matter-of-factly. “She’s moving in with me.” And I turned to my right to check his expression.

He didn’t react. He just stood up and stomped to his room. “I just hate my life right now,” he exhaled and slammed the door close. I didn’t see Jihyuk where I had last seen her, and I wonder why people kept walking out on me.

“Ah jinjja,” she exclaimed, scratching her head while talking to herself. “No wonder that boy got burned.”

“Wae?” I walked in, watching her from behind.

Without looking at me, she said, “He didn’t use potholders because, apparently, you don’t have one.” Jihyuk stood on her tiptoes and searched the cupboards. “And he stood so near to the pan and probably got splatters of hot cooking oil on him.”

“What was he trying to make?” I asked.

She sighed. “He hasn’t even started anything yet, just heated the cooking oil.” Jihyuk put her hands on her waist and stared at the stove for a while without saying anything. I was afraid she might have fallen asleep while standing, but then she worked her way into the kitchen soon after. She might have learned a lot from her experience as a waitress as she moved quickly and gracefully while cooking.

I knew she was doing the right thing when Hyukjae came out of his room and sat himself on the dining table. I told her this and she laughed. Kissing her cheek, “I’ll prepare the table,” I said and left.

“You are the best thing that’s ever happened to this house,” Hyukjae told Jihyuk in between bites and chews. “Don’t ever leave, okay? Donghae will need you here and I need your food here,” he said, pointing to his stomach.

She laughed. “Why do I feel like it’s the first time you’ve ever eaten real, home-cooked food?” she asked, alternating glances from me to Hyukjae.

“It’s not every day we have delicious food in front of us,” I stated with a shrug. And as soon as I noticed, “Why aren’t you eating?” I asked with my mouth stuffed.

Jihyuk looked at me for a while, stared, and in a faint voice said, “Can I borrow your phone for a while?” When I handed it to her, she kissed me on the cheek and went over to my room. Hyukjae turned to me questioningly, but I just shrugged him off.

--

“It’s just temporary, omma.” I was standing by the door and eavesdropping, but I can’t help not to. “My guilt will eat me alive if I stay for more than a month,” she continued, although I thought we had come to the understanding that she would be living with me permanently.

“Of course, I’ll still look after Sunmi,” Jihyuk said. “Why do you talk like she doesn’t mean anything to me? She’s my sister, for heavens’ sake.” She paused and sighed, possibly listening. “Well, if you care about her that way, what about me? I look after her. I make sure she’s getting as much help as possible.”

She was interrupted briefly. “Why don’t you ever listen to me, mom? Why don’t you ask if I get tired from working too? Why don’t you ask if I still get to eat at least once a day? Why don’t you care about me, omma? I know Sunmi’s sick and I’m doing everything to help her. But I’m important too, mom. I’m important too.” Then she hung up.

I figured it must be a good time now to knock before entering. As soon as I stepped in, Jihyuk was sitting by the bed. She looked like she was barely breathing, like one single exhale will break her into pieces, like she was a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. Handing me my phone back, “Are you going to sleep now?” she asked and began fixing the bed. I just observed her, and when she was done, she headed out the door.

“Where are you going?”

“Outside.”

“Where will you sleep?”

She scratched her head. “On the couch?”

Shaking my head, I approached her slowly. “You sleep here.” Before she could misunderstand again, “Beside me…if you don’t mind.”