I ain’t happy, I’m feeling glad

I got sunshine in a bag

I’m useless but not for long

The future is coming on

It’s coming on…It’s coming on…It’s coming on

The only song Hyojung ever remembers liked or likes, because she isn’t sure she hates it now. The lyrics keep shifting in her skull and she can’t help but to softly sings along to it with the exact rhythm in her head. It isn’t that Hyojung distastes music and art but it just that she never finds any spare time to actually spending time to keep up with the trend. ‘Clint Eastwood’ was the very first song (other than the folks songs, the national anthem and her previous schools’ songs, of course) that she memorises and gets addicted to, for quite a while when she was a high school freshmen.

It was Hana’s favourite song and since she was her best friend, she was into it as well. A friend’s influence was too large to handle. Hyojung sits on her small bunk—with her unfinished packed luggage and clothes scatter all around, she suddenly remembers her old friend, Hana to whom she lost contact to after they graduated.

She sighs for the umpteenth time. Hyojung knows she shall be faster because Madam Kim who is waiting in the car probably becomes a lot more nausea and sick staying in this crappy village for almost half a day, but Hyojung needs time to re-evaluate everything.

The young maiden is clad in a dark blue long sleeves dress that falls gracefully on her body and stops precisely under her knees, exposing only her fair shins. It is her favourite dress she retrieved as her 17^th birthday gift, sewed by her beloved mother. The dress’ length initially stops an inch under her knees but now it becomes shorter, only it’s not too much making Hyojung feels like she barely grew for the past three years.  And most importantly, irony how the world acts in haphazard motion in her life, she never thought that the ordinary dress she casually wears twice a week since the past three years will ended up be her wedding dress. 

“Wear a proper dress, when we arrived in Seoul, you’ll go straight getting married,” she remembers Madam Kim says before she sashays out of Hyojung’s tiny house into her obnoxious car, where her driver has been patiently waiting in. Pathetic as it sounds, but the best dress she ever had, is the one she currently wearing and when she finishes packing, Hyojung feels like she wants to get the content of her small luggage out again, cancelling what it seems to be her fate.

“Hyojung?” Park appears at her bedroom’s doorstep, looking older than ever. Her daughter calls her back in wavering voice and soon turns to sobs as she sprints on reflex to give her mother a tight hug.

They don’t converse with words only tears, and hugs until when they eventually separate once the honking gets louder. “Be good okay?” Hyojung nods reluctantly and kisses her mother on the cheeks. “Tell the others I love them so much,” she leaves her mother standing sadly at the front door, begrudgingly walking towards the black car and watches the figure of her mother getting small and smaller with every distance.

∆

The ride into the urban city is unorthodoxly soothing with only the sound of the humming engine and her own steady breathes, way too relaxing until Hyojung doesn’t realise she fell asleep. She is awoken by her future-mother-in-law, she cringes at the thought of that as the older woman pokes her side with her leather clutch. When the young lady looks out the window the skies are already shimmering with a beautiful paint of yellow and oranges. She alights the vehicle, leaving her tiny luggage in the car as she’s been told to by Madam Kim.

“Jongin will be here in a moment, and for the time being I have a few rules to tell you,” Madam Kim utters once Hyojung is in her sight and signals her to follow her into the church in their proximity. The church is small—tiny even and it is located far from the possible nearest neighbourhood. Its wall paints are washed over with ages and the enormous door (for a tiny building) creaks as it is push aside. Smells of burnt waxes and old wooden furniture assault Hyojung’s nose and she trails behind Madam Kim obediently towards the front part of the building.

Hyojung weighs down upon the bench Madam Kim has taken a seat to but, she assures the distance between them is comfortable, not too far; not too near. The maiden waits for Madam Kim to speak but the latter instead hands her a piece of folded ivory paper from her clutch. Without wasting time, Hyojung retrieves it and has in mind to open it on the spot but Madam Kim decides to speak.

“Those are a few things about Jongin that you need to know. What he eats, when he usually wakes up and so on. But I still have something to say that wasn’t written there and I need you to pay attention to it,” the sound waves hit Hyojung eardrums rather loudly due to the walls and empty spaces in the building.

“Firstly, don’t call me ‘mother’, ‘mom’ or anything alike, ever. Secondly, don’t ever try to seduce my son, well you’re probably isn’t his type but still, do not ever try to act like a harlot and try to steal his heart because it would be an act of vain,” the woman speaks without looking at Hyojung as if her existence there is greatly despised. “Never regard yourself as his wife. Remember you’re only his maid and is actually lower than that.”

Hyojung feels like a dagger stabs right into the core of her heart. “Thirdly, you cannot consummate your marriage even if, if he ever insists so and finally, don’t ever try to show and feel affection for him. Do you comprehend?”

It takes more than twenty seconds before Hyojung nods in understanding or more to surrender. Madam Kim treats her like trash and Hyojung knows the only impression the older woman has in her head about herself is the negative ones—thinking that Hyojung is a desperate narrow minded countryside girl who would agree to do anything for wealth, which is not true at all. But she knows better any sign of rebels will be futile and makes it worse.

The main door creaks again and rays of yolk lights slips into the darkening room. Hyojung follows Madam Kim as she stands up and bows to greet an old man who just entered the room. “Father Noah,” Hyojung hears Madam Kim saying. From this distance, Hyojung can sees the small smile curls on the man at the other side lips. He is the priest for her marriage she soon digests, upon looking at his attire.

“Look at this beautiful young lady,” are the first compliments she ever receives from an outsider but the way the old man says is rather melancholy however. Hyojung comprehends why. She can almost hear his whisper of sympathies in his head for her dear life.

Soon after, the door screeches loudly again followed by cacophonies of rustling and groaning noises before Hyojung sees a figure of man—a young man flinches away from another man’s poor intention of assisting him in. The brute acting man walks in with crutches and white bandages wrapped immaculately on his right arm and leg. It’s Jongin. Nobody tells her anything, she just knows and her conscience tells her that her life after this is not going to be easy.

The lighting of the building becomes brighter to which Hyojung greatly relieves as Fater Noah decides to light up some candles, and she manages to take a proper look at Jongin. The man (in great difficulty and harsh words) has reached the front of the church and plops down to a bench and sighs loudly as if he is angry with everything. Upon further (secret) glances, Hyojung notices a scar lined up from his left eyebrow to his left cheekbone vividly in view. His skin is a beautiful shade of golden tan, broad shoulders, manly-shaped jawlines and never ending scowl. Jongin, only has a plain black pants (or jeans, she can’t guess) and a simple button up black shirt on with not even neckties. But it is fine though. Hyojung is dressing in a poorer state than he ever is.

The ritual begins without delay and the vows are said without doubts, being Madam Kim as the only people witnessing the gloomy wedding. The now bride and groom exchanges wedding rings—which are only cheap silvers, and Hyojung reluctantly shut her eyelids down in despair as her groom kisses her lips in haste and hatred.

“I pray for a blissful marriage for both of you,” Father Noah smiles gloomily and Hyojung doesn’t give any respond back. Only a faint ‘thank you Father Noah’ is heard from Madam Kim before she ushers both of them out from the church.

Hyojung hesitates either to assist Jongin like what it is written in her job description but she decides not to and luckily Madam Kim is, somehow, lending her hands to guide her son towards the other car parked outside. Jongin doesn’t flinch from his mother grasp but his face expression shows vice versa.

The bag is not big nor heavy when Hyojung picks it up from Madam Kim’s car, like before. She tends to bid her farewell at Madam Kim but the latter enters the car in rush and gets her expensive sunglasses back on top of her nose. Hyojung accepts that as a sign that Madam Kim doesn’t want to exchange any words with her anymore.

Each step she takes towards the other pearl white local but expensive car is heavy with regrets and insecurity. As she is about to open the backseat door, she notices there is no space for her to sit anymore as Jongin probably intentionally places his crutches across the backseat taking the whole space on it while he sits next to the window, ignoring Hyojung’s presence.

Feeling a tad disappointed and anger rushes in her veins when she’s being treating like this. Hyojung doesn’t want him to treat her like a wife but at least treat her like a human who has pride and feelings. Hyojung knows she isn’t welcomed, but she isn’t rubbish either. She is now officially works for him and she hopes at least a mere of respect but of course, she receives none.

Hyojung graps the handle to the door of the front passenger seat and slides in. She, being a human with attitude and dignity greets the driver who assumedly the man who Jongin flinched away from earlier and, gratefully, the older man beams back.

“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” he smiles revealing a row of white teeth. “Just call me Hyojung. And nice to meet you too, sir,” she replies and she can vaguely hear Jongin scoffs at the back in annoyance.  

“And, nice to meet you too, Sir Jongin.” Hyojung braces herself to utter something towards Jongin. She doesn’t hear any reply but she feels a sudden feels of victory. Her words might offend Jongin but, that is her main point after all.   

It is the beginning but she hopes it to end soon.