…

…

Jan-di spent the ride back to Seoul lost in thought. Her head was whirling with the memory of Ji-hoo's words. Move on? Love again? She hadn't even given it a thought until… until Ji-hoo had pulled her into his arms last night and woken her up. She didn't know what she thought now; everything was happening so fast. Before she knew it, they had pulled up in front of her building. Ji-hoo parked the bike and secured the helmets, then pulled Jan-di's bag out of the storage compartment and handed it to her. She glanced up at him nervously.

"Do you want me to walk you up?" Ji-hoo asked.

Jan-di shook her head. "No, sunbae. It's okay. I'll… see you tomorrow." She hiked her bag up to her shoulder and turned to walk in, missing Ji-hoo's slightly disappointed look. He rallied quickly, however, watching with a small smile as Jan-di disappeared behind the great glass doors. When she was gone, he pulled on his helmet and started his bike.

Ji-hoo drove home the long way, letting the cool night air wash over him. His emotions were a strange mixture of angst and anticipation. He had told Jan-di the truth. He would wait for her as long as it took. He would be there whenever she needed him. The one thing he wouldn't do was sit back in silence while this woman slipped away from him for the second time. When he thought of that happening, it gave him courage to be bold. He had spoken what was in his heart. Whatever she decided, Geum Jan-di would know one thing without a doubt: that Yoon Ji-hoo loved her. He turned his bike toward home.

…

Jan-di showed up at the clinic the next day expecting it to be awkward, but Ji-hoo was as good as his word. Maybe a little too good. His friendly, casual manner toward her was the same as it had always been, and if she hadn't already carved last night's confession on her memory over a long, sleepless night of replaying it in her head, she might have been convinced by his demeanor that it hadn't happened at all.

As she moved around the small clinic, examining patients, filing paperwork, and preparing meds, she found herself sneaking glances at her sunbae. He didn't seem to be watching her or, in fact, taking much notice of her at all. To her discomfort, it bothered her a little. She had thought, after last night… well, nevermind what she had thought. Ji-hoo was clearly giving her the time he had promised. By late afternoon, she was spending more time thinking about him than about her cases. Fortunately, the flow of patients had slowed to a trickle, so her distraction went largely unnoticed. Noticing that Ji-hoo's office door was open, Jan-di ducked behind a screen and observed from across the room as he administered an injection to a girl of eleven. His dark hair—he had let the blonde grow out a few years ago—was hanging in his eyes, and he swiped it back off his forehead with one deft motion. It was a surprisingly boyish gesture, and Jan-di smiled despite herself. As his attention was on his patient, she took the opportunity to study his profile. His eyebrows were drawn down in concentration, and his hands were deft and confident as he prepared the needle and positioned it over her arm. Jan-di could just barely hear the low murmur of his voice reassuring the girl, who seemed nervous. The strong, square line of his jaw added masculinity to his otherwise sensitive features, and she glimpsed a flash of his straight, white teeth as he bestowed one of his warm smiles on the girl's mother. His mouth captured Jan-di's attention, and the remembered sensation of his lips on hers swept through her memory before she could drag her thoughts back to the present.

Just then, Ji-hoo looked up and caught her gaze, his eyes still crinkled in a smile. She flushed pink, as if the direction of her thoughts was written on her face for him to read. Whirling around, she fled into her own office and closed the door.

…

As sunset's light played over the clinic windows, Ji-hoo pulled on his riding jacket and prepared to go home. He glanced at Jan-di's door, still closed, and debated knocking to ask if she needed a ride. The day had been more difficult for him than he had foreseen; his desire to be close to her, to hear her voice, had warred with his determination to be patient in the waiting. He knew that these things took time, and he had been prepared to give it to her, but in all his dreams of finally holding Jan-di's heart, he hadn't anticipated wanting her so much. He rubbed a hand over his face in amused frustration. The small tastes of her physical touch had only whet his appetite for more, and it was all he could do to keep his mind focused on his work when all he wanted was to take her hand in his, or pull her into his arms, or close them both behind her office door and convince her of the certainty that pounded through him with every pulse—that their time had come at last.

He left without knocking.

…

A week passed, and then three. Jan-di's troubled mind was soothed by the routines of home and work. She cared for Hee Jin, visited her family, and spent lunch hours in friendly conversation with Ji-hoo, who seemed as warm and open as ever. She couldn't deny that she had begun to be aware of certain… changes in the way she looked at him, but she had also realized that his friendship meant more to her than she had known. The thought of risking what they had on the gamble of romance brought a cold lump of fear to . What would she do without Yoon Ji-hoo in her life? So she stalled. And she waited. And she tried to tamp down the fire that had started slowly smoldering deep within her, reminding her of possibilities she had thought were gone forever.

…

Ji-hoo buried his head in his hands and gave a wordless groan of frustration. He was sitting on the sofa at Yi-jung's house, three shots into a soju bottle, pouring out his worries to his old friend.

"You told her what?" Yi-jung asked.

"I told her to take as much time as she needed," Ji-hoo repeated in a voice muffled by his hands. He lifted his head. "And I meant it, too. I just… hoped it wouldn't be quite this long." He looked around for his glass and poured himself another drink.

Yi-jung sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "You know, I'm probably not the best person to ask about women. I did pretty much everything wrong until Ga-eul came along." He chuckled. "Actually, I screwed that up, too. I'm just lucky she's a patient teacher."

Ga-eul came back from the kitchen with a tray of cut fruit. "Well, you turned out to be a good student in the end," she said with an affectionate smile, bending to kiss Yi-jung's cheek before setting the tray down on a low table. Sitting down beside him, she turned to Ji-hoo and patted his arm comfortingly.

"I've known Jan-di since primary school," she assured him. "I know how she feels about you, even if it's taking her a long time to name that feeling to herself." She picked up a chunk of apple and popped it into , chewing thoughtfully. In a moment, she went on. "Despite her fiery spirit, Jan-di is slow to change, slow to understand herself."

Ji-hoo nodded his head, the look of angst on his face replaced by one of reflection.

"If you think about it," Ga-eul continued, "her decision to attend Shinhwa, her relationship with Jun-pyo, every big change in her life has been shaped by Jan-di's reaction to outside forces. It's not that she doesn't make decisions for herself. It's more like she needs… a little push…" Ga-eul's voice trailed off as her eyes lit up with sudden revelation.

Yi-jung grinned. "Unless I miss my guess, my lovely wife just had an idea."

…

Later that week, Ga-eul was sitting on Jan-di's bed, waiting for her to come out of her bathroom. She tapped her fingers on the coverlet impatiently. "Hurry up!" she called loudly enough to be heard through the door. "You know that if we're late to the concert, they won't let us in until intermission!"

Jan-di swept out of the bathroom, still fastening a sapphire earring into her ear. Ga-eul looked her up and down before nodding approvingly. The navy blue sleeveless dress she wore was simple but elegant, tailored to skim Jan-di's gentle curves flatteringly. Ga-eul had made her buy it last year on a joint shopping trip after noticing that Jan-di had bought something for everyone except herself. Despite the financial security she had enjoyed since marrying Jun-pyo, she had never been comfortable spending money on herself. Seeing her in this dress, Ga-eul was glad that she had made an exception.

Jan-di warmed at her friend's appreciation. She threw a gauzy sweater over her shoulders and picked up her purse, and then the two of them joined Yi-jung in the living room, where he waited to drive them to the concert hall. Ji-hoo was going to be playing his violin as part of the program, and they had all promised to be there to support him. Jandi checked her purse for the tickets Ji-hoo had given her and smiled to see his name listed prominently in the concert title.

Jan-di remembered the first time she had heard Ji-hoo play. His eyes closed, his face serene, he had made the instrument speak almost as if it was using words. The music had brought her to a halt on the wooded path, struck to the heart by the beauty of it. She had heard rather than seen his isolation and the undercurrent of sadness that ran through him. That was probably the moment she had first been drawn to him—partly by attraction and partly by the desire to somehow pour warmth back into those sad, dark eyes. Little did she know that he would be the one pouring into her as life tossed her around and twisted her in knots. She didn't know what would have become of her without sunbae's gentle hands always pulling her pieces back together, turning her face to the sun.

Jan-di realized that Yi-jung and Ga-eul were looking at her, puzzled at her glazed expression. She shook her head, tucking away the memories.

Hee-jin came running in from her room, trailed by her slightly frazzled grandmother and an adoring Ma-ru. She threw herself into Jan-di's outstretched arms, hugging her with the wild abandon of a five year old before pulling her head back to take a long look at her dressed-up mother. "You look pretty, Umma," she said decisively. "When I grow up, can I wear that dress?"

Jan-di laughed and pulled her in for another hug. "Of course you can, Hee-jin-a." She set her down. "Now, don't wear your grandmother out, and be a good hostess for Ma-ru. That means sharing your toys, got it?"

Hee-jin sighed at the reminder, but agreed. "I wish I could go with you to hear sunbae play his violin," she said wheedlingly.

"You can when you're older," Jan-di promised. "When you've outgrown the fidgets!" She tickled Hee-jin until the little girl was giggling and breathless.

"Now go with your grandmother; she's cooking you something yummy for dinner." She hugged Hee-jin once more and followed Ga-eul and Yi-jung out of the apartment.

…

Despite Ga-eul's fears that they would be late, they arrived at the hall with nearly ten minutes to spare before the concert. Weaving gently through the crowd, they found their seats near the front of the auditorium and sat down. Ga-eul and Jan-di were chatting quietly when a delighted squeal sounded from the end of their row.

"Chu Ga-eul-ssi! Is that you?" A beautifully curvy girl with wide, dark eyes and glowing skin was making her way down the row, finally coming to a stop at the seat right next to Jan-di's. She reached out to take Ga-eul's hand. "Do you remember me?"

Ga-eul looked blank for a moment, and then recognition flooded her face. "Choi Yun-jee?" she asked.

"Yes!" Yun-jee confirmed, and the two girls hugged before Ga-eul turned to introduce her to Yi-jung and Jan-di.

"Yun-jee and I met when she came to guest lecture at the art institute," Ga-eul explained. "She studied in America and pioneered an exciting new technique for layering glazes that results in the most beautiful webbed patina in the finish. It's quite lovely."

Yun-jee bowed modestly. Yi-jung's eyes lit up with professional interest, but Jan-di just nodded politely.

"Anyway," Ga-eul finished, "we hit it off right away, and Yun-jee agreed to come teach a variation of the technique to my teen class. It was a great success."

The three girls shared a few moments of conversation before the lights flickered, indicating that the concert was about to begin. Yun-jee took the seat next to Jan-di.

Soon Jan-di was lost in the music. A bearded man playing the piano opened with a delicate rendition of Benjamin Godard's Au Matin. He was followed by a string quartet performing Stravinski. The light and whimsical notes seemed to be dancing in the air above their heads, as if carried by a cheerful breeze. Jan-di felt herself relaxing.

Finally, after a tall woman with a cello had finished a masterful rendering of the Bach cello suites, the lights dimmed, a spotlight came up, and Ji-hoo walked out onto the stage, his violin tucked under his arm.

Jan-di heard a soft gasp beside her. Yun-jee leaned forward in her seat and whispered across Jan-di to Ga-eul. "Who is that? He's gorgeous!"

Jan-di felt an unreasonable burst of irritation.

Ga-eul smiled and whispered back, "That's our friend, Yoon Ji-hoo. You'd like him. He loves music and art."

Looking up at Ji-hoo sunbae as he lifted his violin to his shoulder, Jan-di had to admit that Yun-jee had a point. Ji-hoo was wearing a deep blue shirt under a well-cut grey suit that showed off his broad shoulders. His eyes were closed as he played, and his long, well-formed fingers moved with a confident grace over the instrument. The memory of those fingers brushing against her neck momentarily diverted her from her assessment. She shivered. No matter how you looked at it, Ji-hoo was a handsome man.

Jan-di cast a sidelong glance at Yun-jee. She was looking up at the stage with a rapt expression on her face. Jan-di scowled.

…

After the concert ended, the four of them waited backstage to see Ji-hoo. After a few minutes, he emerged with his violin case in hand and his jacket tossed over his arm. His friends surrounded him.

"You played wonderfully, as always," said Yi-jung with a friendly slap on the shoulder. Ji-hoo grinned back, then noticed Yun-jee standing next to Ga-eul.

"Is this a friend of yours, Ga-eul-ssi?" he asked.

Ga-eul confirmed it, and hastened to introduce the two of them. Yun-jee looked up at him charmingly as she complimented his performance.

Jan-di looked on, unaccountably discomfited by this exchange. When Yi-jung suggested they all go out for drinks, she was chagrined to note Yun-jee's enthusiastic nod of agreement.

They ended up at a small bar down the street from the performing arts center. The proprietor was an old friend of the F4, and he set them up at a table in the back, telling the waiter to give them whatever they wished. Yi-jung thanked him, and poured out the first round before raising his hand in a toast to "one last night out before the newborn craziness starts again!" Everyone laughed, especially Jan-di, whose memories of Hee-jin's colicky newborn days still seemed fresh in her mind despite the years that had passed.

Ga-eul joined in with her glass of apple juice and rolled her eyes fondly at Yi-jung. "I don't know what you're going on about, yobo. As I recall, your ability to sleep through almost anything includes the crying of newborn children." He faked an injured look, and she winked at him.

As the night went on, the collection of empty bottles at their table grew. Talk got louder and freer, and when Yi-jung remarked that he wished Woo-bin and Jun-pyo could have been there to make the gang complete, Jan-di felt a bittersweet twinge as she agreed with him. Woo-bin had left for Japan the previous day; his father was training him to take the reins of the family's business affairs in Tokyo. But the hole he left was temporary. All of them felt the loss of Jun-pyo when they were together and probably always would. Still, Jan-di was surprised to find that thinking of him had become less painful and more sweet as time went by. She supposed that was what people meant by the expression "time heals all wounds". Time didn't erase the injury, but it eased the pain, somehow, and taught you to live with the scars.

Jan-di noticed that Ga-eul was beginning to droop, and was about to say something when Yi-jung beat her to the punch.

"Come on, jagiya," he said, "we should get you home to rest." Ga-eul nodded gratefully and let Yi-jung pull her to her feet.

"I'll go with you," Jan-di said, hunting around for her purse. She looked down the length of the table to see Ji-hoo and Jun-hee deep in conversation. Her stomach did an unpleasant flip.

Yi-jung tossed a bottlecap at Ji-hoo to get his attention. To Jan-di, it looked as if he pulled his attention away from Yun-jee with great effort.

"We're taking off," Yi-jung said. "Do you want us to drop you at home?"

Ji-hoo glanced at Yun-jee, who smiled, and said, "That's okay. We're kind of in the middle of something. We'll catch a cab later." He dismissed them with a wave and turned back to the girl across the table from him.

Jan-di's stomach felt sour as she followed Ga-eul out to the car. I shouldn't have drunk so much, she told herself. But on the ride home, all she could think about was Yoon Ji-hoo.

…

Ji-hoo called the clinic the next morning to say he was taking a day off. Jan-di was surprised. He had never spontaneously taken a day off in all the time since he'd returned from Colombia. What could he be doing? she wondered. A tiny suspicion niggled at her mind, but she didn't put words to it. Instead, she took a deep breath and called her next patient.

At lunchtime, Jan-di took advantage of the break to run several streets over and get some takeout. As she neared the café where she and Ji-hoo often bought lunch, she glanced up at the front window and nearly stumbled. Seated at a table right in the front, Ji-hoo and Yun-jee were sharing a plate of galbi. Yun-jee was talking animatedly, and Ji-hoo was listening intently, interest painted on his face. As Jan-di watched, Yun-jee placed several pieces of beef on top of Ji-hoo's rice bowl, earning a smile.

Jan-di blanched. A feeling bloomed in her chest that was sickeningly familiar. She had felt it when Jun-pyo's engagement to Jae-kyung was announced, and again when he had warmed up to the duplicitous Yu-mi after losing his memory. After the "happily ever after", she had thought never to feel it again. She knew exactly what this was, and the meaning of it nearly knocked the breath out of her. Geum Jan-di was jealous.

Suddenly afraid of being seen, she hurried away.

…

In the café, Ji-hoo caught Jan-di's flight out of the corner of his eye and sighed. He was starting to have doubts about Ga-eul's brilliant plan. What if it didn't work, and he pushed Jan-di even further away from him? He looked back up at Yun-jee. "Thank you again for doing this. I know it must seem a little ridiculous to be playing games like this at our age." He grimaced with embarrassment.

She laughed. "It's okay. Ga-eul told me Jan-di was a bit of a tough case. And me? I'm a romantic at heart. 'All's fair in love and war' and all that."

Ji-hoo nodded. "Well, I'm thankful for your help, whatever your motivation. Besides, from a purely professional perspective, I'm glad that Ga-eul introduced us. Your work would be a great fit for the exhibit we're curating on non-traditional techniques across artistic mediums. I hope you'll consider displaying with us."

She grinned at him, clearly delighted by the offer. "Count me in, Yoon Ji-hoo-ssi. It sounds like a great opportunity." She took a drink of her soda before reaching out to shake his hand. "And I hope you get the girl."

"Me, too," he said wryly.

…

…

…