My husband eyed me suspiciously. I pretended I didn’t notice as I busied myself in reading some reports. When I couldn’t take his stares anymore, I stood up.

 

“I’ll just read these in my office,” I said.

 

“Why?” he asked.

 

“You’ve been staring. It’s distracting me.” I informed him.

 

“Is there something you’d like to tell me?” he asked.

 

“None that I know of,” I chuckled.

 

“You’ve been very pale lately,” he said. “You easily get tired, too.”

 

“I’m probably tired, overworked.”

 

“You know what all of these reminds me of?” he quietly asked.

 

“What?”

 

“It reminds me of Bom before she died.”

 

I looked at him, assessing. And then, I laughed. “You think I’m sick and I’m hiding it from you? Why should I hide something that important?”

 

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “It’s not the first time you hid something from me.”

 

“When the hell are you going to get over that part of our past?” I heated up. “Now if you don’t have anything to say, I’ll just go to my office.”

 

As I turned around, my surroundings started spinning. I dropped the files on the floor as I searched for something to hold on to. I heard Jiyong called my name in an alarmed voice. And then, I out.

 

~o~

 

Phantom memories – that’s what my so-called happy memories are. When you feel like slipping away, the only memories you could remember are the ones that made a mark on you. When I need those so-called happy memories, I have to force myself to remember them while those memories I tried so hard to forget kept on resurfacing without me trying to remember them.

 

Right now, I can’t remember any of those “happy” memories I thought I had. I only remember my parents dying in the car accident, Bom’s death, my grandfather and Jiyong’s accident, when he confessed how he felt so confused and guilty after reading Bom’s letter that he pushed me away from him.  Those are my real memories.

 

 If a memory is a sad one, do you really have to force yourself to forget them?

 

And if a memory is a happy one, do you really have to force yourself to remember them?

 

No, I don’t know what memories are. Do they really fade into nothingness or do they last forever? How come we don’t have the choice on which to remember and which to forget?

 

All white. For a moment, I was blinded with the overly white surroundings. I looked around and saw him, my very own angel and probably the only memory I’ll never forget.

 

“You don’t look angry anymore,” I said.

 

“I’m not,” he said.

 

“So, what’s my diagnosis?” I tried to joke. He smiled the most exultant smile I’ve ever seen that I had the urge to cry. He was on the verge of crying, too.

 

“You’re pregnant,” he said.

 

“Oh my God!” I cried. He laughed and took my hand. He kissed it gently and silently cried with me.

 

I fulfilled my promise after all.