Manhattan, New York

McAllister & Partners Law Firm

“Dara, John’s in line 3,” Minzy’s head popped out of the half-opened door. She cringed, “Again. I think you should answer him.”

“Not now,” I mouthed her the same reply I had been given for the fourth time in the last thirty minutes. I was in the middle of an important meeting that will decide whether or not I deserve to be our firm’s youngest partner. I couldn’t be distracted by a family matter. Not when my whole carreer was at stake.

“He insists to speak to you himself. Something came up,” Minzy’s expression showed urgency.

I shifted my glance between her and the client I was having conversation with. Mr. Schmidtz, being a gentleman he was, nodded understandingly.

“Please,” he waved his hand to the phone on my desk in encouraging manner and heavy German accent, “Take your time.”

“Just a moment, I’ll be right back,” I smiled to him apologetically and reached for the awaiting device.

“This better be important otherwise I’m so going to skin you alive, John Andrew Park!” I immediately switched into my native language, Korean, for privacy reasons.

“Dara, listen,” my cousin’s voice sounded stern as he replied in English. “Your mother called this morning. She said Seunghyun’s father passed away.”

...

Hannam-dong, Seoul

24 hours later

“It’s been a while since the last time you came here, isn’t it?” Dongwook, the eldest of Choi brothers, was the first to greet me once I arrived at the sorrowful mansion where Choi Sr.’s wake was going to take place. I went straight from Incheon after a sixteen hours flight across the globe and somehow managed to clad myself in formal black suits and stilettos on my way there. I felt like I deserve an applause for my effort to appear sleek and presentable in front of his mourning family.

“Seven years to be exact.”

We exchanged hug and I could feel him shuddered. It must’ve been hard for him to endure everything on his own and maintained a calm and collected appearance in the midst of his loss in front of every body. Dongwook was not only the perfect example of ideal first son, he was also the closest among his siblings to his late father.

“My deepest condolence,” I whispered in silence.

“I know you have every right in the world not to be here, but regardless of what happened in the past, thank you for coming. I really appreciate it.”

I swallowed hard, “Of course I’m coming, Dongwook, it’s your father. Why would I not come?”

The tall man in front of me let out a faint smile and squeezed my shoulder, “Come on in. They’re starting soon.”

I did not follow him straightaway. There was a question I was dying to ask way before my plane landed a few hours ago but hesitation got the best of me. I could not bring myself to ask my mother, let alone Dongwook. But I just needed to know.

“Is everyone here already?”

Dongwook turned slightly and looked at me knowingly.

“Only me and Minho.”

I heard bitterness at the end of his words. Figured.

...

The late Choi Sr. had suffered from terminal stage of nasopharyngeal carcinoma (nose-throat cancer) for almost two years. The cancer had taken away his voice and his ability to breath properly but being the warrior he was, never even once he dwelled on his illness. The words of his health condition would probably never escape from the war veteran’s tight lips, had Dongwook did not accidentally find the letter from his oncologist last year. It was devastating for his family and relatives. But neither surgery nor chemotherapy could save him at that stage, for the cancer cells had spread further to his lungs and later his brain.

I had always liked the old man. Hell, I had always liked the Chois – put aside their second son. They were lovely people who used to be my long time neighbour before my parents divorced and I followed my father moved to the States for good.

“Dara, you’re here?” asked Minho, the youngest and tallest of three, as I finished paying my respect to the deceased, “Gosh, I thought I could never see you again!”

The corner of his lips curved upward into a smile, showing me a pair of deep dimples on his thin cheeks. He didn’t wait for my response and went ahead crushing me in a big hug.

I patted his back a few times and fixed his loosened neck tie. Minho was the same age as Sanghyun, my brother, and gave off the same aura of a little brother Sanghyun had. I felt protective toward him.

“How are you holding on?”

“Now it’s only us three left after father passed away,” he sniffed away a tear. I could sense his pain and worry eventhough he tried hard to hide it with his pretentious glee expression.

“I know it’s hard for you. But you have to stay by your brother’s side and be strong for him,” I glanced at Dongwook who was greeting some guests by the entrance, “He’s having a harder time himself.”

I looked around and did a quick scan, “He’s really not coming, is he?”

“I tried everything to reach him, but all I ever got through was his answering machine.”

I rolled my eyes at the thought of the missing second son. Even at his own father’s wake, he wouldn’t show up.

Choi Seunghyun, you’re a coward through and through.

“Do you still hate him?” he threw me an unexpected question. I stopped to raise my head and meet his eyes.

“I hate his guts and his obsolete crudeness,” answered me honestly.

Then I felt it. A disturbing kick. Somewhere, deep in the abyss of my conscience where no lies were hidden.

...

Attending a wake was never a pleasant thing, I told myself. The Hannam-dong mansion was starting to be filled with more people as I walked around the first floor, reminiscing some good old days. I saw my mother and other women busily made their way back and forth from the living room to the kitchen, providing trays of food for the guests. She volunteered herself to help for the old time sake, Mrs. Choi, who passed away years earlier before her husband, was a dear friend of hers.

I slowed down by the fire place, where most of the family pictures were hung. My gaze shifted from one photograph to another, with one figure stood out the most to my observing eyes. A male figure of my age, height above average, broad shoulders, sharp jaws, high nosebridge, and a pair of dark enticing orbs.

Seunghyun. I found myself snorted at that name.

It had been a while, a very long while, since the last time I saw him. Was it seven years ago before I fled the country? Oh yes, matter-of-factly, it was.

Seunghyun and I shared a long history and countless of used tos. We used to be childhood friends. We used to go to the same school, share the same class room, and be seated next to each other. He used to be the school bully while I was the school nerd. He used to skip classes and fight a lot. I used to cover for him and his excuses. He used to be the black sheep of the family. He was never close with his father and often got beaten up for being a young thug.