“I’m happy enough if I could be with you,” I sang in Korean, my voice dying away with the instrumental.
Karen looked at me, with tears in her eyes. The whole time I was singing, she would alternate from watching me, reading the English subtitles from the screen, and closing her eyes to listen to me sing. Twice my voice cracked due to nervousness, but she didn’t seem to notice.
“That was beautiful, Jongwoon,” she said with a voice barely audible with awe.
I shook my head. “It wasn’t. It was horrible.”
“You may think so. But it’s definitely better than the average person singing in the shower.”
“You think so?”
“I don’t think. I know.” She pointed at her chest, where her heart was. “From here.”
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