Boyoung sat nervously in one of the armchairs. “Are we right to be doing this? Keeping it all a secret from them.”

“They’re too young, and both of them have already lost one parent. I don’t see we’ve any other choice.”

“It feels like I’m lying though,” she said, her fingers twisting together.

Junmyeon leant forward and touched her hand. “When they’re older we’ll tell them everything, and by then they’ll be secure in knowing they’re loved by us both.”

She looked down at their linked fingers and felt comforted. They were in this together. Just the two of them. “And you still think we shouldn’t tell our families?”

The shake of his head was decisive. “The fewer people who know, the less chance there’ll be of the girls being told anything before we think they’re ready. Besides, how confident are you in your mother, for example, being able to treat Ahra in exactly the same way as before? You must have had your reasons for not confiding in her when you had that first appointment with Dr Ahn.”

Boyoung shifted uncomfortably in her chair. It was confirmation enough for him and he continued, “Knowledge can be difficult to deal with.”

He was right. She wasn’t entirely sure of her reasons for keeping everything to herself, but she’d asked her mum to look after Ahra without telling her why she needed to go to Seoul. She met his eyes, acutely aware of her hand resting in his. She felt as if anything she said now would be sacrosanct as something said in a confessional.

“Mum’s hurt because I didn’t tell her about you. She thinks you’re the reason I’ve been coming to Seoul so much recently.”

The grip on her fingers tightened in sympathy before he let her go. “There’s no rule book for how we deal with all of this. We’re going to have to find our way through it as best as we can.” Junmyeon sat back in his chair. “You ought to be warned that Mrs Han’s imagining a great romance.”

“Won’t that be awkward?”

“We’re hardly teenagers anymore. She won’t expect us to be kissing in corners, and for the next month or so she’ll be happy with the idea that we’re having separate bedrooms because of the girls. After the wedding…” He hesitated. “Well, that’s just another thing we’ll have to work out when we get there.”

Boyoung took a sharp intake of breath. The images filling her head of what it would be like to share a room with Junmyeon were entirely inappropriate. She could only hope he didn’t have any idea of what was running through her mind. “I suppose so,” she managed. “Perhaps we could tell her we need separate rooms because I like to paint at night.”

“Do you?”

“No—but we could say I do.”

She could hardly breathe, the air was so charged between them. If he hadn’t told her he didn’t want any real connection between them she could have imagined he was as aware of her as she was becoming of him. His eyes didn’t leave her face. It made her uncomfortable, and the words she wanted to say felt as if they were getting jumbled in her head.

“I know,” she continued a little desperately. “I could use the bedroom in the annexe. We could say I sleep down there if I’ve been doing a lot of late-night painting. I’m always up early anyway…”

“Sounds like a good idea. Mrs Han wouldn’t suspect anything if you kept most of your things in the dressing room of my bedroom.”

“Fine.” She drank the last of her tea in a gulp. “That’ll work really well.”

Ahead if her were years and years of trying to fool people…the girls…everyone…that they had a normal marriage. It was a depressing thought.

“I’ve told Miran’s parents you’re coming to stay.”

Boyoung put the mug down on the low table. “And what did they say?”

“Obviously they find the idea of me marrying again quite difficult.”

“You told them we were getting married?”

“Thinking about it,” he corrected. “I’ve had some girlfriends since Miran died, but nothing serious. Nothing that involved them or Naeun. Until now.”

Junmyeon leaned back in his chair. Why had he started this conversation? Boyoung was tense enough already, without having the added pressure of knowing just how difficult his parents-in-law were finding the mere idea he might replace their daughter in his life. He wasn’t sure whether their objections were because they finally had to accept Miran had died or because they knew another woman in the house would erode the control they had over Naeun’s upbringing.

“It’s difficult for them. They adored Miran.”

“Obviously.”

“How about you? Your in-laws?”

She jumped nervously, and he cursed himself for the insensitive question, but she answered anyway. “I haven’t told them anything yet. I don’t think they’ll mind though. Junhyeon was one of six children and his parents live in Australia now, near one of their daughters. I’m sure they’ll be pleased that Ahra and I are doing alright without him. As long as they get to see her sometimes…” She faltered.

“Have you dated since he died?” It was probably an extremely crass question, but he wanted to know the answer.

“No.”

“It’s still quite recent for you, isn’t it?” he acknowledged quickly, taking pity on her tightly clasped hands. He was probably wrong to be rushing her into this marriage, but he couldn’t see any alternative. He changed tack abruptly, to refocus on exactly why they were in this invidious position. “Have you heard from Dr Ahn in the past couple of days?”

“I called him to say he could contact me here. I’m not sure he thinks what we’re doing is wise.”

Junmyeon almost snorted in irritation. “I don’t think he’s in any position to make any comment about it.”

“He wasn’t responsible for the mistake,” she countered, looking up at him. “He says it will take several months before our case goes to court, and he advises us to wait for the ruling before we make any irrevocable decisions.”

“Does he? No one outside of us can have any idea what this actually feels like.”

“Which is what I said to him,” Boyoung said quietly, unclasping her hands. “I do believe he is genuinely concerned for us, though. And for the girls.”

“I wish I did. I get the feeling they’re all fascinated by this interesting ethical dilemma. The lawyers have a case they can really get their teeth into. They’ve got rulings on embryos created when the egg was fertilised by the wrong and then implanted, but they’ve got nothing where the birth mother isn’t genetically connected to the baby at all.”

He paused to take a breath, and then continued. “Apparently there was a triple mix-up a while back, but it was discovered after a few hours and they made sure no pregnancies resulted. We’re on our own in this one. Let them talk about it, make their rulings and do their investigations, but let’s make a good future for ourselves. For the girls.”

She nodded and smiled. Although it wavered slightly it was still a smile. She brushed her hair away from her face. “I told him the ruling wouldn’t make any difference to our decision. Nothing they say will change the love I feel for Ahra or the fact that Naeun is my biological child. Their mistake has left us with few choices.”

“What did he say to that?”

She shrugged. “What was there to say? He just assured us of his support. Told me everything’s progressing much as he expected and he’d be in contact shortly.”

For the umpteenth time he was touched by her bravery. Unquestionably frightened and hurting, she’d moved herself and her daughter to live with an unknown man in a strange city. That took some courage and he admired her for it.

“I suggest we don’t leave too much time before telling the girls we’re thinking of getting married. Let’s give them as much time to get used to the idea of being sisters as possible.”

He broke off to listen as the sound of giggles outside grew louder. With little warning, two figures streaked across the lawn towards the conservatory. Boyoung suddenly found it difficult to swallow as she struggled not to cry. Seeing Naeun—seeing the two of