CHAPTER 2

November 27, 1917

Gyeongseong

“Miss Jihye, just push a little harder,” the experienced maid and traditional midwife told the young noblewoman.

Jihye broke out in a sweat, breathing hard, clutching onto the hands of her other housemaids. “This is all your fault!” she screamed, directing her pain to her husband, Park Sungmin.

“Jihye, I love you, I’m so, so sorry,” Sungmin said, worried for his wife.

“What are you still doing here?! You shouldn’t be here!” the midwife shouted to Jihye’s husband.

“I want to be with my wife—” Sungmin tried to say, but he was being forced out of the room by the other female maids.

“I’ll be okay, Sungmin,” Jihye said in between labored breaths. “And I was kidding earlier. I still love you.”

Sungmin stayed by the door, anxious to his wife’s screams. He felt Jihye’s pain, and he blamed himself: it really was his fault that the love of his life was suffering. It was a miracle in itself that he, a middle-class man, was allowed to marry this beautiful, young noblewoman, and now he just made her cry out of pain.

It was even more difficult for Jihye because of the cold weather. While their house had sufficient and extensive ondol[i]for heating, she still felt cold and exposed with the nighttime threatening to bring even colder winds. She was determined to push her baby out before the temperature dropped further.

She pushed, screaming. She felt pain everywhere.She suddenly grew a newfound appreciation for her late mother.

“That’s it, Miss Jihye! The head is showing!” The midwife encouraged her. Jihye pushed harder and huffed hard, determined to get her baby out quickly.

Sungmin, waiting outside, felt like he was about to faint. He could hear Jihye’s guttural screams, and he just wanted to stay beside his wife.

“The head is out, just one more push, Miss Jihye!” The midwife prodded on. Jihye let out all the force she could conjure. She felt the baby come out of her, then she heard what she was waiting for all along: a baby’s cries.

Sungmin looked up from his position when he heard the baby and forced himself into the room.

“Jihye,” Sungmin whispered as he went to his wife’s side. The midwife cut off the cord from the baby, cleaned him up, and wrapped him in a clean cloth.

“A boy,” the midwife said, smiling. “Congratulations, Miss Jihye, Mister Sungmin.”

“Chanyeol,” Sungmin said, tears filling his eyes as he carried his son. Jihye looked up at her husband and her son, her face soaked with a mixture of tears and sweat.

“We’re naming him Chanyeol?” Jihye choked on her words. Chanyeol, the name of Jihye’s late father.

“Your father was the greatest, kindest man I’ve known,” Sungmin smiled at his wife as he handed her their baby back into her arms. “He took me in, when no other nobleman would do that. He didn’t cower to the Japanese. He loved you. I want our child to be just like your father.”