Chapter 10: Would You Like To Marry Me?

April passed in a blur. 

The mud and the brown of March were replaced by greenness and the scent of flowers; butterflies fluttered in the air and the bugs crawled out of their wormholes. Every now and then, a light rain fell, and the days were still chilly, but the sun shone brightly, and more radiantly than ever, because in the spring of 2015, I was gloriously, vibrantly in love for the first time in my life, and the world had never been lovelier.

Hyuk and I spent every weekend together. He would pick me up at our usual spot at the bottom of the steps on Sundays at 10.00 am. I would run down the steps, flushed, my heart beating fast, to where he would be waiting, always in the driver's seat, the window half-wound down, smiling at me when he saw me. We would go for long drives together, the black car always following closely behind. We drove to the countryside, to remote and isolated villages that I never knew existed, with the packed lunch in the pretty picnic basket our sole companion throughout our little trips. He didn't talk much during these trips, but kept his hand on mine throughout, the other hand poised idly on the steering wheel, as I prattled on and on, blissful, contented, my arms tucked snugly into the sleeves of his coat.

I wished that time would stand still, during those wonderful, dreamy days, but it never did; and all too soon, the hands of the clock would point to 5 pm, and it would be time to return home, and another week would pass.

I never questioned what these trips meant, because I did not want them to stop, not ever; a part of my mind, the logical, rational part, told me that it was a mere dalliance for him, that my company was a distraction to keep those dark thoughts of his at bay; but I didn't care. I was madly in love with him, and I was living in the moment; who knew when he would tire of me, of the gauche, naive girl, and move on to new pastures, to new conquests? Thus I never spoke of the future with him, nor ask what his intentions were toward me, because the truth was that I did not want to know the answer. But he had never kissed me, not once; and I was both disappointed and relieved: disappointed, for a kiss would have provided a measure of reassurance that he found me attractive enough, and relieved, because I would not have known how to reciprocate if he had kissed me; but, alone, lying in bed in the dark, I would imagine those sensitive, sensual lips on mine, and my heart would start to beat just a little faster.

Meanwhile, life went on in my little theatre. The Emperor's visit had not made much of an impact, and the seats continued to be vacant. The lead actress was threatening to walk out if things did not improve, and the cast was despondent. Shows were cancelled and reduced due to the poor ticket sales, and the cast lounged around, idly scrolling through their phones to pass their time, of which there was plenty.

"The Emperor's dating some girl," one girl exclaimed.

I froze in my corner.

"What?" Another girl yelled. "Is it true?"

"Who's she?"

"A model?"

"I thought that he was dating some Russian actress."

"It's fake news."

I heard the voices rise in excitement, and shrank further into the corner to hide my burning cheeks.

"You're mistaken," the crisp, cold voice of Chloe, the lead actress, cut into the clamour.

They all looked at her.

"But it says here, unnie, that he was spotted driving in a car with some strange girl last Sunday... ," one of the girls protested weakly, before subsiding into silence at Chloe's withering look of scorn.

"He's not dating anyone, because he can't," she said, with the superior air of an established star. "He was head-over-heels for his wife, but that's perfectly understandable, of course. She was so beautiful and smart and sophisticated."

"She drowned, you know, in a lake at the Imperial Gardens," she went on lightly, taking a cigarette from a long box, tapping it with her slender fingers, lighting it, and blowing a ring of smoke into the air. "Such a tragedy...they say that he never talks about it, never mentions her name..."

                                                       ..........................................

On the last Monday of April, I went to work as usual, but instead of the usual apathy and gloom that hung like a heavy cloud over the theatre, I was greeted by a commotion as I walked through the swing doors.

"Sunny's here," someone yelled, and everyone turned to look at me.

"What's wrong?" I asked, puzzled. 

The director rushed toward me and clutched my hand.

"Sunny," he said in a queer voice, "we received a letter from the Emperor, specially delivered by a palace aide, just ten minutes ago."

He paused and looked at me, his eyes bemused.

"He says in the letter that he is visiting the theatre this Saturday," he said. "He says that he wants you to play the lead in the musical."

"What?" I whispered.

"Do you know the Emperor?" he asked, his brows furrowed in shock. "Are you...friendly with His Majesty?"

"Er, no, not really," I mumbled, my face turning red.

He looked at me, at my flushed face, and the look of shock was replaced by a dawning realization.

"You know him, don't you?" he said slowly. "You know him very well."

"How could she be the lead?" Chloe demanded. "I've been the lead for two years. She...she's a nobody."

She gave me a hard look.

"The Emperor says that he's Sunny's biggest fan," the director said faintly.

"Sunny, are you that girl in the Emperor's car, the one that they're talking about?" One of the girls asked excitedly.

"Not so nobody after all," another girl sniggered.

The cast burst into an uproar.

"It's settled," the director said unhappily. "Sunny will be the lead on Saturday night."

Chloe stormed off, slamming the door behind her.

Saturday night came.

News had got around fast. The theatre was packed to the brim, everyone eager to catch the performance of the girl who had made the Emperor her biggest fan. The reporters were there with their cameras, and I was momentarily blinded by flashbulbs exploding in my face as I walked out with the rest of the cast to welcome the Emperor to the packed hall. It was almost reminiscent of the prior visit of the Emperor a year ago, except for one big difference: this time, I was standing next to the director of the musical, and flanked by important dignitaries from the Culture and Arts portfolios. Everybody was looking at me, everyone was whispering about me, the unknown young backup singer who had been propelled into fame overnight because the Emperor had made a surprising, unprecedented request to see her perform on stage. Who was this girl? Was there anything going on between them? How had they met? Was she from a rich family? Was she descended from blue blood? How old was she? Was she beautiful? Was she clever? And so the questions raged, while I cringed, and died a thousand deaths every time someone yelled, "Smile, Sunny!" They knew my name already, and as I stood there, cold, shivering, nervously clasping and unclasping my hands together, the fingernails that I had bitten savagely in my bouts of anxiety thinking about this much-anticipated, yet contradictorily, woefully dreaded moment, digging into my clammy palms, the Emperor and his entourage rolled up in three black limousines, and I drew a long shaky breath; this was it, the moment had come, my two worlds - the real and the unreal - had finally collided. 

He stepped out, dark and handsome, clad in a dark suit with a red tie, his hair carefully brushed back, his face genial, smiling. The crowd of onlookers who had gathered at the theatre screamed and clapped wildly, and the cameras clicked madly. The director bowed and said, "Your Majesty, may I present our lead actress, Miss Oh Sunny." The Emperor stood before me and I bowed to him, hardly daring to look at him, and he leaned forward and whispered in my ear, "Do me proud now" and the crowd burst into rapturous applause. He reached out, and, in front of everyone - the gawking onlookers, the mystified cast, the nervous director, the pompous-looking dignitaries - he took my cold hand in his and pressed it, and the crowd screamed in delight again. And then he moved on, leaving me flushed and breathless and, oh, so wonderfully happy.

The lights dimmed, and the audience burst into applause. Dimly, I registered that the hall was packed, and there were vague, shadowy figures standing in the corners, but I couldn't care less, for all I had eyes for was that tall beloved figure sitting in the centre directly below the stage, in the same high-backed seat that he had sat in the very first time that memorable night when he caught me and held me close against his heart a lifetime ago, when I was young and foolish and hadn't a clue what love really meant, what being in love felt like, nor knew then how it raged like a fire in the soul, consuming my thoughts, playing havoc with my heart. I had changed so much since that moment, and I stood before him now, all woman, grown up and in love, besotted with him, who breathed only for him, who lived only for my moments with him. I opened my mouth and my voice surged out, powerful, liquid, heartfelt; I sang for him, and him alone, for no one else mattered but him, and the whole world, the entirety of the universe, fell away, and Time stood still, as I poured my heart out, poured my soul out, for him. 

I sang the last note of the night and my voice faded to silence.

There was a hush, and a stillness.

The Emperor was the first to rise and give me a standing ovation. The whole theatre rose to their feet, erupting in thunderous applause.

I touched my cheeks. They were wet with my tears.

The lights came on. The cameras clicked, as the Emperor climbed up on stage with an aide carrying a huge bouquet of roses following closely behind him. The Emperor presented the roses to me, as I bowed, flushed with elation. The cast who had lined up next to me and the audience clapped wildly.

"Miss Oh Sunny, you have become a star tonight," he said, smiling. 

"Behold your adoring fans," he said, gesturing to the sea of faces smiling, beaming at me, at the deafening tumult of hands lifted in approval, clapping enthusiastically for me.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," I whispered, my eyes filled with tears.

He smiled at me again, and then turned and walked down the stage.

I sat in front of the dressing table in the tiny room backstage and looked at my face in the mirror. I stared at the girl in the mirror with the flushed cheeks and the glittering eyes without recognition. I touched my hot cheeks and closed my eyes and thought, I will remember this moment forever. It is the moment that I became a star. I owe it all to Lee Hyuk. I thought of my mother and how happy she would have been seeing me perform, listening to me sing tonight. And my heart surged with sadness and joy and love and gratitude and the tears flowed again.

When everyone had left, I changed out of my costume and walked out of the theatre, clutching the bouquet of flowers possessively in my hands. The black limousine appeared like magic before me, just as it had that first night he came to find me in the theatre. The driver leapt out, bowed, and opened the passenger door; the Emperor was sitting inside, smiling at me.

"Get in," he said. "I've come to fetch the star of the musical home."

In the car, I turned, and looked at him.

"Your Majesty," I breathed.

"Hyuk," he said softly.

"Hyuk... I can't thank you enough...thank you, thank you, thank you," I said, struggling to stop myself from crying, my heart in my eyes.

"Ah, look at you," he said softly, leaning forward, looking into my eyes. "You've got stars in your eyes..."

He looked down at the roses, then at me.

"...and roses in your cheeks... ," he touched my cheeks with both of his hands; a fleeting brush: tender, light as a butterfly's wings.

"So now all you have to do is choose - do you want to stay here in this modest little theatre, singing your heart out, every night for the rest of your young life, or," he paused, his eyes flicking over my face, and said softly, laying both of his hands over mine, still clutching the roses tightly, "do you want to come with me to the palace?"

"Come with you to the palace?" I echoed in a daze. "You mean, to sing at the palace?"

He burst out laughing.

"Regrettably, palace functions are not singworthy events," he said, smiling, "but perhaps, who knows, one day in the future; in the meantime, we can only hope and pray for that day to come."

"I'm asking you to come to the palace with me on a more permanent fixture," he said softly. "I'm asking you to marry me."

Marry him?

In my wildest dreams, I had never ever thought  of marrying him. This sudden talk of marriage shocked me, bewildered me, and I stared at him like an idiot, my mouth half-open.

"Would you like to marry me?" he said, like a kind teacher rephrasing a difficult question to a confused student.

"I c-can't," I stuttered. "I d-don't belong to your world."

"What kind of an answer is that?" he said, looking amused. "You either want to marry me, or you don't."

"But I - I'm not the sort of girl you should marry," I mumbled, fumbling for words. "I'm all wrong for you - "

"And why, pray tell, are you all wrong for me?" he said, staring at me. 

"B-Because I'm me....," I said miserably. "I wish - I wish that I were a woman of 32, and clever and elegant and sophisticated..."

"The reason why you are in the car with me now, sitting next to me, and having this strange conversation with me, is because you are not 32, and not clever and elegant and sophisticated," he said gravely, his face devoid of expression, so that I could not tell whether he was laughing inwardly or not. "You would not be here with me now if you were any of those things."

I sat stiff and upright in my seat and took to shredding the rose petals with my fingernails.

"I'll be the judge of what's right and what's wrong for me," he said. "And I'm saying that you're right for me, and just what I need."

He looked at me and smiled faintly.

"And you should really stop tearing at those roses," he said, "and stop biting your fingernails, unless you want them to look even more horrifying than they are now."

I gasped and hid my fingernails beneath the roses.

"I rather thought that you loved me," he said, looking at me musingly. "Perhaps that was too presumptuous on my part."

"But I do, I do love you," I cried. "I love you so, so much. I love you - "

I choked on a sob and stared at him in agony.

He laughed, and pulled me close, and gave me a little hug.

"That settles it then," he said, smiling. "You love me, and we'll get married."

He reached out and cradled my face in his hands.

I closed my eyes.

Very gently, he kissed me on the lips, a quiet, comforting kiss, more kind than passionate. Even so, it made my heart flutter.

Our first kiss.

I opened my eyes.

Something had changed with that kiss; a shift in our relationship. I felt easy, comfortable now with him; all the tension and the insecurities had melted away in a heartbeat with that feathery, ephemeral touching of our lips.

He brushed away my tears, and I smiled at him mistily.

"My sweet girl," he said tenderly, and kissed the top of my head. "My sweet, sweet girl. Promise me that you'll never be clever and elegant and sophisticated."

I giggled and he laughed back at me, and the next instant, I was glowingly, blissfully happy again. 

The following week passed in a blur.

The media was flooded with news and articles and pictures of me and the Emperor and quoted "reliable sources" as saying that we were in a "serious relationship with a view to marriage". THE NEXT EMPRESS? A ROYAL ROMANCE! The headlines screamed. Tabloids trumpeting THE EMPEROR AND HIS SUNNY GIRL, with unflattering pictures of me looking decidedly drab and glum beside pictures of the Emperor looking dashing and handsome, sold out the minute they hit the stands. Paparazzi camped out in front of my house and followed me everywhere I went. I continued to sing at the theatre and it continued to draw in the crowds. People stopped me on the streets and asked for my autographs. 

I had become a celebrity.

In the blink of an eye, I had shot from an obscure backup singer to the future Empress of the Nation.

Everything was moving so fast, and I hardly had time to catch my breath, so Hyuk decided that it would be better if I stopped performing at the theatre; the intrusions upon my privacy, as well as my family's, were getting to me, even though my father was ecstatic; his fried chicken shop was filled with queues waiting outside the doors every single day and night, and he was run off his feet, but he had never been happier. "You did good, Sunny," he said, hugging me with tears in his eyes, the night I told him about Hyuk for the first time, when I brought Hyuk into my house for the first time, the night that Hyuk asked me to marry him. I remember my father and sister's jaws dropping open in shock when Hyuk and I walked in through the door, and how they recognized him straightaway and fell to their knees before him, gasping, "Your Majesty", and how Hyuk helped them to their feet, saying, with a smile, "Father-in-law, Sister-in-law, I am delighted to make your acquaintance, finally," and turning to me, and saying, with an amused smile, "Forgive us for not telling you sooner". My father and my sister welcomed him wholeheatedly, and my father wept, as he shook Hyuk's hand as he was leaving, and said, "Your mother would be so happy if she were here now" and I wept, too, and that night, my father came to my room and hugged me very tightly and said, "You did well, Sunny; your mother's looking down now from Heaven and she's so happy, she's so proud of our beautiful Sunny..." Helro, my sister, ever the pragmatist, drew me aside the next morning before returning to her university apartment, and said worriedly, "Are you sure that you're doing the right thing? This is...huge...he's the Emperor, are you sure, unnie, are you really sure? It's not going to be easy, it's going to be so tough...are you sure that you're not rushing into this marriage? Will you regret it later?" She looked at me with troubled eyes, but I hugged her and said, "I have never been more sure of anything in my life. I love him."

I packed my things in the backroom of the theatre, things that I had left there, and which should be removed now that I had handed in my resignation. 

Chloe walked in in the midst of my packing, and leaned against the door, looking me up and down, her eyes hard.

"Well, well," she drawled, in a slightly slurred voice. Had she been drinking? "Look at you. Aren't you a clever girl?"

There was something in her voice that I didn't like.

"And to think that I never noticed you," she said, and gave a little laugh. "Little Miss Nobody."

"I suppose I should congratulate you," she said, "but if you want me to be honest, I think that you're making a big mistake."

"You know why he's marrying you, don't you?" she said. "It's because he's lonely. That huge palace must be getting on his nerves. Don't kid yourself that he's fallen for you. Men like that won't fall for such a young, inexperienced mouse like you. Though not so inexperienced, I guess, after all... ," and she laughed unpleasantly and flounced out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Alone, I washed my hands in the small basin, above which hung a small, cracked mirror. I stared at myself in the mirror; and thought, this is me, this is the present, there is no past and no future; here I am, washing my hands, suspended in time, as it were. Soon, this moment will pass, and I will be out the door, on my way to see Hyuk, to our little spot beneath the steps, and the barbed words that spewed from the jealous, spiteful tongue of Chloe will be but a distant memory, vague, inconsequential, unimportant, and I closed my eyes and whispered to myself, it does not matter if he does not love me; it is enough that I love him; because I love him so much, and my love is enough, more than enough, for the both of us, and one day, when we are old and grey, he will stretch out his wrinkled hand across the table adorned with a bowl of autumn roses, where we sit face to face, across from each other, and he will lay his hand upon mine, and say, "I never told you this before, but I want you to know that I love you; I fell in love with you from the first moment I set eyes on you, and I have grown to love you, more and more, each passing day, and I love you more, far more than I ever loved her, and you can choose to believe me or not, but I am telling you the truth..."