Jiyong squeezed my hand as I held my breath. I tried to keep my face smooth, but when I cringed, his grip became tighter. The white ceiling was tarnished in some places by leak stains. Other than that, the room was immaculate. No clutter, no utensils strewn about. Everything had its place, which made me feel moderately at ease about the situation. I had made the decision. I would go through with it.

“Babe …” Jiyong said, frowning.

“I can do this,” I said, staring at spots in the ceiling. I jumped when fingertips touched my skin, but I tried not to tense. I could see the worry in Jiyong’s eyes when the buzzing began.

“Butterfly,” Jiyong began again, but I shook my head dismissively.

“All right. I’m ready.” I held the phone away from my ear, wincing from both the pain and the inevitable lecture.

“I’m going to kill you, Sandara Park!” Bom cried. “Kill you!”

“Technically, it’s Sandara Kwon, now,” I said, smiling at my new husband.

“It’s not fair!” she whined, the anger subsiding from her tone. “I was supposed to be your maid of honor! I was supposed to go dress shopping with you and throw a bachelorette party and hold your bouquet!”

“I know,” I said, watching Jiyong’s smile fade as I winced again.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” he said, his eyebrows pulling together.

I squeezed his fingers together with my free hand. “I know.”

“You said that already!” Bom snapped.

“I wasn’t talking to you.”

“Oh, you’re talking to me,” she fumed. “You are sooo talking to me. You are never going to hear the end of this, do you hear me? I will never, ever forgive you!”

“Yes you will.”

"You! You’re a … ! You’re just plain mean, Dara! You’re a horrible best friend!”

I laughed, causing the man seated beside me to jerk. “Hold still, Mrs. Kwon.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“Who was that?” Bom snapped.

“That was Jay.”

“Who the hell is Jay? Let me guess, you invited a total stranger to your wedding and not your best friend?” Her voice became shriller with each question.

“No. He didn’t go to the wedding,” I said, in a breath of air.

Jiyong sighed and shifted nervously in his chair, squeezing my hand.

“I’m supposed to do that to you, remember?” I said, smiling up at him through the pain.

“Sorry. I don’t think I can take this,” he said, his voice thick with distress. He relaxed his hand, looking to Jay.

“Hurry up, would ya?”

Jay shook his head. “Covered in tats and can’t take your girlfriend getting a simple script. I’ll be finished in a minute, Man.”

Jiyong’s frown deepened. “Wife. She’s my wife.”

Bom gasped once the conversation processed in her mind. “You’re getting a tattoo? What is going on with you, Dara? Did you breathe toxic fumes in that fire?”

I looked down at my stomach, to the smeared black mess just to the inside of my hipbone and smiled. “Ji has my name on his wrist.” I in another breath when the buzzing continued. Jay wiped ink from my skin and began again. I spoke through my teeth, “We’re married. I wanted something, too.”

Jiyong shook his head. “You didn’t have to.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t start with me. We discussed this.”

Bom laughed once. “You’ve gone crazy. I’m admitting you to the asylum when you get home.” Her voice was still piercing and exasperated.

“It’s not that crazy. We love each other. We have been practically living together on and off all year. Why not?”

“Because you’re nineteen, you idiot! Because you ran off and didn’t tell anyone, and because I’m not there!” she cried.

“I’m sorry, Bommie, I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“I don’t know if I want to see you tomorrow! I don’t think I want to see Jiyong ever again!” she sneered.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Bommie. You know you want to see my ring.”

“And your tat,” she said, a smile in her voice.

I clicked the phone shut, handing it to Jiyong. The buzzing resumed again, and my attention focused on the burning sensation followed by the sweet second of relief as he wiped the excess ink away. Jiyong shoved my phone in his pocket, gripping my hand with both of his, leaning down to touch his forehead to mine.

· · ·

“Did you freak out this much when you got your tattoos?” I asked him, smiling at the apprehensive expression on his face.

He shifted, seeming to feel my pain a thousand times more than I. “Uh … no. This is different. This is much, much worse.”

“Done!” Jay said with as much relief in his voice as was on Jiyong’s face.

I let my head fall back against the chair. “Thank God!”

“Thank God!” Jiyong sighed, patting my hand.

I looked down at the beautiful black lines on my red and angry skin:

Mrs. Kwon

“Wow,” I said, rising up on my elbows to get a better look.

Jiyong’s frown instantly turned into a triumphant smile. “It’s beautiful.”

Jay shook his head. “If I had a dollar for every inked up new husband that brought his wife in here and took it worse than she did … well. I wouldn’t have to tat anyone ever again.”

“Just tell me how much I owe, smartass,” Jiyong mumbled.

“I’ll have your bill at the counter,” Jay said, amused with Jiyong’s retort.

I looked around the room at the shiny chrome and posters of sample tattoos on the wall and then back down to my stomach. My new last name shined in thick, elegant black letters. Jiyong watched me with p