One

We have history. Him and I

 

Kwon Minsik stood in a white button up and what I bet, is his cleanest pair of jeans. He smells of diesel oil and there’s a trace of grease slightly below his hairline. My body was completely frozen. A highschool is the last place I’d hope to see him again, but honestly I’m not even sure if it’s him. 

 

He looks much older now. Time has really flown. The silver tips of his goatee are a dead giveaway, even if he regularly dyes his hair black. There are wrinkles in his forehead now and dark crescents under his eyes. Overworked. Exhausted. Yet, he puts on a smile on his face for the little princess walking by his side. It’s been so long...but it seems that this man could still tug at the strings of my heart.

 

“Ms Rose?” Minsik greets me. 

 

I know he recognizes me by the way his eye twitches, and caution in his voice. I nod with, I hope what is a warm smile on my face. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Sarang’s father.”

 

Sarang is one of the brighter students in my class. She always turns up to class with twin pigtails, without fail and hands in her homework on time. She’s diligent and has a bright future. With proper guidance, she can get into a college of her choosing.  I tell Minsik this as we sit at the small student desks in the classroom. Hawon High is the only private school that teaches in both the Korean and English language. The parents of my other students are always on time, prim and proper. Minsik stands out among them, and Sarang is becoming self aware. Minsik is prolonging our conversation. I can’t tell whether it's on purpose or if his intentions are sincere.

 

“Are there any bursaries? Subsidising?” His questions are all financial. Sarang is seated silently beside her father, with a visible frown on her face.

 

I step on Minsik’s foot under the table. He yelps out in pain. I merely give him a pointed stare. “Sarang has many options. I can’t imagine a school that would turn her down. Besides, I’m here to help her.”

 

Minsik glares me down as I try to calm down my heart. Memories are flooding back into me, and I can’t help but feel that even with his concerned questions, he always makes me calm down, like how one exhales a deep breath of fresh air. It’s the first time Minsik has even managed to turn up to a parent-teacher counselling session and he had explained that it was because he finally took some time off.

 

I expected that to be all. That I won’t see him again once he walked out the door. Sarang is holding onto his hand even then; an affectionate gesture that is too rare with teens. Most parents are ignored. Sarang’s body language lets him know that she’s there.

 

I hold my wedding ring. Reassuring myself that it’s still there. Of course, I don’t expect Minsik standing outside my office. I almost walk into him, bumping my forehead against his. 

 

Minsik chuckles heartily instead of apologizing. “You’re as clumsy as always.”

 

“You’re as inconsiderate as always, Minsik.” I respond. I make a move to walk past him, having every intention to ignore him completely.

 

“So it’s not Mr Kwon anymore?” Minsik asks me. I hate how he trails behind me, like a puppy. “And since when did you change your name huh? That really took me off guard.”

 

I frown. His footsteps are constant, and it stirs an unsettling mix of emotions in my heart . I hate it. “This is a private school. All of the teachers have english names if you didn’t realize.”

 

“Chaeyoung,”He calls out my name. “I don’t know why you’re angry at me. I’m sorry I didn’t come to the parent teacher thing last year. I couldn’t get off work. You know how it is, right?”

 

My incredulous stare must’ve silenced him. He falls quiet. I realize my hands are shaking, made obvious with the files I’m carrying. I push them closer to my chest and try to will myself to calm down. The look on Minsik’s face softens immediately. There’s pity. He looks sorry.

“Out of all the things you did, you think this is why I’m angry?” I try to deny that there are now tears flowing down my cheeks.

 

Looking at Minsik reminds me of the friends that we had, of the reasons that there was always a safe distance between us. It’s no different even now, even if so much time has passed since then. So I try to convince myself that it’s just rain. We are standing indoors, in the hallways of Hawon High , yet it feels like it will rain soon. A storm. Of course it will pass. I’ll head home and hug my twin boys. I’ll sleep in the same bed as my husband. The storm will pass.

 

The storm calms down when Minsik takes the files from me, sets them on the floor and wraps his arms around me. His kindness, is offering to buy me coffee. 

 

We have a painful past. Him and I.

 

Minsik is as handsome as he was back then, with a smile that made the hearts of teenage girls flutter. He was an ambitious man and his dreams knew no limit that they seemed to reach the sky. Being in highschool didn’t stop him from performing in underground clubs and college frat parties. If it made money, he would do everything to make the best out of the opportunity. That was the type of man he was; he would never stop working.

 

“You’re married?” His tone is awkward, but I know he’s happy for me albeit a little surprised. 

 

I frown. “You’re not?”

 

We take a right turn to the coffeeshop I frequent. There are hardly any patrons inside, and fortunately no one I recognized. Minsik is for once, a gentleman and opens the door for me. I think about the time where I would giggle like a little girl, if he had ever done that for highschool me.

 

Minsik answers my question as we stepped inside. “No, I’m not married.”

 

“I...I’m sorry to hear that.” I came up with a half lame answer. He’s divorced? The barista takes our orders with a welcoming smile. Hongjoong has always been an angel. He even adds an extra caramel drip in my iced coffee.

 

We sit down at the furthest corner of the cafe. Minsik follows up from where we left off. “I’ve never gotten married either.”

 

My frown deepens. Minsik holds his hands up in the air defensively. “I’m telling you this because, you have every right to know.” He pauses, and takes in a deep breath. “There are a lot of things that I haven’t been honest with you, and I want you to know. The truth. I want you to know the truth.”
 

I bite my lip, unsure if I would agree with him. Memory of his last girlfriend comes back to me. “The Thai girl? Is she Sarang’s mother?”

 

Minsik chokes on his spit. “Lisa? No...she scammed me of my money.”
 

I think back to the gossip panels and countless paparazzi photos I've seen of him and Lisa Manoban, his supermodel sweetheart at the time. 

 

Minsik's answer makes me raise my eyebrows. He shakes his head.  “I mean I met her on tour, but it wasn’t anything more than that. There was always something wrong about her, I knew it but I just didn’t bother to deal with it.”

 

I try to understand him. “Just another groupie?”

 

He finally nods solemnly, repeating my words. “Just another groupie.”

 

I gesture to his coffee, wordlessly reminding him that it would get cold soon. It had started drizzling outside. Perhaps an iced coffee wasn’t the best choice for this weather. Hongjoong appears as if on queue, and slips me a warm hot pack. It makes me flustered, but he jogs back to his station, throwing a wink over his shoulder. Hongjoong’s actions however, make the distance between Minsik and I grow even more. As always.

 

“Even now, you still attract attention,” Minsik chuckles under his breath. “Does that kid know you’re married? I bet your husband would beat him up if he knew.”

 

“I don't think Jiho can beat up anyone at all. He's too nice of a guy you know that." My words feel like I’m holding a grenade in my hands. 

 

His look of surprise sets it off. “What?”

 

I hold onto my hot pack, trying to warm my fingers. “Jiho sent you the invite, remember? We got married back in 2018. My parents liked him enough. We have two boys. Twins. “

 

Minsik recovers by giving me a practiced smile, and a half-hearted laugh. “I’m sorry I didn’t know. I never got the invite.”

 

That couldn’t be true. I remember Jiho had gone to Busan personally, to give Jiho our wedding invitation. Jiho had said so. I brush it off, telling myself that it wouldn’t have mattered if Minsik came or not. The only reason we sent it to him was to not exclude anyone from our circle of friends back then.

 

“That’s too bad,” I manage to say and laugh. “I was hoping you’d perform at the wedding.”

 

Minsik takes my hand in his, despite touching the wedding ring on my finger. He squeezes tightly. “I’m sorry I disappeared. I’m sorry I left. I should’ve called you, or texted you. You moved out of Busan. I haven't heard from Jiho since we graduated.”

 

I shake my head. “That’s natural. You were busy, always on tour. You got what you wanted right? Mr Superstar?”

 

He bites the inside of his cheek. I remember it; his habit when he gets pissed off. I grit my teeth. “Am I wrong? Minsik? I waited for you for two years. When you come back to Korea, none of your staff, even your manager didn’t let me talk to you.”

 

“Sarang isn’t mine. I adopted her.”

 

His words throw me off, but the unexpected always rages on a fire even more. “Does that have anything to do with what you’re talking about? You came to apologize. I forgive you. There’s nothing more to this.”
 

“Do you love Jiho?” The question makes me glare at him, clench my fists and seeth in an indescribable anger. Perhaps it was pent up emotions that he had left me with and the answers that I tried to find for a whole decade before I decided to marry Jiho. Jiho was always kind to me. He would buy me gifts on every anniversary. He took me to expensive vacations after saving up for months. Jiho was a devoted husband. 

 

“Yes of course.” I answer him. I try to calm myself down. This was not the time and place to scream at my ex-boyfriend.

 

He fishes out something from his bag and then pushes a yellow folder in front of me. I look at him in confusion. He turns impatient and empties the contents of the folder onto the table. There are baby photos of Sarang, childhood photos of her riding a bicycle, eating dinner with a much younger Minsik and even in her elementary school uniform. Minsik picks out Sarang’s birth certificate and pushes it into my hands.

 

“Why are you giving me this?”

 

Minsik doesn’t reply. I read it; Sarang’s full name, her birthday and her blood type. True to his words, Minsik is listed as Sarang’s adoptive father. Sarang’s parents are…

 

Out of all the things that I had expected, from talking to the man I once loved, I had hoped for closure. I had hoped to finally close a chapter in a book that had no ending. Not even once had I hoped to feel happy from this exchange, knowing fully well that reminiscing our memories would feel like a bed of thorns. For god’s sake, I had shed too many tears for this man.

 

I was certain that Minsik heard it; the sound of my heart breaking, clean sharp and precise like a flower’s stem. 

 

The name Woo Jiho was listed as Kwon Sarang’s biological father. 

 

~.~.~.~.~

 

We have precious memories. Her and I.

 

Chaeyoung sat there, honey blonde dips framing her face as she held onto the hot pack in her hands. The word ‘shock’ doesn’t seem to cover it. She smells like coffee, caramel and lavender. It’s pleasant and warm, as she’s always been. She doesn’t seem to realize this; the effect that she has on people around her. The men in the cafe keep giving her glances and at this point, with the tears running down her face, it looks like we’re a couple breaking up. They throw dirty looks at me. I ignore all of them of course.

 

I couldn’t even give a . The only thing that matters is the truth, even if the weight of it hurts her.

 

I remember her as the girl who loved music. The one who loved to dance under the stars, with her bare toes sinking into the sand and a bottle of soju in each hand. She would sing to my songs word for word, even if it was a simple melody or with none at all. She would dance, and scream her heart out. She would laugh like the world was never watching, and the world would never be strong enough to put her down. We were young. 

 

But I have faith in the girl I knew, and once loved. She picked herself up, when I myself couldn’t. She learnt that I was undeserving of her love. We went our separate ways, without a word and spent an entire decade growing and learning. Maturing. She found