06. A RESOLUTION AND A BEGINNING.

Seulgi calls me at 7 A.M.

"Cell service here." she drawls, through the crackly filter that came with being in the middle of nowhere.

"Where art thou, Kang Seulgi?" I joke from where I'm sitting atop the washing machine, throwing a hamper of mixed clothes down the tub. The cool metal of the appliance sticks against the undersides of my leg, a several meter distance between my dangling bare feet and the ground.

"A nice AirBnB." is all Seulgi deluges. "How have you been holding up?"

"Jungkook met my parents yesterday." I tilt my head to hold my phone in between my cheek and my shoulder. "My mom really likes him."

"And your dad?"

"Accepting, I think. My dad takes time to warm up to people." I mumble as I toss in crumpled shirt of mine.

"You're right. At least the boy walked out of there alive."

I laugh. "I'm not too worried about it."

"Oh, Yerim. You should have taken my advice."

"Kang Seulgi, I'd like to politely reject the idea of referring to Jungkook as the father of my nonexistent child. My mom would have stuck me a pregnancy test on the spot, not to mention my dad would think that I was forcing myself into it."

Seulgi cackles. "You're the reasonable one, Yerim-ie. I just exist to wreak hell on earth. Been a go-getter since I was born."

"I do love that about you." I say, opening up the container of detergent Jungkook and I bought yesterday. "Say, you wouldn't happen to know any good fertility clinics around the area, would you?"

The line buzzes with an incoherent sputter. "Kim Yerim, I taught you well." Seulgi chokes out eventually.

I burst into a fit of giggles. "Got you there, didn't I?"

"I'm hurt!" she exclaims. "But in all seriousness, you're in this for the long run, Rim? I mean, your parents are involved already—imagine what happens when this gets out to that gaudy extended family of yours."

"I know, it'd be irreversible by then." I say, my lips. "But I don't think I'll regret anything. Jungkook is really kind to me."

"I see." Seulgi mulls over my words with a small pause. "As long as he treats you well, I guess. You've talked about boundaries with him though?"

"Yeah, there's clear lines cut on stuff about work and financial issues. Living together is a mutual requirement, but in terms of physical progress, it's a blank slate." I say. "I'm sure Jungkook left it that way for me to find what I'm comfortable with. So far we've just held hands, hugged, and slept in the same room."

"He's been okay with all of that?"

"I suppose so. I mean, despite the 'without love' label we've put on our marriage, we agreed that we wanted to keep things relatively typical of a marital relationship."

"Typical? Meaning...?"

"Kind of like an arranged marriage, I guess." I tap my finger on my chin. "There's not exactly love, but there is physical affection and emotional responsibility. Not to mention Jungkook and I are friends in the first place—we really do care about each other."

"Right, and the relationship you both have is exclusive, too?"

"It is. If there does happen to be a third-party, we'll separate." I rub my temples with my thumbs. "Seul, after this week, I've honestly been confused."

"Yeah?"

"Don't yell at me, but I'm really put off by a few things. Before this week, I really did feel like my relationship with Jungkook was strictly friendship. It was easy, back then, to tell the line between that kind of love and a friendship kind of love, you know? We went on for months without seeing each other, we were independent and had our own lives, and neither of us had an excuse to be more than that." I in a breath. "But now that we're so invested, now that I have this ring on my finger—I can't help but thinking that maybe, I have a shot. , this sounds so stupid, Seul—but maybe I can make him fall in love with me."

Seulgi sounds genuinely stunned. "Rim, why in the world do you think an idea like that sounds stupid? In fact, it sounds pretty good to me. Completely reasonable."

"Because," I stress, "Jungkook believes—I can't believe I'm telling you this—that love...is just a side effect...of...human anatomy."

"Yikes, that's painful."

"You don't say."

"You got me there too."

"Told you so." I close the lid to the washing machine dejectedly, leaning over to select a cycle.

"But you know what? Textbook anatomy isn't the same as real-life anatomy, Yerim." Seulgi says after a moment, oddly cheerful.

"Huh?" I mutter through the beeping of the machine's buttons.

"Think of it. That's why surgeons have so many years of residency—the real experience is never the same as the ones they read about. Like, imagine how many tables of corpses they cut up before they're in the real deal—"

"This is getting a little gory." I deadpan, dusting my hands as the machine hums to life.

"Sorry, but you get my point." Seulgi sing-songs in contrast. "The anatomy of love—Jungkook needs to experience it in real life, too."

—

It's soon after Seulgi hangs up that I hear Jungkook coming down the stairs.

"Jungkook-ah, I'm stuck." I call out to him, my voice slipping out through the small gap in the door.

His footsteps pause, before returning a steady rhythm in my direction. It's not long before his figure looms through the crack, still dressed in a white t-shirt and red flannel pajama pants.

"You alright?" Jungkook's brow dips in worry as he moves the door open wider, only to see me perched haphazardly atop the washing machine.

I wiggle my toes. "I can't feel my legs, and, ah, it's kind of far down there." I reference the daunting distance between my feet and the floor.

"I didn't replace the appliances from the previous owner—we'll have to install a machine with a horizontal opening soon." Jungkook frowns at the spectacle. He walks into the room and then up to me, intending to lift me off of the machine and down to the safety of the ground.

He leans past me, his arm struggling to find a good way to carry me.

"Jungkook." I call out his name as I part my legs, allowing him further access to peer behind me. He raises his body from its straining slant forward in response, lifting his head.

My hands immediately cup his cheeks.

"I'm...trying to help...you here...Ye..rim." he manages to slur out as I squish his cheeks into a pucker.

"I know." I snicker, before letting go. "You might have to piggy-back me, though."

"Or..." Jungkook mutters, his face so close to mine I can hardly hear anything other than my heart squeaking away on its treadmill. His dark hair falls over his brow, a glint of mischief sparking in his eyes. "I can leave you here."

"You wouldn't." I groan.

"I might, considering the fact that you just squished my cheeks."

I'm squinting at him menacingly when the doorbell rings.

"Someone's at the door." Jungkook states the obvious, almost motioning to leave me stranded before my arms latch around his neck.

"Is it someone we know?" I ask, before adding, "I'm not letting you leave until you piggy-back me off of here."

Jungkook peers at me in amusement. "Probably Jimin."

"You told Jimin about us living together?"

"Mhm."

"Oh."

"Yerim, I'll go let Jimin in."

"No."

"Poor Jimin, waiting outside in this heat—"

"Jungkook, I'm not budging until you get me off of here. My toes are numb, and the last thing you want is a future wife who can't even walk down that aisle."

Jungkook raises a brow, unrelenting.

Then, when the doorbell rings a second time and I still don't remove my arms from around his neck—"Fine. I'll piggy-back you."

He turns around as I clamber onto his back, resting my chin over his shoulder. We lumber towards the front door together, his arms holding my legs above the hard outline of his hipbone.

"You're heavier than I thought you'd be."

"Oh, shut up."

"I'm just kidding, Rim."

"I know you are."

That's when the door opens, revealing a middle-aged, primly dressed woman on the other side—she had a round, heart-shaped face and slightly greyed hair, naturally curled and pulled impeccably into a bun—who, by the way, was absolutely not Park Jimin.

My cheeks heat up like boiled eggs.

"Yimo," Jungkook greets, laughing as I scramble off of him immediately.

Oh my god.

"You did this on purpose!" I whisper-accuse as I hide my face in Jungkook's chest, unsuccessfully attempting to hold back my own laughter. I curl a fistful of his shirt as his arm wraps around my shoulders, patting my back.

"Yerim, this is Seo yimo." he introduces, voice still shaking with a chuckle as he invites the older woman inside. "Yimo, this is my fiancée, Kim Yerim."

I immediately turn to face Ms. Seo, wiping my tears off the corners of my eyes with the back of my hand. I bow deeply, if not apologetically. "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Seo."

"Call me yimo as well, Miss Kim." the woman says with a large smile that causes reaches her cheeks. She is petite, with an old-fashioned taste in clothing, a pearl brooch pinned on the right side of her cardigan. Despite the weather, she's dressed as if attending a high-end orchestral concert, with a long-sleeved blouse and a calf-length black skirt.

"Then please call me Yerim." I insist in return, peering at Jungkook as he stifles a laugh out of the corner of my eye.

I feel the tips of my cheeks flare again as I send Jungkook a you're-going-to-regret-this glare. He, however, seems nowhere near intimidated.

"It's nice to see you again, Jungkook-ah. You have become a handsome man."

Jungkook takes her hand and holds it for a moment. "I've missed you too, yimo."

"I'll show you to your room." I announce to Ms. Seo. I put on my best smile as I take two of her three suitcases and begin rolling them towards one of the three guestrooms we have on the first floor.

Jungkook doesn't follow. "I've got matters at the lab." he informs me before I get too far down the hall. "Call me if you need anything."

I nod, watching him go upstairs to get changed, still slightly bewildered.

You're beat at your own game, Kim Yerim.

—

Ms. Seo insists on taking care of the laundry, dishes, and cooking when I bring the matter up to her.

"Yimo—" I begin, awkwardly stumbling on my words. My lack of eloquence didn't just stem from my uncanny first impression, but also the fact that I'd never directly instructed an employee of my own household before. When I'd gone out to college, I'd gotten used to doing things on my own, and back in my parent's house, I never had to come in direct contact with any of the maids. My father wasn't comfortable with having the usual amount over when my mother was away, either. Only Uncle Heechul and two old cooks were granted rooming in the household.

"I intend to earn my salary." Ms. Seo insists, flitting around me to arrange her suitcases as neatly as possible. "I'm sure cooking especially will come of trouble to you. Young people these days don't have time to cook."

I shake my head politely. "Truthfully, I enjoy cooking for myself and others, though I'm sure I can learn a lot from you." I say, "Jungkook and I wish for you to be as comfortable as possible."

Mrs. Seo finally seems to pause. "I'm most comfortable working." she says, with a stubborn edge that surprises me. "Please do let me help as much as I can, Miss Kim."

I nod, a bit taken aback. "Of course."

Perhaps I'm truly not used to having help around like this, as the owner of the household. I make a silent note to ask my father of the situation when he's not busy. But for now, I'm not too sure if I like this woman. She seems to have her own rules and agenda, despite my own ideas.

Yet, seeing how deep of a bond Jungkook has with her—in the next few months, I can only hope that she grows on me.

"Have you and Jungkook been together for long?" The question comes brisk and sudden, snapping me out of a faze.

"No, though we've known each other for years." I answer honestly. "We're very good friends."

She seems to smile, but I can't quite tell from the way her back is facing me. "Interesting." is all she says.

After informing her that I usually eat lunch at 1 P.M. and dinner at 7, I leave the room afterwards to sit in my own, picking up my copy of Norwegian Wood again.

"When you fall in love, the natural thing to do is give yourself to it. That's what I think. It's just a form of sincerity."

— Haruki Murakami