Part Three

“...she rejected me.”

Minho had no idea what had come over him to say that when Mrs. Jang had asked what was wrong between them. He knew he had been bottling it for a while but he had better restraints. But Jieun was Jieun and one look at her, and something had flipped inside of him.

It wasn’t just sorrow or regret this time. It was anger and envy. Why was she happy when he was so miserable? The answer came to him the very next moment. Because she doesn’t love me anymore in the way I love her. She probably didn’t love him at all.

The way she was staring at him was devoid of even the affection she held for Joseph for Seonho. It was uncomfortable. Angry too. And Minho knew he had done something petty and wrong. But he couldn’t help it.

She had pulled him out of there, and Minho had followed her out without a word.

“Why did you have to make such a big deal out of it?” Jieun asked, her voice muted yet displeased, subtly furious as well. “You could have just sat there and smiled.”

“How can I smile?” Minho couldn’t help but let out a remorseful smile at that. “When the girl who rejected me and wants to be strangers now is sitting right in front of me?”

Jieun sighed, taking his words in, and calmed down. “I was a little overwhelmed then.” She began in an apologetic tone, “I mean, it was so sudden. But I’m sorry. I’ll take back what I said about being strangers. Let’s go back to being friends, Minho.”

Minho sighed and turned to face her. “We can’t.” He started. “I can’t, Jieun. Because there was never a moment ever since I met you that I thought of you as just a friend. How can I go back to being your friend when I never saw you that way?”

Jieun lowered her gaze, sighing as well.

“To be honest, I have been thinking it over so much these past few days to understand what I want to feel for you.” Minho continued, “Whether I should even talk to you again… or let alone try being just a friend. And that’s why I want to ask you again. The last time. Are you sure… you won’t regret it?”

Jieun met his gaze then, and with a small smile, nodded. “I won’t regret it.”

Minho sighed, mustering a smile as well. He extended his hand for a shake. “Then… I guess this is where we part ways.”

Jieun looked at his hand. “You couldn't see me as a friend before, but can’t you try this time?”

Minho was tempted to give in at the way she had asked, but no, he could already feel the pieces of his heart stinging. Giving him a reminder of what lay ahead if he gave in. “No.”

“Think of Seonho and Joseph. Our group. It won’t be the same if you… if you do this. You’re going to ruin this, Minho. It’s going to be hard for them. For me too.” She took his hand then, her voice softer, urging, “It's best if we genuinely try to be friends this time.”

Minho just stared at her hand holding his. Her words were spinning in his mind and something about them… had made him so angry. “You are saying… I’m ruining this?”

“No, I didn’t mean it that way–”

“Jieun. It was you who kissed me and confessed to me back when we were in college.” Minho freed his hand from her hold. “You were the one… who put the friendship of our group at stake first.”

“And you were the one who agreed.” Jieun shot back, but she took a breath, “But we weren't thinking then. We were younger back then. We are adults now, so we should be rational about this.”

“You are right. We are adults now. Seonho and Joseph are too. They and you too… should deal with this like an adult. Forcing me to be your friend when I’m not ready for it. Making me watch you… go on while I’m stuck… that’s too cruel of you, Jieun.” Minho was slightly breathless when he had finished. “And it’s not like I’ll stop being friends with Seonho or Joseph. Maybe, someday I can genuinely be your friend too. But not now. Not yet. I trust Seonho and Joseph to understand what I have chosen is best for me. I trust you to do the same. Just the way I have understood… that you chose Namjin because you felt he’s the best for you.”

Jieun was silent for a bit. She seemed taken aback by his words. “That’s the… today’s the most I have heard you talk about the way you think and feel.” She paused thoughtfully. “You really changed, telling it right out instead of keeping it to yourself and closing it with a word or two.” She smiled. It was a bit sad, a bit remorseful, but only for a moment. “Fine.” She sighed, “I had to try… and I tried. I really have no regrets about you now.” She smiled, it was apologetic, pitiful even, “Let’s part ways here then… Choi Minho.”

Minho nodded and turned away. He hadn’t even started to leave but the sound of Jieun’s heels was resounding in the corridor, and he only left when it had faded.

It had been a couple of weeks since then. Minho felt lighter ever since he had talked it out with Jieun. Reaffirmed that they indeed hit the rock bottom of it. Though he hadn’t chosen the difficult route of playing the game until the end, he felt like he had no regrets. He did meet up with Seonho or Joseph a few times in between, but never went to the gatherings. No one forced him to as well.

He heard about Jieun from Seonho often. If she didn’t say anything, he ended up asking. He knew he had decided to let go, but it wasn’t something sudden. He still worried and cared for Jieun. At first, he tried not to be, to suppress it, but then he accepted it. Because there was so much between them he couldn’t downright erase. So many common links. Memories that hurt now to recall, but Minho didn’t want to lose them entirely. Which meant, he would probably always worry and care for her. Maybe, all that would happen as he moved on, would be the way and degree of it.

It was new, feeling this way. It hurt sometimes, but sometimes it was peaceful. But it never changed the way he felt about it. That it was right.

When he met Seonho later that week, he learned Jieun was in a pinch because she needed a car urgently to pick up an unexpected client. She needed a photographer as well. Ideally, Minho would be the first one she would contact for these things but she had found alternatives. Minho knew well she could manage, she didn’t necessarily need him. She was good at her job, resourceful, and intelligent. She thought he was close enough for her to rely on him, but the fact was undeniable that Minho was just the easiest option for her. Now he wasn’t. And she was respecting his decision to stay distant for now. Moreover, he was happy she was going on with her life even without having him as a friend. It did sting a bit at first, but eventually, all he was, was relieved. Because though he still would care for her, now he could stop worrying for her on a daily basis. He felt like he could go on as well. Of course… with time.

There was one more thing that he had to take care of before he left himself to the waves of time. The album he had compiled with their memories. He had done it with the aim of showing them to her one day. Giving them to her when he felt that it was complete.

It was complete now.

So he wrote her a small letter, with an intention of couriering it to her place, but he couldn’t just yet. So he put the letter inside and stuffed the album in his bag, deciding to keep it close and ready, believing that the time would come when he would be ready to give it away.

The deadline for the pictorial was drawing near. Minho had only a week to go and with his mind slowly decluttering, he felt like he was finally back on track.

He had been roaming the streets after work every night and he finally understood what Chief Do had meant when he said his pictures lacked focus. It was so easy. So simple. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t figured it out–and Chief Do was flabbergasted when Minho had made a quizzical face at his feedback. Now he understood why.

He had thought he was focussing. On the street. On the city lights. On a vintage car that he had spotted parked in a commercial complex. On the skyscrapers towering above. On the view of the lake that the bridge was built over. On the sloping alleys and local shops.

But no he wasn’t. He was focussing on capturing them in a picture. He wasn’t focusing on what he wanted to say through them. What he wanted to show through them. And that was what had changed. He noticed it when he compared the pictures too. The previous ones seemed like a shot caught on camera in passing. The ones now felt like he had stolen it from a moment eventful. It felt that way… because it was. He had found some meaning there; he had adjusted his perspective and angle to match it. He had found what the focus was in the picture he wanted to take.

It wasn’t the vintage car, but how aberrant it seemed, parked among the latest models of sedans and SUVs. It wasn’t the skyscrapers but the way they were so tall but still couldn’t reach the moon from where he stood at. It wasn’t the streets, but the people who used them, casting shadows in a way that was peculiar yet beautiful. It wasn’t the city lights, but the way they mingled in passing, seeming like stars in the night. It wasn’t just a bridge over a lake, but the distorted reflection of it in the water that brought out its magnificence. The alleys weren’t just alleys–they were filled with traces of childhood games… and local shops were filled with traces of nostalgia that renovation couldn’t hide.

Minho had driven his scooter back home but had stopped at the pedestrian bridge near his place. He sat on the bench and was going through all the pictures, smiling at each of them. He was content with them, excited even because he knew he had done his best.

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