Broken Promises

Hyemi woke, with her head face down in the pillow, to the muffled sounds of her husband’s voice floating through the closed door that led to the study. She shivered as a light breeze dusted across her back and she squirmed further under the covers, pulling them tight around her form. Junyoung’s deep voice filtered through sheets and a tumbled mess of hair; words unintelligible, tone incomprehensible. Hyemi yawned and stretched, snapping back into a ball of warmth when her toes met the unwanted chilly air of an early Tuesday morning.

A door snapped shut and Junyoung re-entered the room. He saw the messy strands of brunette on the pillow. It was the only sign that his wife was still hidden under the covers. He bit his lip, trying to decide the best way to tell her. Over breakfast, or now? To start with an apology or an explanation? Junyoung crouched by the side of the bed and pushed back the cover to find the sleepy unfocused eyes that he had spent many an hour studying, trying to fully understand every emotion that had ever flitted across them. He had never succeeded. A fact that he was unhappy about.

“I have to go.” Junyoung said. Hyemi only blinked. She didn’t comprehend. “I have to leave.” Junyoung repeated. He couldn’t seem to say anything else. “I have to go.” Quieter this time. Hyemi blinked and raised her head, sensing the urgency.

“Go where?” Her voice cracked with sleep, her mind was foggy with her dream, her cold toes pressed against her leg.

“Back to the front. There’s been a new development. They need me.” Junyoung tried to explain, but he knew that Hyemi would never understand why. She would never fully comprehend why he had to leave her.

Still she asked. “Why?”

“They need me.”Junyoung said again. It was his only answer. Hyemi’s eyebrows furrowed unhappily, her mind still safe under the protective fog of sleep. “I’ll go make breakfast. You get dressed.” Junyoung straightened up and tried to smooth out her frown with his fingers. It didn’t work, so he moved to the door.

“When?” Hyemi questioned, sitting up, wrapping the sheets around her. The fog was beginning to clear. Unwanted understanding was shining through.

“I leave at midday.” Junyoung answered before the door was pulled closed behind him.

Midday. Hyemi scrabbled for the alarm clock on the bedside table. She felt the urgency that was laced in Junyoung’s tone previously, unheard at first through her fog filled ears. It was 9AM. Three hours.

She all but fell out of bed in her haste, fumbling for her scattered clothes from the day before. They lay around the room with no sense of pattern. They had been thrown, discarded. At the time they had only been in the way. Now they were needed. Junyoung retraced his steps through the apartment. He had lain a hurried breakfast on the table. Bowls and plates. Hot rice. Two glasses of water. Now he needed a wife to complete it. He pushed open the door to their bedroom. They bed had been made messily, the covers pulled flat. Not straight. On it laid his suit. Green and pressed, smart and ready. Medals glittering on one side. Black polished shoes stood on the floor. By the side, perched on the edge of the bed, was Hyemi. She clutched a black tie. Junyoung could see tear marks. They trailed down her cheeks and onto the tie.

Hyemi stood and neatly placed the tie on the suit before she brushed past her husband, choking on a repressed sob. Junyoung got dressed. There was nothing else he could do. The suit was stiff and uncomfortable. An hour had passed.

Breakfast was a silent affair. Junyoung sat upright, stiff in his suit. Hyemi faced him, looking only at the medals on his chest, trying to reason with herself; to explain why he was leaving her. She forced down her food until the plates lay empty. Another hour had passed.

Junyoung stood up. Hyemi burst. “Don’t leave me.” She still wouldn’t look at him.

“I have to.”

“You don’t. They don’t need you.” She looked up. If her words couldn’t persuade him, maybe her emotion could. “They don’t need you, but I do. Don’t go.”

“I have to.” Junyoung repeated. “You know that I have to.”

“You don’t.” Hyemi argued. Her voice rose. Her eyes glistened. “You can stay. You should stay. You promised me you’d stay.”

“I’ll come back.” Junyoung tried to be the voice of reason. But he didn’t want to leave her. That made reasoning hard.

“The last time you said that you came back in an ambulance.” Hyemi stood up as if to match the rise in intensity.

“I still came back.”

“I want you to come back alive. Not injured.”

Junyoung paused. “I can’t promise that.”

“You did promise me that you’d stay by my side, though.” Hyemi argued. She climbed on her chair to gain the height advantage. “You promised me. You vowed.” It was a solid argument.

“I still have to go.”

“You don’t!” Hyemi’s voice was loud. Her cheeks pink with excitement. Her hair still messy from where she had slept. From Junyoung’s hands. From her own worried hair pulling.

“I do. I don’t have a choice.”

“Of course you have a choice. Just stay here, resign, quit. Don’t leave.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Yes it is!” Hyemi jumped down. “You were supposed to be here for another nine days. You weren’t supposed to leave me until then. So don’t go!”

“I need to pack my things.” Junyoung had no argument. He didn’t want to argue.

Hyemi sank against the side in the kitchen as Junyoung left. She couldn’t think properly. The fog was back. So she cleared up from breakfast. A mind numbing task. She didn’t need to think. A third hour passed. Midday.

Junyoung stood at the front door. Cap on his head. Shiny polished shoes laced tightly on his feet. They squeaked slightly when he turned. Hyemi was crying. The tears came faster than before. Hyemi hugged Junyoung tightly, stiff suit clasped in her small hands, tears leaking onto his shoulder.

“Please.” It wasn’t an argument this time. It was a simple plea. Hyemi’s voice cracked as she said it. The same crack appeared in Junyoung’s heart. He couldn’t speak. “Please don’t leave me.” She said again. This time in a whisper. Junyoung hugged back tightly. Trying to patch up the crack in his heart.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, placing Hyemi back down, pulling her arms from around his shoulders. He swiped a thumb across her cheek, brushing away a tear. Another fell down, replacing it. It hovered on her cheek. Junyoung turned and left. The door snapped shut. A promise was broken. All that remained was a crying wife. And a crack in the heart of a soldier.