Yongguk’s POV

            The past few days we spent as an official couple was a complete bliss. We get off work early every few days to have dinner together at a fancy restaurant, or and we take quiet walks at night to admire the stars. Thinking back to all the trouble I’ve been through in Korea, being here now in Vancouver was dream-like. Though we couldn’t stop smiling around each other, there were still times I could feel that Jieun was bothered. After the night she confessed, she never brought up the phone call with her father again, but we’d be fools to think that he would honestly let her have the last word.

            When I came back to Jieun’s office with today’s lunch, Jieun was standing behind her desk with a stiffened posture, her cell phone held tightly against her ear. She spoke into it as she looked out her office window, and I could immediately tell it was an important call. She never turned around when I got back in, so I placed the food on her desk and waited.

            “I understand. Thank you,” She ended her phone call with a heavy sigh. I wondered if it was her father again. After she hung up, she never threw her phone on her desk in anger, nor was she breathing heavily.

            “Yongguk-ah,” Her voice was solemn, “We need to go back to Seoul right away.” Her head hung low between her shoulders and the muscles on her forearms tensed. I couldn’t think of a reason as to why I would need to ever return there. I was so bent on having a new life in Vancouver, I wasn’t interested in returning to the city of my broken dreams, but Jieun sounded serious about it.

            “My grandfather…” She mumbled weakly, her shoulders now trembling. It was obvious she was trying to hold back her tears, but her voice only became as shaky as her shoulders. Immediately my mind thought of the worst case scenario.

            “He’s dead…” Her words stung me, and immediately, I recalled the short time I’d spent at the care facility with Song Jihoon before he sent me to Canada. I remembered that he was sick with Parkinson’s disease, and when I’d left, he still had a fair amount of control over his limbs though he couldn’t write or eat on his own. Though we’d all been expecting it, the reality hit me hard as if I’d never had time to brace myself. I understood why going back to Seoul was no longer a choice—if Song Jihoon wanted anyone to send him away peacefully it would be Jieun. She slid onto the floor, her long hair covering her face as she sobbed loudly. I knelt down next to her and steadied her shaking shoulders with my hands. Her grandfather was most possibly the only family left who acknowledged Jieun and upheld her same ideals. How alone did she feel now that he was gone?

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            Throughout the entire funeral service, Jieun’s head was kept low and she barely made any sound louder than her own breathing. The small white ribbon hung loosely on a strand of her hair. Many people, probably colleagues and old family friends, greeted her with condolences, but she’d never made an attempt to speak to anyone first. She could barely utter a ‘thank you’, and I knew better than to hold up a conversation with her right now. The only time she raised her head was when she had to sprinkle dirt over her grandfather’s grave. It was more difficult a task than it looked with her emotional torment. Her eyes pinned shut and a few droplets of tears escaped past her eyelashes. She was gritting her teeth as her fist slowly loosened, allowing the dirt to pepper over the coffin.

            “Yongguk-ah,” Her voice was so quiet I had almost missed it, “Did you notice something?” I tried to follow her stare, but she was focused directly at the ground below her feet.

            “During the funeral service?” We were now standing at his grave alone, as the other guests were all taking their leave.

            “My father wasn’t even there.” Her teeth gritted harder and her fists tightened at her side. I place an arm over her shoulder and she started to cry uncontrollably. As I watched the crowds of people slowly clear, I couldn’t believe that I hadn’t noticed it earlier. Jieun’s father had no reason to be absent today of all days. He was shamelessly heartless.

           “Excuse me…” A slim and tall woman in a long, black dress approached the two of us at Song Jihoon’s grave. She was holding a grey box wrapped in a navy blue ribbon. Jieun sniffed loudly twice, trying to stop her tears from pouring so that she could greet the woman before us.

            “I was one of the nurses who looked after Song Jihoon in his final days.” She introduced with a meek smile, and then bowed politely, “You must be his granddaughter, Song Jieun?” Jieun was still shaking subtly, but she nodded and bowed back to the nurse.

            “And you are Bang Yongguk, correct?” Her mention of me caught me by surprise. I was barely affiliated with Jieun’s family, so it came as a surprise for the nurse to know of my name. I had never met her before.

            “I’m gravely sorry for your loss,” She placed a hand on Jieun’s shoulder. Her touch must have been cold because Jieun winced away. “But before he left this world he entrusted me with this…” She presented the box to me with both hands and then nodded for me to take it. Jieun watched curiously as I received the small box.

            “There was a note as well.” The nurse handed me a piece of paper, folded sloppily four times. When I unfolded it, I realized that this was a message Song Jihoon had written himself. The handwriting was sloppy, worse than a kindergartener’s and almost illegible, nor was it very long.

For my future grandson-in-law.

            Jieun took the note from me and placed her hand on the lid of the box. She was no longer crying.

            “Open it.” She was just as curious as I. I pulled the navy ribbon and it undid itself easily, and then I proceeded to lift the lid of the box, revealing a polished, golden pocket watch with the chain still intact. Jieun’s family must have had a knack for collecting antiques, and this pocket watch was astoundingly beautiful.

Jieun’s POV

            “This…” I whispered; my voice still raspy and weak, “Was grandpa’s first treasure.”

            “First?”

            “When he was a young adult, his favourite hobby was building pocket watches. After university he buried that hobby away. Most of the pocket watches he made he gave away as gifts to his best friends, and this, his first, was the only one he kept.” I explained, smiling to myself as I remembered my six year old self, running around in my grandparent’s home. They had many glass cases, displaying different treasures of theirs, and because their house was big, I always felt like I was having a museum tour. Grandpa would always tell me I wasn’t allowed to run in case I hurt myself, kind of how a museum curator would. He never yelled at me in fear of breaking something, he only ever scolded me for my own safety. Only now did I realize that.

            I came across the smallest glass case in their display, and asked what the sparkly golden circle was. Pocket watches had gone out of style years before I was born so it was the first time I had seen one. Grandpa opened the case and lifted the watch from its cushion, and then scooped me up with his other hand as we sat on an old, red, sofa. I used to call it the storytelling throne. It was then that he shared with me his earlier passions. At the end of the story, when I told him it was a shame to just keep such a beautiful object locked away in a box, he laughed at me. At first I was confused and angry, but he told me that the watch wouldn’t sit there, all alone forever. He said that when I was older, much much older, and had found someone I loved with all my heart just as he loves grandma, the pocket watch would be ‘free’ again. It felt silly that all these memories were just coming back to me now. So many years had passed since then, and I’d grown out of the storytelling throne over a decade ago, and with that growing up came forgetting. I’d forgotten all the stories and fairytales my grandpa shared with me. I always believed he was a great and noble man, yet I forgot the tales of his that deemed him so.

            Yongguk held me firmly in one arm, the pocket watch hanging from its chain in his other hand. I reached out to touch it, and a flood of warmth washed through me. I opened the watch, and surprisingly, the hands were still ticking along. A nostalgic music box melody resounded from the watch, and I knew each note by heart. My soft voice hummed along as my eyes closed, like a lullaby putting me to sleep. My grandpa used to play it on the piano for me. I wanted to cry in his arms and hug him, telling him how sorry and thankful I was to him, but I couldn’t. If I closed my eyes, just listening to this made grandpa alive in my thoughts, and this was the closest I could probably get to him now. 

A/N: It took me longer than I expected to get another chapter out. I was too engrossed in other things, but I think I'm back on track with writing. I'm kind of hoping to finish Wanderlust quite soon so I can solely focus on my real novel. This plot is also about to hit its . Thank you to all the readers who have stayed with me and are determined to read until the end. Your patience is truly a cherished virtue. ^^