...

...

Cold wind bit through Ji-hoo's heavy corduroy jacket. Yellow highway lights sped past in a blur as he urged his motorcycle to go faster, faster. Away from the hospital. Away from Seoul. Away from the dark room and the empty bed he knew waited for him at home. He didn't know where he was going, just that the restless ache inside of him wouldn't let him stand still, and so he kept moving. He rode east, toward Kanghwa, weaving in and out of traffic with dangerous carelessness. His hands grew numb inside the thin riding gloves, and a fog sprang up to cloak the road in mystery, but still he didn't slow. Instead, he let his body take over the shifting maneuvers required by the long curves and rises in the road while his mind drifted, pulled back inexorably to the things he didn't want to think about.

…

In the years since Jun-pyo and Jan-di had married, Ji-hoo believed he had resigned himself to the constant low-level throb of loneliness. Most of the time, it was easy to ignore. After all, he had Grandfather, and the F-4, and his work at the clinic to keep him busy. He even had Jan-di, after a fashion. They saw each other nearly every day, sharing in the running of the clinic and enjoying the same close and easy friendship they always had. Often, they would take lunch together, laughing at shared jokes and consulting each other on difficult cases. Her pregnancy had slowed her down a little, but even when she had stopped working to placate a nervous Jun-pyo, she still popped by the clinic almost daily to ask after her patients and bring food for Ji-Hoo and Park Eun-jung, the third doctor they had added to the practice. Yes, she went home to Jun-pyo's arms every night, but Ji-hoo knew he had a permanent place in her life, just as she would always have a place in his.

Ji-hoo had almost convinced himself that it was enough for him. Until tonight.

When he had stepped into Jan-di's hospital room, everything had changed. Jun-pyo was hovering over the bed where Jan-di sat propped up against pillows, her exhausted face glowing with satisfaction. The baby, Hee-jin, was swaddled in a soft green blanket and nestled in her father's arms, her dark eyes already open and gazing solemnly up at him. Ji-hoo could not look away from Jun-pyo's face. It was awash in pure wonder as he gazed down at his child for a long, timeless moment. Finally, lifting his head, he reached over to clasp Jan-di's hand in his own, fierce pride burning in his eyes as they met hers. Ji-hoo had never seen anything like it. In that instant, he had realized that, no matter how close a friend he was to both of them, he was shut out in a new way from this family that they were creating together. He would never be the one standing next to her, the one sharing her nights, the one welcoming new life into the world at her side. He was living a ghost of a life, and it wasn't enough. It wasn't nearly enough. All at once, the suppressed ache of longing for the woman he still loved had burst through its restraints and risen up in him like a flood, threatening to choke him.

Murmuring his congratulations, he had pressed his gift into Jun-pyo's hands, turned, and fled.

…

Back at the hospital, Ga-eul and Jan-di were enjoying some rare girl time. Jan-di had sent Jun-pyo home to shower and rest, and had given her mom the job of calling all the relatives with the news of Hee-jin's successful arrival, a task that would keep her pleasantly occupied for hours. Jun-pyo's parents weren't due to arrive for two more days. Though no longer in charge at Shinhwa, they both maintained an active role in the company. They were currently meeting with the board of a U.S. restaurant conglomerate about collaborating with Shinhwa to open a chain of Korean fusion restaurants along the California coast. Their absence didn't bother Jan-di. Though she adored her father-in-law, she was still often uncomfortable in the formidable presence of the Dragon Lady. She made a silent vow not to allow Kang Hee-soo to meddle with the next generation the way she had with Hee-Jin's parents. If Madame Kang needed grandmothering lessons, Jan-di was sure her own mother would be only too happy to give them!

Ga-eul looked on wistfully as Jan-di lifted Hee-jin to her , where the baby latched on like she'd been doing it for months. Jan-di was still a little self-conscious about nursing in front of anyone, but Ga-eul was in awe of the process as only another soon-to-be mother could be. She rubbed her pregnant belly tenderly. "I can't wait to hold this baby," she sighed. "You're so lucky, Jan-di. I still have four months to go, and Yi-jung and I are nowhere near ready." She laughed, "Honestly, I sent him to the store the other day to buy a big box of newborn diapers, and he came back with a cartload of craft supplies for the baby's room! And without the diapers!" She smiled at the memory. Yi-jung had taken her in his arms and spun her around the nursery, talking excitedly about the ocean mural he was going to paint across the walls. This giddy, enthusiastic Yi-jung was different in some ways from the cynical rogue she had first met, but she sensed that she was seeing his true self revealed more fully each day. As the jaded façade he had adopted flaked away little by little, it was replaced by an earnestness and strength that she loved even more.

Hee-jin nursed hungrily for several minutes before falling asleep mid-meal, a drop of milk escaping from her tiny rosebud mouth and dribbling down her cheek. Jan-di gently raised the sleeping infant to her shoulder and patted her back. It had been a while since Jan-di had cared for a newborn, but it came back to her quickly. She had been eleven when Kang-san was born, and had taken seriously her charge to help her mother watch over him. Na Gong-joo had only been able to take a few days off from the dry cleaners after giving birth. Jan-di thought about how lucky she was to be able to stay home for several months, enjoying these precious early days with her daughter. Eun-jung-ssi and Ji-hoo were more than capable of handling things at the clinic, and even when she returned, she planned to work only part-time. Jun-pyo had tried to talk her into quitting altogether, but he didn't try very hard. He knew how much it mattered to her to be able to offer good medical care to people in the very poorest neighborhoods of Seoul. She considered it a calling. Besides, her passion was part of what had drawn him to her in the first place, striking him blind to the charms of all other girls.

"How are you feeling, Ga-eul?" asked Jan-di. She carefully laid the sleeping Hee-jin down in the hospital bassinet beside her bed and turned to her friend.

"Happy," Ga-eul said with a grin, "but still not keeping much food down. Doesn't the nausea ever stop? I can tell Yi-jung is worried. All I have to do is mention that something sounds tasty, and he is out the door and tracking it down for me in an instant." They both chuckled. "The doctor seems to think everything is progressing as expected. Yi-jung just needs to relax. Although…," she said slyly, "I did appreciate that midnight fudge ripple ice cream run he made on Saturday." They laughed again.

Jan-di was tired, but there was something she wanted to discuss with her friend now that everyone else was gone. "Ga-eul," she started, and Ga-eul looked over at her, curious at her tone. "Did you notice anything wrong with Ji-hoo sunbae tonight? He looked strange, I thought, and he left in such a rush."

As a matter of fact, Ga-eul had noticed Ji-hoo's behavior, and she probably had a better idea than Jan-di of its cause, privy as she was to Yi-jung's private thoughts and worries. But she didn't say anything. There was nothing anyone could do to disperse the tension inherent in the delicate balancing act Jun-pyo and Ji-hoo had adopted; the less said, the better. Instead, she shrugged and changed the subject, hoping silently to herself that time would resolve it all without any further injury to the tender hearts involved.

Before she could think of what to say, a knock sounded at the door. "It's me," called a muffled voice from the hallway, "Yi-jung."

Checking first to make sure Jan-di was settled, Ga-eul eased her body awkwardly out of the soft chair next to the bed and went to open the door. Yi-jung stopped to press an affectionate kiss to his wife's forehead before sweeping into the room like a man on a mission, his hands held mysteriously behind his back. "Geum Jan-di," he said, " I have it on very good authority that chocolate is a big hit with hormonal women." Grinning, he brought his hands out from behind him with a flourish, a handful of candy bars clutched in each one. He fanned them out before her like a magician performing a card trick.

Jan-di laughed. "How generous you are, Yi-jung sunbae."

"Not really," he admitted. "This is actually a bribe. I've come to persuade you to let me take my lovely wife home. You see, I need her help with an important project I'm working on."

"Well, it is a lot of chocolate..." she mused with mock thoughtfulness. “I suppose we can cut a deal."

Ga-eul rolled her eyes at them affectionately. "Come on, you smooth talker," she said, slipping her arm through Yi-jung's, "let's go."

"I'll call you later," Jan-di promised as Ga-eul waved goodbye and slipped out of the room.

Together, the couple made their way out of the hospital and walked slowly down the block toward Yi-jung's car. "So, Yi-jung-ah, what is this important project you need my help with?" Ga-eul asked playfully.

"Well," he said, "Master Galiano says that my sculpting is improving, but I need to practice. I thought I might make my next project a ... of my beautifully rounded wife."

Ga-eul gasped, nearly tripping over her feet. Color flooded her cheeks and she smacked Yi-jung on the arm. "Keep your voice down," she hissed. "People will hear you!"

Yi-jung wrapped a warm arm around her shoulders and declared theatrically, "The artist cannot be silenced in the praise of his muse!"

She gave an amused snort and smoothed a hand over her gently rounded belly. "Some muse! Besides, jagiya- you remember what happened that time you tried to paint a portrait of me wearing only a cotton drape for your Renoir tribute. You never even finished it!" She poked him softly in the shoulder. "So distractable..." she teased.

"I know," he purred, with a look that had unmade many a hapless girl in his bachelor days. Coming to a standstill, he pulled her close and leaned in until she could feel the soft exhale of his breath on her lips. "That's my favorite part."

They walked faster.

…

Ji-hoo could smell the salt on the air as he drew closer to the coast. His bike roared under him like a chained animal. He had left the highway some time back and found himself now on an unfamiliar country road. There were farms scattered here and there, as well as large sections of forest land. He was taking the curves too fast, but he didn't care about that. He just wanted to get out of his own head, and the extra concentration required to navigate the winding road at this speed was crowding out his troubled thoughts.

Suddenly, he came speeding around a sharp turn to find a stalled milk truck blocking the road. There was almost no time to react. He jerked the handlebars of his motorcycle sharply to the left and missed colliding with the rusty corner of the truck bed by mere inches. With a mighty thump, his tires left the road. Miraculously, he flew right through a narrow space between two thick tree trunks before the encroaching branches of a low lying bush snagged his wheel and the bike lurched sharply to the side. Thrown clear of the growling machine, Ji-hoo felt a brief sensation of weightlessness before gravity finally caught up with him. Tumbling wildly across the forest floor, he heard a sharp crack as pain exploded through his left leg. At last, his wild ride ended; he landed in a thicket, the back of his head coming down hard on the knob of a protruding tree root. He moaned once, and then the darkness took him.

...

...