chapter seven

I eye the newspaper laid on the table before me critically. So far, not even one of the advertisements on the job vacancy page has making me interested. I know that my savings can hold me out for a year or two, but the state of jobless has driving me nuts in the last four days. I’m not sure I can keep my sanity intact if I can’t find a job by the end of the week. For now, I don’t think I can be picky about the job. I’ve circled few that might suit my schedule and probably tomorrow I’ll start making interview.

I know that I can always come back to work for Mr. Wang if I beg him. But after I learned the truth that he easily gave me up, I’m not sure I want to see him again. I’m just so disappointed.

Dropping my pen, I rub my face tiredly. It’s been four days since I saw Mr. Jung. My heart feels heavy – sometime it can be very painful like someone just steps on it – every time I remember him. He hasn’t called me yet and that’s enough reminder for me that it’s for the best. We aren’t meant to be even if the thought of us being together is only my fanciful thinking. He has been so clear that he only wants me to work for him.

Hell. I’m sure that every woman will have the same dream of being together with Mr. Jung in whatever kind of relationship he pleases. Alright Yuri, no more wistful thinking!

I look out of the window. It’s such a beautiful day to be wasted mourning over something I can’t even have. I run toward my bedroom, grab a pair of tennis shoes, hurriedly march off the front door. I’ve decided that I’m having a day out today. Screw the job. Screw Mr. Jung. Screw Mr. Wang. No one is going to ruin my day.

As I step down the stairs, I just realize that I’ve never truly pay attention to my neighbors. Kids are just returning from schools and they fill the sidewalk with joyful laughter. I watch them intently as envy blooming inside me. I can’t remember the last time I hang out with my friends or that I had such a great time when I was at school. Hold on, do I have any friends at all?

My conscious shakes her head at me pitifully.

All I know is that my life consists of working, eating and sleeping. How colorless it is actually. I barely have a life at all! I’m not a robot for crying out loud. Since I lost both my parents, the only thing in my mind is survival.

I force my suddenly stiff feet to move. It that everything around me constantly reminds me of my imperfect childhood. No matter how often I try to tell myself that now I’m a free woman, it’s hard to actually act like one. Five years of abuse and five years of struggle are not that easy to be forgotten in a blink of eye.

My eyes catch the movement across the street and I actually hold my breath when I see Mr. Jung standing beside his sleek car. I know that Jonathan must be inside the car. My brain orders me to move but my heart no longer has the power to resist him. I soak myself at the sight of him in his grey suit. God almighty, the man can always rob me out of my breath every time I see him. After confirming he is real and not my illusion playing trick on me that I dare to meet his eyes, the devil eyes.

Is that possible that he’s been watching me all this time? My mind doesn’t dare to elaborate that thought. His dangerous game can cause serious damage to my life, my body, and most of all my heart.

When he offers tentative smile, my heart does somersault against my chest. I miss his smile – no scratch that – I miss him, all of him. Even when his smile is having devastating effect on me, I notice that he is leaner. His face looks haggard and there are dark circles under his eyes.  I exhale heavily.

How am I going to able to sleep at night after knowing that he is in the same state as me?

Looking determined, Mr. Jung crosses the street without taking his eyes off me. Oh ! What am I supposed to do now?

“Do you have a time? Can we talk? Please?”

God bless Korea! The man actually can ask nicely. I eye him warily as he stops in front of me. We are standing so close to each other that his scent drifts into my nose. He smells divine like usual.  

A glance down at his attire causes me to grimace. My worn-out khaki shorts and overused white t-shirt are no match for his flawless suit. “I’m not really sure. I was just –”

“Please.”