After about twenty of these glassy seconds, my chest began to constrict with emotion. Tears threatening my eyes, I choked out, "You were our favorite artist to listen to together, so when your song came out, it became all I listened to. Every morning, every night. I've grieved for so long. Your song was the only thing that helped."

My gaze fell to my hands and tears began to fall into shaking palms. With eyes closed, I heard him stand up, I thought to leave, but he approached the bed and wrapped me in a hug. I leaned into his shoulder, relishing the warm embrace.

Just then, a nurse came in to check my vitals and she awkwardly approaches the other side of the bed to make sure everything was okay. Hae-sol releases me reluctantly and turns to the nurse to bow. She returns the greeting and politely asks him to leave the room for a few minutes.

"You don't have to stay here, I know your schedule can be busy, so go ahead. I'll be fine here." I smile, wiping my eyes. "Thank you, for everything you've done."

He nods his head respectfully, his hand reaching up to cradle my jawline and his thumb wipes under my eye. Sincerity sparking in his dark brown eyes. "Thank you for the lovely company, and I'm so very glad to have met you." My phone finds its way to the table at the bedside and I give him a slight wave goodbye, eyes beginning to tear up again.

-

The doctor's words are anticipated, hurting much less since I knew they would be coming at some point in my life. I was made aware when I was with my father of our family health issues and it seemed that I was no exception to the rule. Tears fell freely down my cheeks once more and I blankly stared at the corner until everyone left the room, leaving me to wallow in my endless thoughts. I stared right where the wall to my right met the wall in front of me, studying the crack for any imperfections in the beige paint.

There were none, unlike me. Unlike my family. Unlike my father, unlike my mother.

Anger swelled in my chest, turning my soft hands into white-knuckled fists. Why was I born like this? Why did this have to happen to me? Tears fell in streams now, sharp breaths stuttering in my lungs, causing my speech to hiccup and slur.

"Why do this to me, Appa? Why would you hurt your little girl? Wae…" My voice cracked and I sobbed uncontrollably. I punched the bed several times in frustration, the doctor's diagnosis rang in my ears like a curse, looming dark and rainy over my head.

"You have a heart condition. It's know as Long QT Syndrome…" Throwing a pillow into my lap, I punch it as hard I want, as hard as I can. "Your father also had this disease, it happens to be genetic…" I punch again and again to his words. "There's a problem with the way your heart cells recharge after creating electricity…" Hit, hit, hit. Sob after sob stealing my breath. "It causes fainting spells and possibly sudden death."

"You think I don't know that?" I spew into the pillow angrily, my sobs becoming messy and filled with an ostensibly childish rage. Denial filled my thoughts, clouding my judgement. I need to get out of here. I need to be out of these beige walls, out of these white sheets. Out of the place that tore my family apart from the inside.

Fear triggers thoughts of singing. What if I die tonight, never being able to sing again? What if I never see Hae-sol again? I start to breathe uneven, but no tears come out. My throat causes the air to catch and I sit staring blankly, unbreathing, for several minutes.

I call the nurse in without further thought and when she appears, I demand to be let out of the hospital. She gives me a worried look then leaves to ask the doctor.

-

I'm twenty. Staring at the board in the college hallway. I'm going home. My heart leaps to my throat and a smile plasters itself to my face, my signature dimples flashing. Stacy, my best friend leaps on me in a warm embrace and squeals in excitement. "Minnie! You've done it! You're going to Korea! Oh my god, I'm so excited for you! Your parents are going to be so happy!" My mind flashes to my mother, her soft smile, one I've missed seeing every day. And my father, his silly jokes and stupid smile that was so contagious.

"I'm going home."

America wasn't a bad place, and I really enjoyed studying there. Friends came pretty easy to me and although I didn't understand most of what they said, I tried my best to get English down. Though I did have some moments at first where I awkwardly had to explain in broken English that I wasn't from America and didn't speak the language. My dad was from here, but with work, he didn't have time to teach me much. I knew a few phrases to get me by at least. Some people would get really upset, thinking I was joking considering I was only half-Korean and looked more like my dad.

That night I call my parents, who should in the middle of lunch by the time I call. "Hello?" I hear my dad's voice answer, an uncertainty in his voice that's so foreign to me, I almost think I dialed the wrong number.

"Dad? It's me, Min-Seul. I just checked the board and I got in, I'm coming to Korea!" I say, trying to ignore his tone of voice.

I hear him relay the information to someone and when he turns back to the phone, he is audibly choking down tears. "Nae sarang, that is the best news I've heard in a long time. I'm so happy, and mom is too, she can't speak right now, but she's clapping for you. Come back as soon as you can, okay?" He voice waivers at the end.

"Appa, is everything okay? You don't sound too good." I hear him sigh and I plug my other ear against the celebrations of my roommates to hear him better.

"Eomma is…" He begins to choke on his words and coughs, taking several deep breaths. I know what's coming, but I say nothing. We sit without talking for a moment, my dad sobbing on the other end.

"How long? How long does she have?" I finally say, choking down tears.

"A few days… maybe." He says, trying to calm down. I start crying. I won't be home in a few days, I don't leave for another month. I cover my face in one hand, desperate to fix everything. It had only been a week since my dad had been diagnosed with the heart disease and it seemed God was fed up with our happiness.

-

Little did the two of us know that a few days would turn into a few hours.

-

Not long after getting home from the hospital, I'm back to singing, trying to get back to the work I loved so much. The anger having subsided, only anxiety held my attention. I was so worried that I wouldn't wake up one morning. So worried that I wouldn't be able to finish a song for my fans or people relying on me. So worried that I would never see Hae-sol again.

My heart still hurt on occasion, but the doctor sent me home with some medication and told me to take it easy.

Eun-Bi, my manager, a rather scary little Chinese woman made me work twice as hard to make up for running away from her, as long as my heart stayed functioning, of course. But that only meant taking more short breaks and constant worry from my staff.

Fearing it would be the last time, I asked Zion.T to collaborate with me.

So here we were, in the studio, the mics set up to be facing each other. Before starting, I give him a long hug and thank him for doing this.

I started the recording and spoke softly into the mic. I spoke the last words my father ever said to me, "Da gwaenchanheul geoya." Nodding, teary-eyed, at the singer across from me, we began his song, more heartfelt and emotional than ever before. For we were singing with purpose and we were on a mission.

-

It was a stormy night, just like this year. My father drove over the bridge every night to come home, often in the weak hours of the morning. I couldn’t sleep, work kept me up this late and I often texted with my father since typically he would be in the same situation

Something didn’t sit right in my stomach as I messaged him.

“Make it home safe, okay? I want to hear your voice in the morning, please.”

“Why don’t you call me? I’m off, just on my way home, almost to the bridge. I want to hear your voice.”

I pressed a couple buttons and his goofy smile showed up on my screen. I smiled, curling into the blanket on the couch in the studio. I took a break while Eun-Bi fetched coffee.

“Yeoboseyo?” He answers.

“Appa~ saranghae!” I smile, hearing his sweet voice. My worries melting away with his words.

“Nae sarang, you know you’re my sunshine, gurae?”

“And you’re my only sunshine.” I speak softly, missing his small laugh enough to nearly bring me to tears.

“Minseul-ah, I’m sorry.” His voice becomes very serious and I laugh, thinking – no – hoping that he’s joking.

“What for?”

“Saranghae.” He pauses, breathing heavily and uneven. My stomach drops. “Da gwaenchanheul geoya.”

Suddenly I hear noises a car shouldn’t make. I hear screams people shouldn’t make. I hear shattering that glass shouldn’t do.

I scream his name over and over, hoping he’ll pick up, hoping beyond hope someone tells me he’s still alive. My whole world runs in slow motion, my screams, my tears, and the staff running in to the studio in horror at my distress. Seconds turn to hours, burning in my chest, my heart breaks.

-

I don’t hear sounds my father should make.

-

That afternoon, Hae-sol and I walked along the waterway together, talking about nonsense. I had told him about my heart and that it was what killed my father. I talked about how my mother had throat cancer that was dormant until a couple years before she died. It started growing and treatment and surgery didn't help. I told him about how close our family used to be and he let me vent. He let me cry and laugh and even laughed with me.

But I knew nothing about him. I felt so selfish, only rambling about my problems.

When I stopped talking, I listened to his story, growing up a pastor's son, singing in the choir, and how he started getting into music. He told me about his friends and how he wore sunglasses to shield his eyes as he found them naïve-looking. At this, I let out a small laugh.

"I love your eyes. I've always wished I had brown eyes." Hae-sol put his glass on his head and looked at me, making my cheeks rush with warmth and I turn my gaze to the ground. He smiled, laughing quietly to himself, looking out over the water.

His presence was addicting, so near and yet just enough. For the first time in a very long time, I smiled genuinely. Without fear or worry, without a thought of what used to be lingering in my mind. For a minute, I was able to forget and just be happy.

His hand met mine as our fingers timidly intertwined. I smiled like a manic fool and we walked, hand in hand.