happily ever after.

“I’m Park–” she stops mid sentence, “I’m Park Eunji”. There’s no telling if he’ll discard his truth, so why should she? She takes a seat at the kitchen table, reaching for the coffee again that’s now gone cold. “I’m on vacation–or was on vacation”, her voice remains unsteady as she takes another breath, urging herself to calm down inside. She leans forward and holds her face in her hands, elbows placed on her knees as she finds a photograph to focus on–she can’t look him in the eye.

It’s rare for Haeun to be friends with someone outside her social circle, but she quite enjoyed Yoomi’s company–more than that, she admired the way Yoomi pursued her passion in dancing. And being with Yoomi made her think–about her family, her so-called friends in her life–which accounted for most of the silence. She truly couldn’t think of anyone she knew who loved their career as passionately as Yoomi, and who simply didn’t seem bothered about others opinions.  

She mixes her rice with egg yolk as Yoomi speaks. Another rarity is mornings like these where she feels completely calm, free, and like her true self. She eats more before smiling at her friend, her reply following “It is. I’d like to make a whole day of it.” She glances at her phone on the table, lit with multiple message notifications already, but turns it off. She’s not part of that world today. “Is there anything you’ve really wanted to do lately? Something that is bucket list worthy?”

Minji decides that whatever he wants must be better than the situation she is in. As if her body moves without thought, she takes the key in the palm of her hand, trying to keep her hand steady while tightly holding on to it. After he gives her the address, she stands there longer, the decision to go to a stranger’s apartment or back to her hotel crossing her mind. Hotel is out of the question. Too many people, too many wandering eyes, it will only cause more problems. “Okay,” she says quietly, taking steps backwards before turning around to leave. It’s too soon for a ‘thank you’. No one who is morally sound would help a stranger in this situation. Either she’s extremely lucky or extremely unlucky to meet him and it’s likely the latter. 

----

She finds the apartments later than she would have liked, however, due to constantly looking over her shoulder, wondering if the cops were behind or if she would be stabbed in the back literally by the man she just met. Paranoia at its best. He didn’t lie about one thing. There’s coffee sitting on his kitchen counter. Coffee is the last thing an anxious person should drink as dawn approaches, she’s been doing things out of the norm for hours now. She takes a seat at his kitchen table, fingers tapping away at the table in a nervous fit while sipping on bitter coffee. It takes all of her to sit still while her mind races with every thought possible, what’s happening to the body, what’s going to happen to her? She stands up with her coffee, but shaky hands almost drop the mug, spilling drops on the table. 

She’s being petulant, but hopes he can’t tell. The color in her face is flushing light pink, not because of embarrassment but because he’s making her irritated with his words even if there is truth in them. She opens her mouth to tell him what she’s been holding back, but then she sees her baby asleep on his lap and the irritation begins to subside. Haetnim likes him, too much it seems and so she tolerates him more these days. “I’m sorry…I’ll stop asking you for acts of service. There should be clear boundaries in our friendship like any other.” All the while she speaks, her eyes are fixed on his lap, watching her child breathe, eyes closed despite the fuss the two of them are making. She sits on the floor in front of them and looks into his eyes again, “Don’t move, she looks so peaceful–”. 

He accepts her kiss. A deep, entrancing one that tells him where the night is going. He reaches over to turn off the lamp, accepting her invitation again before the sun shines and reality intervenes once again.

———

He feels stupid, thinking he’d wake up on time after a night entangled with her body. Fingers run through his hair and he rubs his eyes to get adjusted to the light that spills in from the floor to ceiling windows in her room. Every night with her is wonderful, but the morning is when he feels this uncertain feeling in the pit of his stomach. A bit of regret mixed with the knowledge that he’d do it again. A sort of remorse that he’s not willing to conquer. He reaches for his phone and turns it on. He’s greeted with his home screen along with seven voicemails and thirteen missed calls. They’re all from their colleagues and that sort of uncertain feeling sinks into him once again, but for all new reasons. He’s fucked–he doesn’t even want to know whappened last night, but whatever happened–he nor Mara were prepared and ready to come on scene.

—

Choosing not to overdress, but still choosing to look sophisticated and elegant, she wears a sleeveless all white below the knee dress with simple accent jewelry and a black clutch purse. It doesn’t take long for her to recognize the woman who invited her as she walks over in a pair of nude jimmy choos, eagerly greeting the other woman with a pure, genuine smile, and one that took almost everything out of her to give. Even Seraphina’s introduction almost has her fooled into believing the pair were close and truly cared for one another, “and of course, I wouldn’t be here without your support and knowledge.” She then greets everyone else within their circle, focusing on the producer first, followed by Seraphina’s husband. 

Now which one of you will be an asset for me. She looks at the producer, an older gentleman who appears a bit meek, but she wants to stay on his good side. Becoming a yes-woman to him seems to be the safest choice for now. With a few more years of credibility, she can put him in his place. Next is the husband. Using him is more of a challenge. He was fairly attractive, but that’s only to be expected from Seraphina. Even Haeun hates to admit it, but Seraphina represents the beauty standard quite well and of course, Seraphina would want her spouse to be reflective of that. For now, she only gives him a smile and says “You know, eonni is truly a gem. You’re so blessed to have her in your life, you get to wake up to a goddess every morning.”

She doesn’t wait for a reply, instead turning to Seraphina, “I’ll be back shortly, I’ve been thinking about that glass of red ever since this morning, you know. I’m going to find a butler, I’ll ask for a glass for everyone.” With that, she sets her eyes on the first man she sees carrying a tray of empty glasses and sets off. Uh, I just can’t stand her and her perfect life, perfect career, and perfect husband–wait, perfect husband? It’s like a lightbulb turned on above her head. The husband, maybe he’s not so perfect after all. Haeun has a fine line to cross, getting the most out of Seraphina for her career but also simultaneously ruining her perfect life so she can see how it feels to have your life suddenly turned upside down, like Seraphina did to her. 

“It’s really sad news actually. I pray for what’s happening at Thailand’s border and of course Myanmar too. Some people are just not as privileged as others, but who gets to call those shots, am I right?” She lifts her celine sunglasses above her head, strands of her hair falling perfectly into place to shape her face. “We’re fortunate you know?” she says with an ingenuine sigh towards her Tech Manager, “We live in Seoul–the land of luxury brands, plastic surgery, technology, and of course, gorgeous men.” She laughs along with her manager before excusing herself to the washroom. It’s that time of day where her make-up needs a refresh. A fresh coat of pink lip tint and an extra swipe of blush gives an innocent look, attractive and yet, charming.

The washroom door opens with the click of her makeup bag closing. She stuffs the small bag inside her larger tote. In front of the mirror, Haeun’s face lights up with a smile as soon as the other woman’s reflection is clear. “Eonni, I missed you!” With each click of her heels, she excitedly approaches her older sister, giving her a tight embrace. “I just got back from Thailand last night–I’ll have to tell you all about it. I had a ton of fun, but it was also business and work, you know?” The way she speaks and even her body language is authentic enough to fool herself–there’s no way she missed the woman standing in front of her. But it’s all politics. Without Seraphina, she wouldn’t be in this business today. 

There’s truly nothing like the scent of her. From the moment he steps inside her apartment until the time they’re entangled in her sheets, no experience is quite like it. It’s a sweet note of vanilla fading with a floral rose. Her apartment, her clothes, her linen and furniture–everything smelled quite saccharine. Whether that is truly the case or not, may be another story.  

He’s made plenty of worse decisions before, but this one is at the top. His time on Korean cases is short and almost always involves a Japanese national. They need me in a sense. This is how he justifies the actions made and those to come. He kisses her skin, one after another as his fingers entangle in soft brown hair. And he’s wondering what she tells herself to justify their actions not once or twice, but several times.

He can always have more–round two seems quite enticing, but first, he turns over and reaches for the phone on the nightstand. “No calls, no notifications. It's Thursday night, I doubt anything troublesome will happen.” He turns his phone volume to silent and places it upside down where it was before. His attention is on her and so are his hands, exploring places where they’ve been plenty of times, but regardless, each time feels like a new destination. 

Her life is in pieces and she has no idea how to put it back together. One night, one decision. How could her life have changed in a mere ten minutes? She looks at her hands as they begin to shake, she was fortunate they were still clean despite the act she committed. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

She planned this vacation for months. A tour of Japan, starting in Hokkaido and ending in Osaka. But now she’s in Tokyo, where she planned to see the Skytree and visit Meiji Jingu tomorrow. Those plans fell through after a fun, innocent night. She never asked for trouble. She only wanted to have fun with him, dance, and have a few drinks–on him, of course. Why did he turn out to be such a weirdo–even worse, a perverted son of a bitch–but, he didn’t deserve it. No matter how awful he was, lives shouldn’t end at the hand of another.

She takes a step back, looking at the scene. She thinks I'll never be able to live a peaceful life again. Why did I do it? Of course it was self defense. That’s the story she will go with. She pulls out her phone to call 110, but stops short. Wait. What if the police don’t believe me? What if I can’t explain the gravity of the situation in Japanese? What if there’s too much blunt force to be only self defense–but it was self defense, wasn’t it? She crouches down close to the body, blood still flowing from the massive wound on his head as he lay lifeless. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–” She stops and wipes the sweat away from her forehead, giving her words a second thought. “Am I sorry though? If you would have never followed me, I would be safe at home sleeping and you’d still be alive. Probably off to terrorize some other woman though. Maybe I did society a favor.”