her way to sacrifice herself for the man she loved. Miyoung shook her head at the foolishness of martyrdom.
“She’s poor and he’s rich. His family doesn’t want them to be together. I think she’s going to get into an accident this episode. She’ll get amnesia or something, and they’ll be separated for a while.”
“If his family doesn’t approve, why do they need to create another arbitrary reason to separate the two?”
“Because it adds drama.”
“If you can predict the show, why watch?”
“It’s company.” Miyoung shrugged.
“Company?”
“When you don’t have friends, it’s nice to fill the space with noise, even if it’s just the television.”
“Is that really enough? They’re just dramas,” Jihoon said as the sound of a car crash radiated from the speakers. The ebb and flow of sweeping music accompanied the slow-motion disaster on-screen. “It’s not real life.”
“I prefer fictional life. Things in the outside world are too messy.” Miyoung gestured toward the cluster of police and emergency workers dealing with the accident. “I need to be in control. It’s safer that way.”
The hero ran through the mess of cars. He was held back by an officer as he sobbed out the heroine’s name. The cameras pulled out to show the enormity of the hero’s desperation as his voice joined the sounds of sirens. The next scene held the caption: FIVE YEARS LATER. Miyoung almost wished she wasn’t able to predict these shows so well.
“Safer for whom?” Jihoon asked.
Miyoung stared at him as the swell of the theme song surrounded them, lyrics of love lost and hearts broken. An unhappy song for an unhappy story.
“Why does it matter?” she asked.
“It matters to me.”
His words shouldn’t have caused the skip in her pulse. They shouldn’t have shot a thrill of pleasure through her. But they did. For the first time in her life, Miyoung’s control over her heart wavered. Or maybe she had never had control over it at all.
“You ask too many questions,” she said.
Jihoon sighed in resignation. “I’ll walk you home.”
* * *
• • •
It was drizzling lightly when they stepped outside.
Jihoon asked her to wait while he ran back in for an umbrella.
Miyoung debated leaving, but she waited and wasn’t quite sure why. Instead, she stood in the rain, closing her eyes as she let it fall unfettered onto her cheeks. It was cool against her skin and brought the smells of the street to her. Dirt and concrete and leaves.
“It’s nice out when it rains.” Jihoon’s halmeoni stepped out the back door, wrapping her coat around her in a tight hug. She’d tied a scarf over her hair, and it protected her from the drizzle.
“Soon it’ll be snow.” Miyoung put out her hand to catch the cold droplets.
“Big things always happen at the first snow.”
Miyoung waited for Jihoon’s halmeoni to elaborate but instead she said, “My Jihoonie, he doesn’t make friends easily.”
Miyoung glanced over, frowning in confusion. “Everyone at school really likes him.” She didn’t know why she said it. Perhaps to comfort Jihoon’s halmeoni.
“I’m glad. He’s kind and sweet, but he doesn’t trust easily. Not after his mother left.”
Miyoung held her tongue. She didn’t want to ask, but she was curious about this story.
“When Jihoon first came to live with me, he was such a quiet child. Sometimes he wouldn’t speak for days. It worried me.”
Miyoung pursed her lips to hold in a laugh of surprise. She’d never have thought the gabby Jihoon was ever quiet.
“I worry about how he lived in the first four years of his life. And I’m ashamed that I let it go on for as long as it did. I wanted to fix that for them. Him and his mother. But she needed something more. And leaving was the best she could do at the time.”
“How is a mother leaving a child a good thing?” Yena might be cold, but one thing Miyoung always knew was her mother would never abandon her.
“Just because something doesn’t seem right to most, doesn’t mean it’s not right for you. You get that, don’t you?”
Halmeoni had the same observant eyes as her grandson. It was worrisome to Miyoung.
“Jihoon thinks the best way to live is to keep everyone at a distance. He hides it well, too well. But he sees something in you. It might not seem it, but it’s a rare gift he’s giving you, his friendship.”
“I didn’t ask for it.” Miyoung felt as if gravity had increased, pushing down on her, a heavy weight she didn’t want.