The Letter
Title: The Letter
Genre: Angst
Rating: PG13
Summary: How long would you wait for someone you loved?
So firstly, I'm aware that this will be an extremely long read. So if you have nothing better to do for the next twenty minutes or so of your life, then yes, make yourself comfortable.
This was written after my recent exams, which frazzled me. I can't even begin to think properly, so it's kind of a mess and all over the place.
Sorry :/
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“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,”
Dutifully, he bent his head, aware that two pairs of eyes were following his every move. And then he raised his head up, eyes closed.
It was done. It was finally done.
“Dad, maybe you should go home and rest,” the shorter one of the two said, grabbing his shaky hands. “You look like you’re about to convulse,”
He tried to shake his head, no. “No,” he told her, his lips trembling. “I’m just fine,”
“Go to bed, dad,” his son chimed in, grasping his shoulders firmly. “We’ll sort it out,”
Guilt. A rain of guilt showered him, and for a moment, he was tempted not to.
But it was momentary; he knew he couldn’t wait any longer. He knew, the moment he turned to go, he would never turn back. And for that, he was sorry. He was truly sorry.
“I never meant to hurt anyone,” he murmured, as he turned and shuffled away. “I wouldn’t,”
His children exchanged worried glances, and watched as he walked away. “I didn’t think he’d take her death anniversary too hard,” the son mumbled, shaking his head lightly.
“It is the first,” the daughter reminded, biting her lips. “Should we send someone with him?”
“No, he’s a lot stronger than he looks,” the son replied. “He was once the leader of a rock band, remember?” But even as he said that, he didn’t quite believe it himself. His father had been an unfathomable creature, even before his mother’s death one year ago. Who knew what ran through his thoughts?
Quietly, he resolved to go to his father’s room the minute the entire ceremony ended.
“The children may now come and pay their respects,”
Both of them dutifully turned to the picture, and bowed.
Melissa Jung-Park, 1990-2036
May you rest in peace.
When any of you kids read this, I will have been gone for quite a while.
Should this surprise you, then. I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt anyone, never meant to make anyone upset. But I guess that’s life. Sometimes you win, sometimes you don’t. Sometimes the wait is worth it, and sometimes it isn’t.
It’s been a year since your mother has gone, and in that year. I have done my level best as her husband to honour her memory. To do what a good husband should do. But the deal was for a year only; both your mother and I knew that.
He stared at the illegible script on the fresh sheet of paper, unable to believe that his father. His father, who moments ago, had seemed so weakened and devoid of energy, had been able to leave the house.
Honestly, did he even know his father at all? Twenty years of being his son, and he was still unable to penetrate the wall between him and his father. Twenty years of trying, of being the perfect son, of joining a band, as did his father, of being a good boy, and he still was no closer to knowing even half the man his father used to be.
And now, would he ever get to?
Sorry, I guess I’m getting ahead of myself.
Maybe I should begin this story from the beginning. From where it all began. Forgive me.
You’ve all always wondered why I wasn’t like your friends’ father; I had no stories about how your mother and I met, had no stories about the wedding. Had no stories, period. Truth is, I had plenty of stories. Just, these stories didn’t have your mother as the heroin. And she knew that.
He felt his legs give way, and he fell to the ground in a heap, his hands shaking. His father… was his father suggesting he’d had an affair?
Before you get any ideas into your head, no, I was not having an affair. At least, I don’t think it counts as an affair. Not when your mother knew about it, and definitely not if she agreed to the. Uh, conditions when we got married.
I met her for the first time when she was just 19. Or was it 20? My memory fails me; she would know the precise date. I can’t even remember what I was wearing then. But I do remember that first moment when I looked at her.
They say when you meet the one you want to spend the rest of your life with, you just know.
I can’t say it rings true in my case. But I will admit that the moment I met her eyes, my heartbeat started racing. And it wasn’t just because she looked so good. To this day, I don’t know why exactly, but my first thought upon seeing her was that I needed to take good care of her. It didn’t matter that it was supposed to be just a show.
The show. That was the one thing he had managed to get out of his father. His father had been a cast on some show that used to be very popular. He wracked his brains, trying to come up with the name of the show - was it something like Bride and Groom? He couldn’t remember.
He did remember, however, that the show was about virtual couples. Celebrities who pretended they got married. His father had been on the show for two successful seasons; that much, he knew because he’d begged his mother to tell him.
His mother didn’t tell him much. She only mentioned two things; one, that the two seasons had been a whirlwind for his father. And two, she only knew that because she had been his manager’s daughter.
Just a show. Sometimes, I find it so ironic that a show could have such silly rules. They pair you up, and pay you to get closer to someone on camera. But they forbid you from actually falling in love off-camera.
They want you to hold hands and kiss and stuff when they’re filming, but they expect you to be complete strangers to each other once they’ve ended.
They get all happy when you seem to have fallen in love on screen, but they shun you when you fall in love off screen.
No, the world isn’t fair at all.
I don’t know, maybe it was our fault. It was a show after all; we weren’t supposed to get attached. I mean, I knew what I was signing up for; heck, I read the contract a million times, before and after I realized my feelings weren’t platonic. I knew I wasn’t supposed to be really into her.
But you can’t help falling, can you? The same way you can’t take back a word you’ve said out loud - no matter how many times you say, “I take that back,” or how many other words you say after that, there’s no taking back those words.
I honestly thought it was something like infatuation. A mild crush. I mean, she was pretty. She was sweet. She was a member of one of the most popular girl groups then. And she wasn’t your typical girl, who had nothing but sugar, spice and fluff in her brain; she was as real as any normal person.
She read books - oh yes, she did. Books that weren’t trashy teenage novels, or your typical murder stories by esteemed writers. This girl devoured self-help books as thought they were her favourite sweet potato snacks; she read them daily, and even got me to read a few.
This girl did not look up to Britney Spears, or Madonna. She did not idolize amazing singers like BoA. She turned to people who weren’t even in her related field, like Ban Ki Moon.
He stared at the paper, recoiling slightly.
“Sue!” He called, turning around. “Sue, who the hell is Ban Ki Moon?”
She was completely different from any other girl I’ve ever met. She could be dancing on stage, her gaze smoldering, her body moving in ways that would make any guy weak; but off-stage, she would be modest, and shy. She didn’t dress like a slut, not like most girls her age, she wasn’t out clubbing when she had free time.
My feelings were, to be honest, a complete mess. All over the place. Haphazard. She was like a roller coaster to me - it scared me, the climb to the top, but every time you went down, the rush, the exhilaration was like no other, and it kept you coming back for more.
Only thing is, you can keep coming back for more, but you never really solve the problem.
Before I knew it, we were calling each other up almost every day, despite our busy schedules. I found myself looking forward to the filming of the show every week - we weren’t allowed to meet up outside of the filming, but I found myself asking her out anyway.
She was an upright and honest girl; she rejected me good-naturedly, and told me we shouldn’t violate the terms of the contract. But it gave me hope. She had to have feelings for me, or she would have given an outright no. And so, I waited.
We both waited actually, to see where it would lead to.
I would be her first boyfriend, if anything worked out. It was a big responsibility on me, but like I said earlier. It was different. She was different. It wouldn’t be a responsibility to me; she was so much more than that. I knew I felt something more towards her, and I’d like to believe she did too.
I just wish I knew what that something was.
We had carried on the show for two seasons in the same manner; never discussing our real feelings, as opposed to the ones we were supposed to have, stumbling through the motions of being an on-screen couple while struggling to find a name for our relationship off-screen. Those two seasons were magical to me. Pure magic. I savoured all our moments together, not only because we were always so busy, but because they were real.
We talked briefly of what would happen when we ended the show, joked about how the public break-up would affect our careers. And then, I asked her if we could see each other afterwards, without the cameras following us.
She said nothing, turning those bright eyes on me instead. Her gaze was sharp, it was searched my eyes for an answer. And then she said slowly, What do you mean?
I swallowed hard. I mean, I want. I want to be your boyfriend.
She looked at me, her eyes hot. Why?
Because. I love you. A lot. I should’ve said those words to her, maybe it could’ve changed things. But I didn’t, I was too afraid of what was going to happen. Of he reaction. So I told her, because I’ll miss you.
What? She asked, her eyes narrowing. What did you say?
I inhaled sharply. Because what we have on camera. What we have between us. Is real. And I don’t want to lose it when we end, I told her, looking straight into her eyes. I can’t lose it. I-
She kissed me, full in my lips that night. Her first kiss. She tasted of strawberries, of happiness. It was a brief kiss, but to me. It set the deal.
And so we waited. We waited for the inevitable; the day the producers would get tired of us being an on-screen couple. We waited patiently.
I guess. Good things don’t always come to those who wait.
“What’s up?”
He looked up, startled, into his sister’s eyes. The piece of paper shook accusingly in his hands, as though to remind him that this wasn’t his alone. He gulped.
“Dad took off,” he said, his voice even. “He left us these letters,”
His sister’s expression never wavered. “I know,” she said, her voice carefully even, just like his. “Mum told me before she died,”
His expression changed. “Told you what?”
“About her,” She gestured to the letter, her fingers shaking. “Dad’s girl,”
His face changed, and he started shaking. “You knew? You knew about this, and you didn’t tell me? Why not?!” He stared at her, his face red with anger, his voice trembling. “You knew?!”
She shook her head, and got down to her knees. “Mum told me to open the letter after a year, but. I couldn’t wait that long,” she bit her lips, and blinked back her tears furiously. “I thought it was something about her. But it wasn’t. It was about dad. It’s always been about dad,”
I don’t know when things started to go wrong; I honestly didn’t see it coming. It sneaked up on me, the way night sneaks up on day, slowly, slowly, until suddenly, you can’t see a thing at all.
She stopped returning my calls. Stopped replying my texts. She pulled out of the show so fast, I barely had time to catch my breath. When I went over to her place, I was told they had moved to new quarters. When my manager called hers, he hung up at the sound of my voice.
I don’t know what I did wrong to her; I couldn’t think of a single thing that could’ve caused all of this. I vowed to set things straight when our schedules would clash, but the funny thing was. They never did. For three whole months, I did not meet her or hear from her at all.
I tried everything within my power to meet her; I called her relentlessly every day, until I found out she had changed her number. I continued to lurk around, waiting to see if she’d look for me first. But she didn’t.
She never did.
When the invitation came, it took me completely off-guard. She was getting married, to a guy she had met three months ago. And she wanted her “dearest friends and relatives” to witness the “happiest moment” in her life.
I couldn’t go to the wedding. I forced myself to stay at home, while my band mates took my place. I refused to be a part of the lie she was weaving. How could she? How could she just leave like that, and assume that I would be fine enough to go to her wedding with some other guy?
It had to be a lie. It couldn’t be real. After all that happened between us, how could she deny that she had feelings for me? I felt angry, betrayed. All those times when I had to be the one reaching out mocked me; they told me that it had been clear, from the beginning that she never felt the same way about me.
I didn’t want to move on with my life; I wanted to die, to rot away. I wanted to stop singing.
And then. Your mother came to me.
She tried her best to be there for me, to show that she was willing to try fill the empty spot within me. She consoled me, she nursed me back to a sober state, where I didn’t waste my time attempting to finish an entire bottle of scotch in five minutes. I thought, for one moment, that my life would get back on track.
But then she told me the truth. Or part of it.
It took your mother months before she finally confessed that she knew why her company had suddenly pulled her out.
They knew. That’s all I can say. They knew we were going to get together after the show, they knew we had feelings for each other. And it wasn’t in the master plan for her career. Her company didn’t want her getting together with some rock singer who had only just started making a name for himself; no, they wanted her to be with someone who was “suitable” for her.
I wasn’t good enough for her. That was the only thing that stuck in my head. I just hadn’t been good enough for her.
I begged your mother to find out where she was staying. I begged her to tell me her new number. And it took a while, but she finally relented. On the condition that I marry your mother first.
I didn’t want to marry her. I know it’s harsh, but it’s the truth. All these years, I knew I never loved your mother the way I loved her. But I had no choice. No one else wanted to help me.
“Dad’s right,” she whispered as her brother looked up at her, his eyes unfocused. “Mum told me the truth; what she could never tell dad. That she had been so into dad, she couldn’t stand to see him on the show with that girl. So she arranged the entire thing; she tipped the girl’s company about them being into each other. She made her dad change up his schedule so that he’d never meet her again. She even forced his band mates not to talk to the girl, just so that they’d never meet again,”
He did a double-take. “Mum’s the one at fault here?”
She nodded silently, looking away. “Mum was in love. What do you expect?”
After we got married, I finally managed to get her phone-number.
I finally managed to call her. After three years of not speaking to her, I finally got to hear her voice.
The first thing she said when she caught it was, Yonghwa.
I was caught off-guard; I hadn’t even spoken, and yet she knew it was me.
What took you so long to call? She whispered, her voice breaking. I waited. I kept waiting.
I did call, I told her. A million, billion times. I just… I didn’t know you changed your number.
I didn’t, she told me. I never did. I wanted to keep this number, just in case some day, you’d call me again.
“It was mum,” she confessed in a small voice. “Mum changed her number in dad’s phone to someone else’s number. You know dad could barely even remember our mobile numbers. He never suspected a thing,”
That doesn’t matter now, I told her. How could you do this to me? How could you have married someone else? How could you have married someone you don’t love?
She choked back a sob. How could you?
I had to, I told her. Or I wouldn’t be able to get your number!
I told you, I never changed it! She cried, her voice rising. I never changed it!
Then why didn’t you ever call me first? I demanded, my heart pounding against my chest hard. Why have you never contacted me all these years?
They told me you were in love with your manager’s daughter. Her voice was strangled. They told me you were on the show because you had to. I. I didn’t believe them, until. Until you pulled out of filming.
But I didn’t! I protested, my voice high. YOU DID.
They told me you pulled out first. She whispered, her voice breaking. Told me you were ready to settle down. And then they convinced me to go out with this other guy. Told me to get married to him.
Why did you say yes?! How could you have said yes?
They wouldn’t let me see you. But they would allow me to invite you to my wedding, because they said ‘It’d show him you weren’t sour’ So. I thought, if you would come. I could straighten things out before I walked down the aisle.
He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. But I didn’t show up.
Yes. She said, her voice low. You didn’t.
We both remained quiet for a while, before I gathered enough courage to ask, So what now?
She choked back a laugh. We’re both married, Yonghwa. What kind of question is that?
That doesn’t matter. I’ll divorce her today, tomorrow, whenever. I want to be with you.
But I can’t do that. It was a contract marriage. It’s supposed to last five years.
Then break it, I urged her. Break it for me.
If I break it, SNSD will be disbanded.
“SNSD?” He asked, his eyes widening. “Is that some sort of cult?”
“No,” she sighed, rolling her eyes. “It was the girl group she was in,”
I swallowed. Then I’ll wait. I’ll wait until we’re both ready to get out of these marriages. And I’ll come for you. I promise.
Don’t make me wait this time, she whispered.
And we’ve never spoken since. Here’s why;
Two years later, the time when her contract would supposedly break, he tried to extend the contract, from what I heard. And when she refused, he started spreading rumours that she was pregnant. I wanted to call her, to ask, to make sure they were just groundless rumours, but your mother.
Told me she was pregnant then.
I don’t know how to say the next part, because it won’t be easy. But I have to, because I’m tired. I’m tired of living the way I have, of lying to you kids, of being suppressed by your mother.
I have never slept with her. I have never slept with your mother, not once in the 23 years we’ve been together. I don’t know who your real father is, but it isn’t me.
Your mother had successfully tied me down to her; her husband had successfully tied her down to him. But you see, lying and cheating? It doesn’t get you anywhere, it doesn’t make you a hero, even if you get what you wanted.
Retribution. Such a strong word.
I mean, how else do you explain that both your mother, and her husband, passed away on the same day?
I know this letter has dragged on. I know its not the best way to explain certain things to you kids. Heck, I know it makes me seem like an ass. But you have to know. And this is the only way I could think of to break the news to you.
I promised your mother I wouldn’t look for her until a year had gone by. And today, by God, an entire year has gone by and I can finally meet up with her. I’m sorry if I come off as selfish, rude, annoying, mean and heartless.
You need to remember, however, that circumstances changed me. That the situation at hand molded me into what I am today, into the person who wrote you this letter. Put yourself in my shoes; after being used, being threatened, being denied for so long. Do you honestly blame me for what I wrote?
Do you blame me, for what I’ve done, for what I’ve become? For what your mother has turned me into?
I don’t blame her. But I can’t forgive her either.
In all these years, I’ve only made one reference to her. Your mother wasn’t please, but I insisted. I insisted that I get to give Sue a proper Korean name. I insisted that I named her Seohyun.
Sue, you’d be glad to know that you are named after one of the most amazing person I know. You’ll be glad to know that even though we don’t share the same blood, you share something with the only girl I have ever felt this way for.
Jung Yonghwa.
He stood outside their first house, recalling everything that had happened there. Recalling how she looked when she had realized it was their perfect house. He closed his eyes, and pictured her, in all her incarnations; at 20, when they first met, at 21, when they first kissed, at 23, when she had gotten married.
She had, and always would be, incredibly beautiful.
He knocked on the door.
There was a slight shuffling of feet; before he could move, the door was flung open, and she stood in front of him, breathless.
Age had claimed most of her youth; her hair had a few streaks of grey now. Her eyes were not as bright as before, they were framed by wrinkles, formed from years of pining for him. Her frame was a lot smaller than before, but her smile. Her smile was still there.
“I’ve waited for so long,” she whispered, unable to stop herself from crying. “I’ve been waiting for so, so long,”
“I know,” he whispered. “I know,”
It had taken them years to get to this part of their relationship; taken them two weddings, two children, and a lot of stumbling. It had cost him his band to get here, it had cost her her pride to be there waiting. They still didn’t know what they were, and they still had no idea how to sort everything out.
But they were there now. And that was all that mattered.
Genre: Angst
Rating: PG13
Summary: How long would you wait for someone you loved?
So firstly, I'm aware that this will be an extremely long read. So if you have nothing better to do for the next twenty minutes or so of your life, then yes, make yourself comfortable.
This was written after my recent exams, which frazzled me. I can't even begin to think properly, so it's kind of a mess and all over the place.
Sorry :/
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“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,”
Dutifully, he bent his head, aware that two pairs of eyes were following his every move. And then he raised his head up, eyes closed.
It was done. It was finally done.
“Dad, maybe you should go home and rest,” the shorter one of the two said, grabbing his shaky hands. “You look like you’re about to convulse,”
He tried to shake his head, no. “No,” he told her, his lips trembling. “I’m just fine,”
“Go to bed, dad,” his son chimed in, grasping his shoulders firmly. “We’ll sort it out,”
Guilt. A rain of guilt showered him, and for a moment, he was tempted not to.
But it was momentary; he knew he couldn’t wait any longer. He knew, the moment he turned to go, he would never turn back. And for that, he was sorry. He was truly sorry.
“I never meant to hurt anyone,” he murmured, as he turned and shuffled away. “I wouldn’t,”
His children exchanged worried glances, and watched as he walked away. “I didn’t think he’d take her death anniversary too hard,” the son mumbled, shaking his head lightly.
“It is the first,” the daughter reminded, biting her lips. “Should we send someone with him?”
“No, he’s a lot stronger than he looks,” the son replied. “He was once the leader of a rock band, remember?” But even as he said that, he didn’t quite believe it himself. His father had been an unfathomable creature, even before his mother’s death one year ago. Who knew what ran through his thoughts?
Quietly, he resolved to go to his father’s room the minute the entire ceremony ended.
“The children may now come and pay their respects,”
Both of them dutifully turned to the picture, and bowed.
Melissa Jung-Park, 1990-2036
May you rest in peace.
When any of you kids read this, I will have been gone for quite a while.
Should this surprise you, then. I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt anyone, never meant to make anyone upset. But I guess that’s life. Sometimes you win, sometimes you don’t. Sometimes the wait is worth it, and sometimes it isn’t.
It’s been a year since your mother has gone, and in that year. I have done my level best as her husband to honour her memory. To do what a good husband should do. But the deal was for a year only; both your mother and I knew that.
He stared at the illegible script on the fresh sheet of paper, unable to believe that his father. His father, who moments ago, had seemed so weakened and devoid of energy, had been able to leave the house.
Honestly, did he even know his father at all? Twenty years of being his son, and he was still unable to penetrate the wall between him and his father. Twenty years of trying, of being the perfect son, of joining a band, as did his father, of being a good boy, and he still was no closer to knowing even half the man his father used to be.
And now, would he ever get to?
Sorry, I guess I’m getting ahead of myself.
Maybe I should begin this story from the beginning. From where it all began. Forgive me.
You’ve all always wondered why I wasn’t like your friends’ father; I had no stories about how your mother and I met, had no stories about the wedding. Had no stories, period. Truth is, I had plenty of stories. Just, these stories didn’t have your mother as the heroin. And she knew that.
He felt his legs give way, and he fell to the ground in a heap, his hands shaking. His father… was his father suggesting he’d had an affair?
Before you get any ideas into your head, no, I was not having an affair. At least, I don’t think it counts as an affair. Not when your mother knew about it, and definitely not if she agreed to the. Uh, conditions when we got married.
I met her for the first time when she was just 19. Or was it 20? My memory fails me; she would know the precise date. I can’t even remember what I was wearing then. But I do remember that first moment when I looked at her.
They say when you meet the one you want to spend the rest of your life with, you just know.
I can’t say it rings true in my case. But I will admit that the moment I met her eyes, my heartbeat started racing. And it wasn’t just because she looked so good. To this day, I don’t know why exactly, but my first thought upon seeing her was that I needed to take good care of her. It didn’t matter that it was supposed to be just a show.
The show. That was the one thing he had managed to get out of his father. His father had been a cast on some show that used to be very popular. He wracked his brains, trying to come up with the name of the show - was it something like Bride and Groom? He couldn’t remember.
He did remember, however, that the show was about virtual couples. Celebrities who pretended they got married. His father had been on the show for two successful seasons; that much, he knew because he’d begged his mother to tell him.
His mother didn’t tell him much. She only mentioned two things; one, that the two seasons had been a whirlwind for his father. And two, she only knew that because she had been his manager’s daughter.
Just a show. Sometimes, I find it so ironic that a show could have such silly rules. They pair you up, and pay you to get closer to someone on camera. But they forbid you from actually falling in love off-camera.
They want you to hold hands and kiss and stuff when they’re filming, but they expect you to be complete strangers to each other once they’ve ended.
They get all happy when you seem to have fallen in love on screen, but they shun you when you fall in love off screen.
No, the world isn’t fair at all.
I don’t know, maybe it was our fault. It was a show after all; we weren’t supposed to get attached. I mean, I knew what I was signing up for; heck, I read the contract a million times, before and after I realized my feelings weren’t platonic. I knew I wasn’t supposed to be really into her.
But you can’t help falling, can you? The same way you can’t take back a word you’ve said out loud - no matter how many times you say, “I take that back,” or how many other words you say after that, there’s no taking back those words.
I honestly thought it was something like infatuation. A mild crush. I mean, she was pretty. She was sweet. She was a member of one of the most popular girl groups then. And she wasn’t your typical girl, who had nothing but sugar, spice and fluff in her brain; she was as real as any normal person.
She read books - oh yes, she did. Books that weren’t trashy teenage novels, or your typical murder stories by esteemed writers. This girl devoured self-help books as thought they were her favourite sweet potato snacks; she read them daily, and even got me to read a few.
This girl did not look up to Britney Spears, or Madonna. She did not idolize amazing singers like BoA. She turned to people who weren’t even in her related field, like Ban Ki Moon.
He stared at the paper, recoiling slightly.
“Sue!” He called, turning around. “Sue, who the hell is Ban Ki Moon?”
She was completely different from any other girl I’ve ever met. She could be dancing on stage, her gaze smoldering, her body moving in ways that would make any guy weak; but off-stage, she would be modest, and shy. She didn’t dress like a slut, not like most girls her age, she wasn’t out clubbing when she had free time.
My feelings were, to be honest, a complete mess. All over the place. Haphazard. She was like a roller coaster to me - it scared me, the climb to the top, but every time you went down, the rush, the exhilaration was like no other, and it kept you coming back for more.
Only thing is, you can keep coming back for more, but you never really solve the problem.
Before I knew it, we were calling each other up almost every day, despite our busy schedules. I found myself looking forward to the filming of the show every week - we weren’t allowed to meet up outside of the filming, but I found myself asking her out anyway.
She was an upright and honest girl; she rejected me good-naturedly, and told me we shouldn’t violate the terms of the contract. But it gave me hope. She had to have feelings for me, or she would have given an outright no. And so, I waited.
We both waited actually, to see where it would lead to.
I would be her first boyfriend, if anything worked out. It was a big responsibility on me, but like I said earlier. It was different. She was different. It wouldn’t be a responsibility to me; she was so much more than that. I knew I felt something more towards her, and I’d like to believe she did too.
I just wish I knew what that something was.
We had carried on the show for two seasons in the same manner; never discussing our real feelings, as opposed to the ones we were supposed to have, stumbling through the motions of being an on-screen couple while struggling to find a name for our relationship off-screen. Those two seasons were magical to me. Pure magic. I savoured all our moments together, not only because we were always so busy, but because they were real.
We talked briefly of what would happen when we ended the show, joked about how the public break-up would affect our careers. And then, I asked her if we could see each other afterwards, without the cameras following us.
She said nothing, turning those bright eyes on me instead. Her gaze was sharp, it was searched my eyes for an answer. And then she said slowly, What do you mean?
I swallowed hard. I mean, I want. I want to be your boyfriend.
She looked at me, her eyes hot. Why?
Because. I love you. A lot. I should’ve said those words to her, maybe it could’ve changed things. But I didn’t, I was too afraid of what was going to happen. Of he reaction. So I told her, because I’ll miss you.
What? She asked, her eyes narrowing. What did you say?
I inhaled sharply. Because what we have on camera. What we have between us. Is real. And I don’t want to lose it when we end, I told her, looking straight into her eyes. I can’t lose it. I-
She kissed me, full in my lips that night. Her first kiss. She tasted of strawberries, of happiness. It was a brief kiss, but to me. It set the deal.
And so we waited. We waited for the inevitable; the day the producers would get tired of us being an on-screen couple. We waited patiently.
I guess. Good things don’t always come to those who wait.
“What’s up?”
He looked up, startled, into his sister’s eyes. The piece of paper shook accusingly in his hands, as though to remind him that this wasn’t his alone. He gulped.
“Dad took off,” he said, his voice even. “He left us these letters,”
His sister’s expression never wavered. “I know,” she said, her voice carefully even, just like his. “Mum told me before she died,”
His expression changed. “Told you what?”
“About her,” She gestured to the letter, her fingers shaking. “Dad’s girl,”
His face changed, and he started shaking. “You knew? You knew about this, and you didn’t tell me? Why not?!” He stared at her, his face red with anger, his voice trembling. “You knew?!”
She shook her head, and got down to her knees. “Mum told me to open the letter after a year, but. I couldn’t wait that long,” she bit her lips, and blinked back her tears furiously. “I thought it was something about her. But it wasn’t. It was about dad. It’s always been about dad,”
I don’t know when things started to go wrong; I honestly didn’t see it coming. It sneaked up on me, the way night sneaks up on day, slowly, slowly, until suddenly, you can’t see a thing at all.
She stopped returning my calls. Stopped replying my texts. She pulled out of the show so fast, I barely had time to catch my breath. When I went over to her place, I was told they had moved to new quarters. When my manager called hers, he hung up at the sound of my voice.
I don’t know what I did wrong to her; I couldn’t think of a single thing that could’ve caused all of this. I vowed to set things straight when our schedules would clash, but the funny thing was. They never did. For three whole months, I did not meet her or hear from her at all.
I tried everything within my power to meet her; I called her relentlessly every day, until I found out she had changed her number. I continued to lurk around, waiting to see if she’d look for me first. But she didn’t.
She never did.
When the invitation came, it took me completely off-guard. She was getting married, to a guy she had met three months ago. And she wanted her “dearest friends and relatives” to witness the “happiest moment” in her life.
I couldn’t go to the wedding. I forced myself to stay at home, while my band mates took my place. I refused to be a part of the lie she was weaving. How could she? How could she just leave like that, and assume that I would be fine enough to go to her wedding with some other guy?
It had to be a lie. It couldn’t be real. After all that happened between us, how could she deny that she had feelings for me? I felt angry, betrayed. All those times when I had to be the one reaching out mocked me; they told me that it had been clear, from the beginning that she never felt the same way about me.
I didn’t want to move on with my life; I wanted to die, to rot away. I wanted to stop singing.
And then. Your mother came to me.
She tried her best to be there for me, to show that she was willing to try fill the empty spot within me. She consoled me, she nursed me back to a sober state, where I didn’t waste my time attempting to finish an entire bottle of scotch in five minutes. I thought, for one moment, that my life would get back on track.
But then she told me the truth. Or part of it.
It took your mother months before she finally confessed that she knew why her company had suddenly pulled her out.
They knew. That’s all I can say. They knew we were going to get together after the show, they knew we had feelings for each other. And it wasn’t in the master plan for her career. Her company didn’t want her getting together with some rock singer who had only just started making a name for himself; no, they wanted her to be with someone who was “suitable” for her.
I wasn’t good enough for her. That was the only thing that stuck in my head. I just hadn’t been good enough for her.
I begged your mother to find out where she was staying. I begged her to tell me her new number. And it took a while, but she finally relented. On the condition that I marry your mother first.
I didn’t want to marry her. I know it’s harsh, but it’s the truth. All these years, I knew I never loved your mother the way I loved her. But I had no choice. No one else wanted to help me.
“Dad’s right,” she whispered as her brother looked up at her, his eyes unfocused. “Mum told me the truth; what she could never tell dad. That she had been so into dad, she couldn’t stand to see him on the show with that girl. So she arranged the entire thing; she tipped the girl’s company about them being into each other. She made her dad change up his schedule so that he’d never meet her again. She even forced his band mates not to talk to the girl, just so that they’d never meet again,”
He did a double-take. “Mum’s the one at fault here?”
She nodded silently, looking away. “Mum was in love. What do you expect?”
After we got married, I finally managed to get her phone-number.
I finally managed to call her. After three years of not speaking to her, I finally got to hear her voice.
The first thing she said when she caught it was, Yonghwa.
I was caught off-guard; I hadn’t even spoken, and yet she knew it was me.
What took you so long to call? She whispered, her voice breaking. I waited. I kept waiting.
I did call, I told her. A million, billion times. I just… I didn’t know you changed your number.
I didn’t, she told me. I never did. I wanted to keep this number, just in case some day, you’d call me again.
“It was mum,” she confessed in a small voice. “Mum changed her number in dad’s phone to someone else’s number. You know dad could barely even remember our mobile numbers. He never suspected a thing,”
That doesn’t matter now, I told her. How could you do this to me? How could you have married someone else? How could you have married someone you don’t love?
She choked back a sob. How could you?
I had to, I told her. Or I wouldn’t be able to get your number!
I told you, I never changed it! She cried, her voice rising. I never changed it!
Then why didn’t you ever call me first? I demanded, my heart pounding against my chest hard. Why have you never contacted me all these years?
They told me you were in love with your manager’s daughter. Her voice was strangled. They told me you were on the show because you had to. I. I didn’t believe them, until. Until you pulled out of filming.
But I didn’t! I protested, my voice high. YOU DID.
They told me you pulled out first. She whispered, her voice breaking. Told me you were ready to settle down. And then they convinced me to go out with this other guy. Told me to get married to him.
Why did you say yes?! How could you have said yes?
They wouldn’t let me see you. But they would allow me to invite you to my wedding, because they said ‘It’d show him you weren’t sour’ So. I thought, if you would come. I could straighten things out before I walked down the aisle.
He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. But I didn’t show up.
Yes. She said, her voice low. You didn’t.
We both remained quiet for a while, before I gathered enough courage to ask, So what now?
She choked back a laugh. We’re both married, Yonghwa. What kind of question is that?
That doesn’t matter. I’ll divorce her today, tomorrow, whenever. I want to be with you.
But I can’t do that. It was a contract marriage. It’s supposed to last five years.
Then break it, I urged her. Break it for me.
If I break it, SNSD will be disbanded.
“SNSD?” He asked, his eyes widening. “Is that some sort of cult?”
“No,” she sighed, rolling her eyes. “It was the girl group she was in,”
I swallowed. Then I’ll wait. I’ll wait until we’re both ready to get out of these marriages. And I’ll come for you. I promise.
Don’t make me wait this time, she whispered.
And we’ve never spoken since. Here’s why;
Two years later, the time when her contract would supposedly break, he tried to extend the contract, from what I heard. And when she refused, he started spreading rumours that she was pregnant. I wanted to call her, to ask, to make sure they were just groundless rumours, but your mother.
Told me she was pregnant then.
I don’t know how to say the next part, because it won’t be easy. But I have to, because I’m tired. I’m tired of living the way I have, of lying to you kids, of being suppressed by your mother.
I have never slept with her. I have never slept with your mother, not once in the 23 years we’ve been together. I don’t know who your real father is, but it isn’t me.
Your mother had successfully tied me down to her; her husband had successfully tied her down to him. But you see, lying and cheating? It doesn’t get you anywhere, it doesn’t make you a hero, even if you get what you wanted.
Retribution. Such a strong word.
I mean, how else do you explain that both your mother, and her husband, passed away on the same day?
I know this letter has dragged on. I know its not the best way to explain certain things to you kids. Heck, I know it makes me seem like an ass. But you have to know. And this is the only way I could think of to break the news to you.
I promised your mother I wouldn’t look for her until a year had gone by. And today, by God, an entire year has gone by and I can finally meet up with her. I’m sorry if I come off as selfish, rude, annoying, mean and heartless.
You need to remember, however, that circumstances changed me. That the situation at hand molded me into what I am today, into the person who wrote you this letter. Put yourself in my shoes; after being used, being threatened, being denied for so long. Do you honestly blame me for what I wrote?
Do you blame me, for what I’ve done, for what I’ve become? For what your mother has turned me into?
I don’t blame her. But I can’t forgive her either.
In all these years, I’ve only made one reference to her. Your mother wasn’t please, but I insisted. I insisted that I get to give Sue a proper Korean name. I insisted that I named her Seohyun.
Sue, you’d be glad to know that you are named after one of the most amazing person I know. You’ll be glad to know that even though we don’t share the same blood, you share something with the only girl I have ever felt this way for.
Jung Yonghwa.
He stood outside their first house, recalling everything that had happened there. Recalling how she looked when she had realized it was their perfect house. He closed his eyes, and pictured her, in all her incarnations; at 20, when they first met, at 21, when they first kissed, at 23, when she had gotten married.
She had, and always would be, incredibly beautiful.
He knocked on the door.
There was a slight shuffling of feet; before he could move, the door was flung open, and she stood in front of him, breathless.
Age had claimed most of her youth; her hair had a few streaks of grey now. Her eyes were not as bright as before, they were framed by wrinkles, formed from years of pining for him. Her frame was a lot smaller than before, but her smile. Her smile was still there.
“I’ve waited for so long,” she whispered, unable to stop herself from crying. “I’ve been waiting for so, so long,”
“I know,” he whispered. “I know,”
It had taken them years to get to this part of their relationship; taken them two weddings, two children, and a lot of stumbling. It had cost him his band to get here, it had cost her her pride to be there waiting. They still didn’t know what they were, and they still had no idea how to sort everything out.
But they were there now. And that was all that mattered.