Til Death Do Us Part

22

“What’s going on with you two lately? It feels like the frosty atmosphere between you is more glacier than normal, and neither of you is speaking up about it.” Yoonha prods me in the back of the head as he passes behind me at the breakfast table. Being his usual annoying self. I tense up, but act flippant, not ready to share anything with him yet. If Yoonha knows, he will make everything worse, and I need to get a handle on what I’m going to do when I know for sure. I don’t even know what to do.

“Nothing. You know how it is when we get into the new financial year. So much more stress for a few weeks. It’ll pass.” I brush it off and focus on pushing oatmeal into my mouth despite my zero appetite and can barely swallow it. I’m in jogging clothes as it’s my day off, and my routine is an early morning workout, followed by breakfast, and then a run. I’m trying to stay as normal as possible to keep up appearances.

“Hmmm. Plans today?” Yoonha slumps down beside me and pulls over the orange juice jug. He’s still in pj’s and probably going to do what he always does on a rare day off. Vegetate and stay indoors. Catch up on anime and play video games. Sometimes I forget he’s only a year younger than me as he seems about ten, and I wonder if he’s immature for his age or if I was forced to mature way more than twenty-six.

“A run; I might be a while as I haven’t done it for a few days.” I don’t want to admit that I have a meeting with the PI I hired two weeks ago, and I’m sick to my stomach to look over his findings. He told me he would take a couple of weeks to stake out Jyeon and Miss White, and today’s the day we arranged to meet at the park. I couldn’t face updates daily, so I’ve been biding my time and praying I’m wrong.

I buried my head in the sand and tried not to dig so that I could get through day to day. Tried to avoid Jyeon while all this was up in the air, and I think Jyeon has been avoiding me too. At work, he’s polite and amicable and distant, and we dodge one another unless we have to interact. He’s not made significant changes to his schedule, and these past two weeks, I’ve started to feel guilty and backtrack that maybe I did blow it all out of proportion, and it was all in my head. I’ve not seen anything else to prove it either way. I keep yoyoing between suspicion and feeling stupid, and that woman has never shown face again.

“And Jyeon? He left already?” Yoonha picks up some oatmeal by scooping his finger in my bowl, taking a giant spoonful, and I slap his hand for being disgusting.

“He said he was going to the office today. I hope you washed your hands?” I chastise him and then push my entire bowl his way as I can never eat food someone else has touched. He knows it too and grins at stealing my ready-made breakfast, which saves him from making his own.

“You’re such a child!” I lightly slap him on top of his head and get up to make myself another bowl. Tutting at his antics and get a cheeky grin and wink in response that makes me mock scowl at him.

“Morning. Why are you eating in here and not in the dining room? Where’s Rain? Why is she not preparing breakfast?” Mother glides in, already dressed and polished with complete make-up and outfit for the day. Looking ready to take on the world. She smells like cognac, and I try to ignore it.

“It’s her birthday weekend; we always give her that time off.” I remind her and say nothing when Mother’s face pinches, and she frowns in irritation. To her, house staff are not humans, just mere tools to make our existence easier.

“Didn’t you hire me a stand-in then?” She pouts, hating that she should fend for herself for an entire two days despite the fact we also have a housekeeper who can cook. I say nothing, knowing she just wants to complain. This is what she does to fill up her day.

“I’m heading out. I’ll be back after my run.” I abandon my bowl of dry oatmeal, leaving it on the counter, knowing I should escape before it’s too late. Mother can be a needy child sometimes and expects me to give her constant attention when I’m not at work. I have no energy for her today. My brain is full of this meeting and Jyeon.

“One who goes to work to avoid me, and one who goes jogging. Makes me wonder why I put so much energy into raising you two. At least Yoonha will stay home and keep me company on his day off.” She sulks, and I dutifully walk over and kiss her on the cheek before turning and grabbing my water bottle. Not guilty about abandoning her, as she monopolizes my time as much as she can as it is.

“You know that’s not true. I’ll be back this afternoon, and I’ll take you for dinner somewhere nice. Somewhere you can get dressed up for.” I pander to her, knowing that will appease her bad mood, and leave before I get roped into any more conversations and lose my courage.

After pulling on my trainers, I make a quick exit and head out for a jog because I deliberately made the meeting point a couple of miles from home if Yoonie decided to follow me. I knew I couldn’t make an excuse if he wanted to come, so this was my plan. Sometimes he runs with me but has the athletic ability of a toddler and drops off after a mile to walk home alone. It also means I can run off the stress, anxiety, and nerves that are already coursing through me and face this with more courage than I possess this morning.

I put on my headphones, blare my music loudly, and put my all into my run. Needing it to get my thoughts in order and feel sick as I do so. I keep thinking about how Jyeon’s been this past two weeks since our fight in his office, and it leaves me so confused. Neither of us has spoken directly to the other, and at home, he comes in late like always and goes before I wake up, like always. It made me realize how little of our lives we spend in one another’s company, that I can’t even keep tabs on him or notice a difference in his routine, let alone get close enough to figure out if he smells of another woman. Nothing seems amiss between us, and we have carried on as before.

I’ve asked myself why I’m doing this to myself a million times. Why do I need to know and the answer is unclear. We don’t have the kind of relationship that warrants me to go this far, yet I have to do this for my own sanity. I need to know. Even though he’s not mine, and we don’t have any intimacy, it still feels like a betrayal to me.

I’ve only been able to survive this long in this way because, deep down, a part of me held onto hope that one day his warmth would come back, and we would move past things. That I clung to the maybe that he loves me deep down, and once the storms settled, he would figure it out too. That perhaps he cared enough in his heart to never look to another woman for physical needs while I was still there in his life.

It hit me so hard that day after seeing them, how deluded I have been and that I was living my life in a bubble of fantasy. Holding on to ‘one day’ and figuring that if I stayed, worked hard, did everything that was expected of me, then he might realize he needed my presence after all. That he was dependent on me in the way I am of him.

I get so lost in my head that I reach the meeting place before I even notice my surroundings. So used to running this route that I do it absentmindedly. It’s becoming a bad habit lately, walking through my life robotically and blankly and not knowing how I got there. I feel like I’ve been zooming out more lately, and it’s linked to how much stress I’m under.

I spot the navy SUV parked by the pink café across the road where we arranged to rendezvous, the one he told me about, and look around before making my way over there. I can see a middle-aged white-haired man sitting inside and pull out my cell to check the picture he sent me of how he looked. Confirming it’s him, I wander up to the passenger side and open the door to get in. Checking around once more in case I’m seen and satisfied no one here knows me.

“Mrs. Park, hello. I’m Devon; we spoke on the phone.” He has a polite yet rough accent, not typical for these parts, and I smile without it reaching my eyes. I found it under private listing and his specialty is extra marital affairs. “It’s nice to meet you in the flesh.”

“It’s been two weeks since I sent you over all the information. I just need to know the outcome or if you need more time.” I cut straight to the point, staring ahead instead of at him as my insides tighten and anxiety rises in my throat to strangle me. My body runs cold, but my palms get sweaty, and I swallow hard, then clear my throat in nervousness.

“Sure. Small talk won’t help, I guess. Here.” He slides a brown A4 envelope my way, and I take it with fumbling fingers and shaking hands. Turning it over and seeing nothing written, I hesitate to open it. My blood runs icier, and I close my eyes and take a heavy breath before opening one end.