November 4, 2005
I started writing because I was happy. Today, I only write to feel amidst the depression.
Exactly a year has passed. Ever since that day, November 4, 2004, my love vanished in thin air. But every detail was still vivid in my mind like it merely happened yesterday. The truth was it’s a memoir that should have perished like the seafoam. Yet, for some reason, the waves kept pushing back these foam to the shore.
From the time we left Busan, everything went easily, better than what I imagined. Hana became busier than normal. Working two shifts for the pet store, running errands for Grandma Jung and eomma, and volunteering at the shrine.
While I sat around waiting for the result of the bar exam, standing by for her to come home every day. Her busy schedule ended with bus dates. Every morning, we’d have breakfast, send her to work, and
The lioness came out of the den and caught me off guard. My heart palpitating, palms sweating, and throat dried from the thought. Our conversation still echoed in my ears.“Hello,” I answered in a low, intimidating tone. It was more than what I intended to do, not knowing who the other person on the other line was. Whoever it was has interrupted my peace and must pay for it. “Hello,” a woman’s voice reverberated through the other end of the line. Her voice brought chills to my bones. In an instant, a wind zapped me through a deep tunnel, the speed of lightning. One word was enough for my mind to be blown away.I leaned forward, unconsciously gripping the wooden arm of my chair, my knuckles turning crimson. I banished to a place where black clouds appeared on the horizon and fog blurs everything in sight. My mind whirling as I bit my lips. “Suho,” her sweet voice echoing through the dense mist. “Are you still there?” she asked. “Hana,” pausing in between, breathing after each
“That’s not the Hana I know.” I watched her expression shift like the lioness to a stray cat in the wilderness. “I thought everything was going well for you. What happened?” I stopped asking the same question to myself. I don’t think I am the same Suho either, or am I? Why am I even questioning myself now?Hana tilted her head, blinked several times, her eyes focused on me. Then asked, “So, who is the Hana, you know?”I leaned back, rested my elbows on the armrest, interlaced my fingers, and looked at her. “The Hana I know is someone who knows exactly what she wanted and would do anything to get it. She’s an achiever who never stops until she’s satisfied and not when she’s tired.” I smirked, scanning her from head to foot. “You sound more like ME back in high school rather than the Hana I knew.”“Maybe we’ve switched souls,&rdq
Hana stood up, gathered her coat, her eyes fixated on the floor., and breathed heavily. “I’m sorry, Oppa.”“For what?” I asked, all the while clutching firmly at the armrest of my couch. Every vein popping out, restraining myself from doing something I might later regret.She turned around and, with heavy feet, sauntered towards the door without replying to my question.I Still have a lot of questions left unanswered. She can’t leave hanging again, can’t she? I cleared my throat, “Hana, why are you here?”She stopped on her track, “Nothing. Forget about it.” Her right hand on the doorknob, “Honestly, I don’t know where else to go but here. You’re the only one to who I can open up without any fear. Sorry for being delusional, thinking perhaps that could at least lend me an ear. But I guess that’s already in the past. I’m not in
“There’s no turning back,” I admitted to myself after the horn honked right into my ears. I have been a lawyer for years, unaffected at even the most dangerous criminal, only to wither like a plant in front of Hana. The truth hurts that behind the shining half moon in the starless sky, she was at the dark unseen side. At that very moment, trying to reclaim her position only clouded with dark clouds.As the green light turned on, I pressed on the accelerator zooming past the hundreds of cars on the street. Driving further away from Gangnam, from the truth I can’t bring myself to admit. After an hour of mindless driving, it brought me to the same spot where broken hearts go. Found myself in Dongdaemun along the strips of tent bars where adults crashed after a hard day’s work. My sentiments may not even be far from them. In these cramp gray tent bars where alcohol and bar snacks were sold, we pour out our deepest regrets and l