Episode 19

I came to a halt when I pushed open the entrance to the flower shop. “I used to come here every day, and I used to come and see you when I had time,” Miho’s voice echoed in my thoughts. What kind of memory? Due to the effects of the previous night’s drinking, I was bewildered and unsure if I was dreaming or not.

He was approaching me from behind, hesitating. I remained motionless, unwilling to turn around, and he tentatively asked a question.

“Do you want to go to the movies?”

I wondered whether his voice was shaking because it sounded trembling in my ears. I turned slowly to face him. I nodded as he looked at me, his features stiff and rigid.

“Yes. I’m planning to go.”

“I see.”

Why did his face appear so melancholic? I swallowed hard. Miho’s voice continued to linger in my thoughts.

“I like movies too,” he mumbled.

“By the way, is it just a coincidence that we keep running into each other?” I queried, my gaze sliding up and down his neck.

“Yes,” he said, leaving me speechless. He left me speechless, shamelessly self-satisfied. I turned around when I heard his anxious voice.

“Have you eaten?”

I remained silent.

“You look unwell. Would you like me to get you some medicine?”

I tried to ignore him, but I was overcome with rage at his persistence and slow speed.

“You and I have broken up. Let’s just say we’ve run into each other, but why do you keep talking to me? It’s making me uncomfortable.”

“……Yes, it’s uncomfortable,” I said, laughing bitterly. My eyes rushed back to the smile He wore while delivering flowers to his fiancée the day before.

“I think she’s seeing that guy from the movie, and he won’t leave you alone.”

“…….”

“If you happen to meet him, don’t pretend to know him,” he said, his eyes narrowing.

“You’ll have to…… so I can see,” he said, a sorrowful look on his face.

“…….”

For a little while, we stood motionless, our gazes locked. A strange strain developed around my heart.

“Be on your way,” I answered finally.

I glared at him, puzzled as to why he was talking so much with me given our informal meeting. But all he did was chuckle, and I couldn’t help but feel sorry. Perhaps he was still a touch tipsy.

I walked into the flower shop, sighing. He was still standing outside, staring at me, but I had no plans to continue the conversation. I moved deeper into the shop, away from him, and dialed Miho’s cell phone. I needed to know if the voice I kept hearing was real or not.

“Hello?”

“Oh, I was going to call you!”

“Where are you? It’s so noisy!”

“Airport. I’m at the airport. It’s a sober airport call.”

“Are you sober?”

“It’s an airport. You drank a lot. I barely had anything to eat.”

“Is this the airport?”

“I came to Korea yesterday.”

“Yes. Jiu is freaking out. He wants me to come in right now, and he’s sending me a plane ticket.”

“Ha… Choi Mi-ho, you…”

“She says he misses me, but what can I do? he sounds like she’s dying.”

“You! Don’t come to Korea again!”

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t know. Call me when you get there.”

“Okay.”

Miho had fled home following her fight with Mr. Jiu and returned to the United States in a huff. She resolved to kick him in the shin the next time they crossed paths.

I didn’t have time to ask her any questions before she hung up the phone, rushing to catch her flight. My head was pounding. My friend’s greatest advice was to cancel, cancel, cancel.

***

“How was the movie?”

“It was fun.”

As Hyunwoo drove, I gave him an uneasy smile. After viewing a movie and eating dinner, we were on our way home. It was our first time dating, so it was strange.

“I was surprised by the twist at the end.”

“That’s right.”

As Hyunwoo drew up in front of my house, I fiddled with my hands in my lap, without looking at him.

“Thanks for the movie and the food today.”

“You’re welcome, but I couldn’t see it because I was asleep.” I looked at Hyunwoo, who was staring at me and then turned my head out the window. I know I need to tell him something difficult, but I can’t stop myself from saying it when I see his happy expression.

“Mr. Hyunwoo.”

“What?” But there was no time to waste, he must have arrived home.

“……I’m sorry, but we won’t be meeting in person anymore,” she stated firmly, ending any ambiguity about their relationship.

“Do you have someone in mind?” Hyunwoo’s voice sharpened a little.

“No, I don’t……that’s not what I have in mind, and I’ve been grateful.”

“Is it because I’m pressuring you to go to the movies? I’ll never do that again…….”

“No, it’s not. It’s just that I don’t feel like meeting anyone, and I want you to meet someone nice,” she clarified.

I smile slightly, and Hyunwoo’s face is regretfully hard.

“Be careful.”

Mr. Hyunwoo remains silent. I nod my head slightly and exit the car. I apologize, but I had no intention of exploiting Mr. Hyunwoo’s kindness when it wasn’t necessary. He had always been a kind-hearted person.

I had been aware of his affection for me in the past, but despite his kindness, he didn’t quite fit the typical image of a romantic partner. Furthermore, I hadn’t harbored any desire to enter into a relationship or give my heart to someone.

I was content with my solitude. As I let out a sigh and strolled towards my home, my wrist was suddenly seized by an unexpected grasp.

My eyes widened, and I gazed up at the hand’s owner, finding Mr. Hyunwoo looking down at me with an emotionless expression.

His countenance, which had always been as gentle as a puppy’s, now wore a cold and unfamiliar look, sending a shiver down my spine. That moment was an eye-opener.

A faint rustling noise grabbed Mr. Hyunwoo’s attention first and then mine. There stood Han Se-hyuk, a mere step away, observing both Mr. Hyunwoo and me with his penetrating blue eyes focused on my wrist.

 An unwarranted lump formed in my throat, though I knew I had done nothing wrong. I stood there, utterly stunned and unable to utter a word, as he advanced toward me with his lengthy strides.

Hyun-woo’s grip on my wrist grew tighter. I instinctively twisted my wrist and broke free from his grasp. I bit my lip, and he remained motionless, his gaze still fixed on my wrist.

“What are you doing?” I finally managed to speak.

Han Se-hyuk remained silent for a moment before he asked, “Did you enjoy the movie?”

“He’s acting as if I told him I was going to the movies,” I say, bewildered by his sudden appearance in front of my house. “What are you doing here?” I inquire, perplexed by his presence. “That’s my house,” he says, directing my eyes to where he points.

His expression brightens as he motions towards the house he has just finished building. His smile causes my heart to flutter, my breath to catch, and I feel an unexplained annoyance. I can’t help but wonder if his house’s proximity to mine is purely coincidental. “As you can see, I was on my way to the convenience store, and our paths coincidentally crossed,” he said.

As he gently shakes the envelope, his ears flush with crimson, indicating that he may have been waiting outdoors for some time. “Come on in; it’s cold outside,” I invite him in from the cold.

He extends his hand to smooth out my tousled hair. In response, I forcefully push his hand away and hastily retreat into the house, not daring to look back. “What on earth, seriously,” I mutter to myself, my cheeks burning with embarrassment, and I rub my hands together.

The more I reflect on the situation, the more uneasy I become. Perhaps I shouldn’t have feigned recognition when I saw him again. I bite my lip, regret gnawing at me.

Less than a day after I had resolved to speak with him, he unexpectedly appeared at the flower shop. As he walked through the door at the end of the day, I fixed him with a pointed look.

“No, no, I’m just here as a favor,” he quickly explains before I can say anything else. I watch as my coworker throws her hands up in exasperation and shakes her head.

“The new secretary claimed to be too busy and asked me to pick these up for her,” he adds before turning away without further comment.

Although she had been visibly upset the previous day, her face now remains composed. I find it difficult to summon any anger.

“Just recreate it to be as beautiful as it was then,” I request, feeling a sense of nostalgia.

“Alright, just a moment,” I reply, sensing his pause as he draws closer. He doesn’t turn around but proceeds to grab a bunch of roses.

While I work on tidying the thorns and arranging them into a floral design, a question suddenly crosses my mind.

“…How did the flowers turn out?” I inquire. He responds, “They turned out great.

“She loved them,” he says, and a wave of satisfaction sweeps over me, reinforcing my abilities. I quickly close my lips and focus on finishing the flower arrangement, which is nearly finished.

The sound of the door opening drives me to greet the visitor reflexively. “Hello, Ossie…,” I begin as I turn to acknowledge her but pause, unable to finish my sentence.

“Hey, Si Hyuk, are you here?” she inquires. I see she arrived early, and his fiancée appears to have entered the conversation.

The woman in front of me was his fiancée, and she gave me a critical look. I chose to ignore it, focusing instead on completing the job at hand. However, in a moment of distraction, I neglected to see the coffee cup in my hand and made contact with it.

The cup slid from my fingers, plummeting to the floor and splitting into small fragments. I instantly knelt to retrieve the shattered glass with my hand.

“Ouch!” I winced as I felt a gash on my hand as he assisted me in picking up the shattered fragments. “Are you okay?” he inquired, his face filled with concern.

He abruptly rose and seized my hand in his, moving it closer to his face. I caught a peek at his fiancée, who was watching the incident from behind his genuinely worried expression.

“I’m fine,” I swatted his hand away, but he grabbed my wrist again, this time with a tight hold, and inserted my gushing finger into his mouth.

My eyes darted about nervously, my once-pale face quickly turning a deep scarlet. Her enlarged eyes expanded in surprise as he recognized the finger that had been in his mouth. I quickly retracted it, but it was still boiling. My cheeks flushed even more, and I clutched my fingers, evidently in pain.

“What are you doing…?” he yelled as he scooped me up and slid me into a neighboring chair. I kept my mouth shut, unable to speak, while he seemed unconcerned about his fiancée, who stood stunned. He knelt on one knee and immediately removed her white sneakers.

“Don’t… please,” I beg, pulling on his shoulder in an attempt to free my shackled foot, but he is unmoved. Instead, he tenderly cleanses the instep of my foot, as if it were a rare pearl.

In annoyance, I bite my lower lip firmly, casting a bitter stare not only at his face but also down to his neck.

“What on earth are you doing in front of your fiancée?” I ask, kneeling to speak to the woman standing behind him. He pauses before slowly raising his head to meet her look, his gaze locked with hers.

“Fiancée?” he asks, puzzled, turning his head to look at the woman standing behind him. He appears to have forgotten his fiancée was present, as his behavior would not make sense otherwise.

“Who? Who’s my fiancée?” he exclaims, unsure what to make of this bizarre situation. This guy seems genuine, yet the way he’s acting is perplexing.

He gets down on one knee and locks his gaze on me. For a brief minute, I wonder whether he doesn’t have a fiancée.

They all smile as she hands him a basket of flowers, and then he’s acting completely differently. I’m about to snap at him when I hear the door open.

“Baby!” I exclaim, surprised. “You were here?”

“Yeah, I was waiting outside the office, and when you came in here, I followed you,” he said.

The individual who entered the flower shop was Mr. Shin, and his fiancée affectionately referred to him as “darling.” She blinked in confusion, her gaze shifting between his fiancée and the man who had diligently wiped coffee off his foot and was now gently rubbing it. She seemed immobilized, not even considering removing her foot, as she stared at the unexpected scene unfolding before her.

“Se-yeon, are you hurt?” Mr. Shin inquired, but Se-yeon remained unable to respond. The woman he had believed to be his fiancée for years was the secretary’s significant other.

“There’s a flower basket over there,” Mr. Shin mentioned, attempting to steer the conversation in a different direction.

“Take it. I’ll cover the cost,” Mr. Shin says. I can’t help but ask, “Huh? Huh?” The two of them turn to face me, lower their heads slightly, embrace each other tightly, and exit the shop. I keep my attention fixed on them, never blinking, until they vanish from view.

I return my focus to Mr. Shin, recalling how he had previously answered when I had asked him about his feelings for his fiancée.

He’d casually said that there were more women like me as if he were rubbing salt into an open sore, increasing the suffering. My face gets cold as I gaze at him, who is still kneeling and observing me.

“Don’t touch me,” I sternly instruct him. He gazes up at me with an expression that appears on the verge of tears, but his emotions are somewhat inscrutable. Nonetheless, he complies with my request and withdraws his hand from my foot.

I watch him with trembling eyes as he clenches and unclenches his fists. Something Miho said on the day I got drunk comes to mind.

“Have you been to…?” I ask, and he descends to one knee, then both, bending his head as if a repentant sinner.

“…” I hesitate, thinking. “To America. You’ve been there,” I say, closing my mouth and brushing my hair back as I observe him bend his head even more. My hands tremble slightly.

“Is that true?” He asks.

I didn’t notice his tiny nod in response to my inquiry. He takes a long breath and returns his frightened look to me. For a brief moment, his hand goes for my ankle, his touch shaky. I grip him tightly, not pushing him away, but simply seeing his honest expression.

“I’m sorry,” he begins, his voice cracking, “…I should have come and begged for your forgiveness immediately, but I couldn’t.” He pauses to collect his breath, attempting to express all of his emotions at once.

“I couldn’t bring myself to appear because you looked so happy, and I didn’t want to be the one to shatter that happiness,” he said. I bite my lower lip, unsure how to answer.

“I longed to be close to you, to see you, but I restrained myself,” he said. If voices had colors, he would be crimson right now. It felt as if he was screaming in agony as if blood was gushing from his very being.

I wanted to ask him why he was suffering when all I had done was turn my back on him for his happiness, especially given how much he used to loathe me.

“But why did you choose to come back now?” I ponder. I despise his reappearance in an attempt to destroy my newfound contentment after two years of silence. I’ve learned to find happiness on my own, and his reappearance feels like an unwanted intrusion.

“I can’t bear it anymore, I can’t resist the urge to be close to you. I’m longing to see you, and I miss you even when you’re not around,” he says with tears in his eyes. I can’t think of anything to say.

“I…,” I start to say, but he cuts me off with his sorrowful look.

“I don’t want to pretend to be good anymore. I can’t,” he adds, his grief palpable. This admission is ripping him apart. “I was wrong, and I’m so sorry. I apologize for my ignorance.” I sit silent, unable to find the correct words.

“I thought I was the only one suffering, and I’m deeply sorry for intentionally causing you pain. I know that mere words can never make up for what I’ve done,” he adds in a voice that trembles. I stare at his face, which shakes as if it will shatter at any minute.

“I’ll live like a sinner for the rest of my life until I die. Just let me stay by your side. I don’t want to repeat my mistakes. I just want… I just want to see you,” he says.

“I don’t want to,” I say emphatically.

“No,” he says emphatically.

“Please…,” he begs, his voice breaking with despair.

“I don’t want to,” he says once again.

Se-yeon looks at him through her tears, her eyes icy and determined. “Leave me alone. I’m finally happy; don’t ruin my happiness,” she cries, pulling him away as he sobs. She gets to her feet, leaving him with a lump in her throat.

“Go away,” she says as she turns to put her shoes on and prepares to go. She is eager to get home and find some peace.

I had instructed him to leave, but he remained outside until the flower shop closed. It’s winter, and the sun is rapidly setting, casting shadows across the darkening streets. I clenched my teeth in frustration and began my walk home, but he continued to follow me. Since we were heading in the same direction, I couldn’t bring myself to ask why he was trailing behind me.

“This is why I moved here,” I grumbled as I groped for the key to our common front door. He said quietly, “Goodbye,” from behind me, and I entered the building, leaving him waiting outside.

The weight of the situation continued to bear on me as I climbed the stairs, and I became increasingly disturbed. I was stopped in my tracks by the faint odor of cigarettes.

I shook my head, but I didn’t have much time to think about it, so I went into my house. I went inside and turned on the lights to start freshening up.

I opened the refrigerator and grabbed a beer before I could dry my hair or apply lotion. I couldn’t get his sobs and tears out of my head, so I drank beer after beer in an attempt to drown them out.

I couldn’t help but wonder who would accept such an apology as his. I crushed the now-empty beer can out of frustration.

    * * *

As I clutched the shopping bag in my hand, I smiled. It had been two weeks after Jimin had given birth, and she couldn’t resist the invitation to visit Jimin at home following her stay at the postpartum care center, so I stopped by the department store.

I lost track of time while looking for baby gifts; there were so many lovely options. The gifts for the young princess included lovely outfits and little shoes smaller than my hand, which made my heart skip a beat when I saw them.

For a time, I stood in a fog, remembering his voice talking in bed, expressing his wish to have many children, and how he burst into joy when I told him that I would have many babies for him.

I decided to stop at a flower store on my route to Jimin’s house because I felt bad about solely buying baby gifts. When I got to her house, I placed my shopping bag on the table and took off my coat.

I chose a beautiful flower and held it up to the wrapping paper, pondering how to arrange it. I checked the time and realized I was running late.

I could almost hear Jimin’s voice warning me not to be late, so I opened my mouth to speak but hastily clapped my hands together, a motion intended to urge me to hurry.

While I was busy wrapping the flowers, I suddenly heard the shop door open behind me.

“Sorry, sir, we’re closed for the day…” began the shopkeeper, but he then seemed to recognize someone.

“Mr. Hyun-woo?” she asked, and I turned around to see Mr. Hyun-woo standing in the doorway, a frightening scowl on his face that I had never seen before. I dropped the flowers and took a step back, puzzled by what was going on.

Mr. Hyun-woo, on the other hand, smiled and casually closed the door. His expression was casual, which just added to the mystery.

I wanted to say something, but my voice broke when Mr. Hyun-woo walked into the room.

“Why? Come on,” he said, his gaze sweeping over me. I was quite uneasy as if invisible insects were crawling all over me under his stare.

“Do you have something on your mind?” I stammered out.

“When is the festival?” he inquired, his voice shrill and angry. As he continued to speak, his voice became louder, as if he was becoming more upset.

“You even enjoyed the cake I bought for you, and you smiled at me,” Mr. Hyun-woo went on. He reminded me of Aiden, the intruder who had panted heavily in my house.

“After all of that, you choose to reject me for some other jerk?” he snarled.

His focused, flashing eyes made me uneasy, and I took a step back. A hand grabbed my wrist before I could respond further. I wished someone would walk by outside, but it was as if they could read my mind. He yanked me out of sight and threw me to the ground.

I fought to speak, but nothing came out of my shaking lips. Mr. Hyunwoo positioned himself on top of me and produced something from his pocket while I lay on the ground.

“Mr. Hyunwoo…,” I managed to say, my voice shaking, but his expression changed as he chuckled and laughed in response to my fear. At that moment, I heard someone outside attempting to push the door open. I wanted to yell for aid, but I couldn’t find the words.

As I watched Mr. Hyun-woo brandish a pair of scissors in front of me, as if he intended to cut branches and leaves, my entire body shook and tears welled up in my eyes.

Even though I knew the door was locked, someone was rattling on it, and Hyun-woo clasped his hand over my mouth in case I made a sound. As I drew closer, I noticed a strong odor.    

“I’m not going to let that as$hole off the hook either, starting with you……. You first,” he said as he spoke.

Outside, the sounds came to a halt.  Mr. Hyun-woo lets out a sigh of relief and takes his hand from her mouth.

“Ew!” I shouted, defending myself by biting his hand as hard as I could.

“Bitch!” Mr. Hyunwoo screamed angrily, his cheeks blazing hot.

“How dare you, after all the time I’ve spent with you!” I yelled, tasting blood from where my lip had split. At the corners of my eyes, tears welled up.

 Mr. Hyunwoo attempted to undress me while I wept softly in dread.

“…Don’t. No,” I said quietly, my voice shaking.

I couldn’t make a sound and could only say “don’t” as I shuddered.

“If you make any noise, I’ll silence you,” he threatened as he wrestled with my clothes.

Mr. Hyunwoo’s body was propelled flying almost simultaneously with the sound of broken glass filling the air. Someone ran over to him and kicked him in the head, while another stomped on Hyun-woo’s writhing corpse on the ground.

Hyun-woo blinked through his tear-filled eyes and saw Han Se-hyuk on top of him, administering punches to him.

“Are you okay?” Han Se-hyuk asked as he grabbed my shoulders as I attempted to sit up. He slipped his bloodied hand behind his back when he observed me shaking.

“I’m fine. How about you? Are you all right?” I inquired, concerned for his well-being.

His hand was trembling even more than mine, as it often did after he’d knocked someone out with a powerful punch. He pity-facedly glanced down at his blood-stained, glass-encrusted fist, gripping the damaged hand he kept attempting to conceal.

“It’s just… I broke it with a flower pot,” he said. “It’s turning black. What should I do?”

“It’s… you care about it, and I don’t want it to get damaged further,” he replied.

“But you can’t just put your hand on…” he began, but I interrupted him with a disgusted “Ew.”

Suppressing a groan of pain, I gazed at him with unsteady eyes and mustered a forced smile. A tear slipped down the corner of my eye before I could prevent it.

“Are you okay?” he inquired, concern lacing his voice as I stood there, fidgeting, and unable to staunch the bleeding from my hand. It was as if he was reassuring me not to worry, and I had never seen so much blood in my life.

As I wiped my hand behind my back, tears continued to flow down my cheeks, and he let out a sigh. “I should only look at beautiful things and touch beautiful things,” he stated.

“…I’m sorry,” I  apologized for the distress that had unfolded because of me. I bit my lip and regarded him with watery eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his gaze fixated on my lips, filled with profound compassion. I nodded, and he pulled me into a warm and comforting hug.

“As long as you’re okay, don’t worry about me,” he said, and I breathed a sigh of relief at his reassurance. I could feel his hand stroking my back, and a large hand moved up to discreetly rub the nape of my neck. He held me in a tight embrace, rubbing his cheek against my hair, which sent a shiver down my spine.

Suddenly, I snapped out of the moment and pushed him away. His ears were redder than blood as he obediently pulled back.

As the sound of a police car in the distance grew louder, the police arrived and took Hyun-woo into custody. We decided to make a stop at the hospital to tend to his injured hand before heading to the police station. Since his hand was incapacitated, I offered to drive him, but he declined, still shaken from the earlier events. I advised him to take a taxi instead.

Before we got into the taxi, he surveyed the flower shop and made a phone call.

“Don’t worry, someone will be here soon to clean it up,” he reassured the person on the other end of the call.

“…Don’t worry,” was the reply. His immediate worry was not with the cleanliness but with the status of the flower shop.

“What if the gift is broken?” I worriedly inquired.

“…Is that a problem now?” he asked, seemingly unconcerned with the cuts on his glass-encrusted palm. My stunned expression forced him to become silent.

They removed the glass from the back of his hand and sewed up the severe wound when I arrived at the emergency hospital. I assured him that I would accompany him, but he asked that I remain outside. He nervously massaged my quivering palm, lifting the corner of his mouth in a reassuring gesture.

I stood there waiting for him, unable to sit in the chair.

“Sit down,” he said.

When he eventually came from the hospital with a bandage on his hand, he raised it and smiled as if everything was OK. He inquired why I was standing when I was the one in pain, and his concern for me caused my eyes to well up with tears. I bit my lower lip and bowed my head, and he caressed my hair tenderly.

“Let’s go,” he suggested.

“All right,” I said, and we flagged down a cab to return home. A lawyer had been dispatched to the police station to represent us.

“…How did you know I was in there?” I wondered, perplexed by his prompt presence.

“Weren’t you supposed to go to Jimin’s? I thought you might be making flowers, so I went,” he explained.

I remained silent.

“That’s good. I went just in case, and if you weren’t…” He trailed off and fidgeted nervously, his breathing growing ragged. I stared at his bandaged hand for a moment, then looked away. I couldn’t focus on the scenery outside the window; my thoughts were consumed by his presence beside me.

“Be careful,” he cautioned, and I felt a surge of anxiety as I was about to enter the house. I looked at him nervously.

“I’ll watch you go in,” he offered. He planned to stand and keep an eye on me until I was safely inside. However, I wasn’t comfortable with the idea and grabbed his forearm as he started to step back.

“Why?” he inquired.

“It’s… nothing,” I replied hesitantly.

My initial reluctance didn’t prevent me from asking him to accompany me home. I pursed my lips and turned away, but I heard a slightly urgent voice from behind me.

“Do you want to come to my house?” he inquired.

“…?” I turned to look at him, and he provided an excuse.

“I have plenty of rooms, it’s safe, and… I can stay on the second floor,” he explained.

“Nah, I’m fine,” I responded.

“It’s because I’m not okay,” he admitted, his eyes filled with concern.

My breath caught in my throat at his words. “I’m worried,” he added. So, I extended my hand to him, inviting him to come with me.

“I’ll take…”

“What?” I inquired, curious about what he intended to say.

He leaned his head down and pressed his ear to listen to my muttering.

“I owe you a day,” I muttered.

“Yeah, good thinking,” I replied, a faint smile forming at the corners of my mouth. Seeing him smile in response, I glanced down at his bandaged hand. My heart was racing faster than it had in a long time.

Accompanied by him, I went upstairs to retrieve my belongings. He entered the house first, carefully checking the bedroom, the bathroom, and every corner.

He was anxious about entering the house, still haunted by the memory of what Hyun-woo had done to him, and it made him even more sensitive.

I swiftly gathered my belongings and hurried out of the house.

“Give it to me,” he requested, looking at me incredulously as he asked for my bag.

“What are you carrying in those hands?” I replied, puzzled by his request.

I didn’t have much luggage, just some underwear, clothes, and a bag, but I watched her pack it with her uninjured hands.

I didn’t rush ahead, instead, I matched her stride as we left through the large gate and entered a small garden. After climbing a few stone steps, I got a better view of his house, which appeared much more upscale and well-kept than my initial impression from the outside.

“Let’s go inside,” he suggested.

“Yes,” I agreed. My feet were itching to explore, but he was the one guiding me, so we proceeded to the second floor.

“You haven’t eaten, have you? You must be hungry,” he observed.

“Right!…” I started, but he cut me off.

“I already ordered, don’t worry.”

“When did you do that?” I asked, surprised by how quickly he had arranged for food.

I raised my voice and gently shooed him out of the kitchen as he was about to serve me.

“It’s really good,” he insisted.

I momentarily lost myself in thought but was brought back by his excited voice. I gazed at him as he sat across from me, enthusiastically picking at the side dish with his chopsticks, his face filled with delight.

“It’s so good,” he remarked, “…I just took it out of the fridge.”

“Oh?” I bit my tongue to stifle a laugh as he offered a somewhat awkward smile with a trembling expression. Using my left hand, I picked up a side dish and placed an egg roll on his spoon.

“It’s because of me…,” I explained, and he looked at me with a heartfelt expression.

“Thank you.”

I took a sip of water to clear my throat. What had I done to elicit such a reaction from him? I felt my cheeks heat up unnecessarily in response to his enthusiastic appreciation.

After a few times serving side dishes for him, he now extended a spoon toward me. I smiled, and his intense black eyes fixed on me. I rose from my seat, pretending not to notice the faint twitch of his lips as he put on his happiest expression.

“You’re finished, right? Go to the living room and take a break,” I suggested.

“I’ll clean up,” he insisted.

“You’re going to clean with that hand. Just leave it,” I urged.

Even after I told him to go to the living room and relax, he remained seated at the kitchen table, watching me closely as I finished washing the dishes. I felt his gaze but didn’t dare turn around, so I continued cleaning.

“Good job,” he praised me.

My ears perked up, and I felt like a puppy wagging its tail in response to its owner’s praise.

“I’ll wash up. You wash up too,” he suggested.

I didn’t respond to his suggestion, as it had a somewhat sensual tone to it. Instead, I hurried into the bathroom, biting my lip as I caught sight of my tense face in the mirror.

I brushed my teeth and took a shower, then dried my hair. As I stepped out into the living room, I found him seated on the couch, grumbling.

“What are you doing?” I inquired as I approached him, noticing that he was removing the bandages.

“I got it wet while washing,” he explained.

I understood that he needed to sanitize and re-bandage the wound.

“Can you sterilize it for me? I’m trying to do it with my left hand, but it’s not working,” he requested.

“Give it to me,” I agreed.

My eyes widened when I saw the wound, which was larger than I had expected. I carefully applied the medicine and replaced the gauze. As I expertly re-bandaged it, I felt his sincere gaze on my forehead.

“Ugh!” he exclaimed.

“I’m sorry, are you okay?” I asked, squeezing his hand. He winced in pain. I looked at him with a helpless expression, unable to touch his hand. He reassured me with a smile, claiming he was fine, but his eyes betrayed the discomfort he felt.

“It’s okay,” I said, trying to calm down as I continued to bandage his hand. But then his fingers gently brushed against the back of my hand. He hesitated for a moment before starting to reapply the bandage.

I squinted at him as he nudged the back of my hand once more.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he quickly apologized, pulling his hand away from mine.

He clutched his chest, his surprise at having touched me. I gaped at him, my mouth hanging open in disbelief.

“I didn’t mean to. My hand… I must be losing my mind,” he explained, seemingly flustered.

If anyone were to witness this, they’d likely think I was insane. I hadn’t said a word, but my face was flushed, and I couldn’t stop fidgeting.

“Give me your hand,” he stammered, reaching out. The more I dwelled on the situation, the more absurd it appeared. I secured the bandages in place with tape so they wouldn’t come undone. He continued to look at me, his hands still trembling.

“Thank you for today. Get some rest,” he said.

I expressed my gratitude before heading into the room he had shown me. A thank you is a thank you, and I was aware of his intense gaze on my back until I opened the door and stepped inside.

As I sat down on the bed and sighed, I reflected on how long this day had been. The memory of the look in Hyunwoo’s eyes gave me goosebumps, causing my forearms to tingle. The only comforting thought was that he was out there, and that alone helped dispel some of my fear.

I lay down on the bed and closed my eyes, but sleep seemed elusive. I couldn’t stop thinking about how he had checked me to ensure I wasn’t hurt, even though I was bleeding. I briefly considered having a few beers to help me sleep but decided against it since it was his house.

I sent a text to Jimin to apologize for not being able to make it today. She replied that it was okay and asked me to come over later and bring something heavy. I smiled and pulled up the covers.

Although I initially thought I couldn’t sleep, I ended up sleeping so soundly that I couldn’t recall when I had fallen asleep. When I opened my eyes, I felt pleasantly refreshed.

However, I was suddenly startled by the sight of someone staring at me and exclaimed, “What are you doing!”

” I’m sorry. I came in to wake you up for a meal,” he explained.

I was taken aback by the presence of someone sitting at the end of my bed. “Why is someone like that sitting there?”

He gave an apologetic smile and said, “I can’t help it… You’re so pretty.”

“Get out,” I said firmly, unimpressed by his flattery.

“Okay, I’m leaving,” he said and began to walk away, but he suddenly stopped.

“I’m sorry; you’re so pretty I couldn’t help myself,” he added.

I sighed and told him, “I’m going home today.”

He quickly tried to persuade me, saying, “Stay a little longer. Is it because I keep looking at you? Then I won’t look at you. I won’t look…”

I shook my head and replied, “Never mind,” as I turned away.

I had initially only hired him for a single day, and I didn’t want to be indebted to him any further. The thought of cleaning up the mess left behind by our unwanted guest made my head spin.

I washed up, got dressed, and went to find him waiting for me. I didn’t have much of an appetite, but I sat down at the table, thinking about how he had prepared the meal with his injured hand. I ended up eating all the rice without leaving any.

After I finished washing the dishes and came out of the kitchen, he was waiting for me.

“I’m ready to go. Let’s leave together,” he said.

I was about to ask him if it was a coincidence that his home and work were so close, but I just nodded. I glanced at him to see if he was happy, and he smiled.

* * *

“Boss, he’s here again,” Soo-Jung said with flushed cheeks as she turned to look in his direction. Ever since the stalker incident, he had been visiting the flower shop multiple times a day, even though she had told him not to. He entered and exited the shop as if he hadn’t heard her warnings.

“Are you from…?” Soo-jung asked him.

“Yes,” he replied.

 My heart fluttered at her bright smile. I had visited Jimin’s house the previous day and had seen the 50-day-old baby. The baby was tiny and new, unable to speak but holding the little fingers with a firm grip.

When the baby cried, it felt like she cried for the whole world to go away. The baby’s smile was heartwarming, and every time she laughed, it felt like his heart stopped.

Her face hardened as she remembered how pleased he was to see the baby smile. When I glanced at him, he seemed frigid, his face expressionless, as if he didn’t care.

“Can I give you the same flowers?” he asked.

She had grown increasingly uncomfortable with his frequent visits. He would come in and out of the flower shop several times a day, and today, in particular, he seemed to be invading her personal space.

He didn’t ask if she had eaten, offered coffee, or inquired about her well-being.

Sighing as she arranged the flowers, she finally spoke up, “Mr. Se-hyuk.”

He turned to her with a questioning expression, “Why?”

“You don’t have to come like this every day,” she told him, her tone more assertive.

He fell silent for a moment and then grabbed her shoulders, turning her to face him. She met his gaze with a cold look.

“Can I give you the same flowers?” he asked.

She replied simply, “Yes.”

“You can go buy flowers elsewhere,” she said, her voice tinged with frustration.