He laughs a little. “Yes.” But the amusement is short-lived. “I still wish you hadn't posted for us.”
“But it's a good thing I did. It worked.”
Somberly, Eunjae says, “Denny told me you aren’t working for Olivia anymore.”
“Our Woosung,” sighs Jiyeon. “He always was a tattletale.”
“Just worried about you. I know how that is.”
She shrugs. “It’s almost funny. Olivia was thrilled with me for the first time in a long, long time. So many people suddenly wanted a haircut. I had to leave before she started displaying me in the window like a zoo animal.”
She doesn't want to talk about her past: the follower count and celebrity clients, the sponsorship deals, the interminable, tortured calculus of views and likes, saves and shares. The emotions retain their potency, but the memories themselves are blurred, no longer rendered in crisp technicolor. It's as if those days were lived by another person, a separate entity dwelling blithely in a parallel universe.
It was a nightmare, but she could make it look so pretty. Even better, she had a knack for making it look like it was true.
The last thing she posted as Emma was a video of the sea on a night much colder than this one. In the caption, she'd tried to explain why she was leaving. She'd promised that she was fine, she was safe, but she was never coming back. This, at long last, was supposed to be the truth.
Eunjae doesn't push her for the details. Maybe he's already scrolled through the posts in her profile, now a virtual monument to who she used to be. If she closes her eyes, Jiyeon can see that grid of photos and videos, impeccably styled, curated with such care. Here is Emma Han twisting her hair into seemingly effortless milkmaid braids. Here is Emma Han peddling $50 shampoo she doesn't even like, for a sponsorship deal that puts money into her savings account. The dream, the dream. What wouldn't she do, for the dream?
Eunjae leans forward. He tugs on her sleeve. “Thank you.”
She turns around to face him, very much against her better judgment. But Eunjae is here with her, now. She hasn't seen him since that night when there was suddenly no choice but to confront the truth. How many more times will they be able to talk like this? And then she thinks,it would always have to be like this. Meeting in secret, dodging millions of watchful eyes.
Jiyeon rests her head in the crook of one arm, the leather upholstery grown warm against her skin. She looks up at Eunjae in the dark. “We shouldn't meet up again,” she tells him. The words are also for herself.
“I know.”
“This has to be the last time.”
He’s quiet for a while. “Do you want it to be the last time?”
Jiyeon closes her eyes. “No.”
“So we have the same problem.” And his relief is so palpable that she almost can't bear to try again, but she does. This is not a choice to make lightly. They can't go running headlong into it.
“I saw the video where you said you don't want to date in secret. And I understand, okay? After everything I've seen and read, I just… I know that things were already hard for you, before. Trying to make this work could make it so much worse.”
His head snaps up. “Me? Never mind about me.” Eunjae rakes a hand through his hair, easily the most agitated she's ever seen him. “Things were hard for you, too. You got out. You started over. I feel like I've already ruined that for you.”
“You didn't ruin anything,” she protests, stunned that he could even come to this conclusion.
“You've had to quit your job. The shop’s been closed for two days because the fans won't stop coming. Reporters keep trying to follow you guys home.”
“It won't be that way forever. We're so boring that they'll lose interest soon. When you go home —” But Jiyeon can't bring herself to finish the sentence.
“This feels like home, to me,” Eunjae says. “Maybe that sounds crazy. It's true, though. And it's like… what have I done?”
Jiyeon decides that she just can't stand it anymore. She scoots close enough to poke him in the arm. “Here's what you've done. Are you listening? You pretended to have amnesia. You got yourself a new job. You washeda lotof dishes. You sat for hours and watched a Korean drama with terrible writing, never complaining, just because my parents love it.”
The flicker of a smile flashes across his face. Jiyeon keeps going.
“You read the entireMolly Merriweatherseries in two days. You saw that Denny had secretly always wanted a brother and that's what you gave him. I told you about maybe opening some small place of my own one day, so you spent your lunch break finding me one. Other people might have looked for a busy cross street or the cheapest rent. You decided to filter by sunset views and nearby florists. Really, you're something else.”
This is not what she's supposed to be doing. She was supposed to let him go and say goodbye. But how can she?
“You've done so much, Eunjae. It was magic. We're out of time now and I wish…”
“I wish we had more of it,” he finishes for her.
