She nods her head with a smile but yawns through that too. “I love it.”
Marco gives me a wary look, then darts over to her and asks, “Are you sure you don’t want some more sleep, baby? We can go back to the hotel.”
“No, no. I’m great. I’m so excited. We’re here and we’re living it up. You know, I read there was an underground sex shop nearby. We should go later,” she whispers and waggles her eyebrows. “See if they have anything cool we can take home.”
“You minx,” Marco chuckles. “Of course we’ll do that.”
I have to admit, for the short time we’ve been here in South Korea, even though I still feel like an outsider, having everyone around melooklike me is a comforting feeling. It makes me want to learn more about my home country and heritage.
The three of us started learning the language right after my birthday in preparation for the trip. We’ve only got the basics, but it’s enough for tourists like us at the moment.
An hour or so later, after finishing our breakfast, we make our way to the Flower Festival at Ilsan Lake Park. As soon as I showed Marco this festival, he knew as sure as I did: this is where we’ll propose to Cora.
When we walk through the gates of the festival, I take in my surroundings—giant, floral sculptures and archways everywhere. Delicate yellow and purple flowers hanging like icicles underneath wide vine and flower covered tunnels.
“Oh my god,” Cora gasps. “This is gorgeous.”
When I spot the guitarist I hired, she gives me a nod. A few weeks ago, I contacted her to set this up. I sent her a picture of the three of us, so she knew who to look out for. I even went so far as to contact the festival officials to make sure we were allowed to do this.
Marco doesn’t even know I hired her.
Cora looks picturesque in a light blue dress with cap sleeves. It’s modest and sweet and absolutely perfect for today. She takes Marco’s hand, then mine as we begin our stroll, and our guitarist follows us at a distance.
“You guys look extra handsome today,” Cora smiles up at us as we walk under one of the flowering archways.
“It’s a special trip,” Marco shrugs. He does look effortlessly handsome today. The man can wear the hell out of a knit polo and slacks. I opted for a sage green linen shirt with rolled sleeves and cream linen pants. “Is that guitarist playing Ed Sheeran?”
I clear my throat and nonchalantly say, “Yeah, it sounds like it.”
Everywhere we look, there’s another enormous floral display and interactive art. The sunshine plays against the river and peaks through colorful glass, casting rainbows across the sidewalks and event goers.
Then I find the perfect spot. Surrounded by expansive beds of tulips, a massive architectural structure of varying purple tones casts filtered sunshine everywhere. It’s geometric, yet asymmetrical; it flows like water, but you can tell it was designed with purpose.
Marco must realize it too because he gives me the nod. Then when they’re not looking, I give a small wave to our guitarist.
Like a moth to flame, Cora leads us under the structure, her head turning, her eyes scanning, trying to capture everything. “Incredible,” she breathes.
“Let’s take a picture,” I offer, running over to a nearby walker and using a phrase I purposefully taught myself for this exact moment.
“Ulileul wihae bidioleul mandeul-eo jusil su issnayo?(Will you please take a video of us?)” I offer her my phone with both hands and bow my head a little.
The girl beams,“Ye. naneun geugeol hal su-iss-eo. gamsahabnida.” She must pick up on my accent, because she repeats herself in English. “Yes, yes. I can do that. Thank you.”
“Thank you for your help,” I say as she follows me over and stands in the center of the walkway, just before the entrance of the structure.
My heart pounds in my chest as I approach my partners. Cora already has an arm around Marco as she offers the other one to me. I slide in next to her as she squeezes me in. She turns her head to look at the camera, but I don’t look away from her and neither does Marco.
“Cora. Jay,” Marco whispers, and turns his body in front of the camera, lowering himself to one knee.
Me?
This isn’t the plan.
The secret ring box I have hidden forhimstarts to burn a hole in my pocket.
I move to join him, but he puts a hand up to stop me. “Wait. Let me do this.”
“Are you…?” Cora’s voice cracks as the guitarist gets closer and starts playingMake You Feel My Love.
