I’d chosen myself.
I’d found something that gave me joy.
And yeah, maybe I hadn’t found my place in the world yet, but I now knew who I was, and I was healed enough to admit that I still mourned the life I’d almost had – or at least, the life I’d thought it had been.
All that self-reflection to acknowledge that I felt conflicted. I was sad for him, because while I could only guess at his reasons for so easily going public with their relationship, I still felt confident that I knew him well enough to know that he would be hating the media attention he was undoubtedly getting now over the end of it.
I took a shaky inhale and closed the browser. Time to get back to work.
The next week, my editor briefly floated the idea of me covering Jihoon’s breakup. She suggested I could write a small, quarter-page article from the context of how the media treated Korean celebrities.
“No.”
“No?” She blinked at me, like the word was a mistranslation of the one she had been expecting.
“No,” I confirmed, lifting my chin, but balling my fists in my jacket pockets.
“May I ask why?” My editor was a fair, but quick-tempered woman, and she had that look in her eyes now, the one that warned me not to bullshit her.
“All the other publications are already covering it from every possible angle. It’s a gossip story.Frequencyis not in the habit of writing gossip, and I thought you wanted me to write that piece about AI infiltrating the streaming charts.”
I held my breath.
My editor tilted her head for a moment, eyes narrowed.
“Yeah, okay.” She shrugged. “Send me the draft when you’re done.”
Missive delivered, she turned on her heel and walked back towards her office. She didn’t see how I slumped against the wall, dragging in gulping breaths that juddered through me like sobs.
Unfortunately, I had been correct in implying how widely the breakup was being covered. Nearly every Google Alert I had was saturated with articles rehashing the same non-information. Nonsense theories based on body language, lip-reading attempts, and public appearances, or no-shows ,were everywhere. It was a frenzy of guesses, and miscommunication.
Some sources claimed they’d broken up before his enlistment, while others claimed it had been during, but all pointed to the fact it had been over at least a year ago.
What I really hated to see was just how many people were coming forward to speak about his private life – like it was something anyone had a right to. It wasn’t just the usual ‘private sources’ from the predictable places, like ENT, or former school friends – it was people he’d apparently gone through basic training with. Men he’d shared barracks with. People who purported to have heard him talking about, or to Lee Hyejin.
The invasion of privacy made my stomach twist.
I’d already understood why he’d never wanted for us to… well. Now I saw exactly what he’d feared play out in real-time.
My chest ached every time I saw another article flash up, because he’d been right.
But I think I’d always wonder how it might have played out if he’d just taken the chance.
Chapter 40
September
It wasn’t going to be a big ceremony by anyone’s standards, but that didn’t stop my stomach from twisting in knots as I looked myself over in the mirror.
Mum sniffled behind me as she adjusted the cap on my head for perhaps the tenth time, moving it this way and angling it just so.
“Mum,” I spun on my heel and gently grasped her hands. “It’s fine.”
She nodded, smiling at me with shining eyes.
“I am the luckiest person in the world.” Her chin trembled, but her words were clear. “I get to see my little girl graduate twice, because not only is she the cleverest person in the world, but also the bravest.”
I fidgeted under her scrutiny.
