She fixes me with that flat, unblinking stare I remember from our ugliest college fights. Her eyes flick from me to the flowers and back. “They’re weirdly ugly.”
“But memorable,” I counter.
She steps aside, the universal sign for ‘I’m emotionally unavailable, but you can come in anyway.’
I step inside and barely recognize the place. The tidy apartment I remember has vanished, replaced by pure chaos. Canceling my tour was worth it. She needs me.
Case files spill across her coffee table, flanking a graveyard of chicken bones and a bottle of soju that’s seen better days. On the TV, two Korean actors stare longingly at each other while a third watches from the shadows. The couch arm bristles with Post-its, each screaming ‘FUCK WILLIAM & PARRAS LAW’ in rainbow succession. Even in a crisis, Minji has a system.
She marches ahead, one hand hovering near her green-masked face. “One photo and I’ll have your publisher freezing assets before lunch tomorrow.”
“Bold of you to assume my royalties are worth the paperwork,” I say, placing the sunflowers in what might be a vase or a pencil holder. They slouch against the rim, refusing to stand straight.
She’s close enough now that I catch the scent beneath the mask—something herbal mixed with the unmistakable traces of someone who’s been crying. She’s never looked more real to me than in this moment, glaring through puffy eyes.
“You actually bailed on your tour?” She drops onto the couch. “Tabitha will eviscerate you.”
“Told her it was medical.” I shrug. “You’re my emergency.”
Something shifts in her expression. Her fingers unclench against her thigh. “Idiot,” she mutters. “But… thanks.” She pats the cushion beside her.
I eye the chicken box. She catches me.
“Help yourself. They’re cold, half-skinless, and thoroughly depressing. Like my career prospects.”
“Perfect,” I say, grabbing a piece and demolishing it in three bites. “So. Talk about it, or pretend we’re just watching TV?”
She fiddles with her face mask, deep in thought. “There’s nothing left to say. William’s going to get the partnership. He must’ve manipulated the case—or at least taken advantage of my absence—and here I am, stuck.”
“Are you sure it was William?”
“I wouldn’t put anything past him, but he knew how badly I needed to win Evelyn’s case. I’m certain he went to James’s lawyers and painted me as some judicial wrecking ball.”
I zone out for a second, rolling the names around in my head. They ring a bell, but not quite sure what fucking bell it is. Shit. Wait.
“James and Evelyn? They’re an Asian couple, right? Married?”
Minji’s hand freezes mid-air. “How do you know that?”
Shit. Did I just accidentally sabotage her case? Fuck.
“I, uh… I think I saw them at Equinox once.”
Her silence crashes over me like a tidal wave. I know the anger is coming.
“You ran into my client at the gym?” she says, voice colder than ice.
“It wasn’t on purpose,” I blurt. “I thought they were just?—”
“Just what? A random pair on the ellipticals?” Each word is a blade. “Aaron, did you talk to them?”
“I tried to keep it casual! Evelyn asked for advice—I just…” My tongue twists itself into knots. “I said something aboutsecond chances. About love. If they still cared, they should fight for their marriage.”
“Jesus Christ.” She buries her face in her hands. “Do you know how many hours I spent deprogramming her from fairytale endings?”
“Honeybee, if I’d known she was your client, I swear I wouldn’t have said a word?—”
“You screwed up my case,” Minji says flatly, rising to her feet. “Always a man derailing my career, whether directly or not.” She walks to the bedroom; I follow. In the bathroom, she peels off her mask and flings it into the trash with undisguised disdain. “I’ve worked my ass off for years to become partner, and your fucking hobby blows it all to shit in two months,” she mutters. “Unbelievable. Perfect.”
