Ms. Lee studied him. “You didn’t always believe that.”
Chung-Hee said nothing.
“Haneul wrote that he didn’t think Noeul knew,” she continued. “He asked us not to blame him.”
“I know.”
“And yet you blamed him.”
Chung-Hee’s jaw tightened. “Haneul loved him. I believed he was protecting Noeul, regardless of the truth.”
“Or perhaps he was telling you the truth,” she said, though she had never believed that herself. Despite Haneul’s final plea, she had blamed Noeul as fiercely as Chung-Hee had. But she was terrified of what her remaining son was becoming. If suggesting Noeul’s innocence might change Chung-Hee’s mind, she would say it. She would say anything that might still reach him.
Chung-Hee looked toward the hallway. He had considered that possibility many times and rejected it just as often. If Noeul had truly known nothing, then Chung-Hee had punished an innocent man because he needed somewhere to place the hatred Gong had left behind.
He wasn’t ready to face that.
“He knew enough,” he said, but the certainty no longer came as easily.
Ms. Lee stood and began pacing the kitchen. “Why, my son?” Her voice cracked. “Why him?”
Chung-Hee looked away.
“How can you do this to our family?”
A humorless laugh escaped him. “What family?”
She stopped.
Chung-Hee looked back at her. “Only you and I are left.”
Ms. Lee’s face tightened.
“If something happens to Noeul…” Chung-Hee continued, his voice lower now, “I don’t think I’ll survive it.”
“Don’t say that.”
“The pain is unbearable, mother.”
“Chung-Hee.”
“I mean it.” He lowered his gaze to his hands. “I don’t care whom I hurt anymore.” He paused. “Even him.”
Ms. Lee stared at him.
Chung-Hee’s fingers tightened together. “Letting him go feels like letting Haneul go a second time.” He swallowed. “Maybe… it feels like letting myself go.”
“You could find someone else.”
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
“Chung-Hee.”
“I’m not interested in anyone else.” He lifted his eyes. “Haneul loved him.”
Ms. Lee went still.