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She had plenty of questions of her own.
For example, why was her bookstore dark? Why was it empty? Where were her books? Why was it partly boarded up? Where were her parents?
And more importantly, why was there a large sign in the front window that said “BUSINESS CLOSED”?
“Isn't this nice?” Mrs. Song beamed at her daughter, who stood in the new three-bedroom apartment her parents had moved into after selling their previous building during Da Young’s absence.
“You didn't even think about renting out the building?” Da Young asked, trying to sound calm and normal, albeit the slightest tremor in her voice. Her parents didn't notice anyway. She wanted to at least speak to their rationality. They could have kept the building to profit off of it, and then maybe she could have resurrected her precious bookstore eventually.
“Why? It's run down. We sold it for a very nice price to a company that will tear it down and build something nice and modern.”
A series of images flashes through Da Young's mind. She saw the building from the eyes of her younger self, sparkling and hopeful and loving eyes that had gazed at it like a cozy hug that would keep her protected. She saw the shelves of worn books that had felt like friends and enveloped her in a variety of smells from musty to brand new. She saw her little room with its little window overseeing the street with its usual laggards.
Then the image of that same window boarded up popped into her mind like a trespasser.
Her hands, formed into tight fists, began to vibrate but she held them even tighter to avoid noticeable trembling.
Her father was busy arranging their plants by the large windows through which she could see the vast blue sky taunting her, telling her to smile because it was a nice day. On the new leather couch, framed photos from her modeling days lied in wait to be placed around the room to boast the family's glory days. She couldn't look at them, especially because of her rage-filled urge to start tossing them out those large windows and hear the satisfying shatter of glass.
She started to deepen her breaths, but the universe kept testing her.
“Want me to take you to your room, our little writer?”
There was something about the way her mother had said those words and looked at Da Young that made her uneasy. She now froze, like the child version of herself, even as she glowered at the woman before her.
Da Young tried to keep the conversation on track. “How are we going to afford this place?”
“We used the money from selling the building for the down payment! So the monthly rent isn't too bad.”
Da Young looked with open doubt at the large space and modern interior of their new home in the luxury apartment complex in a high-end area of Seoul.
She gritted her teeth and further braced herself. “What is the monthly rent?” She already knew the apartment would be under her name. She was the one with good credit. She always took the responsibility.
“What does it matter? Don't worry your pretty little head about it!” her father said cheerfully, seemingly addressing her in the framed photo he was carrying to the wall like it was his baby.
Her mother's next words were like a slap to Da Young's face. “We're responsible. We know you can afford it, Ms. Eun Joo Ni.”
A chill spread with alarming alacrity from her head to her toes, like a splash of water that moved like slime throughout her rigid body.
“How long did you think you could keep that from us?” asked her father, as jovial as before, not realizing the effect this was having on his daughter. “It’s something to brag about! Your drama is a hit right now, you know.”
How did they know? Da Young wondered, the thought reverberating throughout her skull, increasing in volume.
“So come on, Da Young! Let us show you your room. We picked the nicest, biggest one with a nice window so you can enjoy the view. We set up a desk and everything,” her mother said, trying to usher her down the hallway, but Da Young was frozen in place still, her feet rooted to the floor.
Her mind flashed both to the past and the future, images mingling in her mind, parallels. Her brain betrayed her, playing possibly the darkest future possible, making her already sinking heart drown faster. She had this sinking feeling that once she sat down at that desk, an unbreakable chain would magically form between her ankle and its leg, which was bolted to the floor, not providing any means of escape. As much as her rational brain told her she was being dramatic, her nerves were not to be calmed. It’s happened before! they insisted in high-pitched shrieks that only she could hear.
“Come on, Da Young,” her mother said, looking at her expectantly.
This wasn’t what Da Young wanted. The luxurious house. The room with a view. She spun and left, clutching her bag tightly as she opened the door and let it close behind her. She didn’t know where she was going or where she could even go, but her feet somehow found their way.
She didn’t know how long she walked. They had moved quite far from their old place, but her heart yearned for the bookstore, the comfortable spot she had set up for herself after her first “failing” in life, when her modeling career was cut short. But her feet couldn’t take her that far. It wouldn’t budge any further, remembering already that that bookstore was no longer there. The windows were unseeing eyes, hollow and haunted.
She was frozen again. Slowly, very slowly, she started sinking down into a squat, her bag hitting the ground first, releasing her hand so she could hug both arms around her legs and stay there, trying to create a home for herself in her body.
She didn’t know how long she stayed that way. She didn’t notice if anyone had passed her, but she sat there in silence for a while until…
“Ms. Eun Joo Ni?”
Her body reacted automatically. She turned and looked up. She must have cried at some point. She hadn’t even realized. The tears had long dried, leaving splotchy but subtle marks on her face. Even without the visible proof, it was clear she was not well.
Jae Woon’s heart plummeted at the sight of her. His voice followed suit, dropping to a depth in which both comfort and protectiveness merged.
“What happened.”
—
Da Young had not been the only one out searching for the comfort of her bookstore. After arriving, Jae Woon had felt empty in his cold and dark apartment, the modern space decorated in black and cool surfaces like any man who succeeded and thought he needed sleek living quarters to indicate his success.
But almost as soon as he arrived and tossed his suitcase into his room, he wanted to leave. He breathed in the scent of Jeju Island, almost able to feel the gentle wind caressing his face as it danced with the waves.
When he opened his eyes again, he was back in the darkness and the coolness of his lonesome apartment, the silence the only thing echoing throughout the space.
He had to get out of there.
Before he knew it, his legs had taken him as far as Da Young’s bookstore. He wasn’t sure if he had wanted the company of the books or the person who owned the place. Or rather, he wouldn’t let himself make up his mind about it. All he focused on was that he was there—and for some reason, it looked like nothing else was.
The windows were dark, the insides empty. He saw the sign, and he knew something was wrong.
Almost like how he knew she would be on the beach that day, he knew to let his legs carry him towards the cafe.
There she was, a lump on the road that hadn’t quite made it to the storefront, where Min Ah and Yoo Min surely would have seen her and ushered her into the safety of their aromatic cafe.
She probably would have preferred that no one saw her like this—or she would have thought that to be true, but her being in the middle of the road like this was like a desperate plea to be seen. So Jae Woon stepped up.
Da Young initially flinched at being called by her alias, so casually thrown out by her mother with that knowing grin just hours before, but the soft voice and gaze of Jae Woon brought some warmth back to the name.
And then his voice changed to a tone she had never heard before.
“What happened.”
Something about it made her want to cry again. Instead, she tried to stand up. The muscles in her legs had tensed up, so she almost fell back down. He gripped her arms and helped to pull her up to standing, her hands clutching his forearms as she still felt wobbly.
“I can’t go home,” she said once she found her voice. I have no home.
“Then we’ll go to mine.”
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Da Young swallowed and turned back to him. “I shouldn’t…” but this didn’t sound convincing even to her own ears.
“Please. At least for tonight,” he said generously, trying to ignore the panic of sending her back out there the way she was now—or of being left alone again.
**Author’s Note**
We’re nearing the end of part three, but as I talked about last time, eh, might not even really matter. Also, I do not plan on taking any more breaks. I will do my best to get this story out there every week for all of you. I do plan to start posting bonus chapters in lieu of new chapters, but we’ll see how that goes! Just letting you know that instead of a new chapter, you may be getting a bonus chapter (meaning it’s not a part of the main story arc but still fun) in your email sometime soon. Enjoy!