All I want for Christmas is Yoon

“The show’s doing well.”

“It can always do better.”

“And she agreed to do this?”

“ Unlike you, she knows what her manager plans is best.” The manipulative techniques are the same. My chest tightens, and my palms sweat. I back away, desperate for air. Ignoring his command to come back, I rush outside, breathing hard as my mind grows fuzzy. I walk the streets, turning on a whim as I try to escape the ugly voice in my head that sounds unmistakably like Sang. If you want this as badly as you claim to, you’ll work harder. Push through the pain. To be number one, you must be willing to give up everything else.

I dig my fingernails into my palms and breathe deeply. I am in control now. I left the band to move away from that. Muscles tense, I spot a park. Moving to sit down on a bench, I stare into nothing. I focus on my breathing, inhaling for three counts, and exhaling for three more. I’m spiraling. I’ve come to recognize the signs. Too much more, and I’ll breakdown. Leaning down, I rest my elbows on my knees. I should be happy. I have everything I once dreamt of plus more, and yet I’m miserable. Things have to change.

Admitting it to myself loosens a tension I’ve held inside for too long. It’s time to come up with a plan and make my move. I need to talk to someone. I remove my phone.

“Yoon?” Her voice is husky and sleep worn. I soak up her soft tone.

“Have you ever realized you’re in a toxic situation and knew it needed to change, but still found yourself afraid to take the first step?”

“Yes. Are you okay?” I hear the rustle of sheets.

“No. I’m really not.”

“What can I do?”

“Listen.”

“I’m all ears.”

I take a leap of faith and unload. “I’ve been with Sang since the very start of my career. He was the one who got me into the K-Pop training camp and got me through the intense training. They weighed us weekly and at times daily. We’d eat eggs, a few slices of yams, and if we were being rewarded, we might get fruit. The lessons were relentless. Dancing, acting, singing, and etiquette.”

“This sounds awful, Yoon.” There’s compassion in her voice, but I don’t feel pitied.

“It allowed me to be creative, and it gave my family a better life. Especially my sister,” I answer honestly.

“Because she has CP?”

She remembered. Warmth spreads through me.

“Yes, and my parents weren’t able to afford the therapy and better equipment that would improve her life and freedom.”

“I understand sacrificing for your family, but she’s in a good place now, isn’t she?”

“Yes. My sister takes care of herself and me on most days.” I chuckle.

“I’m glad to hear it. The question you need to ask yourself is, why are you still allowing your manager to treat you this way?”

“Guilt? Gratitude?”

“He found you the opportunities, but you were the one who put in the hard work.”

“Why does it make so much sense when you say it?”

Her laughter is light and airy. “Because I’m removed from the situation.”

“I know it’s late there. I’m sorry I woke you.”

“Hey. You’ve listened to me vent as well.”

There’s a magic buffer that exists when we’re talking on the phone on two opposite ends of the world. I say things I never would’ve to anyone else. A strange sense of intimacy and trust has formed between us. I don’t want it to stop here. The thought startles. Instead of pulling away, I decide to lean into it because I want more with Hartley. At nearly thirty, I’m not getting any younger, and she has a beautiful soul I want to know inside and out.

Chapter Three