Seoulmates (Seoul 2)

But as the three talk, Yujun’s expression darkens in anger rather than grief. His dimples disappear and his lush lips thin into a tight line. My hand tightens around Nayeon’s. Over Yujun’s shoulder, the mother catches sight of her daughter’s hand tucked in mine and rushes over to tug her children away, as if holding my hand for another second might infect her daughter with something unsavory. In the frown on her face, I read the words my ears can’t understand. They’ve discovered something about me that is distasteful, so much so that leaving their children with Yujun and me for another hour is repugnant.

“Yujun and you. No belong,” she says. “Wrong. Wrong.”

“Ya, Kim Jinae.” Yujun steps to my side. “Hajima.”

Kim Jinae is not cowed. “You hurt him.” She points to Yujun. “Family not accept. Stop or hurt.”

I want to shrink down into a small ball and roll into the patch of grass a few feet away. Kim Jinae might not know much English, but it’s enough to get her point across.

“She’s wrong,” Yujun tells me. His hands come up to cover my ears. “Don’t listen to her. What is going on here, hyung-nim? I told you who Hara was on the phone when we agreed to this.”

Choi Juwon, or hyung-nim as Yujun called him, shrugs almost helplessly. “I told her but she must not have understood.”

Yujun glares at the older man. “You fucking liar. You never told her because you knew if you did, she would not have agreed. You wanted a free afternoon to have sex with your wife and lied about it.”

The man looks at his feet. Yujun swings and I catch him just in time. “The babies!” I cry. “Not in front of the children.”

Yujun vibrates with anger under my hands.

Choi Juwon backs up. “I’m sorry, Yujun-ah, but Jinae is right. I shouldn’t have agreed to this. I said you were bringing your girlfriend. She didn’t realize it was Choi Wansu’s daughter until my mom called.” He pushes a hand through his hair. “Don’t bring her to Chuseok. No one will approve. You push your father to his death, but maybe it is good he cannot see or hear so that he does not witness what his son has become.”

Gasp. Yujun flinches as the blow from his cousin lands hard and solid. Yujun slander? Not on my watch. It’s one thing to insult me. I’m used to it, but Yujun is the kindest, sweetest person alive, and insulting him is low-class and terrible.

“You should not come. You aren’t worthy of breathing the same air as Yujun,” I snap. I don’t know if the two understand me, but we’re done here. I’m not going to allow them to hurt Yujun, of all people. “I want to leave,” I demand, knowing it’s the only way to get Yujun away from here. He’s always put me first, unfortunately, and this time is no different. Face tight, he unlocks the door to his car and wrenches the door open. I slide inside. Once he’s behind the steering wheel, he hesitates, and for a minute I wonder if he’s fantasizing about ramming his cousin’s car into the next province. The cousins watch us as he pulls out, perhaps having the same fearful thoughts. I hope so. I hope they don’t sleep tonight and they step on their kids’ LEGO bricks every morning until Nayeon and Nara get to middle school.

The car ride back to Wansu’s is silent. Yujun is pissed. His fingers are tight around the steering wheel, and anger roils off of him like a magnetic wave, crashing against me. I know he’s not mad at me, but I can still feel it and it sets my teeth on edge. I clamp them together so that they don’t shatter, so that I don’t start crying, so that I don’t make this situation worse than it is.

I’d somehow convinced myself that this would work out. The afternoon was so fun until the parents showed up and sucked the joy out of us like a high-powered vacuum.

I’m mad for Yujun as well. That asshole had the audacity to suggest Yujun put his father in the grave. How dare he? I know that cousin is jealous. His car was a domestic one, while Yujun’s is foreign. The cousin’s handbag is a name brand, but not one of the luxury brands that Wansu piles in my dressing room. Those hurtful words were full of bitterness at what Yujun has and the cousin does not. I hope Yujun sees this.

“He’s jealous.”

“They’re jealous.”

We both say it at the same time. Yujun huffs out a small, disbelieving laugh before reaching over to grab my hand.

“Good. I thought you might be hurt.”

“Me? You’re the one—” I can’t even bring myself to repeat that vile comment.

“It’s nothing I haven’t heard before.”