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“Yeong, that’s the past. No one will remember what you did back then.”

“I do,” I rush out. “I remember what happened. I’m the one who was shamed and bullied until my father sent me to America so I wouldn’t disgrace my family any longer.”

“I know,” he says solemnly. “But you don’t have to worry about that now. You are a nurse. You have a great job, a good life in the U.S. Just let the past go.”

I want to yell at my friend that no, I’m not going to just let it go, but I refrain and take several deep breaths to calm my racing heart before I say anything that will ruin our friendship.

“Yeong?” Eun’s voice softens.

“Call me Lyric. That’s what I go by now,” I say and then glance out the window and watch the slanting rain still cutting through the air.

“Okay, Lyric. We’ll be there no later than two.” Then Eun hangs up.

I lower my phone onto the table and close my eyes, trying to fight the memories of the past. The pain from my father’s slaps. The humiliation of the video spreading like wildfire across the news channels. The disgust on the face of every person I knew before my father shipped me off. Especially the three other group members who also relied on me. They never talked to me again.

“What’s wrong?”

My grandmother’s voice is a balm to the ache in my chest. I open my eyes and look at the only person who didn’t judge me then. Still doesn’t now. I turn my gaze down to the uneaten food. “Nothing.”

She kneels next to me and turns my head toward her so she can cup my cheeks. She studies me for a moment and then smiles. “Why are you sad? You don’t want to see your best friend, Eun?”

I meet her eyes and see a wealth of love in them. Her small smile calms me even more. To this day, I never understood how my grandmother had a son who is so cold and callous. Especially to his own family. But she shows me her love and the love I should have received from my parents.

“I do. But I’m not sure if I should leave you here alone.” It’s a good enough of an excuse to hide the lie, especially if Min Jun is coming. Besides, I’m not sure if Halmeoni should be by herself.

“I won’t be. Your aunt, Min Young is coming tomorrow. So there’s no excuse for you not to go,” she says and drops her hand from my face. “Now. Finish eating.” She stands and walks toward the kitchen, leaving me slightly confused.

Then it hits me. “You set this up.” I stare at my grandmother in disbelief. “Why?”

She turns and grins, a smile that lights up her wrinkled face, and shakes her head. “No. But you need to be with people your own age. Not an old, frail woman like me.” She then disappears back into the kitchen, leaving me shaking my head.

You might be old, Halmeoni, but you are definitely not frail.

I finish my meal in silence, clean up and then scrounge through more of my father’s old clothes, gathering what I can bear to wear in public into my backpack for the weekend. I decide to do a little shopping while I’m in Busan to add to my wardrobe.

Later that afternoon, Eun shows up, along with our friends—minus Min Jun. With a quick goodbye to my grandmother, I climb in the front seat of Eun’s Genesis while he slides into the driver’s seat. Everyone else, scrambles into the back seat.

“Are you ready for some fun?” Eun waggles his thick brows at me.

“Sure,” I say, cracking a small smile at my friend. For some reason, though, I have a niggling feeling that this weekend will be anything but.

Chapter Three

Rafe

The plane touches down at about two in the afternoon on Friday, Seoul time. I feel like shit, since I barely got any sleep on the plane. Or in the weeks since Lyric has been gone, if I’m being honest.

Fig, who’s my tag-along bodyguard, hasn’t left my side since we departed O’Hare Wednesday night at ten p.m.

“Are you ready for this?” Fig questions, his eyes narrowed on me. He’s been talking to me in Korean throughout the entire flight. I’ve told myself repeatedly that he’s trying to be helpful, but I’m ready to pound my fist into his face if he doesn’t shut up.

“I got it,” I lie. I hardly have the word hello down, let alone the rest of the language Fig is trying to shovel into my head.

“I hope so. Because if you don’t, you came all this way for nothing,” he says, shaking his head.

“Give me a little credit. I have the app to translate what I can’t understand.” I lift my cell phone toward his face. “I got it covered.”

Fig bursts out laughing. “I highly doubt that. But we will see.”