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He shrugged. “Maybe he feels responsible for her. Maybe he felt like an apology was owed and knew it would not come from her. Who knows.”

I fell silent, processing.

“Why do you look sad, jagiya?” he asked gently, tilting his face down to meet my eyes.

“I don’t know,” I admitted, frowning. “It’s not that I feel bad for Hana, not quite. I think… I think I feel sorry for how she chucked her life away.”

“Do not feel sorry for her, Kaiya,” he said firmly. “She made choices. She wanted things she had no right to want. Do not give her anything she would not have given you, or me.”

“No, no, I don’t,” I said quickly. “It’s not that simple.” I took a breath, trying to consolidate my thoughts. “I guess I just feel like it’s a waste.” I said eventually, because admitting that I did feel something approaching pity for Hana did no good.

Jihoon’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if he was trying to read the words under the ones I’d said aloud, but eventually, he dropped it.

“Her husband wrote that she was going into therapy, and as soon as they can, he is taking her back to New Zealand. They have family there.”

My eyes widened. “I’m surprised she agreed.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “I did not get the impression from his letter that she has much of a choice,” he grumbled, placing my hand against his chest, and winding his arms around my waist.

“Still, I guess it makes sense. She’s got nothing here for her anymore,” I said speculatively.

“Jagiya?”

“Hmm?”

“I do not want to talk about her anymore. Not now, and never again.”

“Oh.”

He lowered his head, nuzzling my jaw, tipping it up so he could slant his lips over mine.

Oh.

Chapter 52

October 12th

Iwoke up tangled with Jihoon, and it was only when he pulled away from me with a grumble that I opened my eyes.

“I have to go film,” he grouched, sitting on the edge of the bed to pull on his socks.

I remembered that today was the final day the docuseries would be filming. After today, everything went into post-production.

I rolled onto my side to watch him move around the room. The easy way he’d incorporated me into his world was not lost on me. My things sat next to his on the dresser. My toothbrush was in the holder next to his in the bathroom. He’d helped me unpack my suitcase the morning after he’d gotten back from Busan, sliding my case underneath the bed.

I’d protested gently. “I can only be here another few weeks.”

Now that I was no longer sponsored by ENT, I couldn’t stay in the country for long.

“Then stay as long as you can, jagiya,” he’d said with the smile I’d do anything for.

The truth was, I had no idea what I’d do next. I had no job. No flat to go back to. My folks didn’t need me hovering around. I had been cut loose. Rattling around like a spare pen in the bottom of a bag.

The thought had occurred to me to stay, but I hadn’t made any decisions yet. Whatever I did, I wouldn’t do it impulsively. I wasn’t some plot device in someone else’s story anymore. My life belonged to me, and I controlled my own narrative.

I watched Jihoon pull on an oversized hoodie. Then he paused, turned to look at me, and grinned.

“What?” I laughed, not even knowing why.