Epilogue
Cherry blossom trees in full bloom line the walking paths of Maeheon Citizen’s Forest, casting the park in different shades of white and pink. When the wind picks up, their petals break free, drifting like snowflakes before settling on the people walking below, here to take in the scenery.
Springtime in Korea is hands down, my favorite time of year. Call me a sap, but there’s just something about it—like the world breathes easier, and the colors turn brighter.
My eyes land on a particularly vibrant pink tree, drifting lower, past the petals to the woman standing beneath the lowest branches. Her phone raised, snapping close-ups of the flowers.
Among the blush and white, she glows like the bright yellow sun overhead.
Morgan—radiant and real—puts the blossoms to goddamn shame.
These last nine months together in South Korea have changed my fucking life. Together, Morgan and I have explored every corner of the country.
You’d think that since I was born here and spent summers with my grandparents just a few towns over, I wouldn’t get much out of it. But I’m seeing and feeling everything through new eyes.
Her eyes.
As if she completely rewired my connection to this place.
From the start, Morgan dove in headfirst, curious and eager and open. Reluctantly, I followed, assuming I already knew everything. But, looking back, I’m glad I took the leap.
Because now, I fucking love it here, especially the culture and people.
Scratch that— my culture and people.
And speaking of my people, I check in with my family every other day, even talking more with my grandfather. They’re doing fine—fucking thriving, actually. To be honest, it kind of pisses me off.
After all those years of thinking they needed me to function, it’s wild to find out they’re living their best lives without me.
I love them, I really do.
But also, fuck them.
Still, my heart warms at the sentiment. I know they did it on purpose—kicking me out of my own goddamn door. And because they did…
I finally feel free.
Free to live.
What’s that cliché phrase on every fake wooden sign at fucking Hobby Lobby?
Live, laugh, love?
I visibly cringe just thinking about it, still not over the one time Morgan dragged me into that store to buy decorations for the house. All I can say is never again.
Even if those signs spell out exactly how I feel.
Maybe I’ll find the Korean version. Something small. Something just for us. A sign to hang in our house when we get home in three months. That way, only Morgan, my family, and I will know what it says.
Oh, and good ole fucking John.
My eyes stealthily dart around the park. John’s here somewhere close by, waiting for the moment. At least, he better be. If he fucks this up, it’ll be me and him in my friend’s sparring ring later.
Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on the man. I mean, he is the one I have to thank for everything. If he hadn’t been his imposing self, who knows where the hell I’d be? Probably still sulking on my couch, drowning in whiskey and my bleak, day-to-day life, fighting to maintain control.
But thanks to him and, more or less, giving me the final push off the cliff, I’ve let go of every single thing keeping me from true happiness.
Even my business.
A month after we settled into Morgan’s forty-fifth-floor apartment with a killer view, the investors came back with a new offer—
One I couldn’t refuse.
And yes, I did say that in a perfect Italian accent, hand flick and all.
Changing lanes and my entire fucking direction, I invested in the brother I owe everything to. Because without him, I wouldn’t have Morgan.
I spent months trying to figure out how to repay him. So, when he came to me with plans to open a restaurant in Austin, I knew I had to back him. He agreed under the one condition that I’m a silent partner. Sounds familiar, right?
So, of course, I said yes, considering how well my last silent partnership turned out for me.
I mean, fuck, if it weren’t for Flex Factory and that grand opening sign, I never would’ve found her—the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with.
If she says yes.
My hand moves to my pocket and the object burning a fucking hole in it. It’s been hard to keep this under wraps and even harder to act normal today. I lost track of the number of times Morgan asked me if I’m okay. I blamed it on heartburn—even going so far as to force a couple of tums down my throat to really sell it.
Breathing in the breeze, slow and deep, my gaze follows a small cluster of petals, circling in the air, until they find their marks in Morgan’s curls.
God, she’s never looked so beautiful—in my favorite yellow sundress with flower petals in her hair—and I know it’s either now or never.
I’d prefer if there wasn’t such a crowd, but there’s always a goddamn crowd in Seoul. I’m hoping it’ll only add to the grand gesture, and people will applaud or some shit.
Quickly, I look for John again, and spot him about twenty feet away, hiding behind a tree with his phone at the ready. He gives me a thumbs up and an expectant look. I return it with a nod and a middle finger.
One more breath, and I force my feet forward, sidling up to Morgan. “Baby, if you take one more photo of that flower, you’re going to have to buy it dinner and leave it money on the nightstand.”
She scowls, lightly swatting my chest. “I need the perfect wallpaper for my phone. Elaine said she wants one too.”
“But they’ll still be in bloom when she, Raymond, and the girls get here.”
“True,” she says with a sigh, taking one final photo before slipping her phone into her bag. She turns to me, her hand finding mine. “I just can’t believe I’m seeing this. I know you showed me photos back in Texas, but it’s even more incredible in person. It’s so—”
“Breathtaking,” I cut in, stepping closer and tucking a curl behind her ear. “I mean you, baby. Not the flowers. I can’t take my eyes off of you.”
“Jiho,” she hums, a blush staining her cheeks. “You and your cheesy sweet-talking.”
“I’m serious, baby.” My hand finds her chin, gently tracing my thumb over her lips. “Every day, it’s like I only see you. You brought me to life, Morgan. You keep me warm. Shine light on everything. You’re my sun, and make me so fucking happy. I love you.”
She leans into my touch, her face tilting up to mine, eyes fluttering. “I love you, too, Jiho Park. I may be your sun, but you’re my air. I need you in order to breathe, so I think I’ll keep you forever.”
Her words hit where I need them to, calming my pounding heart and the nerves thrumming under my skin. And when I kneel on one knee, presenting her with a ring, I already see the answer shining in her golden-brown eyes.
“And I need you even more because you’re my everything, baby. Morgan Asterman, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
She gasps, one hand flying to her mouth as tears rim the edges of her eyes. First, her head bobs, fast and over and over. Then she’s on her knees with me, arms wrapping tightly around my neck.
Her answer comes next, steady and loud and clear as day, making me the happiest man in the fucking world. “Yes. A million times, yes.”
If John and the crowd followed through, I wouldn’t know. I’m too busy looking at her—my world’s color, my sunshine with a touch of chaos.
My love, my life.
My everything.