Chapter Nine #3
Timira knows what gobaek means—confession, usually one of love.
Alice had explained the pun the first time they’d watched the time-travelling drama Gobaek Couple , one of their favourites, one they kept going back to every now and again.
She turns a little red but mostly just wants to laugh at Haneul’s dad humour.
It’s similar to hers, something Bhaskar would always make fun of.
She suddenly misses him and Alice and feels a pang of sadness.
She hasn’t spoken with them since informing them of Rodrigo’s signing, having used work as an excuse to avoid their calls through the week.
Overcome with guilt, her heart sinks a little and her shoulders drop.
‘Ms Marak, are you all right?’
Haneul’s warm voice puts life back in her and her gaze again settles on his mouth that seems to be moving, but dazed Timira can only hear a soft mumble.
‘Ms Marak! Hello!’
Haneul tries to reach Timira again and this time succeeds in breaking through her daze.
‘Yes, sorry! Um, I was lost in thought for a second there …’
‘But I am right here! Whose thoughts were you lost in?’ Haneul interrupts impatiently, teasingly.
Blushing hard, Timira tucks imaginary strands of hair behind her ear and finds herself unable to bring her eyes to meet Haneul’s.
‘You seem to be in a good mood today! Maybe you should have whatever you had today for breakfast every day!’
Timira attempts to recover some lost ground while continuing to stare at her feet, wriggling her toes that have been peeping from under the strap of her work slides.
‘Cheeky! Your coffee’s getting cold; is that how you like it?’
Timira had all but forgotten about the mug she had been holding all this while. She now notices that the steam spiralling from the contents inside has almost dissipated.
‘I did not plan on being waylaid. Oh, gosh! Look at the time!
Sorry, Daepyonim. I better get back to work!’
There’s no way I’m going to be played by this beautiful creature. Don’t worry, heart! No more getting trampled upon. I won’t be seduced by that enchanting face and wicked smile. Never!
Haneul, his attempt at starting afresh thwarted, feels dejected
but doesn’t give up. ‘Of course. Don’t let me keep you. But let’s get you a fresh cup of brew, perhaps? Allow me!’
Huh? The CEO is offering to brew me coffee?
He doesn’t even drink coffee! What will the pantry congregation think?
And has he forgotten about his weird AF behaviour in my cabin last week?
Where on earth has he been through the week?
Does he think he can turn a new leaf and start whenever he feels like? Shouldn’t he be apologizing first?
‘Don’t think I’m craving it any longer …’
‘Ms Marak, are you still upset about last week?’ Haneul hasn’t finished, but Timira finally looks up.
Wow, he’s really asking for it, is he not? Why should I hold back? Fine, let’s see what you’ve got, mister!
‘Upset? Why would I be upset? And what are you even talking about?’ Timira feigns ignorance even though she has replayed in her mind the events from that morning every day since.
She has hoped to run into Haneul every day of the week and has felt a little more crushed as he continued to disappoint.
But her pride is unwilling to let him know this.
‘I understand if you don’t wish to talk about it. But, you must know that I’m deeply embarrassed about everything …’
Haneul keeps prattling on but Timira is zoning out.
Kya bak raha hai yeh? Is this a formal letter of apology? Why does he sound like a goddamned robot? He took an entire week off to come up with this?
‘… I had time to reflect on my actions and I realized I’ve not made it any easier for you, even as you did your best to adjust in these alien surroundings …’
‘Don’t worry about it, Daepyonim. Apology accepted!’
Timira cuts in impatiently, causing Haneul to smart and gulp down all his unspoken words.
‘If you are done, may I kindly be excused?’
Without even waiting for Haneul to reply, Timira turns to leave while Haneul stays rooted to his place. She walks a few steps away, but stops abruptly and retraces her steps back to Haneul.
‘Where exactly have you been this week?’
What the F am I doing? This is none of my business. He’s engaged to someone else. HE DOESN’T LIKE ME. Yeh main kya kar rahi hoon? Abort mission, Tim! Abort mission!
Haneul, looking nonplussed from Timira’s erratic behaviour, mutters incoherently. Smacking her lips, Timira asks him to speak up. And Haneul does, obeying her command like a loyal pup.
‘I was in Namhae.’
That’s it? Hello! Where on earth is Namhae? What’s in Namhae? What work did he have in Namhae? Who was he with in Namhae? Did he think of me when he was in Namhae?
Timira wants to know everything but doesn’t ask. Instead, she just stares at Haneul’s face with an expression that says, ‘And? Go on!’
Haneul obliges. ‘My grandmother lives in Namhae. I went to see her.’
Timira knows about his grandmother. The grandmother who owns the business that his mother oversees and a corporate CEO runs since her retirement a few years ago.
The grandmother who turned her only son-in-law into one of Korea’s most successful prosecutors.
The same grandmother who didn’t let Haneul have birthday parties but supported his dreams. She softens a little at the mention of his grandmother and almost immediately misses both of hers.
Especially the one that’s still alive and kicking ass—her father’s ninety-something mother who looks like a blob of buttery mash, has a mind and tongue that’s sharp like a butcher’s knife, and makes a mean kappa .
‘Hmm, okay. Is she all right? Was she happy to see you?’
Why am I asking him stupid questions? He must think I’m an idiot. Ugh, I missed you. I was unhappy to not get to see you! Did you miss me, too? Every morning this past week, I walked into office, hoping to see you.
Haneul can sense Timira soften a little. Her lips are no longer pursed. The usual twinkle in her eyes is starting to make a comeback. Buoyed by these encouraging signs, Haneul decides to take things up a notch.
‘She is absolutely fine—in the pink of health. In fact, she might have more energy than me, I suspect!’
Timira smiles and lightly knocks her head with her knuckles,
‘Knock on wood.’
‘Namhae is beautiful, you know. You’ll love it! Hang on, let me show you!’
Haneul reaches into his pocket and fishes out his phone. He is scrolling through his camera reel as Timira looks at him eagerly when her phone rings.
‘Go ahead, answer the call. I’ll wait.’ Haneul’s voice is warm like fresh toast and sweet like honey. He stretches his arm out, taking away the mug she has been holding all this while and gestures at her to take the call. The familiar knot in Timira’s stomach is threatening to come back.
Reluctantly, Timira breaks free from Haneul’s gaze and steps away to answer. The call is from an unknown number.
‘Hello! Yeobusaeyo !’
‘Hi, Timira!’ A high-pitched voice trills at the other end of the line.
Timira groans silently on recognizing the owner of the voice. Wah, kya timing hai chudail ki!
* * *
NAMHAE, KOREA
‘ Aniyeyo, Halmeoni ! C’mon. How can I forget about you? I swear, I’ve just been neck-deep in work. See! I’ve come to see you as soon as I could!’
Haneul’s octogenarian grandmother pouts a little and pretends to be busy tending to a bush of dainty pink English roses.
Ramrod-straight and still fit as a fiddle, she had retired a few years back and moved to the idyllic location of Namhae island where her company had set up a world-class medical rejuvenation centre and spa.
‘Oh, Halmeoni! Won’t you smile for me? Baegeuppuda ! Won’t you feed me? You won’t make me japchae ? You know I sooooo miss the ones you make!’
Haneul bends a little to match his grandmother’s grand height of 154 cm and lightly grabs her shoulders.
‘ Wae ? Why are you disturbing me? Can’t you see I’m busy? Go and sit quietly. I’ll ask the cooks to make you japchae!’
‘But I want you to make me some!’
Seeing Haneul throw a tantrum like he would as a child mollifies her a little. She softens her tone but continues to complain.
‘What took you so long? What if I died waiting for you? Why do you young ones forget old people?’
Haneul feels a stab of pain in his chest and wraps his arms around the diminutive body of his grandmother.
‘ Mianhaeyo , Halmeoni. Jeongmal mianhaeyo [Really sorry]. I’ll visit often, I promise.’
Resting his face on her cashmere-covered back, he breathes deeply and inhales her all-too-familiar fragrance—a mix of tangerine, detergent, Dior J’adore and the sun. She puts the scissors she has been using to trim the bushes down, and gently strokes his hands.
‘Let’s go in. Help me chop the veggies. I’ll let the cooks take the morning off!’
Linking his arms with hers, he gallantly leads her back into the house, a sprawling three-storied bungalow with seven bedrooms, ten bathrooms, two kitchens, a mini-theatre, a swimming pool and a wine cellar that had taken over two years to construct.
* * *
‘I’m sure you are not visiting just to see me. Did you have work at the centre?’
Haneul is now wolfing down hot, freshly made japchae, grabbing more than his steel chopsticks can manage. He doesn’t want her to worry so he doesn’t answer immediately.
‘Eat slowly or your stomach will get upset, aga !’
Haneul, face still buried inside the noodles, smiles and proceeds to eat in smaller morsels.
‘So is it work? Or are you really here to see me?’
‘I’m here for you, Halmeoni! Chinchayo . Bogossipossoyo ! I missed you so much!’
Satisfied, she doesn’t ask for more proof of Haneul’s love for her.
‘Let me fetch some more pa-kimchi for you!’
* * *
‘Why is your phone switched off, Haneul? What’s wrong with you?’ The female voice barges into the room, demanding an answer.