Chapter 5 Monroe
Eleven weeks.
That’s how far along I am, according to Dr. Gong Hae-jin at Busan St. Mary’s Hospital. Eleven weeks pregnant, with a due date in early December—assuming everything goes smoothly between now and then.
Which is obviously what I’m hoping for.
I’ve never been a fan of hospitals. The clean, chemical smell within the air has always made me uneasy, as well as the way every room seems designed to be cold and sterile. Even routine check-ups leave me with sweaty palms and a racing heart.
Thankfully, Dr. Gong has made the experience as bearable as possible.
She’s a petite woman in her early forties, soft-spoken and well-mannered, with a neat bob and round glasses that give her an approachable, almost motherly appearance.
Her English is excellent—she mentioned spending a fellowship year in the States—and she has a way of explaining things that makes even the most intimidating medical information feel manageable.
“Everything looks good so far,” she said during the appointment, her tone calm and reassuring.
“Your hormone levels are healthy, and the early ultrasound shows normal development. It’s still very early, of course.
The first trimester can be unpredictable.
I’m prescribing you some prenatal vitamins for you to begin taking daily.
But there’s no reason to worry right now. ”
No reason to worry.
It should put an end to any concerns I have, but that’s easier said than done.
Later that same evening when he finally made it home, I told Jin about the appointment, curled up beside him on the sofa while he listened with his usual quiet attentiveness.
He asked questions—practical ones, mostly, about follow-up visits and vitamins and what symptoms I should watch for—and when I admitted how nervous the whole thing made me, he pulled me closer and pressed a kiss to my temple.
“You’re not doing this alone, Tokki-ya,” he murmured against my hair. “I’m here.”
More words that should soothe me.
Jin’s been more present and supportive than I ever could’ve expected from a man who spent most of his life avoiding emotional vulnerability.
But there’re still parts of his world that he keeps separate from me. Walls that he maintains in order to be as safe as possible.
Aspects that make me question what we’re doing.
The evening he came home late for dinner after conducting his “business”, I noticed flecks of dried blood on his leather jacket.
I didn’t ask for details. I never do.
But in light of the pregnancy, I wonder if we’re playing with fire. If the life Jin leads—and I do by extension—is too violent for the direction our relationship is headed in.
Marriage and now a child.
It was one thing when it was just me. I’m an adult with agency and the ability to make choices with eyes wide open, knowing exactly who Jin was and what his life demanded. I accepted the risks because I love him so much I’m willing to make peace with any danger his world might bring.
It’s changed now that we have a baby to think about.
An innocent life, growing inside me, completely dependent on the choices we make.
Is it responsible to raise a child in the shadow of the Baekho Pa? To bring a baby into a world of violent mafia feuds and enemies who often have no morals and no qualms about hurting innocents?
These are the thoughts that keep me up at night, spiraling in my mind like water circling a drain.
I’m probably overthinking it. I’m overreacting when Jin has explicitly made it clear I’m safe and he’s willing to take any measure to ensure I am.
It’s hormones messing with me. Making me more emotional and reactionary than I should be. These are the things I tell myself to quiet the anxiety and convince myself it’ll be okay.
All I can do is take things one day at a time and hope that love is enough to see us through…
The first day of the Korean school year arrives with crisp spring air and bright sunshine.
You’d think I were a student at the school the way I wake with a flutter of nerves in my belly—or maybe it’s more dreaded first-trimester nausea—and I change my outfit twice before settling on one.
Jin tries to convince me to take the school year off. He says he’d prefer if I didn’t work at all, especially during my pregnancy, worried I’ll exert and exhaust myself and it won’t be good for the baby.
“I will take care of you, Tokki-ya,” he tells me more than once. “We don’t need your income. I more than make enough for you to never work again. For us to live much more lavishly than we do.”
All things I’m aware of—as the boss in one of South Korea’s most powerful mafia syndicates, Jin is raking in dough. Though he’s naturally a modest and frugal person, he could provide me and our child with a very comfortable life.
It’s admittedly tempting, and an offer I still might take him up on once the baby is born, but for now I decide to go back to teaching.
The pregnancy’s come so suddenly and unexpectedly that I’m not ready to pause my career just yet.
For now, I need to maintain my own identity outside of him and our relationship and the impending reality of motherhood.
Teaching gives me that. It reminds me I’m more than just Jin’s fiancée or the future mother of his child.
At least for the next few months, I’d like to embrace my role as a schoolteacher before stepping into the one of mother.
He kisses me goodbye and reminds me to take it easy. I head to Suyeong Academy still with the nerves rippling away, but also with a sense of excitement to walk the school halls again.
After Jin and I faked my death while I was being targeted by the Baekho Pa, I almost chose not to return to the same school.
It was difficult enough establishing that the news reports were wrong. I wasn’t really some American expat that had gone missing or been murdered.
I was simply off the grid and on vacation during the summer break.
My identity had mistakenly been named as the murder victim, but actually, it was some other unfortunate and unknown American expat who was killed.
But I’ve always loved Suyeong Academy for its modern facilities and bright, well-behaved students. It’s truly the kind of teaching atmosphere I’ve always dreamed of as someone who pursued a career in education.
The faculty lounge is already buzzing with activity when I arrive.
It’s a spacious room decorated with sofas, small tables to sit and eat lunch or grade papers, and other conveniences like a kitchenette in the corner that often smells like coffee and burnt toast.
Teachers mill about, exchanging greetings and gossip and catching up after the break.
I barely make it three steps through the door before a familiar voice calls out to me.
“Monroe, over here!”
Kelly Daly flags me down from the table where she’s seated. Once I’m within reach, she’s popping out of her chair and pulling me into a quick hug that boasts the same enthusiasm as a golden retriever excited to see you. Then she’s stepping back to examine me with wide, bright eyes.
“Oh my god, you’re back! How was Philadelphia? How’s Mama Ross doing? Did you eat your weight in cheesesteaks? That’s what I would’ve done,” she rambles. “Oooh, and that sexy bad boy fiancé of yours?”
“Kelly—”
“I still can’t believe you’re engaged to a guy with fifty tattoos and who looks like some enforcer out of a K-drama thriller,” she goes on, waggling her brows suggestively. “Ugh, it’s soo hot!”
I can only laugh and shake my head at her rapid-fire interrogation.
Kelly’s always been a whirlwind of energy, but it’s usually at its most intense when we return from long breaks like this.
She’s dyed her hair red and gotten a tattoo of her own—a pink bow on her clavicle that she quickly shows me—and then she launches into what else she’s been up to over the break.
“Well, while you were off gallivanting with your hot fiancé, I was here suffering through the dating apps,” she says.
We’ve taken our seats at her table, and she shakes her head to the side, curling her hands around the mug of coffee she’s sipping.
“Do you know how many men on those things start the conversation with dick pics? It’s an epidemic, Monroe. A literal epidemic.”
“Don’t remind me,” I say with another laugh. “Exactly the reason the few times I tried any, I logged right off.”
“What possesses men to send random photos of their penis anyway? Are they that cocky about their size? Let me tell you, it’s misplaced. Almost every time.”
“Must have something to do with the male ego.”
“Ugh, that is it, isn’t it? I tried the club scene again too.
You know that place in Haeundae? Club Gongshi or something?
I went there with some other expat girls I met from a Facebook group.
Met a guy who seemed promising ’til he told me he was between jobs and asked if I could cover his drinks.
” She sighs dramatically, resting her head on her propped up elbow. “The search continues.”
“Hopefully this spring will be your season. You’ll finally meet someone at least halfway decent.”
“Oh, speaking of meeting new people,” she says, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “We have a new gyogam—you know, an assistant principal? His name’s Mr. Noh Myeong-su.”
“Oh wow, I didn’t know Mr. Chun was leaving. What’s the new one like?”
Kelly wrinkles her nose. “Kind of curt, honestly. Very dismissive. I introduced myself last week during orientation, and he barely looked at me. Just nodded and moved on like I wasn’t worth his time.”
“Maybe he was having a bad day,” I say. “Could be stress from starting a new position at a new school. I’ve heard there’s lots of pressure to make a good impression once you’re at the administrator level.”
“Eh, I guess that’s possible. We’ll find out today. He’s running the faculty meeting that’s about to start.”
As if on cue, the door to the lounge opens and the room quiets.