Chapter 8 Monroe #2
There’s a small twinkle in his gaze that tells me he’s figured it out. He knows I’m expecting… or at least senses that I am.
We thank him one last time, then Jin leads me out of the office, eager to get me home.
“I told you it was too dangerous,” Jin lectures for the fifth time in the last two hours.
I’m curled up on the couch fiddling with my phone while he paces through our living room, hardly his usual composed self.
The fact that his fiancée—his pregnant fiancée no less—was mugged at knifepoint is something he’s not letting go anytime soon.
“You said there was nothing to worry about,” I remind him. “Remember? You said you were being cautious and I had no reason to be concerned. Was this some guy from your world, Jin?”
“I obviously didn’t think you’d be attacked right outside your school.”
“Obviously neither did I! Trust me, it was just as much of a shock to me in the moment.”
A heavy silence settles between us. Jin exhales and runs a hand through his hair as he finally stops pacing.
“You’re using a private driver from now on,” he says with finality.
It’s not a question; it’s a statement of fact.
A matter he’s already decided.
I want to argue or push back on it, simply out of sheer stubbornness. I’m not the most hardheaded person, but I can be when it feels like decisions are being made for me.
Yet I decide to let the issue go.
I’m pregnant and engaged. I’m about to be a mother and have to think about the baby first and foremost.
If the mugger had really used his blade on me, there’s a real chance he could’ve hurt the baby. Is it really worth being prideful about something like my commute to work when I can be safe and reasonable and accept the private driver?
“Okay,” I say quietly, setting down my phone. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s better if I let one of your men drive me.”
Jin crosses to me, kneeling in front of the couch so we’re eye level. He takes my hands in his, his thumb brushing over my engagement ring—still firmly on my finger, thank God.
“This will work out,” he says softly. The same gentleness he has only for me. “You’ll get to work faster. No subways or strange alleys. Just door-to-door service like you deserve.”
I smile a little. “I do deserve to be waited on, don’t I?”
He chuckles then thumbs my cheek. “Yes, you do, Tokki-ya. I’ve told you you need to let me take care of you and our baby. What else am I for?”
My phone buzzes on the sofa cushion next to me. I glance at the screen and see Mom’s face lighting up the display.
“I texted her earlier,” I explain, reaching for it. “About the mugging. She’s probably freaking out.”
Jin’s expression suggests he understands exactly what I’m in for. He rises and moves toward the kitchen, giving me space.
I answer the call. “Hey, Mommy.”
“Monroe Marie Ross!” Mom explodes through the speaker, loud enough that Jin probably hears it from the other room. “Who tried to hurt my baby? Give me a name and an address, and I will fly to South Korea tonight and whoop his ass myself!”
“Mom, it’s handled. He’s in police custody.”
“Police custody? That’s not good enough! What if he gets out? What if he comes back?”
“He won’t. And besides, Jin’s arranging a driver for me. I won’t be walking alone anymore.”
She huffs begrudgingly. “Well… good. That’s the smartest thing I’ve heard all day.”
I smile despite myself. “I knew you’d approve.”
We talk for a few more minutes; my mother’s concern gradually mellowing into her usual sparkling warmth. It’s as the conversation winds down I realize maybe it’s time I stop putting off the big news I’ve kept hidden from her.
“Mom,” I say, “I have something to tell you.”
“What is it, baby?”
I draw a breath, then go for it. “Your baby is going to have a baby.”
She releases an instant squeal that’s so loud I have to hold the phone away from my ear.
“OH MY LORD! Monroe! Are you serious? You’re pregnant? I’m going to be a grandmama?”
“You’re going to be a grandmama,” I confirm, laughing.
What follows is another twenty minutes of nonstop gushing.
She asks about due dates and how I’m feeling.
She offers tips and advice for things like my aching feet and the nausea I’ve been dealing with.
Then she insists she’s coming to Busan for the last part of my pregnancy and will be there when the baby is born.
There’s inevitable talk about baby names, where she rattles off some she’s always liked and explains that we should have a list of boy and girl names ready just in case.
I let her ramble, my heart full.
By the time we hang up, Jin has set a steaming bowl of seolleongtang soup—otherwise known as Korean beef broth—on the coffee table in front of me, along with a fresh cup of tea.
“This smells sooo amazing,” I say, reaching for the spoon. “I’m starving. Apparently fighting off a mugger works up an appetite.”
Jin remains serious, hardly amused. “It better be the only time. Or I might just keep you from returning to that school, Tokki-ya.”
“It was a freak incident,” I insist, blowing on a spoonful of the rich beef broth. “A coincidence. Nothing more.”
He doesn’t look convinced, but he drops the subject so I can eat my soup and we can watch some TV.
Meanwhile, I tell myself the same thing I told him.
The mugging was scary and a shock to the system. But it was a coincidence and nothing more.