Chapter 19 Monroe
“I don’t know what he just said, but the way he said it? I felt that in my spirit.”
I blink and look up from the towel I’m folding. Mom is standing by the couch, her attention glued to the TV, where I’ve turned on a concert of some K-pop boyband.
“Well these boys certainly know how to move their hips,” she cackles.
“Mom, let’s keep it PG, okay?” I groan, shaking my head. A smile tugs at my lips as I finish folding the towel in my hand and move onto the next piece of laundry.
It’s Sunday, and we’re in the thick of chores around the apartment. Just another way we’ve tried to bring some semblance of normalcy back to our lives.
Mom’s willing to stay in South Korea as long as I need her, and honestly? I’m grateful she’s here doing what she can to keep me on track.
If not for her, I’d have a lot more days spent shut inside my bedroom, wasting away under the covers, barely even bothering to sip a drop of water.
Mom makes sure I at least attempt to function; she does her best to crack jokes and lighten the mood though I know she’s hurting too.
Losing a grandchild can’t possibly be easy. Neither is watching your only daughter go through what I have.
As I roll together some socks, I can feel her watching me again out of the corner of my eye. The little side glances and quick checks she does on me throughout the day. Her way of making sure I’m okay.
But also probably noticing how unlike myself I am right now.
Normally, a moment like this would have us laughing and dancing along to the K-pop music. Still, Mom doesn’t force me to pretend to be something I’m not right now.
She just provides the atmosphere in hopes it’ll boost my mood, and though it doesn’t work, I appreciate the effort.
It’s my own issue to deal with; my sense of loss that has muted me in every other facet of life.
What I need is a break from the apartment. Maybe to go outside for a little while and clear my head.
I finish rolling the last pair of socks and add it to the pile on the laundry basket, then glance around the apartment looking for some excuse to make a store run.
“Hey, Mom, I’m going to run to the mart around the corner real quick. We’re almost out of dryer sheets.”
“Dryer sheets? Moni, we’re done with the laundry already. We can pick that up next time we go grocery shopping…”
“Yeah, but I never like to leave it up to chance. Dryer sheets… um, are important, and I’d hate for us to forget to replace them.”
Mom’s brows draw closer as if she’s confused by the fact that I’m suddenly so concerned with dryer sheets. Though she ends up nodding and deciding not to call me out on the obvious lie.
“Alright, baby. Pick up some mango ice cream while you’re at it.”
It’s only a few short minutes later that I’m emerging on the street outside, basking in the spring’s brisk afternoon air.
Thankfully, I only live a couple streets from several commercial businesses, including a small grocery mart that sells most necessities.
It might sound silly, but getting out and stretching my legs helps immediately. Making the short walk to the store almost instantly lightens my mood.
At least in the moment… until the next wave of sadness (which always seems to come) washes over me.
The mart emerges at the end of the block I turn on, passing by the dry cleaners and japchae spot along the way.
For a Sunday, there’re plenty of people around. Cars coasting by and other pedestrians wandering by. But there’s also a pesky man in all black trailing me as if he’s inconspicuous when he couldn’t be more obvious if he tried.
It’s not the first time I’ve felt like I’m being followed in recent days except this time it’s a lot more exasperating.
I slow up and heave a sigh.
“You know,” I say. “For someone who’s supposed to be good at this, you’re really bad at acting natural.”
Sang-cheol has the decency to rub the back of his neck and offer an embarrassed smile. He was standing outside the dry cleaner’s pretend-reading a newspaper, head bowed.
The jig now up, he folds the newspaper under his arm and says, “Miss Monroe, what a coincidence. I was picking up some clothes—”
“Save the excuses,” I interrupt. “You think I don’t know Jin put you up to this? He has you following me, right?”
“Well… ah… I…” he stammers.
“We’re broken up. He doesn’t get to keep tabs on me anymore. You pass that message to him.”
I move forward to keep going, but Sang-cheol side steps to block my path. “You don’t understand, Miss Monroe. The threat… it’s serious. More serious than you know.”
“You mean from Black Shell? How am I supposed to take this threat seriously if you won’t tell me who he is? What’s going on?”
His brow creases as the stress seems to get to him, his hand returning to the nape of his neck.
He glances around checking for eavesdroppers then takes another step closer.
“It’s an old foe of his father’s. From the time of his death.
Baekho-je Jin-tae hasn’t told many about it, but I heard from Min-gyu about how he’s promised to finish what he started all those years ago. ”
I’m so lost as to what Sang-cheol’s even talking about until it hits me and I gasp.
Jin’s father. All those years ago.
He must be talking about how Jin became an orphan, back when he’d witnessed some horrible gangsters murder his entire family.
It’s a topic Jin has never discussed much. The only time he did it was in a moment of vulnerability when he confessed why he hated his family’s hanok that he had inherited. It was the literal home where his parents were killed.
“Oh…” I mutter finally, then as an afterthought add, “um… thanks for telling me. But it’s really not his job to take care of me anymore.”
Despite how tight my chest suddenly feels and how hard my heart’s thumping, I step past him and force myself to walk the rest of the way to the store without a glance back.
I’m torn whether to reach out to Jin and attempt to get through to him. Let him know we could still find some way past our issues. That he can even talk to me if he needs someone to confide in.
But the other part of me reminds myself how I’ve already tried. I spent weeks desperately pleading with him not to shut down on me or push me away. It’s not my place to force him to open up or get him to stop reverting to his old ways.
He has to want those things for himself.
Sang-cheol lets me go without stopping me.
I slip inside the small grocery mart, picking up a basket from the entrance and heading down the aisle with canned and boxed goods. Though I’m browsing as if nothing else is on my mind and I’m actually searching for a specific product, deep down I’m still distracted.
Jin’s still on my mind.
If the threat is from Jin’s childhood trauma, then that’s got to have opened up a whole other can of worms. It’s probably made him so conflicted about his tragic past and our recent loss—
“Oh!” I yelp, staggering back half a step.
I’ve turned away from the canned soups only to accidentally bump into another shopper strolling by.
My abrupt apology turns into surprise as it dawns on me I recognize the person I’ve bumped into.
“Mr. Noh? I didn’t see you. Sorry I stepped right into you. ”
He shakes his head, chuckling lightly. “I believe it was a two-person accident. We both stepped into each other. I guess this is what my wife meant when she said I need to pay better attention.”
“Doing some grocery shopping?”
“I have a list,” he says, holding up the Post-it note. “My wife never sends me without it. We’re having Doenjang-jjigae—fermented soybean paste stew—for dinner. But with no soybean paste at home, you can imagine how that would be difficult. So here I am, picking some up.”
“Sort of the same. Except… um, dryer sheets.”
“Ah, I see.” His expression softens as the lines around his eyes crinkle, and he pauses for half a second. “I heard about what happened. My condolences to you and your fiancé.”
“Uh… thank you. It’s been difficult. But I’m managing.”
“If there’s anything I can do, please don’t hesitate to ask. You were such a bright presence at the academy. Everyone misses you.”
“I appreciate that.” I force a smile that probably looks as strained as it feels. “Really.”
We exchange a few more pleasantries before parting ways. Once in the next aisle, I grab the first box of dryer sheets my hand touches without even looking at the brand.
The entire way home my thoughts are more jumbled than they were before I left. I’m thrown off by having to deal with other people I know offering their sympathies and being forced to address my loss.
If I struggle in a one-on-one conversation with Mr. Noh, how will I manage if I did return to Suyeong Academy and had to face the rest of my colleagues? What about my students?
But most of all, I’m thinking about Jin all over again.
The threat Sang-cheol mentioned and how Jin’s explicitly instructed him to keep an eye on me, despite our breakup.
His childhood trauma and how that’s likely playing a factor in how he’s dealing with what we’ve been through today.
There’s still so much left unsaid. So many unanswered questions. Some of them I begin to wonder if I can answer myself…
I haven’t been to the apartment in Namcheon-dong since the day I moved out. It feels strange returning weeks later when Jin isn’t home.
My key still works. The place still looks the same. Yet as I unlock the door and step inside, I’m immediately encapsulated by the cool draft in the room.
The vibe in the air has changed, as if no warmth remains. It’s been stripped, leaving nothing but coldness in its wake.
I timed my visit for the middle of the afternoon aware that Jin’s likely busy with Baekho Pa business right now.
It’s best if we don’t run into each other; if he doesn’t even know I’m here.
Cutting across the living room, I slip into the room Jin uses as both a home office and gym. It’s modestly furnished, with only a plain desk and leather chair and then equipment like a treadmill and huge punching bag attached to a chain.