44. （RUN）away
VERENA
44
Lying in bed at my apartment felt strangely alien. After spending so much time at Jae’s house, this place felt like a forgotten corner of my life. The sheets smelled like lavender instead of his cologne, and the silence was deafening compared to the hum of his late-night pacing.
I never thought I’d find out the wedding was called off through an online tabloid. It was clickbait, and Laura sent it to me with a “WTF?” as the subject line. My mother pounded on my door at six in the morning, and Auntie had called me an hour ago.
Jae sent me one text saying It’s done.
And I was mad. I was livid. I was also sad.
I needed to talk to Auntie. So I wrapped a scarf around my head like a celebrity trying to dodge paparazzi and threw on oversized sunglasses. Because, really, why not? At this point, I might as well embrace the drama.
The subway ride to my mother’s house was a blur of grimy seats and indistinct announcements. When I finally knocked on the door, my mother opened it with a look that was part worry, part exasperation.
“What the hell happened?” she demanded.
“Where is Auntie?” I asked, ignoring her question.
“Jae was just here,” she said, eyes narrowing as if trying to read my mind.
I walked past her to the guest room. Auntie looked frail, but there she was, painting her nails a bright red. Because what else would she be doing, I suppose?
“I expected you,” she said, wiggling her fingers at me. “Come here, let me paint your toenails.”
Leave it to Auntie to make me feel comfortable despite it all. I kicked off my shoes and sat down, sticking my feet out toward her.
“Red?” I asked. “Feeling bold today?”
“Always,” she replied with a wink. “A woman should never lose her sense of style, no matter what.”
As she carefully applied the polish, I felt a wave of calm wash over me. Auntie had that effect. She made everything seem a little less daunting, a little more manageable.
“So,” she said casually, “how are you holding up?”
I let out a bitter laugh. “I don’t know, Auntie. How am I supposed to feel after finding out my wedding was called off from a tabloid?”
She paused, looking up at me with a serious expression. “You’re supposed to feel however you feel. And right now, you look like you could use a stiff drink and a good cry.”
I nodded, tears welling up in my eyes. “Jae just sent me a text. One text. It’s done. That’s all I got.”
Auntie sighed, capping the nail polish. “Men can be such idiots sometimes. But you know Jae loves you, right? He’s just…lost right now.”
I shook my head, tears welling up again. “I don’t know, Auntie. I don’t know anything anymore.”
“I guess it was always supposed to happen this way,” Auntie said with a sad smile.
“Do you know?” I asked, the question hanging heavily between us.
“That it was all fake?” she replied. “Of course I knew. Why else do you think I encouraged it?” She muttered a curse in Korean and laughed to herself.
I blinked, taken aback. “What do you mean?”
Auntie looked at me with a knowing smile. “I know my nephew better than anyone. He needed a distraction, and I needed an excuse to spend time with him. He also needed an excuse to admit to you how he was feeling. I never expected that wedding to happen, but I had so much fun planning it. I told Danny I wanted the decor to be used for my funeral!”
My eyes widened in shock.
She shrugged. “Why not? Those centerpieces are too gorgeous to go to waste.”
I cringed. “Auntie, that’s morbid.”
“It’s practical,” she countered, waving a hand dismissively. “And stylish. I intend to go out with a bang, darling. You should know that by now.”
“Only you could make planning a wedding and a funeral sound like a fabulous event.”
“Exactly,” she said, nodding sagely. “Life is too short to be boring. Or to not have red toenails.”
I wiggled my newly painted toes. “Thanks for this. I needed it.”
Auntie leaned back, admiring her work. “Anytime, sweetheart. Now, tell me more about what’s going on in that beautiful head of yours.”
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “I feel like an idiot, Auntie. I knew from the beginning that Jae was avoiding things. That this was just…fake. But when he started to…treat me like it was real, I wanted it to be real. But Jae…he’s so caught up in his own world. Rightfully so. And now…it’s all so complicated.”
She nodded, her expression softening. “Love is always complicated. But you and Jae have something special. It’s just…buried under a lot of mess right now. It’ll pass.”
Auntie started coughing, the fit making her tiny body shake and my chest clench with worry. I reached out, steadying her until the coughing subsided.
“I don’t know if we can dig our way out of it,” I admitted, my voice breaking. “Tell me what I should do.”
She looked at me with a gentle but firm expression. “You do what you’ve done for the last ten years, darling.”
I let out a choked laugh. “Assist him?”
She shook her head, her eyes narrowing. “Don’t diminish your role in such a way. You managed him.”
I frowned, ignoring the ache in my chest. “What do you mean?”
“You march yourself into that office. You tell him he’s taking the next two months off, and you coordinate his schedule. And then…” A shadow crossed her expression, a hint of sorrow in her eyes. “The hardest part.”
I swallowed hard, my heart pounding. “What?”
“You leave.”
I stiffened. “Auntie, you need me.”
She shook her head gently. “I need Jae, and I have your mother. I need you to leave so he can stop using you as a crutch. I need you to leave and write that book you’ve told me you want to write for the last ten years. I need you to leave and focus on you. Jae needs to accept his grief, and you need to accept yourself.”
Tears streamed down my cheeks, and she reached out to wipe them away, the familiar smell of nail polish hitting me as she smiled warmly. “I want you to give me the gift of knowing you’re finally chasing your dreams. That was always the goal. Not the wedding. Not the rehearsal dinner. I wanted Jae to realize if he doesn’t want to be alone, he has to be still for a while, and if you want your dreams, you have to stop running on someone else’s path.”
I looked at her, her words sinking in, and for the first time, I saw the strength behind her frail exterior. “But, Auntie, what if he falls apart without me?”
She shook her head again, more firmly this time. “He won’t. He’ll learn to stand on his own, and you…you’ll finally learn to soar. It’s time, Verena. It’s time for both of you to find your own way.”
I nodded slowly, the realization dawning on me. “And what if I fall apart?”
Auntie squeezed my hand, her grip surprisingly strong. “Then you pick up the pieces and build something even more beautiful. You deserve to live your own life, not just be a part of his.”
The tears flowed freely now, and I didn’t try to stop them. “I’m scared, Auntie.”
“I know, sweetheart,” she whispered, pulling me into a gentle hug. “But sometimes, the bravest thing you can do is let go. Let go of him, let go of the fear, and hold on to yourself.”
I clung to her, the scent of her familiar perfume mingling with the nail polish, creating a sense of comfort and home. Auntie always knew how to make everything seem okay, even when it felt like the world was falling apart.
“Today,” she continued, her voice soft but steady, “I want you to hold me for a little while. Smile with me. Let’s do facials and giggle and enjoy these precious moments.”
I nodded, tears still streaming down my cheeks. “Okay, Auntie. We can do that.”
“But then,” she said, her tone turning more serious, her eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that pierced through my heart, “I want you to leave. And please, darling, don’t come back. Remember me just like this—full of life and sass, painting my nails red. I want you to remember me in my big hats and bikinis at the beach, not as someone wasting away. Think of me laughing too loud and spilling expensive wine on the couch without a care in the world.”
She paused, a wistful smile touching her lips. “I want you to hold on to the memories of us giggling during late-night facials, of me insisting on wearing the most outrageous outfits just because they made me feel fabulous. Remember me as the woman who always had a wicked comeback, who loved fiercely and lived boldly.”
I could feel the tears welling up again, but she squeezed my hand, grounding me. “Don’t return for the funeral, don’t come in my final days. My real wish, my deepest desire, is for you to stay away until Jae finds his strength. Let him come to you when he’s ready, when he truly deserves you. Only then will he have earned the right to stand by your side.”
She took a deep breath, her eyes shining with unshed tears, but her voice steady. “I want this to be our goodbye for now. I want you to remember me just like this, painting my nails red and dishing out sass. Let this be the image you carry with you. Promise me, Verena.”
I nodded, the lump in my throat making it hard to speak. “I promise, Auntie.”
“Good,” she said, her smile returning, warmer and softer. “Now, let’s make today a beautiful memory to add to your collection. And always, always remember that I love you, and I’m proud of the woman you are and the one you’re becoming.”
We forced ourselves not to cry. Instead, we giggled like conspirators in a secret club. We did sassy things, eating store-bought cake straight out of the box with our fingers in bed, smearing icing on our lips like war paint. We snuggled in her thick, fur robes, those extravagant, impractical things she loved, and we listened to old records that crackled with memories. We drank wine out of plastic cups, toasting to everything and nothing, savoring each stolen moment as if it were the last drop of precious joy. Auntie’s laughter was a bright melody, a defiant stand against the encroaching darkness.
We lay back, our heads touching, sharing secrets and dreams under the canopy of her fading strength. She told me stories from her wild youth, adventures and loves and losses, painting a vivid tapestry of a life lived with passion and without regret.
As the night grew darker, so did the pressure in my chest. Finally, when the words we’d avoided could no longer be postponed, she turned to me.
“It’s time to say goodbye,” she whispered, her voice steady but filled with unspoken emotion. “Write your own story, Verena. Live it boldly, fiercely.”
I could feel the tears streaming down my cheeks, a silent testament to the promise I was making. “I promise, Auntie.”
She pulled me into a weak hug, her frail arms still managing to convey all the love and strength she had left. “Good,” she murmured. “Now, go. Be brave. Be you.”