“So you’re actually going through with it?” Mi-sook asked, her voice laced with surprise. She had only just returned.
Mi-sook knew better than anyone about Ji-woo’s aversion to people. The crowd that had trailed her from elementary school all the way through university was made up of rumors, not friends. Ji-woo was a knot of anxiety and self-consciousness in the presence of others.
“Are you really going to do it?” Mi-sook pressed.
“Yes.”
“But you said there might be cameramen, that there would be too many people.”
“I might get eliminated before it even gets to that point…” Ji-woo fidgeted, her hands twisting in her lap as she avoided Mi-sook’s gaze. “For now, my only goal is to take down J Hospital.”
Mi-sook could only blink, perplexed by the sheer determination in her voice. And why, she wondered, did Ji-woo’s eyes keep flickering toward Seo Tae-joon as she said it? Mi-sook watched her friend closely. Something had happened.
“I’m sorry I’m not being much help,” Seo Tae-joon said quietly.
“No! It’s fine. You’ve always been there for me.”
His expression darkened. No matter how he turned the words over in his mind, they didn’t land like the compliment she intended. “Ji-woo, what do you even like about me? I can’t help you day or night. I feel worthless.”
“That’s because you were like a plant.”
“What?”
A flicker of panic crossed her face. Ji-woo quickly smoothed it over with a smile. “I meant you were always so quiet and gentle, lost in your own world,” she amended. “You often wouldn’t answer when I called. I was always the one talking endlessly, while you just listened.”
Mi-sook nodded in understanding. She was talking about his time in a vegetative state, of course. My, my… the girl could spin a convincing lie.
“…And as time went on, I just became more comfortable with you,” Ji-woo finished.
Mi-sook frowned. Was this just another layer of the deception, expertly crafted to sound like the truth? Or were Ji-woo’s genuine feelings accidentally spilling out? They say if you fight a monster long enough, you become one yourself. Mi-sook studied her friend. Was she deceiving him, or herself?
“Does that answer your question?” Ji-woo asked.
Seo Tae-joon stared at her, his gaze so deep and intense she felt she could drown in it.
“Should we go to bed now?”
The moment she had been dreading. From the second she’d woken him, spurred on by some misplaced sympathy, she knew this was inevitable. She’d never be able to invent a convincing excuse to sleep in a separate room. Suggesting it would only plant a seed of doubt that would grow until Seo Tae-joon was suspicious of her every move. There was no way out.
“I’ll take a shower and meet you upstairs,” she said.
“Then can we shower together?”
“What? No,” Ji-woo said, shocked.
“Why are you so surprised?” he asked.
“Because I… I was brought up in a very conservative household,” she stammered. “I was taught it was scandalous to even sit next to a boy after the age of seven. I know it sounds strange, but that’s just how I was raised.”
“Wow… and does that include your own husband?”
“Marriage isn’t a free pass for everything, you know.”
“Then what is?” Seo Tae-joon moved closer, his voice dropping to a soft murmur. “Teach me, Ji-woo. There’s so much I’ve forgotten.”
She opened her mouth to reply, but no words came.
“Ji-woo?”
“Y-yes?” she squeaked.
“I’m afraid my self-worth is going to plummet if you keep avoiding me like this. You don’t treat me like your husband at all.”
Ji-woo couldn’t respond.
“You left me sleeping for a week because I’m like this. You don’t really need me, do you? Am I wrong?”
Ice flooded her veins. He wasn’t wrong, and the truth of it was both frustrating and deeply embarrassing. It felt as though he had reached inside her and pulled out the very thought she’d tried hardest to hide.
“The doctor said nothing is certain yet. And I was always by your side while you were asleep…”
They were pathetic excuses, and she knew it. The words sounded hollow even to her own ears, and her voice trailed off into silence. He just shook his head, as if dismissing her flimsy defense entirely.
“All I know is that you hold my mornings in your hands.” His words struck her with a strange and potent guilt. Her insincerity could make him question everything.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to teach me,” he said. “But don’t stop me from doing my duty as your husband.”
“And that ‘duty’ involves showering together?” Ji-woo asked reluctantly.
He tilted his head. “I don’t understand, Ji-woo. What are you so afraid of? We must have been intimate before, right? This is just a shower.”
She was trapped. Her own lies were closing in on her.
“Maybe the reason we haven’t been interested in sex is because we’re always so distant,” he suggested. “Just be a little more open with me.”
Ji-woo had run out of excuses, her will to argue completely gone. All she wanted was for him to be quiet. “Okay,” she conceded. “I’ll let you wash my back. Only my back. Nothing more.”
He smiled, utterly content.