“Your ID, please?” It was a question the staff member had asked countless times, but today, her voice faltered.
“Do I need it?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve lost it. What’s the procedure if I don’t have it on me?”
“Ah… then would you mind filling out an application for a reissuance first?” She hurriedly pushed a form across the counter.
The application required a resident registration number, something he had no memory of. Seo Tae-joon’s brow furrowed. The staff member watched as he froze, pen hovering over the paper. Finally, Seo Tae-joon set the pen down and rubbed his temples.
“Can I borrow your phone for a moment? I need to make a call.”
“My phone?” she asked. It was unusual, seeing someone without a phone these days. But his eyes, though handsome, held a threatening glint that made her comply. She nudged her phone across the counter.
Seo Tae-joon picked it up and slowly dialed a number from memory. His jaw clenched when an unpleasant, familiar voice answered.
“It’s me,” Seo Tae-joon said.
“…Tae-joon?”
The voice on the other end was cold, devoid of any emotion. It sounded just like his own. He still didn’t understand the root of this hostility he felt for his brother, a feeling entirely different from the shock of learning Han Ji-woo was his wife.
“Funny. I only memorized your number because I was trying so hard to erase it behind Ji-woo’s back.”
There was no response from the other end. Seo Tae-joon let out a short, sharp sigh. “It’s hard to forget someone as irritating as you.”
A heavy silence stretched between them. The only sound from the other line was the rhythmic tap of a finger against a desk.
“So, what is it?” his brother finally asked.
“I need my resident registration number.”
A short, dry laugh crackled through the phone. “So your memory isn’t back yet.”
It was impossible to tell if the tone held relief or disappointment.
“My resident registration number,” Seo Tae-joon repeated, his voice flat, unwilling to prolong the conversation.
“Why don’t you ask Han Ji-woo?”
He knew Seo Ki-seok was just trying to provoke him. “Don’t you dare say her name.”
“She’d tear the stars from the sky for you if you asked,” Seo Ki-seok said, his voice laced with mocking amusement. “She is quite… loyal.”
Seo Tae-joon pulled the phone an inch from his ear and squeezed his eyes shut, reining in his anger. It took a concerted effort to swallow the volley of curses rising in his throat.
“You’d better not make me ask a third time,” Seo Tae-joon said coldly.
“And what is the name of the document you need, Tae-joon?” Seo Ki-seok asked.
“Family relation certificate.”
Seo Ki-seok burst out laughing. The tendons on the back of Seo Tae-joon’s hand stood out, straining against the skin as he gripped the phone tighter.
“It’ll take some time to get a new ID card, you know,” his brother said.
“That’s none of your business,” Seo Tae-joon snapped.
“Of course. But since you’ve given me such a pleasant surprise, I’ll give you a little gift.”
Seo Tae-joon’s eyebrows twitched.
“Just wait there a moment,” Seo Ki-seok said, and the line went dead.
Seo Tae-joon placed the phone on the counter, a storm of conflicted feelings churning inside him. Several minutes passed. Then, a door to an inner office flew open and a panicked-looking man emerged. It was the head of the township office. He half-ran toward Seo Tae-joon, his face pale.
“We will do our best to reissue your ID within the day,” the man stammered, handing over a piece of paper with a trembling hand.
Family Relation Certificate.
Seo Tae-joon’s eyes scanned the document.
“What do you think marriage is?”
The second man Ji-woo met was a carpenter near her own age, with impressively thick arms. His tanned skin and booming voice made her flinch, but he was friendly enough. After chatting endlessly about his hobbies, he had suddenly changed the subject with that question.
“Uh…” Ji-woo hesitated. Marriage is a tomb, she thought.
The man shrugged, placing his huge hands on the table. “For me, marriage is a major life event.”
Ji-woo nodded, listening attentively.
“You said you’re thirty-two, right?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Then you’ll probably understand what I’m talking about.”
“Understand what, exactly?” Ji-woo asked, genuinely confused.
“Showing our parents that we’re living a happy life!” the man said, his face alight with excitement.
Ji-woo was at a loss for words.
“Things have changed, of course. I wouldn’t expect my wife to make sacrifices,” he continued. “I want to go camping, maybe travel abroad for a month with my mother and my father-in-law.” His eyes twinkled. “What do you think about that, Miss Ji-woo?”
“Ah…” Ji-woo suddenly found it hard to breathe. She knew his intentions were good, but the moment he said ‘marriage,’ Seo Tae-joon’s face had floated into her mind. She shook her head, trying to brush the image away. “It sounds like you have some wonderful plans, but…”
Ji-woo took a deep breath and forced a smile. “I don’t really love my family.”
“What?” The man’s eyes widened. She didn’t miss the flicker of a frown that crossed his face. A sinking feeling settled in her stomach. The realization that she might never be able to meet an ordinary person and simply enjoy her time hit her like a physical blow.
Ji-woo felt a hot wave of shame. She’d been rejected and made to feel inadequate so many times, yet she never learned. She always tried to be someone she wasn’t, to fit into a life she couldn’t have.
Ji-woo hadn’t connected with any of the men she met. One couldn’t let go of his first love; the other was a devoted son. Both were wonderful people, ready to build a life with someone. But in Ji-woo’s world, there was no one else. There were only the trees she had planted. She realized their world wasn’t made for her. She might not be able to live in it at all.
“You’re all I have. All I need. I thought I was the same for you.”
If only she could hear those words again. Outside the window, grey clouds were rolling in, slowly darkening the town. Ji-woo just wanted to leave, to run home.
The five men she’d met today all had stories—of their school days, their families, their past relationships. With each one, Ji-woo felt more and more disconnected, more upset. She had no interesting, typical stories to share, from her past or her present.
“Miss Ji-woo? What are you thinking about?”
Ji-woo lifted her head, startled. “Ah… it’s nothing.”
She had to admit it. She couldn’t forget the time she had spent with Seo Tae-joon over these past few months.
What is wrong with me?!
The man in front of her took a sip of his coffee. “Miss Ji-woo, what’s your ideal type?”
“I… don’t think I have one.”
“Really?”
Ji-woo’s expression darkened. Hwang Jo-yoon had said something to her once that she could neither deny nor forget.
“You’re not the kind of woman who can date a man! You hate being with people!”
“Who in the world would understand a woman who goes to see trees every night and makes fertilizer at home on the weekends?”
She turned to look out the window, watching as the sky opened up and rain began to pour. Her heart pounded. Her face flushed. Am I going insane? Ji-woo rubbed her eyes, unable to believe what she was seeing. There, outside the window, a man was standing alone in the downpour.
Everyone on the street was running for shelter, but Seo Tae-joon just stood there, a motionless statue in the deluge, his gaze fixed on the café where she sat.