Gathering Storm
…………… It had been just over a month since I started living in this small coastal town on the southern shore. Adapting to the unique rural culture took some time. For example, in front of the neighborhood convenience store. Whenever Yeom Hana and I went out for a stroll, the local grannies were always there, holding court like they owned the place.
Their eyes lit up the moment they spotted us. It was that unfiltered curiosity typical of rural life, starved for entertainment.
“Aigoo, look at the newlyweds passing by.”
“Ah, yes. Hello, grannies.”
“Your belly's coming along nicely. How many months now?”
“About four.”
“Aigoo, so pretty. But every time I see you, I think the same thing—the bride's too young!”
The granny's gaze shifted to me.
“The groom must be something special. Did he save the country in a past life or what?”
“Ah, well... uh...”
I let out an awkward cough, embarrassed. The age gap between Yeom Hana and me was 25 years. You could tell just by looking at us. It was the kind of difference that raised eyebrows anywhere. Back in Seoul, no one would bat an eye—it wasn't their business. Neighbors there didn't even know what each other looked like, let alone pry into love lives. But in a tight-knit coastal village like this? Everyone knew everyone. A new couple moving in was prime gossip fodder.
“But groom...”
“Yes?”
One granny flashed a mischievous grin.
“Don't torment her too much at night. The poor bride will wear out! Youth is great, but go easy, real easy!”
“Pardon!?”
“You can't overdo it with a pregnant woman!”
Why are they saying this right in front of us? I sneaked a glance at Yeom Hana. Contrary to my fears, she was utterly unfazed. If anything, she hugged my arm tighter and shot back with shameless flair.
“Ayy, granny! My oppa's just so strong~ I tell him to stop, but he won't listen!”
“Hey!!”
“What? It's true.”
“Still!”
The grannies' laughter echoed down the alley.
“Heh heh, newlyweds have it good. Live well, you two!”
I grabbed Yeom Hana's hand and hightailed it out of there. “Great chemistry!” trailed after us from behind.
“...You’re unbelievable.”
“What? It's true. Ajusshi's got stamina.”
She replied without a care and kept walking.
“C'mon, I'm hungry.”
……………
When we settled down, I got a new phone. New number. Wiped all my contacts clean. Now, the only ones in my phone were Yeom Hana and the factory folks. Hers had me, the local OB-GYN, and the neighbor grannies who looked after her. I'd severed every tie to the past.
But the anxiety lingered, spawning phantom vibration syndrome. Bzzz. A vibration in my work pants pocket, and I'd jolt, hand diving in reflexively. Was it a summons from the police station? The courts? Or had Lee Jin-ah or Han Sol finally tracked down my number?
Of course, nothing. No calls, no texts. I did this three or four times a day. Obsession, plain and simple.
“Tch.”
Midnight, Yeom Hana fast asleep. I eased the front door open without waking her and stepped out. I rummaged in my puffer jacket pocket and pulled out a palm-sized device. Not my phone this time—
an e-cigarette.
Digging through Han Kang's memories, he'd quit smoking when Han Sol was born. Real cigarettes back then. Quitting for that kid, only to pick it up again after ditching her. A self-mocking laugh slipped out.
I put it to my lips and pressed the button. Chiiik—the coil heated, sweet vapor sliding down my throat.
“Fuuu...”
White mist billowed into the air.
“...Heh heh.”
Truth be told, this half-assed thing wasn't what I craved. I wanted the harsh kick of strong tobacco. The throat-scraping burn, the heavy crush on my lungs. Something poisonous to incinerate the anxiety gnawing at my brain.
But here I was, puffing peach-flavored e-liquid. For Yeom Hana. For the baby in her belly. Couldn't risk the smell clinging to my clothes. Secondhand smoke was bad for the little one.
“...Jeez.”
Too damn sweet for something I'd picked up after 20 years. I wanted the bitter dregs of Han Kang's life, but all I got was this steam. A sea breeze blew in, scattering the vapor in seconds.
I hadn't told Yeom Hana about the vaping. Why? Didn't want her seeing me like this. Weak-minded ajusshi. Spot on fact.
I took another drag, and my pocket buzzed again—or so it felt. Phone was silent, as expected. Screen on, I opened the search bar. Hesitated, then typed.
Search: Special Security Management Bureau Han Kang
No Results
Search: Han Kang sex crimes. This time, unrelated junk popped up. Articles on a retail investor's suicide off Hangang Bridge, crimes near Hangang Park, water temps in the Hangang River. No exposés naming Han Kang the person anywhere.
Search: Han Kang sex crimes
Unrelated results: Hangang Bridge suicide, Hangang Park crimes, Hangang River water temperature...
A farce caused by the name overlapping with the river. Relief or suspicion? Lee Jin-ah had sworn she'd post it. Forums, SNS, trashy cable shows. But two months later, zero traces.
Buried if posted? Never posted? Or prepping something else?
I checked her Instagram. Private account. Nothing visible. Profile pic even default now.
No word on Han Sol either. If she'd really killed herself, legal guardian me would've gotten a call—from cops or hospital. None came.
Relief tangled with dread in my chest, knotting and unknotting. Weird. I wanted to know if they were okay, but also never find out. If they were thriving, great. If not, it was my fault—reckless triple-dating, then running. Knowing would haunt me forever.
Better off in the dark.
...Probably.
“Fuuu...”
Fresh e-vapor scattered in the sea wind. Smoke-like but not smoke. Cigarette-like but not a cigarette. My life now, too. Peaceful on the surface, but was it real peace?
……………
One peaceful day. Yeom Hana and I sat side by side, gazing at the sea. The sun dipped beyond the horizon, painting the sky from orange to purple. The breeze tousled her flame-orange hair.
A picture-perfect scene, utter tranquility. But I couldn't fully savor it. Petty recent incidents grated on my nerves.
First, at the factory. Post-lunch, vending machine coffee in hand, the shift boss sidled up.
“H-Han.”
“Yes, boss?”
Instead of his usual mix coffee stirred in its packet, he stared at his smartphone screen. Frowning, he looked up and fixed on my face.
“Han, you know anyone in Seoul?”
“...Seoul? Why do you ask?”
He laughed awkwardly, brushing it off.
“Oh, nothing. Just curious since you're from there. Don't mind me.”
He left with a strange expression. No big deal, maybe. Outsider curiosity.
Second was worse. Yesterday, post-work mailbox: one letter. Empty inside. As I picked it up, a faint whiff of perfume—sophisticated floral, clashing with the salty sea air.
Maybe their message. They know I'm here. Or just paranoia.
Seesawing between possibilities. Phantom vibes escalating to persecution delusions. Messy mind.
Suddenly, Yeom Hana snatched my hand, placing it on her swollen belly.
“Ajusshi's hands are cold. Heart feeling chilly?”
“...It's the weather.”
“Hmmm.”
She didn't buy it but didn't push.
“Feel that? Moving.”
She pressed my palm firm against her belly. Even through the puffer, the curve was prominent. I focused.
Honestly? Nothing. Doc said quickening starts past 20 weeks. This was 15-16 max. A finger-sized fetus wouldn't punch through.
Gut rumble or imagination. But...
“Yeah. Something squirming.”
Couldn't douse her joy. White lie for goodwill. Mom says it moved, it moved.
“Right? Told ya. General, total general. Strong as hell.”
Her grin faded slightly.
“Ajusshi. Not sleeping well lately?”
Blunt question. She peered up, seeing right through my flinch.
“What? I sleep the second my head hits the pillow.”
“Liar. I know you sneak out at dawn.”
“...”
“E-cig smell on your clothes. Peach, right?”
Busted. Totally. Thought I was stealthy, but she knew everything. Midnight e-vape sessions.
“It's fine. Not mad. But...”
She stroked her belly.
“We'll make it, us. Don't overthink.”
My face burned.
Damn. Twenty-five years older, yet so obvious even to a 20-year-old. Adult fail.
“...Yeah. We'll be fine.”
I reached out, stroking her hair. The sun sank fully, sky darkening. Sea still calm.
But somewhere, waves were rising. Hundreds of kilometers away, unseen, unheard.
No telling when they'd crash this shore.