The End of the Line
“Ah... I should have blocked her.”
They say that overthinking leads to a blunder, so he simply stopped thinking and turned back to his friends. To his friends, who were looking at him with the kind of eager anticipation one might have while watching a romantic movie, he snapped, “...Everyone, get out of my house. Now! Hurry!”
“Look at him. He said he was so happy to be divorced, but he’s falling apart the moment his ex-wife reaches out.”
“That’s how he’ll eventually realize his celibacy was the right choice. Repeating the same mistakes...”
One friend, who had been playing DCS World instead of drinking after packing his bags, drove his car, and the rest piled in to head to another friend’s place. Meanwhile, he ignored all their advice and started typing.
He decided to start with a very cold tone. He didn’t want to look pathetic after a divorce. Wouldn't it look like he had been waiting for her call? He wanted to show her that her message meant nothing—that it was just like a message from any other woman, completely insignificant. And then,
The reply came so quickly after he sent the message that he was startled. He didn't even read it; he pressed the hold button to turn off the screen. Then, to avoid the disaster of accidentally reading the message via fingerprint recognition, he pressed the button lightly with his fingernail and read the message from the preview.
He waited about ten minutes before sending a reply, but this time, the '1' disappeared the moment it appeared. As he turned off the screen again, a flood of messages arrived.
He stared at his phone, shocked out of his wits. First of all, Seo Jia wasn't the type of person to reply to KakaoTalk messages this quickly. If she found it bothersome, she would just call. And she wouldn't care about his circumstances, either. There were times she had forced him to pick up the phone even while he was in a meeting. She didn't care that her husband was a conglomerate executive. It wasn't that she was rude—at the time, he had believed she did it because she loved him so much.
But this time, it was different. She was replying instantly. On top of that, she wasn't just calling him out of the blue; she was politely expressing her desire to talk and asking for his consent. Secondly, she wasn't the type of person to send multiple messy messages like this. The Seo Jia he knew would clearly write down what she had to say in one message and wouldn't send anything else until she got a definitive answer.
But now, she felt... somehow, like she wanted to get what she wanted quickly, but at the same time, she felt like she shouldn't—a conflicting emotion, and a sense that she was walking on eggshells. While he was pondering how to reply, a series of white speech bubbles popped up one after another.
Hmm. The last one seemed to reveal her true nature. But he couldn't reply just yet. What should he say? Her behavior right now was, well... it was like she had gone berserk. To put it bluntly, she seemed insane. He didn't know why, but to go as far as coming to his house? She was the one who had packed her bags and left on her own accord; why would she come back here? ‘Did she leave something hidden?’ He had looked around, but there was nothing in the room she used, nor in the master bedroom. He remembered a box by the nightstand, but she had told him that if he opened it, she would be truly furious, so he hadn't. It wasn't there now.
After looking around the room and picking up his phone again, the messages he had sent were gone, pushed up by her new ones.
At that moment, he sent a message. Maybe I should just see her outside. It would be better to meet outside. He was sincere. This crazy woman might show up with a knife. Besides, he hadn't changed the door code yet, and she would still have the elevator and entrance key cards. He wondered if he should change the code, but a KakaoTalk message popped up immediately.
She seemed to be apologizing too much. Her parents had also called her a bad person. The image of her mother telling her to go and beg relentlessly, and the face of her father who had been so enraged he slapped her cheek, flashed through her mind. Gazing blankly at the balcony, she muttered,
“The house is on the 20th floor... ...That’s a relief.”
With a dry, emotionless expression, she tidied up the house. As she put items neatly into drawers and hung her clothes on hangers one by one, she thought of her memories with him. ‘Maybe it’s better to just die.’ ‘No, dying is good.’ ‘I should die, right?’ ‘I have no choice but to die, right?’ ‘I have to die, someone like me.’
Her pupils lost their focus. She had organized the house well. The living room was beautiful. There wasn't a drop of water in the bathroom. Ah, she noticed his toothbrush, which she had brought along by mistake. Then, she opened a small gift box. It contained the letters she and he had exchanged. She sat on the edge of the bed and read the things he had given her.
[I know I'm young and it might be bothersome, but I'll try to mature quickly. I'm sorry.]
[I remembered you were upset last time. I won't do it again.]
It seemed that even when they were dating, he had been subconsciously intimidated by her. Of course, there were words of love, but every single letter contained, at least once, an apology from him to her. After reading all the letters, she sat on the bed and stared into the void, thinking, ‘I really was trash.’
She understood. She understood his heart, which had only pretended to hold onto her for a moment when she asked for a divorce, only to go through with it for real. She would have been sick of her, too. Giving her everything she asked for, only to be nagged at every day, and throwing a tantrum about divorce at the drop of a hat. All while acting like a spoiled brat. ‘I have to... apologize. That’s right. Even if I die.’
She had tidied up the living room and the house because she was going to die. The sleeping pills she had gathered into the nightstand must have numbered at least 20 to 30. Now, she would lie straight on the bed where she had cried so much, take the pills, and fall into a very deep sleep. In her dreams, she hoped he would forgive her. And in that dream, from which she would hopefully never wake, she wanted to spend time only happily with him. She promised herself that after she died, she would never, ever say harsh words to him, do bad things, or cause him any stress. But escaping like this was difficult. After reading all the letters, she thought she had to apologize. So she sent,
She hoped he wasn't.
However, seeing his message saying he couldn't talk on the phone, she was overcome by a strange feeling. For a moment, her mind conjured an image of him with liquor bottles on the table, young women on both his arms, looking as happy as if he owned the world, while she lived in such despair. She didn't know where that image came from. So,
Yes. This was how she could appeal strongly. She decided she had to go see him. If she took a taxi, it would take less than 30 minutes. Anywhere within Seoul, she could arrive within that time. She just needed to know where he was.
Of course, it was important. She had to meet him now, even now... she had to say it. That she was grateful he had loved her. That she was sorry her repayment was so pathetic. She had thought that she was a toxic existence who shouldn't have been with him. She had to tell him that while they were divorced, her heart had been torn apart without him, that it was so hard, and she didn't want to do anything. She had to say that the fact that she was all alone in the house made her so lonely. She would also say that she wouldn't ask him to take her back. She had committed too many sins, and even out of shame, she couldn't ask for that. She wanted to say that she was wrong, and since she was apologizing for that wrong, he only needed to forgive her. No, she didn't even need forgiveness. Honestly, she just wanted to say that and leave. Before she died, she wanted to meet the man she loved most—more than her parents. The ex-husband who had always been considerate, loved her, understood her, supported her, and was her strength.
She felt like she had been too demanding. Someone going to apologize shouldn't be like that. If he happened to be in a bad mood and said he didn't want to see her, she would face a truly lonely death. She had been so selfish toward him, and although she realized that fact only now, wasn't it okay to be a little greedy before she died? Even so, she said she was sorry. But no matter how much she said it, there was no answer. Feeling frustrated as if she were talking to a wall, she sent the messages, opened her eyes wide, and trembled all over, her mouth agape as she bit her lower lip, wondering what she was doing, acting so out of character.
Even so,
I'm going to die soon anyway, and don't people change before they die? Isn't that the concept? That was her mindset. And then, a reply came from him. He said to meet outside. How could she meet him outside? It didn't seem like something she could just talk about briefly outside and then go back in. Having told him to stay in the house, she felt a massive sense of relief at his single word, “Okay,” and put her phone in her bag.
She sat in the taxi and looked out the window. Taking this ride, and taking another when she returned home. That would be the last time she saw the night view of Seoul. She thought of herself, dragging him to Namsan Tower, putting a lock on it, and telling him he had to be good to her for the rest of his life. She had kicked away that blessing with her own feet, preventing that promise from being kept, and by the time she realized she couldn't take it back, everything was over. Right now. So, because it was the end... because it was the end, she repeated to herself that she was just letting him know it was the end. Otherwise, she felt like she would burst into tears in the taxi.