The Final Farewell
After tidying up the apartment a bit, I sat on the sofa and waited. Well, she said she was coming. Honestly, the fact that I was even waiting for her felt ridiculous. Aren't we strangers now that we're divorced? I don't know why she had to contact me in the middle of the night and exhaust me like this. What was even more exhausting was the sequence of messages:
It sounded like she was coming to kill me, but I held back my irritation and waited. I figured it wouldn't be too late to think things over after hearing what she had to say. Soon, the sound of a key card tapping against the lock, the electronic beep, and the door opening followed in succession. The fact that she still held the key card to our former marital home after the divorce was just absurd.
As I slowly stood up from the sofa and walked toward the entrance, I saw her standing there—bare-faced, without a trace of makeup, looking like she was on the verge of tears. She was dressed decently, as always, but her face was the problem. She looked so haggard that I was worried someone might see her, so I told her to come inside and shut the door. She tried to walk into the living room, but I stopped her.
“Don’t come any further.”
“...Okay.”
She tried to say something, but resigned herself and hung her head. Her spirit was completely broken. I didn't know what had happened, but it was clear she’d been through something terrible. If it were the past, I would have been curious about what she’d been up to for the last two months, but now, I had absolutely no curiosity left for her. I just wanted to hear what this bothersome person had to say and send her on her way.
It wasn't going to be like some drama or novel where the ex-wife shows up and I react with, “Honey, I’ve been waiting for you,” or “I’m so sorry...!” Reality is cold, and my heart was even colder than that. I was fed up. I was exhausted. Toward the end, she had been bringing up the topic of divorce once a month. Looking back, her requests whenever she brought it up were simple: help with the laundry, do the dishes, clean the bathroom, put your shoes straight, organize the room, etc. Who would hate that if she just asked nicely?
But instead, it was always: “Do the laundry for once, don’t make me do everything. Do you only earn money?” “What’s so hard about doing the dishes after you eat? Do you get hives if dish soap touches your hands?” “Go clean the bathroom. I always have to tell you to do it. You have to do it at least once every three days!” “Hey! I told you not to just kick your shoes off like that. Do you really want to get divorced?”
I think even a judge would agree: “Yeah, I’d divorce him too. Approved.” Even without mimicking her high-pitched voice, I’m certain any married male juror would nod in agreement, and I have no doubt that a judge—unless it was a woman—would understand. Regardless, I had no feelings left for her. It felt like I had cleaned everything up neatly. Unlike her, I had thought about a lot of things during the divorce deliberation period. The things she said to me, her actions, and so on. I had weighed whether I should just endure it or if we really should divorce, and it felt like the scale had tipped firmly to the right.
That said, I wasn't a victim of that "dishwashing theory" people talk about. She had watched me for a long time, started dating me as soon as she became an adult, and she was even the one who proposed first. She never sat around doing nothing at home. Even when I told her to quit and rest, she wouldn't listen. She said she liked working. And she was punctual to a fault. You could even see what she was doing on the news while she worked. On top of that, the fact that she was married to the son of Korea's largest conglomerate was old news; cheating was out of the question, and without immense guts, no one would have even dared to attempt an affair with her.
“Say what you have to say right here.”
Seeing his cold expression, she struggled to erase the last shred of hope and emotion she had held onto. If his face had looked like he was desperately waiting for her, she would have run and hugged him immediately, but that had failed. Ever since she got in the taxi, the thought of dying had faded. It felt like there was still a glimmer of hope. If he had shown even a little bit of that, she had planned to hug him, cry, and apologize, saying she was truly sorry and that she must have been momentarily insane. She would have told him that she only had eyes for Han Suhyun, but that they had become too comfortable with each other, leading to her mistakes.
“Well, that... um...” She started slowly and cautiously, trying not to provoke him, trying to be as calm as possible to avoid any slip of the tongue.
“First of all... I... I’m sorry that I asked for a divorce... that we got divorced.”
He didn't say a word.
“I... I was the one who asked to get married... I was the one who asked to date, and then... so suddenly... I asked for a divorce... I’m sorry.”
Another apology. Still, he said nothing.
“Um, well... after I left the house and thought about it, I realized there were so many things I was grateful for... to you, no, to you. And... and also... I love you so much, but I realized I wasn't good at expressing it... I realized now how much you were considerate of me, and I’m sorry I couldn't do the same for you. So much... And I saw the letters... you were always saying you were sorry to me in them, and that weighed on my heart, so I came here because I...”
As an interpreter, she had to speak fluently and without hesitation. It was her job to use appropriate words to convey meaning accurately. But standing in front of him now, even though he hadn't said a word, the atmosphere felt like an interrogation, and the words wouldn't come out right.
“I’m sorry I couldn't... treat you well, and I made all sorts of promises, and I only just remembered them now... I realized I broke all of them. I think I made you feel small, no, I made you feel small, and I was always nagging you... It must have been hard, right? I won't... no, not in the future... I’m just really sorry... so, sorry...”
“So, what did you come here to say?”
She looked up at him, trembling, as he asked the question with genuine intent. She couldn't tell him what she had actually come to say. She felt like his expression was saying, ‘You want something, don't you? Just say it quickly. You're wasting my time.’ She lowered her head even further. It felt like no matter what she said, it wouldn't lead anywhere. She had truly intended to just apologize and leave.
“Always... asking for a divorce... I, I was the one who asked for it, so I’m sorry...”
“It’s fine. It’s all over now. We’re strangers. You don’t have to say things like that.”
At his stinging words, she couldn't continue and slowly sank to the floor. She had thought about it, but she hadn't really prepared herself to actually swallow dozens of sleeping pills. But now, it looked like she really had to do it.
“Anyway, just say what you need to. Do you need money...”
“It’s not that, it’s not...!”
That’s what I really wanted to give you, he thought.
“I didn't come here for something like that...”
“Oh, and those letters... I’d like it if you burned them. You can put them through a shredder so the content isn't visible.”
She opened her eyes wide, wondering if she had misheard him, and looked at him as if asking him to repeat himself. “W-what are you talking about...?”
“Exactly what I said. Those are all things of the past now. It just makes me feel terrible to keep seeing them. Just... throw them all away.”
“But you wrote them to me... yourself...”
He looked at her with a pitiful expression while maintaining a blank face. Naturally, from his perspective, since she was the one who asked for the divorce first, he had no choice but to tell her to throw them away. Should he have told her to keep them?
“It’s the past anyway. You should forget everything and start fresh. You too.”
“Start... fresh...”
“Well, I was sorry too. I guess being a year younger made a big difference. I thought we would be happy if we just lived well, but people don't always find the right answer. ... It can't be helped. You have to accept it.”
She didn't say a word, but he was already speaking as if he had reached a conclusion. She felt that his words lacked even a shred of emotion; they were dry, like someone reading from a textbook. She didn't want to burn them. Why should she burn them? They were such precious memories. If she could give up everything and go back to that time, she would do it without hesitation.
“So, why did you come? I don't think you came just to say that.”
She had wanted to look around the house where they had been happy one last time, then go back and die quietly. Even if she just looked at it, wouldn't she be happy until she fell asleep? There would be regrets, but she would have to accept them. Yet, she was now restricted from even entering what was no longer ‘our’ home, but ‘his’ home.
The choice she made, as her parents had said, could not be undone, and therefore, she and he could never reunite. She, who had sunk to the floor, hesitated for a moment before slowly standing up. Looking at him with eyes full of tears, she managed to force a smile.
“...Because I’m sorry, so... I’m going to disappear... so you never have to see me again.”