Our Perfectly Ordinary Sunday
Sunlight lazily filters deep into the living room on this Sunday afternoon. After a perfect fried rice breakfast, Seol-ah and I lean back side by side on the sofa, floating in the laziest, most peaceful weekend imaginable.
"Jinwoooo..."
From the depths of the sofa, where she's buried while watching TV, her voice drifts to my ear, endlessly drowsy. I turn my head, and there she is—using my broad thigh as her personal pillow, arms wrapped tightly around my waist. Like a koala clinging to an eucalyptus tree.
"What's up, my little koala?"
"Koala? Isn't that a bit disrespectful for the head of planning at Korea's fifth-largest conglomerate?"
"Then get off, Director. My leg's starting to go numb."
I pretend to buck her off playfully, and she clings even tighter in horror.
"No way! Not even a millimeter. If your leg's numb, I'll massage it. Or I can call the world's best masseuse right now to work out just your leg fatigue. You just stay put."
That over-the-top capitalist solution pops out at every opportunity, and I finally burst out laughing, settling back down.
"A masseuse? With you stuck to me like glue, how's anyone else gonna touch my leg? And on a Sunday afternoon, a numb leg and a sore back from lounging on the sofa is basically the rule."
"The rule? Like, an official national law?"
"Aigoo, seriously. You've lived your whole life on the VVIP course, so you don't know these little commoner phrases. It just means doing absolutely nothing and rolling around is the best."
She narrows her eyes in satisfaction at my explanation, nuzzling her face against my stomach. Every time her soft cheek brushes me, the sweet shampoo scent and warm skin smell tickle my nose and heart in the best way.
"But Seol-ah, are we really gonna spend the whole day like this?"
"Yeah. Why? Bored? Sick of it?"
"No, not bored at all... but the weather's too nice. Don't normal couples go to the movies on weekends, or spread a mat by the Han River and eat chicken?"
Her brows furrow slightly at my words. Propping her chin on my chest, she pouts up at me.
"Movie theaters are crowded and noisy. And for chicken, I can have the penthouse chef set it up like a Han River grass picnic and fry it fresh. I don't want to drag my precious Jinwoo to some dusty, chaotic place."
"Hey, chicken's all about that thrill of waiting for the delivery bike in the river breeze... Chef-fried chicken isn't chicken; it's gourmet."
"Then should I buy out a famous chicken franchise HQ? If Grandpa orders them to deliver piping-hot chicken straight to you..."
"Stop! Halt! Please, no more scary merger talk."
I panic and lightly cover her soft lips with my finger. This woman is always itching to pour billions into my everyday life.
"Not fair. I just want to give my Jinwoo the absolute best in the world."
Her muffled whine is so cute that I pull my hand away and plant a light kiss on her forehead.
"You being right here is the absolute best for me. I don't need anything else. I love just being together like this, ordinary as it is."
Her cheeks flush pink at my sincere words. She shyly buries her face in my chest.
"...Keep picking the prettiest words like that, and my heart won't hold out."
"Just stating facts."
I run my fingers through her soft hair, gazing out the living room window. Spotless blue sky with white clouds drifting slowly by.
"Seol-ah."
"Yeah?"
"Wanna do something we used to do as kids?"
"Like what? Playing house? Or freeze tag?"
"Nah. When I borrowed comics as a kid, you'd always lie on my lap and we'd read together. I'd even do the voices."
Her big eyes sparkle at the suggestion.
"Oh yeah! I loved that. It was so fun when you did different voices for each character."
"No comics here, but I could read you a book instead? The study has tons."
"Yes! Read to me now. I'm excited."
She claps like a kid, so I gently move her head to a cushion and get up. The study bookshelf covers one wall—management books, humanities, novels, all packed in. I pick a poetry collection with a sentimental title and head back.
"Lie down again, Director."
I pat my thigh as I sit, and she scurries over, settling her head there like she's been waiting forever. I open the book and start reading softly.
"You have to look closely to see it's pretty. / You have to look long to find it lovely. / You are the same."
She giggles right at the first lines.
"What, talking about me?"
"That's the poem. Listen."
I read on—poems about love, seasons, warm everyday life. As my voice echoes gently through the room, she wraps her arms around my waist, eyes closed, smiling quietly.
"Your voice is so nice, Jinwoo. It calms my heart."
"Sleep if you're tired. I'll keep reading."
"Not sleeping. Gonna hear every second of you reading."
She forces her heavy eyelids open stubbornly. So adorable—I pause and kiss the tip of her nose.
"Jinwoo."
"Yeah?"
"Truth is, I didn't sleep a wink last night."
She fiddles with my collar, whispering softly.
"Why? Uncomfortable?"
"No. Just... scared that if I closed my eyes, this would all be a dream. What if I woke up and you weren't here."
Her casual confession stings my heart.
"Silly. I said I won't run."
"I know. But... waking up alone every night for ten years got too normal."
She pulls my hand to her cheek. Her warm body heat spreads from my fingertips through me.
"But seeing you make fried rice this morning, and now hearing you read with my head on your lap... I'm finally at ease. This is real, not a dream."
Her eyes hold no more anxiety—just pure trust and love for me.
"Seol-ah."
I close the book and meet her gaze straight on.
"I'll fill those lost ten years for you. No more sleepless nights from worry. Every night, I'll hold your hand till we sleep, and every morning, I'll be the first thing you see when you open your eyes."
A bright smile spreads across her face at my promise.
"For real? No take-backs later."
"Of course. Man of his word, Kang Jinwoo, guarantees it."
I salute playfully, and she bursts into laughter, burrowing into my arms. The sun dips outside, painting the room in red sunset glow. The clock reads 5 p.m. already.
No fancy dates or events—just an ordinary Sunday afternoon. But for us, it was perfect and sweeter than anything.
"Jinwoo, what for dinner?"
She wriggles in my arms and looks up.
"Hmm. Fried rice for breakfast, so maybe stew? Fridge has pork and kimchi."
"Kimchi jjigae? Yes! I crave yours."
"I'll cook, you chop the green onions. Cooking together is the best part."
"Okay! I'm great at onions. Should I get a special lecture from the secretary chief?"
"Aish, really. Why drag the secretary into cooking? I'll teach you, just follow me."
I laugh helplessly and stand, interlacing fingers with her as she gets up too. Our shadows stretch long in the sunset glow as we head to the kitchen.
I back-hug her clumsy onion-chopping self, guiding her hands on the knife. While the stew bubbles, we trade light pecks and playful teases. The savory kimchi jjigae aroma mixes with our laughter, filling the penthouse with warmth.
The world's most ordinary, simple dinner prep. But for Taesung's fifth-ranked planning director Han Seol-ah and dirt-poor returnee student Kang Jinwoo, this normalcy was more precious and miraculous than any billion-won deal.
Healing each other's wounds, filling long years of longing, we were building our own small, warm world perfectly. Our peaceful, sweet Sunday evening deepened with unwavering love for each other.