Defeat in the First Round
"Thank you for your hard work."
"Please get home safely."
The door chime jingled, then jingled again.
Friday. Hospital hours had come to an end. The clinic would be closed on Saturday—we'd already put out a notice that weekends would be off from now on. I had been running hard for more than ten years. I had made as much money as I needed to make. I wanted the weekends, at least, to be mine to rest.
Only Arin and I were left in the hospital.
"You worked hard today, sunbae."
"Time really flies. Tomorrow, right?"
"That's right. Everything's ready. I booked the hotel, and… I packed my bags too."
"What about the room?"
"I went with a triple, as you'd expect. I need to get closer to Min-ah, after all."
"There won't be… a problem, will there?"
The worry wasn't about the trip. It was about the patients who still came looking for us on weekends, and whether they would be disappointed.
"It'll be fine. We're a weekday hospital anyway—that's when we actually do well."
Arin soothed me with a small, steady smile, the way she always did when I started to fret.
"You've been working yourself too hard all this time, sunbae. Let's take it easy from now on."
I pulled her into my arms.
"Ah…"
That little catch of breath, half a hum through her nose, was enough to send heat blooming through her body. We had reached the point where, if no one else was around, I would gather her up like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"It'll go well, right?"
"It will."
"I just keep wondering what Min-ah will think…"
"Oh, come on, sunbae! You've been doing just fine so far!"
A sharp little jab landed between my shoulder blades. Arin, still folded against my chest, had poked me in the back.
"Ow—hey!"
"Don't be such a baby."
I didn't actually mind it. We stayed like that for a long time, holding each other, not moving at all.
Evening. I had deliberately made Min-ah's favorite—braised short ribs.
The pot had been simmering on low since morning, and by the time I got home from work the meat was so tender it was practically falling apart. The smell had already seeped into every corner of the house. It would do exactly what I needed it to do: tug at my daughter's heart.
"Whoa~ Is that galbi-jjim?"
Her face lit up, just as I'd hoped. She had come through the door looking a little stiff, which had worried me—but the moment the smell hit her, that tightness melted away. Watching it happen, I thought, Yes. Making the short ribs was the right call.
Tomorrow we would be eating well anyway—scallops and all kinds of other good things. The only reason I had gone to the trouble of braising short ribs on a Friday was a simple one. I wanted Min-ah to feel even a little bit happy. A good beginning made for a good ending. The trip, as far as I was concerned, had already started the moment I met my daughter on Friday afternoon.
If Arin and I were going to present our relationship to Min-ah, we had to look good doing it. That took work. The braised short ribs were the fruit of that work.
"Thanks, Dad!!"
A peck. Her small lips brushed mine, bright and clean as citrus.
"I'll go wash up real quick, Dad!"
"Sure. Take your time."
Min-ah's face was shining. A good start.
While she was in the bathroom I put the rest of the meal together with real care—the side dishes that belonged with the ribs, a pot of pearly, glistening sticky rice, and a seaweed soup whose broth I had drawn from clams. Everything on the table was something Min-ah loved.
"Whoa~~~ It's a feast."
"I put a little thought into it. Go on, eat."
"Okay!!"
Min-ah lifted a thick rib. It had cooked so long that the meat slipped off the bone in one slow, perfect slide—a beautiful thing to watch. The tender rib disappeared into her mouth.
"Wow! This is so good! This is Dad's galbi-jjim, all right!"
"I'm glad you like it."
"Mm-hm!! It's good! It's so good!! I think it's even better than last time?!"
She was strangely locked in on the food tonight. I figured I might as well test the waters.
"I learned this recipe from Arin unnie, actually."
"Wait, really????"
She tore off another strip of meat without missing a beat.
"I knew it didn't taste like yours."
Still eating. Still tearing at the ribs.
"I-it didn't?"
"It's even better than yours!"
Min-ah didn't react to Arin's name at all. She even went so far as to say it was better than my recipe. Maybe Arin had been right. Maybe there hadn't been that much to worry about.
I had fully expected pushback. My daughter hated the idea of me remarrying. I had been sure she would bristle at Arin coming into our house, taking over the kitchen like a mother, and cooking for us.
"Unnie's actually an amazing cook… I should text her and get her to teach me!"
Instead of the rejection I had braced for, there was nothing. If anything, Min-ah looked like she wanted to get along with her.
That's a good sign.
Only then did I let my shoulders drop, and I finally started eating.
"Arin's late."
Five in the morning. We had agreed to meet at five to beat the traffic—a conclusion Min-ah and I had reached the hard way, after getting stuck in weekend jams more times than I cared to count. She and I were used to heading out at this hour. Arin, apparently, was not.
"I don't think unnie's used to leaving for a trip this early."
Min-ah had landed on the same thought I had.
"We've got time anyway. Let's wait a little."
"Okay, Dad!"
Her face was perfectly calm. Mine was not. This was a trip that had to succeed, which meant I wanted the first button fastened right. I had told myself the trip had started yesterday—but if the day Min-ah and Arin actually met went sideways, all of it would be for nothing.
Ten minutes passed. Arin still hadn't come down.
"She's not picking up, either…"
"You don't think something happened to unnie, do you?"
"That's strange. There was nothing wrong at the hospital yesterday."
When she wouldn't even answer her phone, the restlessness started to climb. What was this? What on earth was going on? Should I go up there?
"Still—not picking up at all is a little weird."
I opened the door and stepped out.
"I'm going to run upstairs for a second."
The door clicked again. Min-ah had gotten out too.
"What if she's not feeling well?"
"Hmm…"
"Well… if that's the case, it's too bad, but I guess it'd just be you and me."
She said it like a mild disappointment. For Min-ah, it was a too bad. For me, it was a thunderclap out of a clear sky. After everything Arin and I had put into this trip…
"Anyway, I'll go check upstairs. Just wait in the car a—"
"Uh… sunbae?"
"Hm?"
Arin was walking out from behind the parking lot. Jeans, a blouse, a light jacket over the top—a layered look perfectly tuned to spring weather. She had coffee in both hands.
"Sorry, sunbae. I went to the twenty-four-hour café just up the street to order coffee, and the machine was acting up, so it took forever."
"You could have picked up the phone…"
"Here, take this."
"Huh? Oh—"
I took the cup she held out.
"You like a hot americano, right?"
"Uh… yeah."
"Here, Min-ah."
She held the other cup out to my daughter.
"You said you like café mocha, didn't you? They were out of whipped cream, so I had them put in a little extra chocolate syrup."
"Uh… yes…. Th-thank you."
Min-ah took the coffee with a faintly stunned look on her face—the look of someone thinking, How does she know what I like?
Arin really was something. A long time ago, in passing, during some conversation about coffee, I had mentioned what my daughter liked. She had remembered. She had gone and bought it.
More than anything, I was just grateful she had made it to the trip without anything actually being wrong.
"Since I'm the one who made us late, I'll take the passenger seat."
Before Min-ah could get a word out, Arin opened the passenger door and sat down.
"You're driving this early, so I'll ride shotgun and make sure you don't doze off."
"Uh… yeah."
I looked at Min-ah. The passenger seat had always been hers.
"Unnie, I'll leave it to you, then."
A click. A thud. Min-ah dropped straight into the back seat. I got in last, and the engine rumbled to life as I pulled us out.
We had left at five-thirty, so the highway toward Gangwon Province was empty.
"Wow. So this is what the highway feels like before dawn. It's so… wide open."
"You've never been out on the highway at this hour?"
"I never really had a reason to."
Arin's face tightened, just a little. I realized I had said the wrong thing.
"Ah—anyway. In two hours this place will be packed. A three-hour drive turns into more than five."
"Ugh… just thinking about it is awful."
Ordinary talk. I checked the back seat in the rearview mirror. Min-ah had fallen asleep with her head tipped back against the rest, worn out.
A tiny, birdlike little snore. It was cute.
"Min-ah must have been nervous today too, if she's out like that."
"You were nervous?"
"A little…?"
"Yesterday you told me not to worry."
"Being nervous and being worried aren't the same thing."
"Huh?"
"I was excited."
"Ah…"
"It's my first time going on a trip as a family. That's why my heart was fluttering."
I nodded. She turned her face toward the scenery on the other side of the glass, and there was nothing more for me to add.
Arin in the passenger seat, smiling at the view. Min-ah breathing softly in the back. The car gliding down an empty highway. To anyone looking in, we were a happy family.
"We've still got two hours. You can sleep a little."
"Don't you know you're not supposed to sleep in the passenger seat?"
"If the driver says you can sleep, you can sleep."
"Hmph."
And so, with that kind of idle chatter filling the cabin, the car carrying our family—provisionally, at least—raced on toward the East Sea.
"We're here."
"Huh…?"
Min-ah had dozed off. It was the first time she had ever fallen asleep that fast in her father's car.
What is this… because I didn't sleep last night?
Her body felt dull, a little fogged. Pulling an all-nighter was nothing new for her. Getting up the next day and functioning like it hadn't happened was nothing new either. And yet, somehow, she had slept.
She looked around the car. The interior had been cleaned down to nothing. They must have stopped at a rest area before arriving and thrown all the trash away. That was Dad's routine.
…Am I being too sensitive?
"Min-ah, what do you think? Do you like it?"
Arin asked, smiling. A luxury hotel filled the view in front of them—twenty stories at least—and beside it, a stretch of ocean that looked like a painting.
Min-ah looked at Arin and smiled back.
"Yes, unnie. I love it."
"Come on, let's go in. We left the bags with the concierge, so you don't need to worry about them."
"Okay, Dad."
"Let's go, sunbae."
We stepped into the hotel. As they walked in, Min-ah watched Arin. She was exactly the same as before.
I was sure… it would land a hit…
Min-ah's teeth closed, just slightly, against each other.
Defeat.
It had been Min-ah's complete and utter defeat.