The Traffic Accident

This happened twenty years ago.

On a wedding day — the kind most people experience only once in a lifetime.

The star of today's ceremony was my older sister.

Most weddings take place on Saturdays. That way, more people can attend.

Fortunately, the weather today was clear. Perfectly clear.

Bright sunlight streamed in through the window, proving that for once the forecast hadn't gotten it wrong.

The weather service always seemed to botch the prediction only on days that mattered to me.

"Haaah…"

I woke up at two in the afternoon.

When it comes to a family wedding, there's not much for anyone but the bride and groom to do. The rest of the family just has to show up on time.

"Yeah, hello?"

My older sister's wedding — the first among my acquaintances to get married. News of it had triggered a flood of calls from friends who'd been close to her.

Talking to women for the first time in a while felt secretly good, but if anyone knew that, they'd despise me.

"Yeah, sure."

The question I got most often was, How does it feel, your sister getting married?

But that question should really have been, How does it feel, your sister moving out?

The answer was: I don't feel much of anything.

If ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠she'd been living at home right up until the wedding, maybe. But my sister had been living on her own for two years already.

Still, I felt a little wistful deep down.

When I was little, my dream had been to marry my sister.

Back then I didn't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠know it was unethical, or even illegal. I just loved her, and that was what I wanted.

Of course, when I learned it wasn't allowed, it was a bit of a shock — but I was old enough by then to accept it soon enough.

Was this what it felt like to let your first love go?

Bzzzt—

Another call came in right after. The culprit was none other than my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠first love — my sister.

"Hello?"

"…I'll do it, I guess."

Having to collect wedding money instead of even attending as family. No matter how much I'd pretended not to care about her wedding, this was too ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠much.

Still, I couldn't bring myself to refuse, so I agreed for now.

My parents had gone into the office and said they'd leave early to head over. It was their daughter's wedding, of all days — they could have taken the day off. I still didn't understand why they worked on Saturdays in the first place.

I still couldn't figure out how my parents thought about work.

"…I'll sleep one more hour."

Thinking that, I went right back to sleep as carefree as my parents.

"She's pretty."

I woke earlier than expected and arrived at the wedding hall sooner than planned. Truthfully, it was more that I was nervous about handling the large sum of wedding-gift money.

I wasn't an accountant, and I'd never collected wedding money before… The thought that one mistake could spiral into disaster had me a little tense.

Please let this be the last time…

I never wanted to handle this kind of money with my own hands again. If it were my own money, fine — but because it wasn't, the sense of responsibility weighed even heavier.

It's almost over.

The previous time slot's wedding was still winding down. I didn't know the bride, but she looked truly lovely.

Would my sister look like that when she stood up there? It was a shame I wouldn't get to see it myself. I'd wanted to see that sight — the one you only get once.

"Hello?"

The callers were none other than my parents. Dad was picking Mom up, and the two of them were riding over together.

"You'll be here by five?"

After hanging up, I went to the bride's waiting room. They shared the same space, but there seemed to be several waiting rooms for preparations.

I headed toward the slightly noisier one, where my sister — all decked out in flowers — was in the middle of taking photos.

"Noona."

"Oh~ You're here??"

Dressed beautifully in her wedding gown, sitting in a room lavishly embroidered with roses, she spotted me from across the room and greeted me.

Today's bride — my older sister, Park A-young.

Her long hair fell prettily around her shoulders, and her makeup — faintly rosy yet porcelain-white — made her look every bit a beauty without question. She'd chosen a traditional dress with large frills that wasn't too long, and the decorations stayed true to the basics without excess.

People had always said she was pretty, but today she was especially so.

My sister had so many friends that they were all talking with her, leaving almost no room for me to jump in.

Now's my chance.

Finally inside her waiting room. It was hard enough talking to her that you'd wonder if we were even family.

"Mom and Dad said they'll be here by five."

"Got it."

And that was the extent of our conversation.

The wedding was at six. My parents needed to arrive early to change clothes and handle a lot of things, yet they were going to show up later than me — the one with nothing to do.

Well… they were probably swamped. I'd let it slide just for today.

"You've arrived."

"Ah… hello."

The man who shook my hand was the one about to become my brother-in-law, Cha Ji-young.

Tall and handsome, with a gentle face. A pure-hearted guy whose first love was my sister. They'd been dating for five years.

My sister brought him home often enough that we were acquainted — we'd even eaten together. He even gave me allowance money. A genuinely kind person.

Things seemed good between him and my sister, but from the things she sometimes said, she was just being unfairly hard on him. I almost felt sorry for the guy.

It was the first time I'd seen a first love actually work out, which made me envy him even more.

Marrying my sister, of all people.

"I'm out."

"Oh, you're here?"

My brother-in-law immediately went off with some friends who'd come to guide him. The groom's makeup had finished early, so he had nothing to do until the ceremony — he was greeting guests with the family.

Seeing regular guests already arriving meant he must have managed his connections well.

"But why aren't they here yet…"

The people who absolutely had to be here had said they'd arrive by five, yet five minutes past and still no sign. My parents' sense of time was slower than a guy's promise, honestly.

"These people, seriously…"

I tried calling both Mom and Dad, but neither picked up. People who are late never answer their phones.

"Huh?"

Speak of the devil. Mom called back.

"Why are you so late?"

But the voice on the other end was a woman I'd never heard before.

"…I am."

"What…? What are you talking about?"

A traffic accident?

On a day like this?

"……Don't mess with me. Today is my sister's wedding."

"……."

I hung up and searched. Seoul Ringo Hospital. A hospital near here.

Had they really been in a traffic accident — not some hacked call?

"Bullshit, seriously…"

Convinced it had to be a dream, I headed straight for the hospital.

"Ugh. Why is the traffic so backed up again…!"

I arrived at the hospital about twenty minutes later and rushed to the ER.

"Yes. How can I help you?"

"I-I just got a call. About Park Ji-hwan."

"Ah… yes, he was just admitted. Please go to the front of the operating rooms on the fourth floor."

"Thank you…"

It didn't seem like a dream after all. The sensations were far too vivid, too sharp for a dream.

The thought of what hellish scene awaited me on the fourth floor made me nauseous.

"Haa…"

Once I actually got up there, the smell of disinfectant settled over me, and my body went unnaturally calm on its own. As if nothing were wrong, I suppressed the emotions that felt ready to burst at any moment as best I could.

In front of the place marked Operating Room, I asked a nurse who was waiting anxiously.

"Excuse me, is… Ji-hwa-za…"

"Ah, are you Ms. Ji-hwa-za's guardian?"

"Yes. Her son. What's the situation?"

"Well… your mother is not in life-threatening condition, but she's in a coma, and your father is… well…"

"What about Dad?"

"He's bleeding heavily. He's in surgery right now. You should consider his condition nearly critical."

"Ah… I see."

Critical?

Dying on a day like this?

That can't be right, Dad. Today is my sister's wedding. A day this good.

"……Mr. Park Ji-chul…"

"Yes."

As I stood staring at the floor, sighing heavily while I waited, someone tapped my shoulder. Beside the nurse who'd touched me stood a person in green scrubs with a gown over them.

Someone who appeared to be a doctor opened his mouth.

"Is that so?"

The doctor held his brow with a pained, somber expression and shook his head. Even then, I didn't lose my composure.

"And Mom?"

"Your mother should be in the examination room."

Bzzzt—

I checked the time. 5:50. Of course the phone would ring — they needed to prepare, and no one was showing up.

"Dad fucking died in a traffic accident! Fuck, fuck, fuck! He's dead!!!!"

All the resentment I'd bottled up toward my sister, the grief of my father's death, and the anxiety of what came next — the emotions I'd crushed down erupted like a volcano that had been dormant for a thousand years.

I shouted and stomped the floor hard, and no one stopped me. They only watched from a distance with pity.

And so my sister's once-in-a-lifetime wedding was cancelled ten minutes before it was set to begin.