Mother-in-Law's Reluctant Blessing
“If you have something to say, ma'am, just come out with it.”
“Yes, I'll be frank. Truth is, when my girl told me about you, I tried to talk her out of it. A decent age gap is one thing, but ten years? That's just too much.”
“I know, ma'am. But I'll make sure you have no reason to worry.”
“Sigh~ It's not something you can just will into being. That's what worries me.”
“I'm sorry.”
“Anyway, what's done is done. All I ask is that you keep tears from my Ara's eyes.”
“I won't let that happen. Never.”
“If you can promise that, I have nothing more to say.”
“I promise.”
Finally, words straight from Ara's mother's heart. It was only natural for a mother. A groom ten years older, and barely that much younger than her—how could she speak freely? My presence must have made her deeply uncomfortable in every way.
But having already sensed our relationship, she seemed resigned. In the end, her plea boiled down to this: spare Ara tears, and ensure she never regretted her choice.
“And one more thing I must ask.”
“Of course.”
“Please, no pregnancy before the wedding. If it happened, people might whisper about a child without a father. That's haunted me my whole life as a widow—worrying my girl might face those pointing fingers. I haven't had a single peaceful day.”
“I understand completely. We'll be careful.”
It was an awkward topic for future mother- and son-in-law. My own guilt(?) flushed my cheeks a bit, but she blushed even deeper, nearly bowing as she brought up premarital pregnancy.
Her youth probably made it easier, but from her words, it wasn't just Ara's pregnancy she feared—it was the stigma on her daughter because of her. Living as a widow, she'd imposed strict limits on herself too.
No wonder Ara, at 22, remained a rarity in today's world: a virgin.
“Take good care of my Ara.”
“I'll cherish and love her deeply. And I'll honor you like my own mother.”
“Hearing that means the world.”
“Since you've given your blessing, drop the formalities.”
“Alright then. Maru, take care of my Ara.”
“Yes, Mother.”
“So, when's the wedding? She's still so young.”
“I'll discuss it with Ara first.”
In the end, she approved our marriage. Maybe her widowhood had ingrained a fierce sense of chastity, or perhaps knowing we'd gone all the way left her no choice but resignation. Either way, one worry lifted.
“Honey, what'd you and Mom talk about?”
“She was fretting you'd up and get pregnant before the wedding.”
“Ugh, why worry about that? I'm not some kid.”
“Put yourself in her shoes. Does she look unworried?”
“Anyway, we looped, so no issue.”
“True enough.”
“She okayed our marriage?”
“Yeah.”
“Really? Then let's get married soon! I wanna fall asleep in your arms every night.”
“Rush it and you'll regret it. Don't blame me later for missing out on your youth. Think it over carefully.”
“Why regret marrying the man I love?”
“Plenty do.”
“Still, I wanna do it quick. Whether I regret it at my age? We'll see then. Why worry before trying?”
Ara followed me out, dying to know what her mom and I discussed. Hearing the approval, she acted like everything was settled, nagging for a quick ceremony.
From my view, it was unknown territory. For her, early twenties, rushing might not be ideal. Untested by life, she buzzed with wedding fantasies.
“Fair point. Let's mull it a bit. Where's your dad's grave?”
“His hometown. Far from Busan—Yeongwol in Gangwon.”
“Yeah. Soon as I can, we'll pay respects. Gotta greet him.”
“All the way to Gangwon? I barely remember Dad's face.”
“Still, respects. He gave us our pretty little one.”
We chatted as I sent her home, then headed to mine. Only after hearing from her mom about her early-lost dad did her interest in an older guy like me click. Post-loss, teen years without a father's love likely shaped her ideal: a daddy figure. I'd be husband and father to her. To avoid disappointing her.
Time passed uneventfully. Things with Ara rolled smoothly aside from her marriage pestering. Office work progressed steadily toward the election—thanks to the office manager. I even wished election day would hurry.
“Oppa.”
“Yeah?”
“You free next Friday?”
“Why? Something up?”
“Nah, just meeting my cafe pals.”
“Cafe meetup, and you want me why?”
“Duh, you'll cover drinks?”
“Obviously. Here's my card—use it.”
“Not that. Come meet 'em, say hi.”
“Won't it weird out the vibe?”
“Nah, told 'em I work here.”
“How many?”
“Not tons—twenty-ish.”
Post-morning tea, smoking in the lounge, Jeong-ah popped in, roping me into her fan cafe friends' meetup. No real downside for me, but as Hwang Seong-tae's aide to an active congressman, attending might irk anti-politics folks, derailing plans. Her explanation eased that; I agreed. Why not bring the congressman too?
“Got it. I'll clear the day. Hey, what about bringing the boss?”
“Don't want Congressman there.”
Her flat refusal surprised me. Something I didn't know. Straight-up asked why. She knew better than anyone this built support for Hwang's votes and SNS fame. Must be reason.
“Why? It's a pro-boss fan meetup.”
“There's a reason.”
“Weird. Spill.”
“If boss wins next year, doesn't that block your run the following one?”
She flipped it on me: post-win, could I inherit his district? No one could promise that. Politics has the saying: districts aren't even passed to sons. It's a politician's lifeline—power, fame, funds. Who hands it over easy?
I had Lee Hoe-jang's hint, and office manager working angles, but too risky to tell newbie Jeong-ah. Had to play pessimistic.
“I'd love that, and yeah, boss needs national stage. But who knows greed?”
“So he won't pass it, you can't run?”
“Yup. Can't run against him for my greed—odds zero even if I did.”
“Oh, got it.”
Her deflated sigh tugged at me, but thrilled me too—pure loyalty.
“Quit fretting weird stuff. Rally the crew. Where we meeting?”
“Told 'em here.”
“Cool. They coming?”
“Yeah, curious about a congressman's office.”
“Perfect. Gather here, chat, dinner, then round two.”
“Roger. I'll spread the word.”
No dragging these things—fan the flames early. Confirmed date with her, checked election prep with staff. Morning gone. Time flew faster now.