Because It's You
Wednesday. Seven in the morning. The doorbell rings. When I open the door, Haeun is standing there. An eco-bag in hand. Inside are tofu, green onions, and eggs.
"Hey."
"Good morning."
Haeun hands me the eco-bag. She looks at me. For a second, her gaze drifts from my face to my jaw, then down to my neck. It stops at my neck—the exact spot where her lips had lingered last night. Haeun's eyes quickly dart away, returning to where they started. Back to my eyes.
"What are you looking at?" I can't tell if she's saying that to me or to herself.
"I wasn't looking."
"Whatever. Just make food."
Haeun walks past me and sits at the dining table. Arms crossed. Legs crossed. Just like usual. Perfectly normal. There isn't a single trace of last night left on her. Haeun has erased it. She cleanly severs the night from the morning. What happened at night belongs to the night, and the morning belongs to the morning.
Standing in the kitchen, I prepare soft tofu stew. I scoop out the tofu, chop the green onions, and beat an egg. Chili flakes, sesame oil, soy sauce. I put them all in a clay pot and let it simmer. The soft tofu stew bubbles away. Haeun is unusually quiet. Normally, she'd complain with a "When is it going to be ready?" or "You're taking forever," but today, there is only silence. She's staring at her phone. No, she's pretending to stare at her phone. The screen is completely black, yet she's staring right at it.
I serve the stew. Rice, kimchi, and soft tofu stew. Haeun begins to eat. She scoops up some stew with her spoon, blows on it gently, and takes a bite.
"It's good."
"..."
"What's with that look?"
"It's nothing."
"If it's nothing, why are you staring?"
Was I? Was I staring? I lower my gaze and focus on my rice. The meal is over in ten minutes. Haeun stands up.
"No workout today."
"But it's Wednesday."
"I canceled all my morning PT sessions. You take a break from PT today, too."
"Okay."
She ties her sneaker laces at the entryway. I start washing the dishes. The sound of running water fills the room.
"Hey." Haeun's voice comes from behind me.
"Yes?"
"I'll come over this evening."
"This evening?" I pause for a beat at the word 'evening'. This is the first time Haeun has offered to come over for dinner. Well, not just dinner. Personal trainers usually don't eat proper dinners. They either make do with a protein shake or, at most, a single chicken breast. Yet, Haeun is saying she'll come over for dinner.
"Yeah. I'm going to eat tonight," she adds, as if to clarify.
Haeun stops tying her laces. She stands up and looks at me. I turn around from the sink to face her. The distance between us is about three meters—the space between the kitchen and the entryway. Haeun looks like she wants to say something. Her mouth opens and closes. Twice. It's a side of her I've never seen before. Haeun is always quick and decisive with her words. She's the type whose mouth moves before her brain does. Yet, right now, she is carefully choosing her words.
"Last night."
"...Yeah."
"I'm not usually like that."
"Like what?"
Haeun looks at me. Her eyes are sharp, but there's something else beneath them. Vulnerability? No, that word doesn't suit Haeun. Uncertainty. Yes, that's it. There is uncertainty in her eyes.
"I'm really not usually like that." Haeun uncrosses her arms, only to cross them again. "I don't do things like that with just anyone."
"..."
"I've never done that to a guy before."
Her words carry weight. I don't know the exact details of Haeun's past. I only know that she always tries to maintain control. Her default is to command, she doesn't know how to ask for favors, and she always tries to keep others beneath her. I can guess that this is her way of protecting herself. And yet, that very Haeun... pushed me against the wall, made me kneel, held my hair, and took control. That was her way. Control. Standing on top. But the reason she did it in the first place was—
"Because it's you," Haeun says.
My hand, which was holding a spoon, freezes. Haeun is looking at me. She doesn't avert her gaze. Her cheeks are slightly flushed, but her eyes are steady. This is the face Haeun makes when she is speaking from the bottom of her heart.
"Haeun."
"What?"
"What does that—"
"If you don't know what it means, you're a fool." Haeun breaks eye contact. She bends down to tie her sneaker laces again. "Figure it out yourself."
She opens the door and steps out. "See you tonight." The door clicks shut.
I stand in front of the sink, holding a plate. Water is running over it, but I just stand there without washing it. Because it's you. Haeun actually said those words. 'I'm really not usually like that. I don't do things like that with just anyone.' 'Because it's you.' This is the first time. The first time I've ever heard Haeun say something like this. Haeun always builds walls. 'Just make food.' 'Whatever.' 'Shut up.' Words that leave no room for emotion. She processes everything through commands and routines. She doesn't define relationships, she doesn't put names to emotions—she simply exists through her actions. Yet, that Haeun said, 'Because it's you.' This is a definition. Albeit an incomplete one. It is Haeun's declaration that she is distinguishing me from other men. A confession that she is allowing an exception. I turn off the water and rinse the plate. My heart beats. It beats differently. It's different from when I held Seojin's hand. It's different from when Dain stood before me wearing only my shirt. It's different from when I saw Chaewon's collarbones. Haeun's 'Because it's you' is hot. Hot as fire. But at the same time, it aches. When I think about how many walls she had to climb over just to say those words.
I sit at my desk. I turn on my tablet and open today's work. I can't focus. 'Because it's you' keeps looping in my head.
Eleven in the morning. I head to the grocery store to buy ingredients. I leave the villa and walk down the alley. It's late spring. The cherry blossoms have mostly fallen, but on one side of the alley, a late-blooming branch is still shedding its pink petals. They flutter in the wind. I stop in front of the grocery store. Haeun is inside. She's in her workout clothes, picking out a protein shake. Even though she said she was taking the morning off from working out, her attire is the same as always. Hair tied in a ponytail. I walk inside.
"Haeun."
Haeun turns around. She freezes when she sees me. For half a second. Then she looks away. "Hey. What are you here to buy?"
"Ingredients."
"What are you making?"
"Since you said you were coming over tonight, I was thinking of making chicken breast steak."
Haeun's eyebrows raise slightly. Chicken breast steak—Haeun's signature food.
"Alright."
Haeun grabs her protein shake and heads to the register. I pick out chicken breast, garlic, herbs, and olive oil. I line up at the checkout counter. Haeun is in front, and I'm behind her. I can see her back. The nape of her neck beneath her ponytail. Even on a day she's resting from workouts, the firm lines of her body are evident through her clothes.
"Ring them up together," Haeun says.
"Huh?"
"Together. All at once."
Haeun takes my basket and places it on top of hers. The cashier scans the items. Haeun hands over her card.
"Haeun, I can—"
"Forget it. I'm paying."
Haeun buys my ingredients. The chicken breast, garlic, herbs, and olive oil. All of it. With her card.
"Thanks—"
"Just make it delicious tonight. That's your payment."
Haeun hands me the bag. She walks out of the store. I follow her out. The alleyway. The two of us walk side by side. Haeun sips her protein shake while I carry the grocery bag. We don't speak. But it's not uncomfortable. Silence with Haeun always has this texture. A silence that needs no words. A time where just walking together is enough.
A breeze blows from the corner of the alley. A few late petals flutter through the air. One of them lands on Haeun's hair, right on top of her ponytail.
"A petal."
"What?"
"On your head."
Haeun reaches up to touch her hair but misses it. "The other side."
"Here."
I gently pluck the petal from her hair. My fingers brush against her hair. It's soft. For someone who works out so much, her hair is remarkably smooth. Haeun stops. I stop too. Haeun looks at me. We are close. In this alleyway where the late spring breeze blows. Haeun's eyes. Her sharp gaze. But what lies within them isn't sharpness. Haeun's hand rises. Unconsciously. She grabs my arm. My forearm. She doesn't grip it tightly. She just holds it. Her fingers wrap around my arm. Haeun looks down at her hand. Her hand holding my arm. She looks startled, as if she doesn't understand why she grabbed it.
"..."
Haeun lets go. Quickly.
"...Let's go."
She quickens her pace. Fast. I follow behind her. Her earlobes are bright red. It was subconscious. Haeun grabbing my arm was entirely subconscious. It wasn't her conscious will; it was her body reacting. An action outside of her control. Because it's you. That's what her words this morning meant. It meant that Haeun's control only slips around me. That her subconscious only reacts to me. I walk, holding the petal in my hand. The petal from Haeun's hair. Pink, small, and light.
We return to the villa together. The second floor.
"Seven tonight."
"Got it."
Haeun opens the door to room 203. She pauses just before stepping inside.
"Hey."
"Yeah?"
"What happened earlier."
"What?"
"Me grabbing your arm."
"..."
"Forget it."
Haeun steps inside. The door closes.
Forget it. She tells me to forget it. Because she became conscious of what she did unconsciously. Haeun doesn't want to acknowledge an action outside of her control. She wants to pretend it never happened. But I saw it. I felt the sensation of her fingers wrapping around my arm. That can't be erased. I enter room 201. I set the grocery bag down in the kitchen. I put the chicken breast in the fridge. I sit on the sofa. 'Because it's you.' 'I'm really not usually like that.' 'Forget it.' I replay Haeun's words in my head. In order. 'Because it's you' is an acknowledgment, 'I'm really not usually like that' is a declaration, and 'Forget it' is a retreat. She advances, then she retreats. That is how Haeun's emotions move. She takes one step forward, then two steps back. But then she approaches again, carrying her eco-bag without skipping a single day. That rhythm is uniquely Haeun. I place the petal I picked up earlier on the dining table. It's pink. It will dry up by tomorrow. It will turn brown. But today, it is pink.
Seven in the evening. The doorbell rings. It's Haeun. No eco-bag this time. Empty-handed. She's wearing a sleeveless top and sweatpants. It's a different picture from her usual arrival with groceries. Coming over for dinner empty-handed means she, too, is separating this occasion from our usual routine.
"I'm here."
"Come on in."
I prepare the chicken breast steak. It's the staple of Haeun's usual diet, but today, the preparation is different. Instead of just cooking it simply like I would in the morning, I make it a proper meal. I flatten it thinly and season it with salt, pepper, and herbs. I drizzle olive oil in the pan and sauté garlic first to infuse the oil. Then, I lay the chicken breast down. Crispy on the outside, tender and juicy on the inside. Haeun stands next to the kitchen, watching.
"It amazes me every time I eat this, but how do you keep it so juicy?"
"Slowly, over medium-low heat."
"I always burn mine."
"That's because you don't control the heat well."
"Drop the formalities."
"...That's because you don't control the heat well."
Haeun snorts. Telling me to speak informally is her way of closing the distance between us. I slice the steak. I plate it and add a side salad. I set it down in front of Haeun. Haeun begins to eat. She cuts a piece with her fork, puts it in her mouth, and chews.
"..."
"How is it?"
"...Is this really chicken breast?"
"Yes."
"How can chicken breast taste this good?"
Haeun cuts another piece. She eats again. Quickly.
"Hey."
"Yeah?"
"This is really strange."
"What is?"
"It's the same chicken breast I eat every day, but every time I eat yours, it feels like the first time. It's delicious in a completely new way every single time."
These are words the usual Haeun would never say. A person who would normally finish with a single "It's good" has added two whole sentences. As if suddenly realizing this, she lowers her gaze to her plate.
"What if you made this for me every day?"
"Every day would be tough. If I cook for the same person every single day, my hands will stall. And you'd get sick of eating the same thing every day, too."
"...I guess so." Haeun pauses for a moment. Then she adds another line. "Then occasionally. When you feel like making it."
"That, I can do."
"And occasionally when I want to eat it, too."
"That works too."
Haeun snorts. A satisfied tone. She was the one who brought up the word 'every day' first, only to take it back herself. It's so unlike her, yet at the same time, it is the most Haeun-like way of retreating. Haeun nods and resumes eating. She finishes the steak, finishes the salad, and leaves the plate completely clean.
"Thanks for the meal."
"Was it good?"
"It was good."
Haeun stands up. "I'm leaving." She stops at the entryway.
"Hey."
"Yeah?"
"What I said this morning."
"Which part?"
"'Because it's you.'"
"..."
"I'm not taking it back."
Haeun opens the door and steps out. The door closes.
Holding the empty plate, I stand in front of the sink. 'I'm not taking it back.' Haeun has withdrawn her retreat. A declaration that she will maintain her advance. Her telling me to 'forget it' earlier was a reflexive defense, which she corrected tonight by saying 'I'm not taking it back.' This is how Haeun's emotions move. Defending, attacking, retreating, and then advancing again. It's not a straight line. It's a zigzag. But the direction is always the same. Toward me. I smile as I wash the dishes. Alone in the empty kitchen. 'Because it's you.' Those three words have followed me all day today. They will probably follow me tomorrow, too. And the day after that. Lying in bed, I look up at the ceiling. In the direction of room 203. What is Haeun doing right now? Probably rolling out her muscles on a foam roller with an indifferent expression. But inside, she must be chewing over the words she said. 'Because it's you.' 'I'm not taking it back.' Haeun. Lee Haeun. I close my eyes. Seven in the morning. The doorbell will ring. Haeun will be standing there. Carrying her eco-bag. 'Hey, food.' That routine will continue. But starting today, the temperature of that routine has changed. Definitely.
The cherry blossom petal lies on the dining table. Pink. When I press it gently with my finger, the surface gives slightly. It has begun to dry. In just a day, its edges are turning brown. I wonder where I should put this petal. If I press it between the pages of a book, it will become a pressed flower. Preserved flat. But preserving it that way changes its meaning. It becomes a 'cherished' petal rather than 'today's' petal. No. I'll just put it in my desk drawer. In the drawer where Chaewon's memo is. Next to the contract memo Chaewon wrote for me a while ago. Haeun's petal. Chaewon's memo. Traces of two different women in a single drawer. I close the drawer. I don't know if it feels awkward for them to be together or not. Inside the drawer, the two don't meet. Paper and a petal. Handwriting and a pink hue. They simply share the same drawer. That is my living room right now, my dining table, my daily life. People sharing the same space at different times. I don't know what will happen when those time differences shrink. I only know that they will shrink. Tomorrow, another person's trace will be added. Whose it will be, I don't know. That is something to find out tomorrow.
I look at my phone. The group chat.
I put my phone down. I don't close the group chat. Even when I'm not looking at it, knowing that someone else's time is flowing there leaves a subtle weight on my heart. It's a weight that wasn't there a month ago. Falling asleep with this weight feels strangely unfamiliar. Unfamiliar, yet not awkward. That is the most peculiar part of it all.