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In hindsight, she should’ve seen it coming.
It’s no news that long-distance relationships are hard; there’s a reason behind all the viral reunion videos on Youtube and TikTok. But she made the mistake of thinking it would work for her, for them. They were different, she believed so. She had imagined coming back to him, telling everyone that “it was hard, but we pulled through,” and even what advice she would give-- “It’s really just communication, you know. I guess us being 40 really helped. We’re pretty mature.”
And now she has no one to blame but herself. Because really, who said that being 40 meant you’re mature enough to handle anything?
“I think his girlfriend is adding to his stress,” her brother had said. “Looks like his girlfriend is quite selfish.”
“I think she’s very inconsiderate. Self-centered. Junwan is under a lot of stress these days, but he’s so busy walking around eggshells with her that he can’t even vent.”
Her brother is the best people-reader she’s ever known. It’s a Lee family trait if she dares say so herself- perceptive, empathetic, acting upon the unsaid needs of others. And yet she missed all the signs while her brother picked them up. Might it be the distance? But she chose the distance.
“Sounds like she’s always busy talking about herself.”
And he’s right. This much she has picked up. And she would be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy it, how he puts her first and listens to her intently. The military doesn’t have space for a woman to run through her day, let alone vent and be vulnerable when things go wrong. Her brother, caring as he is, is busy saving lives and caring for his son as a then technical and now actual single dad. Junwan, on the other hand, fusses over her even more than Ikjun once did before he left home, and the attentiveness is hard to resist. For the first time in a long while, she’s so entirely certain that she’s loved that even when a part of her reminded her to give more to her boyfriend, she had let herself quiet the voice down.
She messed up, didn’t she? Proved to the world that no, some people are better off alone because she’s not mature enough to provide the care he needs.
The funny thing is that she chose this. Said yes to him when she knew she had plans to study abroad. Said yes to staying together even when every nerve in her screamed that long distance is hard and it’s going to hurt so much when it breaks.
She remembers them celebrating their 100th day of dating at his place. She had let it slip that she’s surprised that they made it so far, and he had seemed offended: “Why, so how many days did you think we’d last?”
“Fifty?” She had admitted sheepishly.
Her boyfriend had pouted for a good ten minutes. She cracked him eventually, with a promise that she did feel more confident in their relationship now, and the relieved smile on his face burns fresh in her mind.
But here’s the part she didn’t voice: it was never their relationship that she didn’t believe in; it was relationships in general. She knows more than anyone that love, something that can burn brighter than day, can also become ash cooler than night. The doubt had resurfaced when she got into the Ph.D. program she eyed for a long time, and by then she was so certain she’s going to call it quits, because what’s the point of attempting a relationship that was filled with predictable hardships? Isn’t it better to break up when people no longer feel the butterflies and love each other crazily? To keep only good memories?*
But she didn’t, because he said three years is a short time. Said he’ll wait for her and wants to be with her for a long time.
So she let herself believe.
Now, she can’t decide whether to laugh or cry at herself.
The sun has set long ago. She’s startled by the time when she turns on her phone; it’s three hours past midnight. Her muscles ache dully as she tilts her head back, nine hours of staring into space catching up on her. The screen turns black as she once again blanks out, her reflection a grey blur of precipitation.
She breathes through her nose once, twice, before unlocking. Phone app. He’s the first on her past calls list and the first on her contact list. She doesn’t know which one she clicked on.
Please don’t pick up, she thinks, her eyes hot with newly forming tears. Please don’t pick up.
But he does.
“Hey, isn’t it early there? Did you stay up all night?”
She feels her heart sink. If she had any remaining hope that her brother had been wrong, it sure is as clear as day now that he’s still caring for her even though he’s the stressed one.
She has to do this, then.
“Can you talk now?”
Say no, please. Say that you have no time.
“Yeah, I just finished my last appointment. What’s up?”
She squeezes her eyes shut.
“Oppa, when you’re back in your office… Call me when you’re back in your office. I’ll wait for your call.”
A long pause. She can see Junwan’s concerned face now, brows furrowing.
“Sure, okay, I’ll call you right back.”
The call cuts.
She hopes he never calls back. She hopes he suddenly gets a meeting, or god forgive her, a patient for him to save. But it seems like the last few minutes of theirs slipped away ten times faster than it should because all she did was let out a choked cry, and suddenly he’s calling again, and she realizes that they have no time left.
“Hey, I’m in the office now. What’s going on?”
He’s talking faster than usual. Does he know? Can he feel it?
Her hands shake. If she pretends that nothing happened, they can still talk about it. She can apologize, and maybe let him talk about what’s been stressing him. They can still work it out.
But he’s speaking before she can make out any words. “Iksun-ah, something happened, right?”
“I’ve fallen for someone else,” she blurts.
The other side of the call falls completely silent.
She inhales shakily. Her nails dig into her palm. She counts to three. “ Mianhe .”
Please see right through me , she thinks. Tell me you don’t believe it.
“What do you mean?” she hears him ask.
“ Mianhe ,” she repeats, lips trembling.
A longer pause.
She squeezes her eyes shut. Can she still take it back if he asks further? She’ll tell him she’s lying, and she’s so scared, and she's doing this because she cherishes him more than anyone else in the world, and--
“Is it Se-gyeoung?”
And something in her chest breaks into a million pieces.
Her lips part, forming words without sounds. Questions clog at her throat; tears blur her vision. How, why, or when, even-- did he start doubting her?
But isn’t that why she called? Because she didn’t believe in herself?
She’s a fish out of water, tired, muted, and broken.
“ Mianhe, oppa. I have to go now,” she whispers.
*what Iksun said in ep11. Note that Junwan didn’t get to argue about the logic in ep11.