Even After You Die

ONE

Why did I say yes? Two years and I've had enough. There were only two reasons he had proposed, and I knew that even then, but somehow I had wished things would have changed for the better. Even if we didn't fall in love, at least we could have become friends. But that thought had merely been a dream.

He sits there at the kitchen island maneuvering the mouse to his laptop, not even bothering to acknowledge the stack of papers I had slammed down in front of him.

"I want a divorce."

"What?" His voice startles me. It's the first time I've heard him speak directly to me in almost three days, not that he was much of a talker even before we were married. He shuts the laptop and pushes it away. His eyes lock with mine for the first time in a very long time and I try to ignore the sudden sparkly feeling bubbling up in the pit of my stomach. He notices my discomfort, his left brow arching significantly higher than the other. "Why?"

"Oh, please." I cross my arms. "You can't tell me you haven't thought about it as well."

"No. I haven't."

I roll my eyes and turn my back to him, heading to my room. "That's right. Because I'm your green card. I forgot."

"Jagiya*, where is this coming from?"

He didn't deny it.

I ignore him, hearing frustrated Korean fumble out of his mouth. I turn the knob of my bedroom door, but his hand clasps around mine before I can go inside.

"Are you serious about this?"

I'm surprised; I didn't hear him get up.

His eyes search mine, probing for the answer he doesn't want to hear. For a split second, it almost breaks my heart, having to see the betrayal plastered on his face. But I shake the feeling away. If he didn't want this, he should've tried harder.

"I'm completely serious," I answer him, sliding his hand off mine. He doesn't stop me as I step inside my room and shut the door. Once I hear the lock click, I press my back to it and slide down onto the floor. If I was finally going to have freedom, why then, does it hurt so much?

***

I'm woken up by the front door being slammed shut. I check the time on my phone; 5:46 am. Strange, Haneul normally doesn't leave for work until 7.

Letting out an exhausted sigh, I roll out of bed and wrap up in my throw blanket and head towards Haneul's room across the hall. Maybe I was just hearing things. I don't knock, knowing full well he hates it when I don't and crack open the door. The bed is empty and neatly made, the closet door is open, the contents inside also missing.

"Haneul?"

Maybe he just has work early today and he prefers to keep his clothes in the dresser. I know nothing about his personal preferences for those things. Since this is merely a contract marriage, we agreed to keep separate rooms. But aside from that, when we first got married, I was no way near ready or desiring that kind of interaction. It may sound strange, but at the time that's what I needed. I was still in shock and grieving over my sister. I guess that is one good thing about Haneul; he respects my wishes.

My legs carry me to the kitchen, hoping to find him there. On the island is a note instead, in his handwriting.

Renae,

I was planning to leave for Korea next week for a family emergency. I've decided to go early. I will be back shortly to finalize the divorce. I'll call you when I arrive.

still yours,

Haneul

A family emergency? The sound of my phone ringing two and half years ago enters my ears. An image of answering it and rushing to the hospital follows. The day that my world shattered. I had barely known Haneul at the time, but he had been there for me when no one else was. And now, he is experiencing his very own crisis and I'm not there to comfort him. If anything, I'm adding to his burden.