My Songbird's Dream

42. As time comes again

July 17, 1945
Occupied Seoul

Then, it was a warm spring evening in Seoul before the war reached its bloody tendrils into their lives. Etta could vividly picture the hazy sunset filtering through the gossamer curtains of the hotel lounge, gilding Ji-tae's handsome features in rich amber tones.

They sat together on a plush velvet settee, his arm draped casually around her shoulders as the low murmur of conversation and clinking glasses provided a serene soundtrack. Ji-tae's calloused fingertips traced idle patterns along her bare arm, raising gooseflesh in their wake.

Etta shivered deliciously, tilting her face up towards his with a contented smile. "You're awfully pensive this evening, Mr. Park. Where has your mind wandered off to?"

His expressive eyes crinkled at the corners as he returned her smile, bringing her knuckles to his lips in a tender kiss.

"I was just contemplating how blessed I am to have found you, Miss Walker," he murmured, the husky timbre of his voice sending tingles down her spine. "And wondering what I could possibly have done in this life or another to deserve such grace."

Etta felt her cheeks warm at his ardent words, even now after nearly two years of marriage. She gave a demure shake of her head. "It is I who was granted the gift, my love."

Ji-tae's smile took on a mischievous edge as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Then you leave me no choice but to endeavor to keep you by my side for all our remaining days, so I might spend each one showing you the depth of your good fortune."

A delighted giggle bubbled up from Etta's chest as Ji-tae pulled back, his eyes sparkling with teasing affection. She affected an arched brow and haughty sniff.

"That's an awfully bold statement, Mr. Park. I do hope you have a plan for ensuring such lofty claims?"

His smile melted into something softer, more intense as he cradled her face in his work-roughened palms. "I will never leave you, jagiya. I'm making it my life's mission to return to your side, even if death itself tries to claim me. This," he pressed his lips to her forehead, "I vow to you."

A shiver chased down Etta's body, her heart fluttering wildly at the solemn promise ringing in Ji-tae's words. Warmth bloomed in her chest, pushing aside the lingering chill of the present as she gripped his hand tighter.

"You've never been one to renege on your vows, my love," Etta whispered fiercely, gripping Ji-tae's limp hand as the ethereal memory began to fade. "So you had better fight with everything you have to make good on this one."

Etta Walker
July 17, 1945
Occupied Seoul

"Etta...Etta dear."

The gentle voice pulled me back to the reality of the hospital room. I blinked rapidly, the amber-tinged haze of happier times dissipating as my surroundings came into focus once more.

Madame Park hovered at my side, a concerned crease between her brows as she held out a steaming bowl of broth. "You must eat, dear," the older woman urged. "Keep up your strength."

"I'm fine, really," I stated, though my stomach rumbled in protest. I laid my head gently on Ji-tae's unconscious body, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest.

A nurse in a crisp white uniform entered the room, her sensible shoes making little sound on the scuffed floor. With a practiced efficiency, she tended to the intravenous lines snaking into Ji-tae's arm, deftly adjusting the glass vials of fluid.

Madame Park set a tin bowl of steaming broth beside me on the nightstand. "You must keep up your strength for Daniel's sake," she said in Korean, her voice gentle but insistent.