Twenty-One
If Jihoon’s treachery is hurtful but now slightly understandable, Hana’s is unfathomable.
She sidles in, eyes downcast. “Hey.” It’s the same tone you’d use to placate a bear as you step between her and her cub. Her mobile face is pale and guilty—as it should be, because that was a hell of a truth she hid from me.
I say nothing and she crumbles. “I’m sorry,” she moans, covering her face. “I should have told you.”
“That you were cousins with a man I’m told is one of the most famous singers in the world? Why would I need to know that, even though we tell each other everything?”
“I know, it looks really bad.”
“Looks bad? It is bad, but it’s not like you planted him in my house to live in hiding and let me wallow in my ignorance like a fool. Wait, you did. That’s exactly what you did.”
“I didn’t know you’d fall for him,” she says weakly. “Jihoon’s not your type.”
“What does that mean? Super attractive, generous, sweet men can keep walking?”
“No, but you’ve always dated corporate white guys.”
“You know where I work! There’s not a lot of choice. It’s proximity, not preference.” I shake my head. “What would you have done if I recognized him?”
She snorts. “Please. I knew that wouldn’t be a problem.”
“This is not relevant right now.” I get back on track. “What is relevant is the fact you that didn’t tell me who he really was.”
“Would it matter?”
“That he has a fandom of millions and the international media was searching for him? Yeah, that would have been a good thing to know.” Would I have treated him any different if I knew he was rich and famous and wanted? I don’t want to think about this and retreat into my justifiable rage.
“See?”
I shake my head. “You’re missing the point here. It’s not who he is. It’s that you lied to me.” I want to tell her how hurt I am that she didn’t trust me, but I can’t come out and say that. The words are too hard, even with Hana. There’s been too much tonight for me to expose any vulnerability.
“I couldn’t tell you. I’m sorry.” She drops back on the bed like an anguished starfish. “It’s a huge secret in my family.”
“I don’t get why you being cousins is such a big deal. He lives in Korea.”
She’s quiet for a moment. “They had a sasaeng. Do you know what they are?”
I shake my head.
Hana bends over to hug her legs close. “They’re fans, but obsessed ones. Stalkers.”
“Jihoon had one?”
She nods and tucks her hair behind her ears. “She started by following him around airports. She eventually broke into their dorm and handcuffed herself to his bed.”
“Are you kidding?”
“Nope. It was terrifying. StarLune had recently debuted, so they weren’t even that big yet. Jihoon’s company suggested we keep our relationship secret so fans wouldn’t bother us.”
“I can’t believe your mom went along with it.”
“Obviously she would have loved the attention of being Min’s aunt. She changed her mind when Jihoon told her what some people had done to an idol’s family in New Jersey. They wouldn’t leave them alone and followed the kids to school and the parents to work, taking photos. Then one day they broke in to take souvenirs from the guy’s childhood bedroom.”
“You’re kidding.”
“It was extreme and unusual, but it happened. Most Starrys are supportive and respectful, but a very rare number of people get obsessed in a bad way.”
“That’s unbelievable.”
Hana pops her head up with a mischievous grin. “Eomma nearly had an aneurysm when StarLune made it big and she couldn’t brag to her church group. Especially since Mrs. Park’s son kept getting promoted at his firm.”
I want to laugh—I can visualize Mrs. Choi’s impotent fury—but I don’t want Hana to think she’s off the hook. “That’s all well and good, but this is me. I can keep a secret. I keep secrets for a living.”
“I know, but it’s been ingrained in me that we never talk about Jihoon outside the family.” She looks down and picks at her nails. I automatically swat her hand away. “Then he asked me to hold off so he could tell you himself.”
“Apparently he was going to tonight.”
She sighs. “He said you made him feel free and like himself. He didn’t have to pretend or worry about you wanting Min and getting Jihoon. He didn’t want to give that up.”
That warms me but not enough. “Except he was pretending the whole time. It was all about him and how he felt. What he wanted. Relationships are built on trust and reciprocity, but I was left in the dark.”
Hana plucks her lower lip and looks at the ceiling. “The beginning of a relationship is a period of learning,” she reasons. “It’s when you find out they like raisins in their butter tarts or iron their underwear.”
“First, who irons their underwear? Second, this is hardly the same level as finding out they wear dress socks and boxers around the house. Although that’s a deal breaker.”
“Right, right,” she assures me. “I would have told you if he did that.”
“Good to know you would have told me something.”
She flinches, but I don’t take pleasure in twisting the knife. I feel…tired.
“I’m not taking sides,” she says softly. “I only want to help you understand why he did it.”
I circle back to the main issue, which comes down to two words. “He lied.”
“A lie of omission, not commission. He never denied he was in StarLune.”
This is stretching it so far it riles me up again. “Why would I ask him that? Do you think I go around assuming everyone is a celebrity in hiding?” Another thought occurs to me. “You don’t even like K-pop. You hardly ever play it.”
She rolls her eyes. “Right, I’m going against the treaty every proud Korean signs that says we can only listen to trot and idol bands.”
“Sorry,” I mutter.
Hana nudges me. “Hey, at least now you don’t have to worry about dealing with an ex,” she says. “Since there wasn’t one.”
I give her a look. “Huge bonus.”
There’s a long silence. “How do you feel about him now?” she asks.
“I don’t know.” I grab some of my hair and start braiding and re-braiding. “Confused. Is the guy I met Min or Jihoon?”
She stands. “Only one way to find out. Get to know all of him.”
“Easy for you to say.” Do I even want to date a rock star? No, of course not. I should date another lawyer, a steady person who understands me and who isn’t leaving the country in days.
“It’s icky that you’re into my cousin.” She grins. “Whatever, half the world is as well.”
I flip her off, and she snickers.
“Give him another chance,” she says.
“Why?”
She looks at me. “Because you want to.”
Maybe I do. Maybe that’s enough.
Maybe it isn’t.
Alex says he’ll send staff to get our belongings, but I hate the thought of someone going through my underwear drawer. “I’m going shopping, and you’re paying for it,” I tell Alex.
He rubs his eyes until they redden and tear up. “Like that’s the biggest problem I’ve had today. Make sure you keep the receipts. I can’t deal with Finance getting on my case on top of all this.”
“I can come with you,” Hana offers.
I glare at her. “You can sit here and think about what you’ve done.”
She hunches down. “Okay.”
Once safe inside my room, I splash water on my face and sit on the bed to enjoy the silence. I’m not in there five minutes before a knock sounds at the door.
“Ari?”
It’s Jihoon. The mature thing to do would be to open the door, invite him in, and have a civil follow-up discussion.
As if I can do that. I wait until he’s gone, then grab my purse and run down the empty hall for the door.
The condo is close to Yorkville, and I head east to the shops. Sitting in a café window is a woman with dyed hair and a brilliant, carefree smile that reminds me of Phoebe. What if people find out my name and go after my family? What if the stress causes Dad’s heart to fail again? My entire body goes shivery, and I stop dead on the sidewalk and bite the inside of my cheek. I should tell them on the down low. Or at least Phoebe, to keep an eye on Dad.
Triangle breathing. I take deep, desperate breaths right there as muttering people walk around me with impatient steps. What do I do?
I come back to it later when I’m more in control, that’s what. I force one foot in front of the other until I move on autopilot, ducking into my usual stores and getting pajamas, underwear, and some casual clothes. It’s Friday, so I don’t need a fresh outfit for work tomorrow, but it might be a few days at the condo. I grab three shirts and a suit. Alex’s treat.
As I collect my new belongings, my usual logicality seeps back. I’m letting the doomsday attitude of Alex and the others affect me. Nothing is going to happen. No one cares that some singer was in Toronto staying with his cousin, and it’ll be a nonstory in a day. Everyone is in crisis overdrive and exaggerating the importance of what’s happening because they’re stressed.
I head over to the Manulife Centre, where I pick at a damp taco and scroll through my phone. Hana knows better than to text me when I’m mad. She must have told Jihoon, because I have no messages apart from Alex asking me to come by his room when I get back.
Then I put the phone down. The lack of messages from Jihoon could be because he’s decided whatever might have happened between us isn’t worth the trouble.
That I don’t know how to feel about any of this makes me overheated in my skin. I know how I want to feel—furious, betrayed, all those juicy and satisfyingly self-righteous emotions, but at the same time…I can’t, not completely. Would I have told me? I want to say yes, but as Jihoon pointed out, knowing you need to say something and getting the words out are two very different beasts.
The same applies to Hana. I poke idly at the disintegrating taco. We might be best friends, but this is family we’re talking about. She couldn’t predict the future, and she wasn’t wrong when she thought a guy brooding around the house wouldn’t be my type. This is Jihoon’s fault, I decide. He had to mess it all up by being so likable.
“Ari?”
I know that voice. I whip around.