He tucks me close to his side and leads me to the elevators. We don’t encounter anyone on our way to the basement garage and he keeps me next to him the whole way. My eyes are heavy, but my heart is light and my soul is full. This night is perfect even without a bed for the lovemaking. My job may suck, my family situation is a mess, but at least I have Yujun, and I wouldn’t trade him for a perfect life. If Wansu could come around, then maybe all would be okay.
“What are we going to do, Yujun?”
“Be patient. It will work out.” He’s confident and he knows Wansu best, so I’m going to trust him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The security guard at the elevator bank does a double take when I reach him.
“Choi Hara-nim?”
“Yes?”
There’s a slight smirk. “Aniyaeyo.” And he turns back to his desk.
Never mind? And with that look? That is so odd. I’ve been coming here for almost eight weeks. He should know my face and my identity by now. I give myself a quick once-over and see nothing out of place that would cause him to check me at the entrance. My outfit of navy blue pants, yellow-and-white-striped shirt, and navy coat is unremarkable unless yellow is an offensive color, which would not be likely as people here aren’t called yellow-skinned like back home. I’m stain-free, since I have eaten only a buttered bagel this morning that Yujun bought me at the bakery next door to his apartment building.
I dismiss it, telling myself I have an overactive imagination. When I log in, there are new projects in my inbox. I almost clap in excitement. See, everything improves given time. It’s not the LA deal, but it’s work. Someone else must be working on the LA deal. Like Bomi said, I only need to keep walking. No need to worry about the security guard downstairs. I’m on my way to becoming a functioning member of this team. Not even fifteen minutes into my work, Bujang-nim materializes at my side, his dark-wool-clad thigh right in my line of sight. I have to tilt my head to meet his concerned gaze.
“Your mo— Choi Hywejang-nim would like to see you.” His voice, never quiet on a good day, feels extra loud. I wish he had sent me an email.
As I get to my feet, I can feel the eyes of all my coworkers following me. This is like getting sent to the principal’s office. I throw on my suit coat, awkwardly struggling with the sleeves as I make my way to the elevator bank. Outside Wansu’s office, Yujun is idling with one hand propped on the receptionist’s desk and the other holding his phone.
“Hara?” he says in surprise.
My shoulders slump to my knees. If Yujun is here at the same time I am, a lecture is incoming. “Do you know what this is about?”
He shakes his head, but we both know it’s not good. I knew she wouldn’t be happy I didn’t come home last night. Wansu was hoping we’d lose interest and we haven’t, so now she has to increase the pressure. I clench my teeth, remind myself that I am a lizard with scales or possibly a turtle with hardened skin. No matter what she says, as long as Yujun and I stick together, we will make it through this. What is she going to do? Disown us both?
“You can go in,” directs Wansu’s admin.
Wansu is standing in the middle of her office. Behind me the assistant quietly closes the door. Without a word, Wansu points her hand toward the wall. A light flickers on and a translucent screen display situated in front of one of the bookcases flickers to life. The lights dim and a grainy image appears. There are two people in front of a bank of elevators and they are— Oh hell no. No wonder Wansu is silent. The video speaks for itself. Even Yujun is stunned into speechlessness as we watch the two of us stumble toward the glass doors of the office. There’s a cut and we reappear in the hall, just outside the bathroom. I’m pawing at Yujun’s clothes and he’s fumbling with the door handle behind him because I will not let go of him for even a second.
The time stamp skips ahead thirty minutes and we emerge with hair mussed and clothes untucked, and even from this distance, with the low resolution, the smug, satisfied expression on both our faces is clearly visible. Yujun presses me back against the wall and kisses me hard, his hand disappearing up my shirt. Wansu shudders. That scene snaps Yujun out of his paralysis, and he crosses to his mother, swipes the remote I didn’t even know she was holding out of her hand, and switches the video off.
I’m numb from embarrassment. I hadn’t realized that was an actual state you could achieve, as I’ve only experienced hot flashes of embarrassment, where it burns, but there’s a point where a situation is so humiliating that you shut down as a defense mechanism. Sound is muffled, as if there’s cotton in my ears. My vision is blurry. My limbs feel like stones. My head is full of nonsense noise. That’s how full of shame I am right now.
“How dare you.” Her voice is quiet, but she is literally vibrating with anger or distress or both. “How dare you come into this place of work, engage in these activities, display yourself to all in violation of every known principle. It is not right.” Wansu is serious. “The thought of you two together”—she shudders again—“it is bulmyeong-ye.” I’m not sure what that word is, but I can guess because it sounds like she’s vomiting. “You cannot do this.” She is not saying this because it could cause a scandal and jeopardize the people here in this building but because the thought of the two of us together well and truly revolts her.
“Eomma, we were not raised together,” Yujun pleads. He’s not paralyzed by the throes of embarrassment like me. “It is not the same thing, and her name is not Choi anyway.”
“It will be.”
“Have you discussed that with Hara? Perhaps she wants to remain a Wilson.”
Wansu isn’t listening. She slashes her hand down. “Do not speak of it again. This has been deleted and the security staff have been told if they leak the footage, we will bring criminal charges against them, so none will act, but how could you?” There is genuine revulsion in her voice that I’ve never heard before. “It is not right, what the two of you are doing. You are my children. This is wrong. It is immoral and you must not ever again touch each other.”
This is why I got the weird look from the security guard. She might have paid them off, but it’s spread among some of the staff. It won’t be long until it migrates to the seventh floor, where Soyou and Chaeyoung will watch it. I want to sink into the floor.
I can’t even look at Yujun.
“Eomma,” Yujun attempts.
“Wansu,” I say at the same time.
She shakes her head sharply. “I do not want to hear it. Your excuses and explanations do not matter. It does not matter what happened before you knew you were siblings. It is now that matters. You will not see each other. Do you hear me?”
She’s not yelling, but she could be. She points a finger at her son. “You are going to be sent on another business trip. This time it will be to Los Angeles and it will be much, much longer than four weeks. And you.” She turns to me. “You will go home. You are done for the day. I will clean up your mess here.”