Page 144 of When Worlds Collide
“How’d you figure any of this is ‘for the best’?”
She shrugged, as if it were a throwaway comment.
“Nothing. Just that sometimes, some things just aren’t meant to be.”
I leaned back in my chair, choosing to not even bother to respond. I did not have the energy, not even to consider if I’d ever actually liked Hana, or if she was just the one person who spoke to me. I’d never really noticed, but now, I reflected that I was also the only person who spoke to her.
Huh. How had I never noticed that before?
“Hey, did you see that theTabsfinally released those pictures from the Christmas ball?”
Her eyes gleamed with an expression I would have said bordered on manic. She pulled her phone from her pocket, tapped the screen a few times, and then slid it across the table to where I could see it.
There, clear as day was a picture of me, in the dress that looked like a storm cloud, in Jihoon’s arms. My skirt was billowed out around my legs. The picture must have been taken while we were dancing right before we left.
Before I even had a chance to process what I was looking at, Hana spoke.
“It looks like a dream, right? But see, that’s the thing about dreams. You’ve gotta wake up some time. Safe flight, England.”
I looked up at her, the blood draining from my face at the glint in her eyes.
She knew.
I’d opted to make my own way home after dropping my pass off at security. Jihoon had promised to finish early, but I still had a couple hours to kill, so I passed the time by making my way back the scenic route, wishing I had more time.
I was sorry I’d miss all the things we’d planned to do. The cherry blossoms wouldn’t be out for another few weeks, and we’d planned to take the cable car up to Namsan Tower, once the weather warmed up a little.
We’d even talked about going to Jeju Island in the summer, before the tour kicked off.
Walking through the city reminded me of all the things we said we’d do, and now we wouldn’t get the chance.
For all the familiar things I saw – the street art, the food stalls, the shops we regularly went into, I saw all the things we hadn’t gotten round to doing.
I tried to memorise everything I saw, taking snapshots in my mind, just in case… in case I never saw them again.
I stopped by the river while I drank an iced Americano, wondering wryly if I’d ever break the cold coffee habit I’d formed since living here, and realising that I hoped not.
Time was getting away from me. Jihoon would be home about now, so I called out for a taxi and headed back to the home we’d shared.
I’d decided not to tell him about Hana just now. With every step I took away from ENT, the more uncertain I was that it hadn’t just been Hana being weird. Surely if she actually thought I was in a relationship with Baek Jihoon, she’d have accused me of it before now? I tried to think back over all our interactions, but honestly, I’d been so wrapped up in my own ongoing dramas, I’d dismissed so much of hers.
So, for now, I let it rest.
I hadn’t realised the packing would present such a challenge. I’d forgotten all of the things I’d accumulated since being here. When you live in a place, I think you stop noticing how much your life expands to fit in there.
When I’d moved in with Becka in LA, I’d always known it was strictly for a year, so I never really bought stuff thatwasn’t consumable. My life had fit pretty neatly into two small rucksacks and one borrowed duffel.
Now, as I stood at the foot of the bed Jihoon and I shared, I realised how much I now had that I hadn’t come with. I had a whole new wardrobe from myPretty Womanmoment with Misun, a whole collection of K-Pop merchandise, bottles and tubs of skin care, souvenirs… just random little bits and bobs.
Not to mention the dress I’d worn to the ball, hanging up on the back of the wardrobe door, like the spectre of another life, watching over as this one ended. I ran my fingers through the soft fabric of the skirt, the crystals glinting in the last light of the descending sun as it fell out of view behind the horizon.
“I don’t have enough bags,” I concluded.
This was an easier problem to focus on, rather than the one where my heart was breaking with every item I packed away. I’d already filled the duffel bag I’d borrowed from Becka.
“Use mine,” Jihoon said, wheeling his hard-shell case in from the hallway, where it had been stored in one of the cupboards.
I snorted. “I can’t use that.”
