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You’re my h a v e n.
My home will never be complete without you.
You never know how much you love something until it’s gone. It sounded corny if you asked Han Jumin, let’s say, a few years earlier – but if you asked him now, the same man couldn’t help but to agree.
The said billionaire just finished his warm shower, still wearing his bathrobe with a damp towel hanging around his neck. His aimless gaze followed the traces of her in the room; those pointy stilettos he chose himself, the dresses which matched his personal taste, the custom-made makeup station he exclusively ordered from Europe. Even the scent of her magnolia perfume still lingered on the bedsheet he didn’t bother to change since she was gone. Jumin sat on the edge of their king-sized bed, ran his fingertips on the silk sheet, remembering her slender figure fidgeting when she woke up, stretching her slim limbs—
This place felt so vast without her, he thought. Their bedroom was full of laughter, chuckles, and giggles, as they tried to mess up each other’s hair, or when he tried to steal hugs and kisses when she wasn’t ready – ah, those happy days were so far, so out of reach. Jumin cursed himself for allowing her to escape him,
Was he too demanding?
Jumin exhaled hard. Trying to drive away from the negative thoughts which devoured his sanity, he grabbed the cell phone on the bedside table, only to be mocked by the unlock passcode he set himself. Four-digit numbers, which stood for day-and-month: their wedding anniversary. Sadness slightly consumed him, but Jumin knew he had to get himself together. The multinational corporation he inherited couldn’t run the business by itself, a solid reason for him to continue living in this monochrome world. Assistant Kang, he mentally noted, he had to call her to make things clear. His thumb pressed a speed dial button, waited,
// “Mr. Han, good morning.” //
She picked up so fast, it amazed even Jumin, who had worked with her for years.
“Assistant Kang,” he sluggishly dragged his feet, stood by the aquarium wall. Jumin tapped the thick glass and snorted, remembering how happy her wife was, playing with those tropical fishes, “You’re free?”
There was a long sigh across the phone, // “I’m afraid not.” // She sounded both stressed and tired, but it wasn’t Jumin if he cared about others, Kang Jaehee knew, // “Is there something I can do for you?” //
Jumin turned around. His back leaned against the fish tank, “I’m just – lonely…”
// “You’re lonely,” // Jaehee reiterated, voice low.
“Yes, I – I don’t know, you wouldn’t know,” slowly, his feet lost its power. Jumin looked up, even the ceiling seemed to ridicule his unstable state, as he now was sitting on the floor, helpless, “To lose someone so dear to me, to have her so far away, and I would never know whether she’ll come back to my life, I…”
// “Mr. Han—” //
“I couldn’t reach her and it was painful,” Jumin continued with his cracking voice, “And funny, how silly, for I can’t bring myself to hate her, even though he left me alone,” he hugged his feet, face slammed against his knees, “I was so stupid for letting her go, I wish I could turn back the time and perhaps we—”
// “MR. HAN!” //
Jaehee’s interruption stuttered Jumin,
// “With due all respect, please stop being overdramatic. Your wife is alive and healthy and she’s with me. You are the one who ordered me to follow her this weekend during the process of convincing an investor – thanks to you, I missed Zen’s exclusive performance and I hope someone is kind enough to refund my ticket fee.” // she was clearly holding back her annoyance, but her voice was still sincere, nevertheless.
Jumin pouted.
Not a childish pouting – he wasn’t even near adorable while doing that, “I still can’t believe she did that to me,” a long sigh, “If she wants to open her own coffee shop, she could’ve just told me and I’ll open—”
// “She wouldn’t want that kind of easy living, Mr. Han,” // Jaehee interfered, and Jumin shut his mouth immediately. There was a long pause between them which Jumin used to reorganize his way of thinking, and Jaehee was sensitive enough to let him be. She talked after a minute passed, // “We’ve discussed this – and you said yourself that C&R’s main core was exporting, how you wouldn’t care about small or local businesses,” // the chief secretary, probably, was correcting her glasses when saying so, // “And well, knowing your wife, hardworking and sometimes stubborn, your help might’ve pissed her off.” //
Jumin’s lips curled.
The fact that he wasn’t the only one who could understand his wife was somewhat irritating. Of course, he knew how persistent she was when it came to responsibilities – their charity party was one solid proof.
“Being my wife, she could’ve just stayed at home, come to the office once in a while, to have a banquet or company’s anniversary,” Jumin mumbled, “She doesn’t have to work, as if my money is not enough.”
// “Imagine how boring life would be if you have to stay at home six days a week doing nothing.” //
Jumin gasped, “Did she tell you that? That she’s bored? I mean – I can provide her anything and if one penthouse isn’t big enough for her, I’ll just buy the one next to ours and expand the backyard so she—”
// “That’s clearly not my point.” //
“So… What’s her problem?” he bit his bottom lip, “It’s… me, right? I’m boring, that’s it?”
Jumin swore he heard a snort but Jaehee quickly shifted it into a (fake) coughing sound, // “It would be inappropriate for me to answer, so I’ll just pretend not to hear that,” // she calmly reply, // “Please excuse me, but Mr. Han, I thought you married her because you found her to be different from any other women you’ve met before, am I right? She was never after your wealth, social status, and family background.” //
“That’s true,” Jumin responded without even thinking, “What are you trying to imply, Assistant Kang?”
// “She came from a normal family, and by normal, I mean the exact opposite of your concept of normal. I think you should adjust your lifestyle to match hers, since she had sacrificed many things to be with you, including her privacy – you know, many magazines wanted to interview her, and she couldn’t refuse.” //
“I won’t let that happen without my permission, however.”
// “A normal person doesn’t need to go through this excessive exposure, Mr. Han, but she endures all of that attention because she loves you,” // Jaehee emphasized some words and it left Jumin speechless, // “She wanted to have her own business, starting it from zero, because that’s what she did before she met you – she already accepted the fact that her entire life doesn’t belong to only her, but also yours.” //
Jumin’s grip on his cell phone tightened.
// “All she asked was a small portion of freedom. She wished to have a small coffee shop downtown, and people who come to her café are those who favor coffee, as much as you enjoy yours at home,” // she chuckled, and somehow it soothed Jumin in a way he couldn’t comprehend, // “Do you love her?” //
“Of course, I do.”
// “Then, trust her.” //
Not even in his wildest dream, Jaehee would knock some sense in him. Jumin had to believe that there always was that particular single person who gave the best relationship advice. To ‘trust’ was a luxury for him; raised in a family with lies and sugar-coating words, the betrayal of his father, women with their toxic tongues, and fake smiles. Jumin had read the proposal her wife had to sleep less to complete. It wasn’t the best business plan he ever assessed, but the passion was ridiculously strong in that one. He could almost smell the fragrant arabica scent from her choice of words, the sound of boiling water and grinding seeds,
Jumin remembered the first time his wife tried to manually make him a cup of pour-over coffee and she failed miserably – she couldn’t control her grip and the hot kettle almost escaped her trembling fingers.
But she didn’t give up, and practice did make perfect.
“She started this habit after learning that I’m a coffee drinker,” said Jumin, almost sentimentally, “I just, I don’t think she’ll go this far,” another exhale, “If she’s happy, then I’ll be the happiest man on earth.”
Jaehee couldn’t see it, but she knew Jumin was smiling. She giggled, // “Try not to worry about her, that’ll be much of help,” // from the opposite side of the phone, Jumin snorted, // “Please appreciate her effort, she’s extremely excited right now, even me couldn’t match her enthusiasm…” //
“Make sure she’s safe,” Jumin’s voice was back to its normal tone – cold, aloof, a little bit harsh.
// “You’re deploying at least ten bodyguards, Mr. Han.” //
Jumin cleared his throat, “That’s just…”
// “And if you think I don’t notice two private detectives you sent to trail us, you’re absolutely wrong.” //
“Well, it’s best to be safe than sorry,” Jumin countered, “Does she notice them too?”
// “The bodyguards? Yes – they’re all wearing a black tux, driving a sophisticated black van, making some kids crying. But she doesn’t know about the detectives, so far. I bet she’ll be angry once she knows.” //
“Can’t help it. I’m anxious,” as if it were the most reliable excuse, “Our home is so empty without her.”
// “Mr. Han, we’re just leaving three hours ago, and it’s not like we’re traveling through Europe – Incheon is only seventeen miles away from where you are now!” // seriously, Han Jumin, one of the smartest and most influential businessmen across South Korea, was the slave of love, what an irony, // “She’ll be home before dinner time. I’ll take her personally to your penthouse if it makes you feel better.” //
Jumin’s eyes widened in excitement, and thanks God, his secretary couldn’t see it, “Please do. I’d like to invite you to have dinner with us if you don’t mind,” his lips formed a friendly curve, his tone softer.
// “That’s lovely, but I have to humbly refuse, you can’t expect me to swallow even a bite when you’re reciting those cheesy lines of yours,” // Jaehee would’ve been fired if she spoke that way years ago.
Alas, this Jumin right now was more friendly and welcoming, even though he still had much to learn. He scoffed at Jaehee’s polite refusal and didn’t push his idea further, “Alright. Bring her back on time.”
// “Yes, we will, I— hold a second.” //
Jumin raised an eyebrow.
Was it just him, or his subordinate just ordered him to stop talking?
// “Yes, Mrs. Han, you’re calling? Uh, it’s… Someone from work. Ha-ha, you know, our company has no holiday. Yes. Noted. No – I swear this is not your husband, nothing important, really. Oh, yes, I’m sorry, I’ll refer you by your first name.” // silence, // “Excuse me, Mr. Han, I have to go. Your wife’s command.” //
“Assistant—”
Beep, beep, beep—
“…she hung up,” while pulling away the cell phone from his ear, Jumin hissed, “Employee nowadays.”
Jumin squeezed his nose bridge.
Sometimes, he couldn’t understand her wife, but it didn’t mean that he loved her less. It was just – Jaehee was right; two people from two different world, united as one in the name of God. They had a long way ahead and had vowed to overcome difficulties together. Jumin was struggling to accept this side of her: a philanthropist, a volunteer, and lately, an entrepreneur. He only had to trust her more, convincing himself that there was nothing else in her heart and soul but him, his husband. Love took time. Commitment took time. But together, Jumin though it was worth the fight. She was worth the fight. Them, was worth the fight.
He quickly stood up and did some stretching before turning his laptop and tablet on, readied his brain to evaluate some collaborative proposals from other corporates. If his wife could do beneficial things on the weekend, so must he – ah, perhaps he should stop working at five PM and made strawberry pancakes?
Jumin was a bit giddy just by imagining her. He typed some sentences and send them to her number,
I wish you the very best luck in persuading the investor. I’ll be waiting for you at home.
Joeun haru bonaeseyo, nae sarang.
[ sent ]