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“You want me to go on a WHAT?!”
Jeon Ye-seul crossed her arms, casting the girl in front of her with a hard, stubborn gaze.
“A blind date,” she answered firmly, which elicited a look of displeasure from Kang Sol, her long-time friend from law school.
“No, thank you,” Sol said dismissively. She slammed the thick pile of papers on the desk of the office she shared with her partner in the firm, Park Geun-tae. “As you can see, I have way too much work to do,” she justified, gesturing at the gargantuan pile in front of her.
The remark prompted Ye-seul to roll her eyes exasperatedly.
“Unnie, aren’t you tired of recycling the same excuse you’ve been using for years now?”
“I'm sorry, Yeseul-ah, but I really don't have the time to go on a blind date. I have a lot of cases on my plate—”
“So do I! I'm a lawyer, too, in case you’ve forgotten. But you don't see me living in my office. Unnie, when was the last time you even went on a date?”
“Aigoo, you talk as if I've been a dateless hag all this time! I've been on a date… a recent one.”
Ye-seul arched a skeptical brow. “Oh? With whom?”
Sol racked her brains for an answer. What was his name? It hadn't been a terrible date; they ate at an Italian restaurant which served the most delicious carbonara she'd ever tasted in her life. Her date was nice enough to split the bill and drive her home but that had been the last Sol had ever seen of him.
“Lee Chan-sung," Sol answered, beaming at Ye-seul triumphantly. “My last date was with Lee Chan-sung from Lee, Yoon, & Associates.”
“Unnie,” Ye-seul deadpanned, “that was two years ago.”
Taken aback, Sol opened her mouth to fire a counterargument, but then immediately closed it. Had it really been that long ago? With a pang, she realized that Ye-seul was right. The last time she had gone on a date was two years ago, after which Park Geun-tae byeongsa had made her a partner in the firm and she had lost track of time.
“Well, so what if it's been a while?” Sol said, trying not to sound too defensive.
She stretched her arms wide, unable to stifle a large yawn, and leaned back in her chair.
“There’s so many rules to dating,” Sol complained, ticking them off one by one with her fingers, “First, you have to make a good first impression. Second, you can talk about work but God forbid you talk about it too much that you end up boring your date to death. And it’s not like I have any hobbies since work consumes so much of my time. Which brings us to Rule Number Three: If, by some miracle, you followed Rules One and Two to the letter, you’ll have to wait at least three business days before your date can even think about asking you out on another one.
An exasperated expression crossed Sol’s face.
“Dating is so exhausting. I’m fine being single.”
Ye-seul started to interrupt, but then Sol rose to her feet and made her way to the office pantry. With the loud whirring of the coffee machine in the background, Ye-seul patiently listened to her friend carry on with her impassioned tirade.
“And what is with all the mind games? When did people stop telling people how they actually felt instead of leaving a trail of clues for them to piece together? How on earth did people just one day decide that honesty and sincerity no longer mattered?”
When Sol returned, Ye-seul was relieved to see that she had markedly calmed down. With a composure that had not been present a few minutes earlier, she deposited two steaming mugs of freshly brewed coffee on the table.
“Mmm,” Ye-seul made an appreciative noise as she breathed in the rich, delicious aroma wafting through Kang & Park Law Office. “This smells good. Since when did you get so fancy with your coffee?”
Ye-seul caught the flash of a smile on her friend’s face before Sol tipped her mug to her lips.
“Ever since Joon-hwi got me a coffee maker for a housewarming present. I swore off instant coffee once I found out what I’ve been missing.”
“Is Joon-hwi oppa seeing anyone?” Ye-seul asked inquisitively.
“Are you kidding? Prosecutor Han is married to his work, too,” Sol snorted.
“Wasn’t he seeing that human rights lawyer from Daegu? The tall, pretty one who looked like Tiffany Young?”
“They broke up a long time ago. Let’s see… Two years ago, I think.”
Ye-seul peered at Sol over her mug. Then, feigning innocence, she asked her, “Do you and Joon-hwi oppa still see each other frequently?”
“From time to time, yes.” Sol shrugged nonchalantly, absently stirring her coffee. “He comes to my apartment and we binge-watch a season of Friends over beer or makgeolli . ” A grin split across her face. “Last weekend, Monica and Chandler ended up in bed together after Ross’ disaster of a wedding. We’ll be starting Season 5 this Saturday night.”
“Unnie, is Joon-hwi oppa the reason?”
“The reason… for what?”
Ye-seul heaved a sigh and laid down her mug. She looked at Sol with an expression that reminded Sol of one who was explaining something simple to a painfully dense, naïve child.
“The reason you haven’t dated anyone for two years now.”
“Ya, Jeon Ye-seul!”
Unfazed by her friend’s indignant stare, Ye-seul plowed on, “It wouldn’t be the least bit surprising, you know, unnie. You and Joon-hwi oppa have been friends for years. Even when we were all still in law school together, the two of you had this connection that you just didn’t have with anyone else in the group. Everyone wonders when you and Joon-hwi oppa would get some sense knocked into you and date each other.”
A stunned silence greeted the end of this revelation, in which Sol gaped incredulously at Ye-seul. Then, Sol argued, “But Joon-hwi doesn’t think of me that way! I’ve always thought… well, I thought he had a thing for Sol B in law school.”
“Do you think about him that way?” Ye-seul asked briskly.
“Joon-hwi is my friend—”
“Unnie, the two aren’t mutually exclusive. You can consider someone as your friend and still want to jump him.”
Ye-seul occupied a special place in Sol’s heart. There are some things you can’t share without ending up sustaining a steady friendship that transcends changing family lives and demanding work hours—getting a corrupt politician and his manipulative, abusive son is apparently one of them. After Yeong-chan, Ye-seul grew into a staunch advocate for women’s rights; she soon made a name for herself in the country’s law circles, representing numerous women in the country who suffered from domestic violence.
The same fearsome force of nature was regarding Sol with a look that was shrewd, bordering on unsettling. Her face felt warm, and she fixed her friend with an expression of mingled horror and embarrassment that was almost comical.
Half of Sol wanted to fire a rebuttal, but the other half acknowledged that her argument was pretty sound. In truth, the very thought of Han Joon-hwi as someone who was more than a friend sent butterflies fluttering wildly in her stomach.
She cleared her throat and said, rather pitifully, “I invoke my right against self-incrimination.”
It all felt like she had made a reluctant return to Professor Yang Jong-hoon’s Criminal Law class, and all she could do was trip on her own words and inwardly curse Socrates for developing such a method of teaching.
With an infuriatingly smug smile on her pretty face, Ye-seul said, “No further questions, Your Honor.”
Saturday night found Sol digging through her closet for an outfit to wear for her date. This was the part she hated the most. While normally she was not one to be picky with what to wear, “date-worthy” clothes were governed by a different set of rules: Anything drab or too plain would mean the evening was over before it even started, but anything too revealing would give the impression that she was in for a different kind of dessert.
Not for the first time since she found herself reluctantly agreeing to this ridiculous blind date, Sol exhaled a disgruntled sigh.
She couldn’t believe she’d somehow succumbed to Ye-seul’s insidious scheme. What on earth happened to the sweet, tender-hearted Jeon Ye-seul that she knew and loved?
Happily married people, Sol thought irately, should not be allowed to meddle into the lives of people who are content enough on their own. Ye-seul and her husband, Min Bok-gi, were far too meddlesome for their own good.
The doorbell chimed and she hurriedly went to answer it.
She swung the door open to come face to face with Han Joon-hwi. He was dressed casually in a plain beige sweater and jeans. His arms were laden with bags filled with food, snacks, and several cans of beer; she caught a whiff of fried chicken inside the bag in his other hand.
“Joonhwi-ah, what are you doing here?”
“I thought we were going to start with Season 5 of Friends tonight,” Joon-hwi answered, looking perplexed by Sol’s less than welcoming disposition.
Sol ushered him inside and closed the door behind them.
“We were, but… Didn’t you get my text?”
“I flew in late from Gwangju and drove all the way from the airport to buy us some food. I haven’t gotten around to checking my messages yet.” He frowned slightly at her, sounding concerned when he asked, “Why? Is something wrong?”
“Well,” Sol answered, “I have a date.”
Joon-hwi blinked at his best friend, confused.
“A date?” he repeated in a deadpan voice. “You have a date?”
“Well, technically, it’s a blind date. Ye-seul set me up with a friend of one of her clients,” she explained, as if the delineation would make any difference.
“I see.”
Silence fell between them. Did Sol imagine it, or was there something off with Joon-hwi? The rational side of her argued that he could just be tired from the journey; he probably needed some sleep too, judging by the paleness on his face.
“Mianhae, Joonhwi-ah,” Sol apologized, chewing her bottom lip anxiously. “I’ll make it up to you next weekend, I promise.”
In an instant, Joon-hwi snapped out of his daze. The dark cloud above him dissipated, and he gave her a warm smile.
“Don’t worry about it, Sol-ah. I can just catch up on some sleep,” Joon-hwi said in reassurance. “I’ve barely slept a wink these past few days.”
“Aigoo. Take it easy, will you?” she scolded him, eliciting a snort from her visitor.
“Pot, meet kettle.”
Sol rolled her eyes at him, then said, “Wait for me, will you? Let’s go down together.”
Without waiting for a reply, Sol padded to her bedroom to change out of her oversized t-shirt and sweatpants. It was almost time to meet her date, and she was yet to find something “date-worthy” to wear.
While Sol resumed scouring her closet, she could make out his voice talking to her from the narrow hallway.
“Ya, speaking of Friends, do you think Monica and Chandler will become a couple in Season 5?”
Sol frowned slightly, before she remembered he couldn’t see her. “Maybe not,” she surmised, sounding doubtful. Then, groaning, she complained, “Joonhwi-ah, I have nothing to wear!”
“You look adorable in your old Hankuk Law hoodie,” he suggested unhelpfully.
“Aish. You’re not being helpful!”
“Why don’t you think Monica and Chandler will date?” Joon-hwi pressed on, ignoring her jab.
“Aha! Found one!” Sol shouted, punching the air in triumph.
She fished out a black, V-necked dress she didn’t remember owning. The dress was a tad bit snug around her midsection, and the slit showed far too much thigh for her liking. It had obviously belonged to a younger version of herself, one with faster metabolism and with more energy to spare for exercise. Sol sighed morosely; it would have to do.
Unfortunately, she struggled with closing the back zipper and nearly stumbled to her rear trying to zip it up.
Giving up before she injured herself, Sol called out, “Second-round Judicial Exam Passer, help me!”
She heard his footsteps shuffle across the hallway.
“What are you—?”
“Joonhwi-ah, zip me up, will you?”
A pause.
Then, Sol felt his fingers ghosting around her skin, just a few inches below the hook of her bra. She stilled underneath his touch, feeling the heat radiate through the back of her dress. Since when did something as simple and innocent as zipping up a dress start feeling so intimate?
“Why don’t you think Monica and Chandler will date?”
What was up with him?
Fidgeting against her dress, Sol answered, willing her voice to remain steady, “Well… They’re friends. They’ve known each other for pretty much half their lives.” She swallowed, palms sweating all of a sudden. “If they date, everything… everything will change. There’s no turning back from that.”
His warm breath danced around her nape, and she felt a shiver course through her spine. Blood rushed to her ears. Suddenly, her heart pounded with a burning desire to flee from the room, to put as much distance as there could possibly be between herself and Joon-hwi— her best friend , a stern voice in her head reminded her.
Time slowed to a crawl. A lifetime seemed to pass, in which no other noise punctuated her tiny bedroom save for the sound of a zipper closing and her erratic breathing. Could Joon-hwi know, could he possibly guess, how ardently her skin burned from his heated touch?
“All done,” she discerned him saying, in a low whisper that sent heat flooding to her cheeks. Did she imagine it, or did Joon-hwi’s voice sound huskier than usual?
When she turned to face him, Sol avoided meeting his eyes. Joon-hwi’s piercing gaze always seemed to see right through her. She was afraid of what he might find swimming in her traitorous eyes if she braved looking right back at him.
So, she settled for a small, grateful smile.
“Thanks,” Sol managed to croak out, feeling light-headed.
“No problem.”
How could he stand there, so unbelievably blasé and relaxed, while her whole world spun out of control?
Silly Kang Sol, she berated herself. That’s how it is when people carry not a sliver of romantic feelings whatsoever for their best friend.
“Joonhwi-ah,” Sol found herself saying, “should I go?”
Looking bewildered by her sudden question, Joon-hwi asked her what she meant.
And before her unexpected surge of bravado could wane, Sol decided to put all her cards in. After all, what did she have to lose?
“I’m asking you,” Sol said, summoning the bravado she normally reserved for the courtroom, “if I should go on this blind date. Joonhwi-ah,” she lifted her head to meet his stare, “what do you think?”
For a brief, incredible moment, Sol thought he would say no. In that instance, a part of her wanted him to say no, to tell her to remain by his side, to forgo wine and steak in favor of chicken and beer on her musty, old couch. What he said instead was—
“Come on.” A huff of laughter departed from his lips, then he continued, “Why shouldn’t you? Come to think of it,” he said, looking thoughtful, “you haven’t been on a date in a while, have you? Sol-ah,” he smiled encouragingly at her, “let’s watch Friends some other time. You have fun on your date, okay?”
Sol tried not to look too disappointed. Perhaps she had been right all along. Maybe she was merely just a friend to Joon-hwi.
Because if he truly had more than friendly feelings for her, he would not have stood in the sidelines all this time and watched her seek happiness elsewhere. If she was more than a friend to him, he would have stopped her.
But he didn’t.
He called a taxi for her, saw her climb inside, and closed the door with a hearty goodbye.
Then he let her go.
To Sol’s quiet dismay, her date was the embodiment of perfection.
Handsome could hardly even begin to describe Seo Yi-jung. He had the sort of looks one could only have with the blessing of Heaven. A double-board certified Emergency Room doctor from Hankuk Medical Center, Yi-jung spent his free time volunteering for a non-profit organization which provides legal and medical assistance to victims of abuse and violence. That was where he had met Attorney-at-Law Jeon Ye-seul, who couldn’t wait to introduce him to her wonderful friend, Defense Attorney Kang Sol.
From the moment Sol entered the restaurant, she actually found herself having a good time. Yi-jung behaved like a perfect gentleman: he didn’t scrimp on the compliments; smiled and laughed in all the right moments; he even listened attentively to Sol when she started sharing some funny anecdotes about her time in law school, giving her the impression that he was genuinely interested in her.
And had she mentioned that the ER doctor was devastatingly handsome?
Still, Kang Sol knew with absolute certainty that the date ended before it could even begin.
It ended the moment Yi-jung lifted the corners of his mouth into a winsome smile that she knew would have made any regular mortal weak in the knees.
It was over the second their palms touched in a handshake, and his baritone voice registered in her consciousness.
Because while was with this perfect man, all she could really think about was how much she would rather be elsewhere: Curled up next to Joon-hwi on a battered, old couch that had obviously seen better days.
Han Joon-hwi.
Her best friend.
The love of her life.
“I know that look,” her date was saying to her.
Sol looked up from her glass of wine to see amusement twinkling in Yi-jung’s eyes.
“Pardon me?”
“Kang Sol-ssi, you may be physically present here but mentally you’re somewhere else. Right?”
She gave him a sheepish smile in response and apologized, to which Yi-jung brushed off with a kind smile. He really was handsome, Sol thought. It was a shame. If things had been different, if her heart did not feel the way it did, perhaps she could have allowed this man to make her happy.
“I’m sorry, Yijung-ssi.” Sol stood up briskly, her heart pounding wildly in its ribage. “But there’s somewhere I have to be…”
The city lights blurred past her as the taxi wove through the traffic on the way to her destination. Sol could not think. She was a mass of emotions and adrenaline, counting the seconds that ticked by while she tried to justify what she was about to do.
When the taxi came to a halt in front of a modest, ten-story building, Sol exhaled a sharp breath. It took her several attempts before her trembling hands managed to open the door and stumble out of the vehicle.
What was she doing?
Above her, the night sky glittered with a smattering of stars. How she envied them; they lay far away from the pangs of human suffering, blissfully oblivious to the emotional turmoil engulfing her insides in that moment.
She took the stairs, uncaring of the way her feet blistered against her stilettos. The more time she put between herself and the inevitable, the more likely she would change her mind. And save herself from the eventual heartache.
But then the door to Joon-hwi’s apartment materialized in front of her, and Sol ran out of excuses. It was now or never. One hand clutching her shoes, she sucked in a deep breath and pressed the doorbell.
“Kang Sol? What are you doing here?”
She’d always thought that passionate confessions only happened in movies and in books or when you’re seventeen years old and trapped in the throes of a drama. Sol was a grown woman, a force to be reckoned with in court. But in that instance, disheveled and barefoot, she had never felt as weak and exposed as she did—one second away before she confessed to her best friend that she loved him.
Joon-hwi had clearly just come out from the shower. Tiny droplets of water clung to the strands of his dark hair and to his thick eyelashes that splattered smaller water beads onto his flushed cheeks whenever he blinked. A damp towel hung around his neck; he was dressed in a fresh, clean shirt and pajama bottoms, clearly ready for bed.
Vaguely, Sol discerned him imploring her to come inside, though the words traveled as if they were underwater.
The door shut behind them, and Sol thought her knees would buckle underneath the weight of her own anxiety. All the words she'd practiced on the taxi ride and on the rapid climb to his apartment faded into a blur.
“Sol-ah, did you run here? What happened to your—”
“Joonhwi-ah,” Sol cut him off, before the words disappeared completely, “I… well, for a long time now, I mean maybe, except I just realized…” She mentally slapped herself. “What I’m trying to say is, well, I like you. I like you in a way that friends shouldn’t like each other. And if you don’t like me that way, that’s… that’s okay, too. I’ll be okay.”
She expelled a harsh breath and clenched her fists.
“But I no longer want to pretend, not even for a second, that I could still see anyone else… not when my heart belongs to you. My heart tells me this is the best, most sincere feeling I’ve ever had in my life. I want to be with you, Joonhwi-ah. If you’ll have me.”
By the end of her breathless, feverish speech, a heavy, awkward silence covered them both.
Sol willed herself to look Joon-hwi in the eye. She must be brave. If this was the end, then she refused to go down as a coward.
Since she left the restaurant, she had prepared herself for the gentle breaking that would come. Because Han Joon-hwi did not love her. Not in the way she did. And yet she refused to pine away for an unrequited love; she was certain, as with every other obstacle in her life, she would eventually outgrow this. There would be a Joonhwi-shaped hole in her heart, but she would not live as a prisoner to her own denial.
Several minutes seemed to pass, but Joon-hwi remained bereft of speech. He only continued to stare at her, his gaze unreadable, while Sol tried not to crumble at his feet.
Finally, she broke the stillness, saying resignedly, “I’ll just—I’ll go…”
But before she could so much as take one step back, his hand reached out to tug her body towards him. His arms circled around her waist. Her heart nearly exploding against its restraints, Sol sunk into his embrace. Could it be…?
“You have no idea how long I've been wanting to hear that, Kang Sol.”
Joon-hwi's eyes smoldered down at hers, and his warm hand cradled her face. In all the years she’d known him, Joon-hwi had never touched her so intimately before.
“You—you like me?” Sol stammered.
“It is a great privilege,” Joon-hwi said with absolute certainty, “to love and be loved by you, Kang Sol.”
She wanted to hit him.
“Yes or no only, Plaintiff,” Sol couldn't help scolding, to which Joon-hwi burst out chuckling.
“I didn't realize this was a cross-examination. What are my charges, Counsel?”
“Ya, Han Joon-hwi! If this is a joke—” she choked at the last word, unable to stomach the very thought of her best friend playing with her feelings like that.
Panic flashed across Joon-hwi’s face. Kang Sol rarely cried; even back when Professor Yang Jong-hoon grilled her in class, or when she barely passed 1L and her scholarship hung by a thread. But here she stood in front of him, baring her heart at his feet, and he was doing a lousy job at accepting it.
“I’ve never been more serious in my life,” Joon-hwi said firmly. Then, seeing the disbelief etched across her face, he sighed. “I’ve seen every episode of Friends since I was in middle school,” he admitted sheepishly. “I was going to confess to you right after Chandler tells Monica he loves her for the very first time. I had it all planned out, you know. But, ah, well… I was too late.”
It’s never too late. Not when it’s you, Joonhwi-ah.
“When did you learn how to be romantic?”
“Let’s just say a girl scammed me in a bookstore, and it all went downhill from there.”
She let out a laugh, suddenly feeling much lighter than she had in a long time. Her heart stopped, breath hitching in her throat, as Joon-hwi ducked his head down and left the scantest bit of space between their faces.
Licking away the dryness on her lips, she asked him, “Chandler... loves Monica?”
Joon-hwi fixed her with a look that was surprisingly tender.
“He really does,” he affirmed.
And then he was kissing her.
Sol hoisted her arms and encircled his neck, threading her fingers through his damp, cropped locks, drawing his face closer to hers until not a sliver of light could slip through.
His lips, gentle and insistent at the same time, became incredibly, incredibly busy that night. They coaxed, captured, and pulled her into the heat of him, so deeply it felt like her entire body was kissing him and all she could do was lose herself in the rhythmic thrumming of his heartbeat against her own. Every inch of her skin burned from this kiss.
After several long moments—or it might have been longer—possibly a hundred thousand sunlit days—they broke apart. The sound of their breaths, hot and erratic, filled the quiet of Joon-hwi’s apartment.
Her voice barely above a whisper, Sol wondered aloud, “After all this time, Joonhwi-ah?”
But his eyes, the same eyes that have seen her at her worst and at her best, told Kang Sol all that she needed to know.
“Always.”
Fin.