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Every man has his first love and five important moments with her.
This is a fact, or something of a fact. Well, half-truths count, don’t they?
They first meet on a sunny day, the sun shines brightly where it grazes on green grass. She has her headphones in and the cord is a neon yellow, nothing like he has ever seen before. They don’t sell this model in town, but it makes sense. In hindsight, she’s supposed to be the heroine of the tale and the heroine has to stand out somehow.
The girl falls into his arms, a perfect fit in his warmth and Dae-yeong thinks this is fate.
He also thinks he’s in love with her, but that is for later.
The second, most important moment in their relationship is when she walks in on the final game in 2001. Her hands are soft around the slight curve of her belly and there are tears in her eyes. He knows what it is. Understands what this means.
The girl he has loved for over two years is quiet, but resilient, always.
“It’s okay.” She murmurs. “I can do this alone.” She insists.
Dae-yeong smiles, takes in her fingers and they are still as soft as the first time.
“You don’t have to.”
Taking in a deep breath as he walks down a different path with her, to start a family.
“You’ll never have to.”
Dae-yeong doesn’t like to think about the third time, but he can’t forget about it either.
She cries in the hospital and he’s crying with her. They’re only eighteen. Just — eighteen. The ultrasound is static and they don’t know if the twins will make it when their heartbeats are so quiet, all that registers to his ears are white noises. It’s stupid. It’s late. He makes promises, apologising over his own head when her hands are tight in his and everything becomes muffled. Dad is sorry, he sobs. Dad will take better care of you all from now on, he cries.
The beating picks up a moment later but its echo stays vibrant to his ears.
“The kids must have heard their parent’s voices.” Their paediatrician says and his grip stays still on her hands. “Yeah. I guess.”
“I want a divorce.” She says and his heart drops.
This is number four.
He’s eighteen again. He messes up, again.
She smiles for the first time in forever and he has forgotten how pretty she is when she does, loses the bracket of his thoughts in milliseconds. You’re beautiful, he wants to say. I love you so much and you’re still as beautiful as the day I met you, he fights the urge to say.
“Goodbye Miss.” He nods instead and she is air.
But if one is lucky enough, really, really lucky.
There will be a sixth moment and it will be enough.
Dae-yeong has always been lucky when it comes to her.
He comes back to his old form and she’s welcoming him in with disbelief. But there is also trust, a deep knowing rooted in familiarity and years of routine where she looks at his eyes and he knows she can see who he is. The love of his life has always been a bit too keen.
Da-jung looks at him, really, really looks at him and her voice falters.
He catches her perfectly like the very first time.