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another man like that? Go talk
to her. She listens to you. I can’t stand that girl anymore. I can’t believe I gave birth to her. Her father spoiled her because she’s the only girl. That’s what’s wrong with her. Her brothers all went to the best universities, but she could only get into that lousy school. No one in our family has ever had bad grades, so I don’t understand how she could turn out that way…
    “I didn’t do it because of him,” I said. “I never wanted to marry him. He probably didn’t really want to marry me either. He’ll find some other girl, someone else from a good family with money. Younger, better prospective brides will be lined up for him. He told me the matchmakers have been banging down his door.”
    Aunt Monica said nothing. I heard the wind rush past outside and the window rattle. The wind was building. The trees outside were dropping their leaves. If only people were like trees and could fall into a long death-like sleep once a year and reawaken. It would be nice to wake up, put out new pale green leaves and pink blossoms, and start over.
    “You know what? His ex-girlfriend who lived with him for three years came to see me. She said she’d had two abortions. Her story was so predictable. I bet she gave him spending money, bought his books, cooked for him. On the day of the bar exam, she probably took him out for barbecued ribs and toasted to his success. And then, that son of a bitch, after all that, he had a change of heart and went after me, the little sister of the chief prosecutor. Probably factored in my share of the inheritance as well. I’m sure he likes our family because it’s full of doctors, lawyers, PhDs… all those stuck-up professionals. Aunt Monica, do you know what I hate the most? Clichés. If only he had dumped her in a less clichéd way, or wanted to marry me for reasons that weren’t so clichéd, I would have closed myeyes and looked the other way. I mean it. I couldn’t stand what a big cliché he was. That’s it! You have to believe me. It’s the first time I’ve told anyone this. Not my mom, not my brothers, no one in this family. No one knows about it. They all think I’m being picky, and I prefer it like that. That way, I don’t have to deal with them as much.”
    At the time, I had no idea why I was telling my aunt things I hadn’t told anyone else. Nor did I understand why I hadn’t just explained to my family why I wasn’t going to marry him. His ex-girlfriend’s voice had trembled faintly over the phone:
Is this Miss Mun Yujeong? I’d like to talk to you.
When we were sitting face to face, I was surprised to see how rough her hands looked wrapped around the coffee cup. Her face was pretty, but her face and hands were completely different, like they were serving two different masters. Though her inviting eyes and the contours of her oval face were soft, she was deathly pale.
He’s everything to me.
The moment she opened her mouth and said those words, my heart dropped. How on earth could one person say that about another, especially a woman about a man, and how could you say those words so resolutely to someone you were meeting for the first time? It’s possible I felt a little jealous of her, just as I felt jealous of everyone who had faith and conviction, a sense that what they were doing was right. I don’t mean that I was jealous of her for having a man. I mean that I had never had someone in my life for whom it was worth risking everything, even if it did end in a childish, immature, even laughable way. She looked sad but she didn’t cry, and that seemed to be because she still held onto some foolish hope that kept her from facing reality. I thought it might kill her to realize that she was a fool for hoping and was therefore worse off than if she had despaired instead. She had a tragic and dangerous glow about her. But as I finished telling Aunt Monica abouther, I started to wonder why I had kept it a secret from my family. My