Page 67 of The Secret Of Us

“Did you need something?” he asks, coming over to lean against the worktop in the kitchen.

“Can we go to the supermarket? I want to get some fruit,” I say.

His eyes widen, jaw slackening for just a second before he fixes his expression. Have I really been that distant from him that asking to go to the store together is surprising to him?

“Of course, Adeul. Ask Mina if she wants to come, too,” he says, moving to pull on his coat.

“Mina,” I call as I make my way back to our shared room. I open the door and pop my head through to see her lying down on the floor, her phone held above her face. “Do you want to come to the store with me and Appa?”

“Nope,” she says, still typing away on her phone.

“Do you want anything?” I ask.

“Chocolate.”

“Do you know how to speak in full sentences?”

“Nope.”

I roll my eyes, closing the door before I go to where Appa is standing near the front door.

“She doesn’t want to come. Guess it’s just you and me,” I say, shrugging on my coat.

Appa smiles at me, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“Let’s go, Adeul.”

We don’t speak on the short drive to the grocery store. I think we’re both trying to figure out how to start the conversation that desperately needs to be had. But the car is too much of a confined space for that, so we’re quiet as we listen to the old ballads that Appa likes.

I grab a basket when we get inside, following closely behind him as he goes to the fruit section. He picks up some apples, inspecting them before placing them in the basket. When he moves on to the oranges, I take an apple from the stand, trying to figure out exactly what he’s looking for when choosing.

“What else do you want?” he asks once the basket is already stacked up with every fruit I enjoy.

I don’t want to remind him I’m only staying for three days, and he’s added far too much.

“That’s it,” I tell him, passing the basket from one hand to the other so I can walk closer to him.

The short window of time to have this conversation, while we’re alone and not in a confined space, is closing in. I switch to Korean, hoping it might make this easier. “Can I ask you a question?”

It’s never a good way to start a conversation, but I don’t know how else to. Appa keeps walking, his hands behind his back.

“Anything.”

“Was it my fault?”

The question stuns both of us. Appa stops in his tracks right before I do. I didn’t let myself think too much about how I wanted this conversation to go, but that was definitely not how I intended to start it. But I suppose it’s better to get it out of the way now that I’ve said it.

“Adeul,” he lets out a heavy sigh, bringing one hand forward to pinch the bridge of his nose before he swipes it down his face.

“You have to see it from my point of view. You left right after I got expelled. I never saw you and Eomma even argue before that happened, and then all of a sudden, you left?”

It’s all coming out now. The guilt I’ve been carrying since that day spills out of me as I finally confront him.

Appa looks around warily at the other shoppers, all of them inspecting the fruits and vegetables much like he did. There’s no chance any of them can understand what we’re saying, so I don’t know his hold up.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he says, finally letting me hear the words I’ve wanted to since the day he left. But then he guts me with his next ones. “But your actions made me think a lot about myself. I had to leave for that reason.”

My fingers tighten around the handle of the basket, my knuckles turning white as I grip on to it. So it was because of me but it wasn’t my fault?

---