Page 107 of A World Apart
Eventually though, we had to move and Jihoon was the first to, as he kissed the tip of my nose and smiled.
I placed my hand on his chest, feeling the way his heart beat so soundly under my palm, almost audible in the silence of the room. Jihoon lifted it to his mouth and placed a delicate kiss against my palm, and then my inner wrist. My heart swelled at how softly he held me, like I might break if handled carelessly.
After a brief bathroom break, I slid back into bed, the sheets cool against my flushed skin.
“Come, it’s late,” Jihoon said, lying back down on the bed and pulling me with him to settle in the circle of his arms, resting my head on his warm chest. Instantly I felt drowsy, the weight of sleep hovering at the edges of my mind, waiting to pull over me like a blanket.
I sighed with contentment, but then remembered something I wanted to know. Without moving my head, I asked, “What does 'cheon-sa' mean?”
He’d explained to me earlier that ‘jagiya’ meant something like, ‘baby,’ or ‘darling.’
Jihoon inhaled deeply underneath me, saying as he exhaled, “It means ‘angel.’
Goosebumps broke out over my body and my smile felt tremulous as I snuggled closer to his warmth.
Chapter 32
Morning came sooner than either of us wanted, the shrill alarm of Jihoon’s phone was an unwelcome interruption to what had to have been one of the most peaceful night’s sleep I’d ever had.
But, it was 4:00am and the driver would be coming for Jihoon by 5:00am, so it was with reluctance that we both got out of bed and went about putting back together the shards of the real-life we were returning to, by doing normal things, like getting dressed, brushing our teeth, and packing away the meagre possessions we’d brought with us here to this oasis we now had to leave.
As I had only my rucksack and the bag Becka packed for me, I was done before Jihoon and headed downstairs to make sure we had tidied up as much as necessary before vacating, but once that distraction was over, I had to come to terms with the fact that our time was up.
Jihoon came downstairs just as the doorbell rang, startling me so much that he came over to ask if I was okay.
“Just on edge, I guess,” I mumbled, hiding behind my hair as I looked down.
Jihoon gently pushed a lock of my hair behind my ear before nudging my chin up with his fingers and kissing me softly, but briefly.
Moving over to the door, he opened it to reveal the same driver that had been there that day we visited Santa Monica, five months ago.
He bowed to Jihoon, “Annyeonghaseyo, Baek Jihoon-nim,” and turning to me he nodded his head and said, “Good morning, Kaiya-ssi.”
I returned his polite greeting and, turning back to Jihoon, “Are you ready?” He nodded, and together we walked out the door to the black SUV waiting in the driveway.
At this time in the morning, it didn’t take long to drive back to Glendale. Jihoon had assured me he’d factored this detour into the commute time to LAX for his red-eye, from which he was flying commercial − but still in first class, of course − back to Incheon airport.
We were silent the whole ride there, just quietly sitting with our thoughts, hands entwined, until we pulled up outside my apartment building.
I knew I wouldn’t cry this time, I knew better what we were to each other and though the future remained as uncertain as it had back in the spring… well, I’d take what I could, for now.
I leaned towards Jihoon and kissed him softly, not wanting a long goodbye. I didn’t want to act like this was the last time we’d see each other, so instead I pulled a smile onto my face and told him, “I’ll see you soon.”
“I’ll call you when I land,” he assured me, and I slid out of the car, clutching my backpacks to stand on the pavement and watch him drive away from me again.
Becka had been asleep when I got in, of course, it being not even 6:00am on a Sunday morning. I tiptoed in and debated going back to bed, but decided against it when I saw my laptop on the coffee table in the living area.
So, instead, I made a coffee, opened my laptop, and went online to read.
“Oh, fucking crap-on-a-cracker!”
“Well, good morning to you too,” I smiled at Becka from over the rim of my mug. She had her hand pressed to her chest, dramatically leaning against her bedroom door post for support.
“When did you get home?” She pushed away from the door and stumbled into the kitchenette to pour herself a cup of coffee from the pot I’d brewed earlier. I looked at the clock on my laptop.
“Couple hours ago.”
“I didn’t expect to see you today,” she said, taking a fortifying sip of coffee, “I thought you’d be sequestered in your love nest until at least tonight.”
