Chapter 1: Two Pairs of Shoes at the Front Door

“What a load of crap, right up until the very end,” a woman muttered.

She lay in the corner of a six-person cancer ward and was in the midst of staring at her phone. Her call had already gone straight to voicemail four times—that last attempt being the fifth. Her sunken eyes stared at the cracked screen, then flicked up to the tiny date in its top right corner: April 10th.

At worst, she had three months to live; six at best. Twelve, the doctor had said, if there was a miracle.

These projections—all shorter than she’d hoped for—were an approximation of what was left of her life. And she hated them. They were too convenient, like the doctor had started at three and multiplied up from there. Maybe he’d thought the possibility of more time would reassure her, even if just a little. It hadn’t. She knew she was sick, knew she would die. The causes behind her illness were numerous: a poor diet; lack of exercise; overwhelming stress, not to mention the soju she drank every night to ease herself of it. The main culprit, though—the cause of all those causes—was her husband. The same husband who wasn’t even answering his phone right now.

It wasn’t like she was calling him to nurse her, nor was she trying to get in a final goodbye. She had no expectations for such things in the first place. All she wanted was for him to pay for her medical bills with her money that was in his possession. Which might’ve also been the reason her husband had kept ignoring her messages for the last several days.

She donned a lint-covered cardigan and left the hospital, pretending to be stepping out for a walk. The cherry blossoms which had bloomed while she fought alone against cancer—or rather, while the cancer cells mercilessly ate away at her from within—drifted down onto her head.

It was already spring.

“Taxi!”

Luckily, she was able to flag down a taxi as soon as she reached the main street.

Looks like I just used up the rest of whatever luck I had left.

Pushing her disparaging thoughts aside, she clambered into the taxi and gave the driver directions to her destination.

“Oh dear. You must be very ill, miss,” the taxi driver said while glancing at her through the rearview mirror.

Maybe, she realized, a hat and thick glasses hadn’t been the best choice of disguise when it came to hiding her shaved head. Plus, part of her hospital gown was sticking out from under the worn cardigan. She met the driver’s eyes through the mirror and shrugged.

“…I suppose so.”

Truth be told, it would be more strange for someone to look like this and not be sick.

“Ah, don't worry. You’re gonna feel better soon. Give it another ten days or so and I’m sure you'll be able to jump outta bed like it’s nothin’. Anyway, it's spring now, isn’t it?”

It was a dialect that was hard to understand for people born and raised in Seoul. However, the woman was familiar with it, and she felt a sense of longing at the manner of speaking.

A longing to return to her hometown, where she’d lived with her dad as a child. He’d been the kind of dad who’d done anything for her and made her feel invincible.

If I didn’t leave Busan, then…would I have been happy?

The woman reminisced. It felt good to, even if the past would remain just that.

At the age of nineteen, a girl brimming with dreams was admitted to one of the best universities in Seoul. She thought it was only natural for her to live in a dorm or get her own apartment nearby, but the person she expected would be happiest for her rejected the idea vehemently. Her father argued that he hadn’t raised his only child all by himself just for her to head off to Seoul alone, where the people were cold and cruel.

“Absolutely not! You’re going where? Why don’t you just go to Busan University, huh?”

“Dad, are you gonna live my life for me? If you like Busan University so much, why don’t you enroll there yourself?!”

“Look at the way you’re talking! Did I raise you to speak that way?”

“Whatever! I’m going to Seoul with or without your permission!”

The immature girl slammed the door to her room shut. For the first time, she resented her father for never having left Busan his entire life. She spent the entire night sobbing under the covers, but the next day, the girl’s father carefully entered her room and sat on the bed.

“I put our house up for sale. Let's move to Seoul.”

The girl’s father was a construction engineer. He was also a Busan native, the kind who had never once thought about leaving the city. The nineteen-year-old girl had no way of knowing how big a decision it was for him to sell the house he had received from his mother and blindly move to Seoul. She was just excited at the thought of being able to attend the university of her dreams and jumped up and down, rubbing her cheek against her father’s.

“You’re that happy?”

In the woman’s memories, her father laughed boisterously. Recalling his scent and his scratchy beard, the woman touched her dry lips. She must’ve looked quite pathetic, because the taxi driver spoke to her through the rearview mirror again.

“Cheer up! There’s that phrase going ‘round these days, isn't there? ‘Today is a gift. It's the future that someone wished for before they died’…is that right? I’m such a fool that I can’t remember.”

Was it the familiar Busan dialect? The yearning she’d thought buried threatened to overflow again.

I’ll see him again soon.

A bitter smile appeared on the woman’s lips.

“Even if I die today, I don’t think I’ll be missing much of a future. Just because tomorrow comes doesn’t mean good things will happen.”

“Why not? You can always make ‘em happen.”

As soon as he finished his sentence, he sped up and twisted between cars; it felt like the taxi was performing acrobatics. Then the car veered off the main road, entering a street the woman had never seen before. She gripped the handle above the window, flustered by both the erratic driving and what she assumed to be a wrong turn.

“Sir, this isn’t the way.”

“Just trust me. I’ll take you right to your destination quickly.”

The taxi sped up again and made a series of seemingly random turns down alleyways and sideroads. Contrary to her growing anxiousness, they soon arrived in front of the woman’s house.

“See? The paths you know aren't everything there is. You can get here like this if you just use your head a little. Can’t always be looking straight ahead, y’know.”

The woman looked for her wallet and pulled out a 10,000 won bill, slightly speechless. The driver waved his hand and pushed the money back toward her.

“I drove you here on my own way home anyway. Keep this and buy yerself some crackers, kiddo. Just think of it as pocket money from your dad, okay?”

She wasn’t a “kiddo,” and certainly wasn’t going to accept “pocket money” from a total stranger. The woman grasped the driver’s hand and forced the money into it.

“Still…I should pay since I received a ride.”

“Then how ‘bout this, kiddo?”

The driver slowly folded the money twice.

“It'll all work out fine. You bet it will. You'll get back on your feet in no time and make a lot of money, too. You'll even meet a man who is head over heels for you and marry him. This is my last ride for the day, so I won't take the money. Since you're my last customer, promise me that you'll live well. That’ll be more than enough for a payment. As a matter of fact, give me your hand.”

They were all things that would never happen. The doctor had made that clear today. And if that wasn’t enough of a punch in the gut, she was seriously considering running away because she didn’t even have the money to pay for her hospital bills. Despite this…

“…Okay, I promise.”

The woman answered as if possessed and took the money. How nice would it be if that all came true? The driver lightly squeezed her hand in encouragement and let go.

“There’s a car behind you. Careful when you get out.”

A car waiting behind them honked its horn. The woman hastily got out, and the taxi sped off. She couldn’t tell if the hand waving from its window was a goodbye toward her or an apology to the other driver. Once the taxi was finally out of sight, the woman unfolded the money in her hand. The crinkled 10,000 won bill had a crooked, blue heart drawn in the corner.

Laughter escaped her. Instead of folding it back inside her wallet, she placed it in her pocket.

“Thank you…”

...for leaving me with a beautiful memory in this shitty life.

***

Jiwon Kang, thirty-seven years old. Her life was far from ordinary.

When Jiwon was six, her mother ran away with all their family’s assets, save for the deed to the house. This forced her father to find a job and work hard to support the two of them. Because of this, it was her grandmother who raised her, and who gripped Jiwon’s hand tightly even in her dying moments. Children her age bullied her for being unsophisticated and stiff compared to those raised by both their parents. However, Jiwon was able to grow into a respectable member of society thanks to her father—who always showered her with love no matter how busy he was—and her late grandmother. Besides them was her one and only friend, Sumin Jeong.

Her father passed away without being able to see Jiwon wear her cap and gown. Overcoming her sadness, Jiwon finished school and made it to her graduation ceremony—though she had nobody to come and see. But not everything was bad. She was able to get a good job at a reputable company. And it was there that she met Minhwan Park.

“My name is Minhwan Park. As you can see, I’m a section chief.”

He pointed at the employee card hanging by his chest and gave an easy-going smile.

“You’re nervous, being new and all, huh? If there’s anything you need don’t hesitate to ask me. Oh, and by the way, what’s your number?”

It was the first time a man had asked for her number since a student representative back in university collected everyone’s. Jiwon hushed her beating heart for acting so shamelessly and entered her number in the phone Minhwan held out.

There’s no way he’s interested in someone like me. Especially not someone as good-looking as him. He just asked me for my number since he’s my higher-up and we work together.

She denied it as she always did. But the text messages that began arriving the next day formed little cracks in her firm, wall-like denial.

Good morning. Did you sleep well? I heard it’s raining today, so make sure to take an umbrella.

In the mornings, he greeted her with a “good morning.”

Did you arrive home safely? I bet you’re tired. You should wash up and get some rest! Sweet dreams.

And in the evenings, he sent messages oozing with tender compassion.

At some point, Jiwon began to look forward to his texts. She was always worrying over how to respond, writing and erasing messages over and over again.

Good night, Mr. Park.

“Too stiff.”

Sweet dreams, Mr. Park.

“Too cringey.”

I saw you were working overtime, aren’t you tired?

“It sounds like I’m always watching him.”

In the end, Jiwon couldn’t respond to any of his messages—or at least not until she sat next to Minhwan at the first company dinner after the busy season was finished.

“Just drink half and put the glass down in front of me.”

Minhwan subtly pushed side dishes in front of her and drank her drinks for her. Soon, Jiwon’s face was just as red as Minhwan’s, though not because of the alcohol. Dinner felt like it took ages to end, and by the end of it she wanted to hide herself out of love-fueled embarrassment.

“Are you drunk?”

Minhwan’s question cut through the noisy crowd, making her heart thump.

“I’m fine. Thank you for taking care of me.”

That wasn’t what I wanted to say.

Jiwon, who had lived her entire life building walls around herself, despaired over curt response.

“If you’re really thankful, do this one thing for me,” Minhwan whispered with a laugh.

“Go ahead.”

“Can you please reply to my texts? Just a simple ‘yes’ is fine.”

After that, Jiwon and Minhwan began dating. She had always had difficulty getting along with people, so this good-looking and kind man seemed like he was from an entirely different world than her. The way he dropped everything and ran to his mother when she needed him was something Jiwon admired and envied. Then, when Minhwan proposed, she thought she was dreaming.

“Let’s get married, Jiwon. You’re the only person I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

The two successfully became married.

Jiwon was on top of cloud nine. She was so happy she could even endure how her mother-in-law barged in every morning as soon as they returned from their honeymoon. She nagged Jiwon about preparing Minhwan’s breakfast, cleaning the house, and even throwing out their water purifier and boiling barley tea instead.

“I didn’t take you in as a daughter-in-law because I like you. I only allowed it because you seemed like you would take good care of my son. But you put rice that was made yesterday on the breakfast table? Are you in your right mind?”

“Your body doesn’t have any issues, does it? Why don’t you have a kid yet?”

“What’s with the state of the house? Are you acting high and mighty just because you earn some money? You can’t clean after you get home from work?”

“Why are you still sleeping at this hour? Since it’s the weekend, you should get up early and prepare reinvigorating foods for your husband!”

She let it all in through one ear and out the other. On days when her frustration and rage felt like they were about to explode, she went to karaoke and sang her heart out.

One day, though, she met her mother-in-law in front of the karaoke place.

“I knew it. You can’t take care of your husband because you’re selling yourself, aren’t you? This is why I shouldn’t have taken in someone without parents! Who knows what they died doing?”

For the first time, Jiwon lost her temper and argued back. She shouted right in the middle of the street, asking how her mother-in-law could say such a thing. After that, Minhwan changed. No, he did more than that; he became a completely different person.

“I wouldn’t have married you if I knew you were this kind of woman!”

After her mother-in-law came and cried aloud for the entire neighborhood to hear, Minhwan immediately bellowed at Jiwon.

“I married you because I thought you were nice and frugal, but who could’ve known you’ve been treating my mother this way behind my back?!”

The situation turned even worse. From that day on, Minhwan always shouted at her, and her mother-in-law’s torture continued to grow more severe.

To make matters worse, Minhwan became addicted to trading stocks, something he’d started fiddling around with while they’d dated. On top of pulling all the money from their retirement funds, he took out loans and used that capital to day trade. In just a few days, he lost everything.

This all happened within the first six months of their marriage. Jiwon began to live the sort of life where one hoped the next day would be better than the last.

Tomorrow will be better. Next month, next year, things will improve.

This futile hope turned into despair; despair which caused her to let go of herself; despair which fed the tumor that flourished inside her body. It was too late when Jiwon finally regained her senses. All she had left was an untreated tumor and the deposit for an old apartment she barely managed to find after paying back loans and scraping together what she had.

It was the very apartment Jiwon now stared blankly up at after getting out of the taxi. She rode the musty-smelling elevator up to her floor and walked to the very last door in the hallway.

She hadn’t always lived such a sad life in a depressing place like this. Once upon a time, she and Minhwan lived in a neat, new apartment thanks to the money they earned from working diligently, plus whatever extra Minhwan earned from messing around with stocks.

She’d been happy then. That memory, and others like it, are what had sustained her over these last ten years. She kept telling herself that the old Minhwan would return, that he wasn’t really a bad person. She always made up excuses for him too, saying that he just couldn’t control himself because things weren’t going well; that, in reality, he felt frustrated and apologetic toward her.

Their unit’s rusted iron door didn’t even have one of those common electronic locks. Jiwon tried turning the handle before putting in the key, and heard a familiar click. It appeared Minhwan hadn’t locked the door properly again.

Jiwon pulled the easily opened handle and quietly stepped in.

At that moment, Jiwon’s dull eyes suddenly turned cold. Next to a pair of brown men’s shoes—messily tossed aside like they always were—sat two red stiletto heels. Both pairs were gifts Jiwon had purchased for people special to her. The brown shoes were for the man who was half of her world, Minhwan Park. And the red heels…

“Oh my god, what are these? How can I wear these, Jiwon?!”

“You said you don’t like being short, didn’t you? Hurry up and try them on. You’re pretty, so everything looks good on you.”

Those she’d given to her other half, her best and only friend in the entire world, Sumin.