The workshop was quiet.
After Han Yeoul left, this place, which had been neglected without proper work being done, had layers of dust accumulated. The sight seemed to reflect me, abandoned by Han Yeoul, so I spent half a day carefully cleaning the workshop. Once the accumulated dust was cleared and the wood bathed in sunlight warmly emitted light, I finally felt like I’d returned to everyday life.
Until now, I hadn’t let anyone into this workshop. Not even Han Yeoul.
Actually, Han Yeoul could have come and gone freely, but somehow I missed the timing to introduce the workshop to him. His sudden employment and my schedule being pushed up by several years because of it twisted our plans, and I ended up separating Han Yeoul’s and my spaces.
That felt so disappointing back then, but today I think it’s rather fortunate. If this place too had been full of traces of Han Yeoul, it might have been hard to endure.
When the machine noise stopped, this space was almost silent. At those times, the sound of my breathing echoed loudly in my ears. It was time to focus entirely on myself.
Time to empty my mind and clear my head. I don’t know how long it’s been since I had this time.
Until now, Han Yeoul’s absence and the resulting pheromone imbalance constantly tormented me, but my condition recovered and I could fully feel this time.
I thought once again about how precious Han Yeoul was in my life. Though he only stayed briefly and left, Han Yeoul restored my life back to normal.
So in the end, I became certain again. I can’t live without Han Yeoul.
I stood in front of the furniture I’d abandoned and stopped working on. What had been waiting for my touch, holding months of time when I couldn’t continue and wandered, was a table for two.
A precious table where Han Yeoul and I would sit facing each other, eat meals, reflect on the day, and continue our lives.
“I won’t need a table for two anymore.”
A new scene of ‘our child’ seeped into the table’s landscape that had only Han Yeoul and me. My hands working the wood became busy.
It took exactly two days. For two days, without sleeping or eating, I focused only on making the table.
It wasn’t a work to show anywhere. It was just a table for our ‘family’. I felt like my fluctuating heart would be at peace once I finished making this. So I couldn’t stop my hands.
I barely finished sanding and picked up the phone I’d laid face down. Eight missed calls. All calls from Uncle Irang. Even knowing I was in the workshop, he must have been worried about my condition. I sent Uncle Irang a text message. Telling him not to worry.
Though the finishing work remained, I sat at the roughly completed table. Imagining Han Yeoul sitting in the empty chair across from me put my heart at ease. I also made a separate baby chair and placed it next to Han Yeoul’s chair. I miss the dinner table where my ‘family’ will sit across from me and be together. Even though it’s a scene that hasn’t come yet.
I took out a triangle gimbap from my bag. I was suddenly hungry. Han Yeoul would be shocked if he knew.
Could Han Yeoul, who didn’t know what I was like in the workshop, even imagine me eating instant food like this?
[Instant food isn’t proper food. I can’t tolerate putting something like that in your body.]
I was the one who used to lecture Han Yeoul like that. If he saw me standing by the workbench forcibly pushing down triangle gimbap, Han Yeoul would have something to say. A laugh escaped. The Han Yeoul in my imagination hadn’t changed from before at all, so I kept laughing. But my eyelids grew hot, so I had to blink several times.
I opened the location tracking app installed on the phone. Han Yeoul’s location, which hadn’t moved for a while, had moved recently.
77 Geumsan-ri, Iseong-eup, Iseong-gun, Gyeongnam.
When I searched for the address that appeared on the app, it was a hospital on an island called Geumsan Island. Looking at that address, I pondered for a long time. I desperately wanted to contact him. I hesitated again and again, thinking that with just one press of the call button, I could talk to Han Yeoul.
I felt bitter thinking he’d hidden on an island to avoid me again, but then I worried whether he’d changed hospitals as his due date approached.
In the end, I called Hyung Yeonwoo instead of Han Yeoul. I thought he might not answer, but contrary to my expectation, Hyung Yeonwoo answered before the signal even rang a few times.
—Oh, Seonjae.
“Hyung.”
—…You’re calling because you know, right?
Hyung Yeonwoo’s voice was calm. As if he’d expected my call.
—I wasn’t trying to deceive you. I don’t have any bad feelings toward you either. I’m saying this in advance in case you misunderstood.
“…”
—I only met Yeoul recently. During my sabbatical year, Yeoul came to a hospital where I was temporarily filling in for a junior colleague.
“Really?”
—Why would I lie to you?
Heat gathered in my eyelids. I finally felt relieved. I finally thought it was fortunate that Hyung Yeonwoo was beside Yeoul.
—I’ll take good care of Yeoul, so don’t worry.
“Hyung.”
—Yeah.
“I’m sorry.”
—…For what.
“I thought you still hadn’t forgiven me. So even though you knew where Yeoul was, you deliberately didn’t tell me—”
—I can’t say that’s not it at all. I could have told you Yeoul’s whereabouts later but I didn’t.
“I know it’s not like that. Since Yeoul’s condition wasn’t normal, you must have had a lot to think about too.”
—Haha. You’ve grown up, our Seonjae.
“I’m sorry, Hyung. And thank you.”
—What nonsense.
“I feel bad like I’m doing something wrong to you, Hyung.”
—Don’t think like that, Seonjae. I actually feel good that Yeoul gave me a great opportunity.
“A great opportunity?”
—It’s adding another case proving that even extreme heat omegas can safely give birth. It’s an honor as Yeoul’s attending physician.
“Hyung…”
—You know, Seonjae. I’m going to do my best.
Hyung Yeonwoo’s voice seemed a bit excited.
—I hope Yeoul can fully enjoy even the share of joy I lost.
“The joy you lost?”
—Yeah. The joy of becoming a father.
“…Yeah.”
—So, Seonjae. You can take your time coming. Yeoul will wait.
“Okay. Thanks, Hyung.”
After hanging up, I looked at the red dot blinking on the map. Han Yeoul was there. Though Han Yeoul was still far from my side, I wasn’t as anxious as before.
I stared at the blinking dot for a while, then took out a notebook and wrote a letter. Imagining what Han Yeoul might be doing now.
I thought and thought again as I wrote the letter, about what Han Yeoul’s heart must be like going to the sea again despite not liking water, what thoughts he might be spending his days with as anxious days without any memories continued even after bravely distancing himself from me.
Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve written many letters to Han Yeoul.
I thought I’d done a lot for him, but something hot welled up inside me because it seemed I hadn’t given Han Yeoul as much as I thought.
Yeoul, are you doing well? Don’t you miss me? Is our baby healthy and well?
Though I had many things I wanted to ask, I simply wrote down my day matter-of-factly.
I wrote my story without showing my curiosity about Han Yeoul even though I was curious, without saying I missed him even though I did.
I just wanted to tell him.
What my days without Han Yeoul were like. With what feelings I was waiting for Han Yeoul, thinking of him.
Since the me that Han Yeoul remembers has already disappeared, I want to fill that space with myself again.
I don’t expect a reply. I just put the letter I carefully wrote character by character into an envelope, praying that my feelings would reach Han Yeoul.
Perhaps Han Yeoul will never reply to this letter. That’s okay too.
Tomorrow I’ll probably spend a similar day. Making furniture in the workshop, eating lunch carelessly, and when evening comes, opening the window and writing another letter.
A letter Han Yeoul may or may not read. A letter like a diary, like my matter-of-fact confession, for which I don’t expect a reply.
A letter quietly recording that I’m still living in the same place, that I’m longing for the times I spent with Han Yeoul.
Yeoul, I won’t rush. I’ll wait for you silently in this place without approaching until you remember me again and call my name.
I quietly folded away the words I couldn’t convey and tucked them in my heart.
“Good night, Yeoul.”
