Chapter 100.2

Chapter 100.2

“Are all the American elites like this? A prenup is strange enough, but saying it’s fine to have a mistress, setting a fixed date for divorce… The world’s gone mad.”

Mistress.

Concubine.

She had always thought those were words that would never have anything to do with her life.

Miran turned onto her side and muttered like a sigh.

“I don’t… really want to live like that.”

André had spoken as if three months were a short time, but it had been exactly three months since she had first arrived in New York. So much had happened since then.

Now she was expected to spend that same stretch of time as the mistress of a married man, sleeping in his bed, making love to him… The thought alone made her stomach churn with guilt.

“Contract marriage or not, if I can’t do it, then I can’t…”

She sprawled out flat on her back and took a deep breath. Her chest felt heavy, suffocated.

The reason she hadn’t gotten angry at André or confronted him was because she had already resigned herself, already let go.

“There’s trouble with the company, and Lorraine’s parents can help him out.”

It made sense that marriage would be the rational solution in such a situation, and since the decision belonged to André, she could understand it. Of all the people she knew, he was the one who carried the most responsibility.

He must have decided, like an officer on the battlefield, to sacrifice a few in order to save the many—shouldering the duty of rescuing the company he had inherited.

“But what right do I have to argue with him over it?”

It was simply a matter of living in different worlds. In André de Lafayette’s world, this was nothing out of the ordinary. But in Kang Miran’s world, it was something she could not even begin to imagine.

She had crashed headlong into the truth: no matter what she did, she could never understand his world.

“I should’ve listened to Juran unni. Stayed in the dorm, studied English quietly, and behaved myself.”

It was too late for regret, but moving in with him had been a mistake. And since it was her mistake, she was the one who had to fix it. Knowing he was going to be married, she couldn’t stay in this house any longer.

“…If I tell André I’m leaving, what would he say? That would be the end, wouldn’t it?”

The André she knew was not the type to cling to someone who had decided to walk away. If she left once, it was certain they would never meet again. All the more so because they lived in different worlds.

Miran’s lips trembled. She was wavering. Feelings of love didn’t vanish so quickly, after all.

“Should I just… shut my eyes tight and pretend I’m fine?”

Then Juran unni’s face came to mind, her gentle voice asking,

‘Makdong-ah, can you really go through with this?’

Miran’s face twisted in anguish, and at last she sobbed quietly into the dark.

“No. I can’t… I just can’t.”

—

Two in the morning.

To avoid waking Miran, André finished his shower in the guest room bathroom and quietly opened the master bedroom door. She lay on her side, the lamp on the nightstand still lit.

He walked to the bed and looked down at her. She must have only just fallen asleep, because every now and then her shoulders twitched as she drew in hitching, sob-like breaths.

It looked like she had cried for a long time. The skin around her eyes was raw, the bridge of her nose red, and her pillowcase was damp.

André reached out and gently brushed her cheek.

He had never intended for things to turn out this way, but Miran was the one who had been hurt the most.

Simply because she loved him.

André was consumed with a deep self-loathing. The unshakable sense of defeat tasted like the metallic tang of blood in his mouth back when he first trained under the weight of heavy gear.

He shivered as he recalled Miran’s empty eyes from the living room. The moment he realized the pure, blind devotion in them had dimmed, a cold sense of crisis came over him.

His throat tightened as if gripped by unseen hands. Out of habit he reached for his tie to loosen it, only to freeze, realizing he wore nothing but a soft shower robe.

For a long while he just stood there, staring at her. Then he turned off the light and climbed into bed.

In her sleep she turned toward him and burrowed into his arms. He held her tightly, locking her against him. Only then did it feel like he could breathe again.

André kissed her forehead, the bridge of her nose, and her lips. Then he closed his eyes.

It’s all right. By morning her eyes will look the same as before. Because she loves me.

Miran startled awake and blinked. The languid morning sunlight streamed through the blinds, warming the air and striping the bed in pale gold.

“Oh my god… nine o’clock?”

She checked the time and whispered in dismay. As she got out of bed, she noticed a note left beside her pillow.

You were sleeping soundly, so I didn’t wake you.
Rest. I’ll be back early.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Miran set the note back on the nightstand and stood up.