Chapter 94.1

Chapter 94.1

Tuesday, the second week of August.

After being scarce for a while, busy with her boyfriend, Hyunjung finally showed up at the language institute and glued herself to Miran’s side. Over lunch together, she confessed she had broken up with him a few days earlier.

Her boyfriend was a Columbia student Miran had met before, even at a birthday party. Hyunjung said she had seen him with another woman at the restaurant they often went to together.

“I was so shocked I confronted him, and that bastard Matthew said since I hadn’t slept with him yet, we were just dating. So apparently it was fine for him to date someone else. He kept insisting it’s normal in America, so I told him to screw off and never contact me again.”

Miran, startled, tried to comfort her.

“What a jerk. Forget about him, Hyunjung. They say once a cheater, always a cheater. It’s better you broke it off before things got serious.”

“Exactly. I don’t want to date another American guy ever again. There are way too many cultural differences. Honestly, I think you’re amazing, unni. Things must be even more different for you.”

“Oh? Uh… luckily, André lived in Korea for a long time…”

Miran trailed off with an awkward laugh.

She was grateful André could speak Korean and understood the culture to some extent. And being half French, he had none of the boisterousness or carefree spirit Americans were known for. If anything, his stern, exacting nature was closer to that of a nobleman in a gat and robe.

Thinking of André in a traditional hat, Miran gave a small laugh, but Hyunjung tugged her arm with excitement.

“Unni! There’s a Picasso special exhibition at MoMA. Do you want to go with me if you’re free? I borrowed Seung-hyuk oppa’s membership card. It says guests can get in free too.”

“…Picasso? Maybe I should.”

When she was younger, she’d thought museums and galleries were boring, but New York had changed her mind. Seeing masterpieces she’d only known from art textbooks was a thrill. Picasso was also one of the few artists whose name she actually recognized.

André had said he’d be home around seven, so she had plenty of time.

Three o’clock in the afternoon.

Arriving at MoMA, Miran and Hyunjung wandered through the Picasso special exhibition. Each time they spotted a familiar painting, they squealed with delight as if they’d discovered hidden treasure.

Whenever Miran looked at Hyunjung, she was reminded of Jieun back in her freshman year. Raised delicately, a little naïve but harmless, full of sparkle.

“Wow, unni, look over there!”

Hyunjung pointed toward a corner of the gallery, where well-dressed people were gathering. They showed postcard-sized invitations to a staff member and were let inside. It seemed to be some kind of special event.

“Should I ask what it is? Seunghyuk oppa’s membership cost a fortune, so maybe they’ll let us in too. Nothing to lose by trying, right?”

Hyunjung, like Jieun, was brimming with confidence and boldness. She tugged Miran along toward the gallery, nearly dragging her, but suddenly stopped short.

“Wait… isn’t that your boyfriend?”

“Hm?”

Miran followed her gaze. The next instant Hyunjung spun her around abruptly.

“Unni, let’s just go. I changed my mind. I don’t want to.”

“Hold on, Hyunjung. Let me go.”

Prying Hyunjung’s hand off her arm, Miran turned her head back. A familiar silhouette caught her eye.

“…André?”

Discomfort flashed across Hyunjung’s face. Miran stared at André heading into the gallery.

At his side, expressionless as ever, was a woman with sleek blonde hair tied neatly at the nape of her neck. She clung to his arm.

Wearing nothing more than a simple black sleeveless dress and holding a small clutch, she radiated elegance and refinement. With the faintest curve of a smile, she inclined her head, and the staff admitted them both without even checking their invitations.

Miran recognized her instantly. André’s classmate, the Grace Kelly look-alike. The woman she disliked on sight.

Hyunjung slipped her arm through Miran’s, her face heavy with pity.

“…Good grief. What on earth was that, unni.”

Hyunjung’s voice buzzed in Miran’s ears like static. Frozen in place, Miran stared blankly in the direction they had disappeared, tilting her head in disbelief.

Why would André be here with her at this hour?

Her arms and legs felt weighed down with lead, stiff and heavy. Each slow beat of her heart thudded in her ears.