“Remind me again why we gave in so easily and came here?” Greta is still sulking as I unpack my case into the empty closet of the apartment Jyeon organized for us. Tired after our trip and not up to another argument over this. It’s all we’ve done since they showed up two days ago. She’s mad at me for falling into his trap and doesn’t understand how little choice we had.
“Because this way, it’s still my choice, in my control. I can call the shots and make demands. He’s playing nice and looking to keep me sweet, so I don’t make waves in his perfectly constructed life. He would probably have kidnapped and locked me in a psych ward if we had fought Treating me for non-existent amnesia.” I point out and push past her to start pulling open empty drawers.
We went over this. That resistance is futile, and I have to be careful about the methods of treatment they might subject me to if he got complete control. I still don’t understand his motives, and I didn’t sleep thinking about it over the past few nights.
Why Jyeon came back for me when he could have ignored my existence and lived on, keeping my money and shares and having everything his way? Seeing as I adamantly refused the return and didn’t seem to know him. I could have lived that way for the rest of my days, and he would have had no comeback. No contest for OLO or my money.
Bringing me back to life will be messy for him because of the fake body and having all my assets reversed, and my position re-engaged. It will bring up so many questions, public criticism, and not to mention a process of removing from him what mine is. It could backfire, and my memories could pop up and mess with whatever he thinks he’s gaining.
The only thing I can think of and make sense of if the role was reversed is keeping me close to control the fallout. To see how much I know about my death and his part in it. To push me into a space where I think I can trust him and drop any ideas of revenge and still hand over what’s mine in the end. He’s maneuvering a clean outcome to cover all aspects and all possibilities.
He brings me back, publicly reinstates me, and spins the yarn about my memory loss. Comes up with a convincing story about my fake remains, seems to be the caring husband who nurses me back to health, and still ends up with everything and a divorce. Nothing left in the closet to ruin his future.
Then he can move on with his lover without public scrutiny and remarry to his heart's content while still getting OLO. Averting a scandal. Maybe he thinks he can manipulate my memory loss in some way. I’m sure the last two years, he’s had to hide away his girlfriend so as not to have gossip columns discuss the morality of how quickly he moved on. Image is everything in our world. My being alive gives him a convenient out. Due to my no longer loving him because of memory loss, he can publicly divorce and move on.
He should have just quietly ended me correctly, and no one would have known. The village is small and remote, and there are so many dangerous things in fishing life that he could have come up with another accidental disappearance. I don’t get this whole game we have going on here. I guess murder is no longer a benefit to him.
I refuse to believe it’s a genuine need to bring me home and have me back in his life. I remember everything as though it was yesterday, and the pain of his betrayal is still a metal blade in my heart. I know how little love he has for me.
“Why did you agree to see the house with him alone? I thought bringing me here was to keep me by your side and safe.” Greta opens her case and starts following my example, putting away the clothing we brought to last a month.
“If he wanted to hurt me in some way, he wouldn’t have let you come in the first place…… or brought me close to home. I don’t know what it will feel like to see that house again. I just want some time alone to process it, I guess. Not have you fighting with him and riling him up. This is all still hard for me.”
We don’t know how long this will take as our plan is unclear, and I don’t know how I’m meant to start regaining memories. Jyeon thinks letting me explore the house will be a step in trying to rekindle forgotten memories. I have to figure out how to make it believable when I start acting like they do. Soon as I can convince him, I remember how much I loathe him; we can divorce, and I can leave. Goodbye to hiding and him.
“What about your mother-in-law and brother? You don’t want me there when you face them?”
“You heard him. They’re not here yet. Yoonie accompanied his mother abroad for treatment, and he hasn’t told them about me. They come back in a few days. We’ll cross that hurdle then.”
Greta’s upset with me for so many reasons, including them, but I feel like this is something I must do alone. It’s not easy for me to be here and pretending, and I find it hard enough without having her there too. I need to face my past alone, standing on my own two feet. I can’t run away this time.
“I hate all of this. I feel so powerless against these people. He really has you over a barrel, and I can’t believe how much wealth can screw over normal folk like us.” Greta slumps down on the bed and allows herself to flop back into a star shape that covers half the clothing she just pulled out.
“I know. Trust in me, and we will get back home soon enough. I don’t intend to drag this out. A few fluttering memories appear, and then I’ll open a floodgate. Once I tell him I remember everything, it’s the end game. I dump my shares, my marriage, take what’s mine from my parents, and the village never worries about cash again.” That’s the plan anyway. That is all I have of one so far.
“I honestly still don’t think of you as worth billions or being this person. As much as I kept looking you up last night and reading about your achievements, I can’t connect that woman to who you are now.”
“I’m not her anymore and don’t want to be. Look at what she ended up with. A husband who cheated and then killed her….. Everyone just got on with their lives without me. Easily.” I point out and then jump at the sudden invasion of a door knock. It’s a rattle of an impatient person.
“No guesses who that might be!” Greta states blankly. “He barely gave you breathing room on the boat or in the car, and now he can’t give you an hour to unpack. Anyone would think he cares.” She rolls over onto her belly, making it clear she’s not answering it, and I eyeroll.
“Get off of those before they wrinkle and put them away.” I smack her ass with a substantial wallop that makes her yelp and run off before she retaliates. Giggling at her show of fierce and knowing she would pay me back for it at some point. We have an immature relationship with lots of play fighting.
I open the door, still smiling, amused at myself, and instantly sobered by Jyeon’s tall, imposing self, standing on the other side. Looking intimidating in all dark casual clothes, which adds to his dark looks. He catches my happy face, and a slight twitch to the corner of his mouth softens his serious stare.
“What is it?” I don’t waste time on niceties.
“I wanted to get a start on seeing if we can bring up any familiarity now you’re back in the city. A tour… walk down memory lane. Just the two of us so we can talk freely, without a lawyer or guard dog.” He makes a mild joke about Greta and Bryant, yet I don’t find it funny.
“What lane would you be looking to walk? I’m not sure I want to go anywhere alone with you.” I pout and cross my arms over my chest. I have no desire to get cozy with him in the name of curing amnesia.
“We grew up together, Sohla. Even before we married, we had a billion memories in this city. We can go anywhere, and I’ll find something to rekindle one.” He sounds genuine and even has hints of warmth in his voice that were mostly missing in the last years of life with him.
“Did I even like you? I don’t get the vibe that I did.” I know it’s immature but poking him with a double meaning is all I have to curb yelling out the truth.
“Come with me and find out.” Jyeon pushes past me without invitation and moves to the couch, where we threw our coats. He picks up the one I was wearing earlier and my discarded handbag and motions for me to turn it so he can put it on.
“What about me?” Greta appears at the door, and Jyeon wastes no time in a cool rebuff without taking his eyes from me.
“Husband and wife time. We have memories I don’t want to share with anyone else. Give us this. I promise she’ll be in good hands and safe. I have no intention of hurting or pushing her memories with force.”
Yeah, because the truth of them won’t show him in a good light.
Despite everything, I want to see what Jyeon is trying to do. If it’s all a ruse and he has ulterior motives, it will be more obvious when it’s just us two and his lack of knowledge about what I do know. Greta scowls at him and leans against the doorframe, eyes penetrating him, and then looks at me and catches my subtle nod.
“Fine. You can take me on your memory lane walk but leave Greta with cash to order food. We haven’t eaten yet, and there’s nothing in the refrigerator. You said you would cover all expenses, so do it.” I demand, a hint of my old commanding tone showing face. Greta smirks, and Jyeon doesn’t argue. He slides his hand inside his jacket, pulls out his wallet, and lays two hundred dollar bills on the couch beside him. I forgot what it was like to be so used to wealth that a hundred dollars was mere pocket change; we never thought twice about tipping.
“I’ll have my assistant stock the cupboards and refrigerator first thing in the morning and anything else you need. Write a list if you have needs, and I’ll take care of them.”
“How nice to be rich.” Greta snarls his way and turns to swan back off into the bedroom, with no wish to be in his company at all. She’s been unable to cull her hostility around him, and as much as I’m sure it must confuse him that’ it’s so venomous, he says nothing.
I get a smile and a nod, and he again comes at me with my outerwear.
“I have arms. I’m capable of dressing myself.” I take it from him with a tug and haul it on, turning and stopping at the door to slide my feet into my discarded boots. I’m dressed in jeans, a long woolly sweater, and a simple ponytail. Casual and warm for the cooler city weather today. It may be summer, but the wind and temperature have been at odds these past two days. It feels symbolic.
“It’s weird how losing your memory reverted you to the girl you were and the kind of clothes you always favored,” Jyeon says aloud, although it’s clear it’s a mere observation for himself, and I frown at him.
“I wouldn’t know,” I reply bluntly and pull the door open by myself before he can come and play the role of a gentleman.
“You don’t have to be on constant guard with me. I know it may not feel like it right now, but I’m not your enemy. I’m not doing this to make your life difficult. Can you trust me a little? Stop being so abrasive?” Jyeon places a hand on the flat of my back as he follows me out in a guiding motion, and I tense all over. Mentally cursing this awful lurch of my stomach and the flutter down low, his touch still ignites even after two years.
“Maybe the fact I apparently committed suicide indicates you weren’t that great of a husband or friend, and I should trust nothing. Can you not touch me? You’re a total stranger to me, and we have no reason to have physical contact.” I snap back, remembering his harsh words from years ago anytime I laid a hand on him. The rebuff, the never wanting my touch, and it feels somehow good to reverse the role and throw it back at him now.