Chapter 9
“Vice president Park, I’ll announce you.” Jyeon’s small blonde secretary is flustered at the sight of me. Another female employee who cowers at my feet and jumps up to bow and then quickly presses the intercom. I ignore her and swan past without a word. Walking without stopping, because I know I’ll lose my courage otherwise, and push into the wide double wooden doors of his office. He has the biggest, being the president of OLO and his spectacular view comes at you from two full walls of glass.
Jyeon is sat at his desk, head tilted forward, immersed in reading something on his laptop and doesn’t flinch or bat an eye at my strolling in without announcement. I know he senses me, heard me walk in, and can probably smell my perfume that he told me he hates with a passion. To quote ‘the smell makes me sick to my stomach’. It’s why I still wear it, even if the smell sometimes makes me nauseous from the memories it conjures up. He was the one who bought it for me as newlyweds, when we thought we might just manage to make this work. This is just how I’ve become to survive in this shitty existence. Hurting him for hurting me…. it’s immature but at least it’s the only way I can grab his attention from time to time.
I tense at seeing him, like I always do, because even after all this time I’ve never been able to fully oust him from my heart even if there’s no love between us. My stomach tightens and those irritating butterflies rise up and flutter around until I push them down with a heavy inhale. Steeling myself to regain immunity and hating that my stupid naïve heart can never remove the Jyeon of long ago from my head. Even though we have both changed beyond recognition in ten years. Our story is rollercoaster and long, and somehow all stops always end up at Hatesville no matter how much we try to pull it back.
He’s looking good in a white shirt and navy tie; no suit jacket, and his black hair has been styled up off his forehead in a way that brings out his best features. His straight black brows frame the darkest of brown, gorgeous eyes, and that faultless jawline enhances everything, even his full lips and the way he chews his lower one when he concentrates. Jyeon was always blessed with how he looked, and it only causes me more pain when I stare at him, seeing the boy I used to adore. He hasn’t been that boy for a long time, only in my memories. Only by name.
“What is it?” He asks without looking up, fingers on his keyboard although paused, and zero effort in making eye contact with me. The instant aura of closed off and aloof that he always serves me, and his tone is flat. I ignore it, walk forward, and dump the file on his desk with little grace, folding my arms over my chest with nonchalance to show him I don’t care. Always on guard, never hinting at weak.
“Your proposal results. It’s plausible if you can get the board to agree. It looks like a solid investment, and I don’t have any reason to not back it. I agree, we should go for it.” I wait for him to lift it and open and he takes his time about it. Glancing at me only for a few seconds as he scans my outfit, no facial reaction about it, no acknowledgement if I look good or bad, and then goes back to the task at hand. Lifting it and flipping through while he speed reads it. Infuriatingly unreadable as always.
“Hmmmm.” He flips some more pages and then goes back to the financial break down and risk report and reads it again. I wait and watch, my insides churning because deep down I know what today is and it makes me want to ask him to not be like this for one day. It makes me want to break my own mask of cold indifference I have worn for so many years and show him that girl he used to know and care for still exists inside the poster perfect Park daughter in law his mother polished for him. She sometimes wants to break free and curl up in his arms to cry it out like I did the day of my parent’s funeral. She still wants that boy who held her hand through those dark days and tried to be the comfort in her life. My fingers twitch with the effort of holding it in and I tap my foot to keep it under wraps.
“I thought we could have dinner together tonight, with the family.” I drop it casually, surprising myself because it comes out of nowhere and I hadn’t planned it and catch him stiffen even while sat reading. A pause, a furrow so subtle of his brow, but I can’t miss it.
“Not today. I have plans.” It’s a curt and cold response and despite not shedding a single tear since the day my parents died, I feel one rise up and clog in my throat like a sharp boulder that threatens to choke me. I know he avoids today and maybe it still hurts him after four years, but I can never tell if it’s grief or hatred. He still blames me for it, and I know it’s where any possibility of us was completely destroyed. Just another notch cut out of my heart, along with the dozens of other times when life blew us apart so cruelly.
“Right. I guess I’ll eat with them. I’ll have the housekeeper keep yours warm.”
“Don’t. I’m staying out overnight. I won’t be back.” Again, another quick, cold reply to cut me off and make it clear that today of all days is not one he will ever spend with me. Whether it makes him sad or mad, it won’t ever be in my presence.