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How could two people go from shouting in the street to sharing such a loving meal? They were so at ease with their love. They fought and laughed and adored each other so openly.

Her throat tightened on a wave of emotion, and she choked on her next bite. Jihoon and his halmeoni looked at her curiously. Her eyes filled, and she ducked her head low over her bowl to hide the tears as they fell.

It hurt to see such love when she’d never received it herself. Like picking at a wound after she’d long grown a callus over it. And now it lay open and fresh. A feeling of being so hollow, Miyoung wondered if she’d ever be able to fill the empty space again.

•••

After dinner, Miyoung offered to do the dishes to escape and organize her thoughts.

A drama played on the small television in the corner as she filled the sink with suds. The sound of an argument between two characters spun out of the speakers to join her bitter mood.

Jihoon pushed through the door with the last of the dirty dishes.

She wanted to tell him to leave. Her pain had translated into annoyance, and he was her main target.

Before she had a chance to banish him, he pulled on the second pair of gloves and started washing alongside her.

Miyoung dug her teeth into the inside of her mouth. As she tasted the copper flavor of blood, she forced herself to relax, trying to let go of her anger with it. She might as well let him help. His hands were already submerged in the water, scrubbing at a giant pot.

“What’s it about?” Jihoon nodded toward the television.

Miyoung considered ignoring him, but knew he’d badger her until she replied.

The scene showed the heroine driving down a dark road on her way to sacrifice herself for the man she loved. Miyoung shook her head at the foolishness of martyrdom.

“She’s poor and he’s rich. His family doesn’t want them to be together. I think she’s going to get into an accident this episode.She’ll get amnesia or something, and they’ll be separated for a while.”

“If his family doesn’t approve, why do they need to create another arbitrary reason to separate the two?”

“Because it adds drama.”

“If you can predict the show, why watch?”

“It’s company.” Miyoung shrugged.

“Company?”

“When you don’t have friends, it’s nice to fill the space with noise, even if it’s just the television.”

“Is that really enough? They’re just dramas,” Jihoon said as the sound of a car crash radiated from the speakers. The ebb and flow of sweeping music accompanied the slow-motion disaster on-screen. “It’s not real life.”

“I prefer fictional life. Things in the outside world are too messy.” Miyoung gestured toward the cluster of police and emergency workers dealing with the accident. “I need to be in control. It’s safer that way.”

The hero ran through the mess of cars. He was held back by an officer as he sobbed out the heroine’s name. The cameras pulled out to show the enormity of the hero’s desperation as his voice joined the sounds of sirens. The next scene held the caption:FIVE YEARS LATER. Miyoung almost wished she wasn’t able to predict these shows so well.

“Safer for whom?” Jihoon asked.

Miyoung stared at him as the swell of the theme song surrounded them, lyrics of love lost and hearts broken. An unhappy song for an unhappy story.

“Why does it matter?” she asked.

“It matters to me.”

His words shouldn’t have caused the skip in her pulse. They shouldn’t have shot a thrill of pleasure through her. But they did. For the first time in her life, Miyoung’s control over her heart wavered. Or maybe she had never had control over it at all.

“You ask too many questions,” she said.

Jihoon sighed in resignation. “I’ll walk you home.”