Page 27 of Perfect Happiness

But would he be able to? He was skeptical.

When people want to believe someone, they’ll accept almost anything as evidence.

But when they don’t want to believe someone, they demand the world—proof, alibis, testimony.

And even if Eun-ho did satisfy all their demands, there was no guarantee they would believe him.

First impressions are important, and no one likes to admit they’re wrong.

Eun-ho would remain a murderer in everyone’s eyes, no matter what evidence he produced.

Not only did the cops not want to believe Eun-ho, but Eun-ho also didn’t have the willpower to seek exoneration.

What he needed was sleep, not innocence.

And not just sleep, he wanted dreamless oblivion.

Reality was hard enough to deal with, but the things that came to him while he was asleep were terrifying.

Indeed, Eun-ho was suffering from a recurring dream, the same dream he had the night Noah died. Explosions of light. A white hand appearing from the darkness. An endless abyss. Trapped at the bottom of a frozen lake.

Dear Yoon-hee,

I’m writing to you because I have something to tell you. Six days ago in the early morning . . .

Eun-ho wanted to write only about the facts, like he was giving a testimony.

He tried his best to be detached. He had to control his emotions; that was the only way he could avoid rambling, that was the only way he could avoid pathetic excuses.

As a result, the letter turned out more concise than he had even intended.

Eun-ho read it again to check if he had missed anything or if there was anything that needed more context.

But when Eun-ho read it back to himself, he was disgusted by his own account of what happened.

His throat felt tight, and he could hear the whirring of the blood rushing through his heart.

Eun-ho hated his own tone in the email. Was this all he could manage after agonizing over it for several hours?

The letter read like a notification. It could be boiled down to two sentences: I killed our son. I thought you should know.

Eun-ho thought about how he would feel if he were his wife and had received such a letter.

He didn’t need to think long. He’d buy a gun and get on the next plane to Korea.

But Eun-ho didn’t dare try writing it again.

His mouse hovered over the send button until someone knocked on his door, pulling him back to reality.

The door to the study opened without making a sound. Wife stuck her head in the room. She stepped inside as soon as she made eye contact with him.

“There you are, honey.”

Eun-ho glanced down at his computer screen.

Despite knowing he was summoning the firing squad, he pressed send anyway.

Eun-ho had no reason to hide his email to Yoon-hee from Wife.

But she didn’t need to know if she didn’t have to.

And knowing Wife, he doubted she would praise him for it.

He could already imagine her response. First, Wife would demand him to explain why he was sending her an email, even though it should be obvious.

And she would ask to see the contents of the email.

And then she would start meddling and pretending that he needed to censor graphic details when she was really just fearful of the email becoming public.

At this moment, this was the last thing Eun-ho wanted to do: having his own work censored by Wife.

“I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Wife came over to the front of the desk.

She looked like she was growing ten inches taller with every step she took toward him.

A notification that the email was sent successfully appeared on Eun-ho’s screen.

It also displayed the name and email address of the recipient.

Eun-ho moved his finger once more and pressed the confirmation button.

Wife stood next to him with her body pressed against his shoulder.

“Sending emails?”

She placed her hand on his shoulder. Her eyes were looking down at his screen. The message had disappeared, but his email inbox was still open for all to see. He closed his email and logged out of the computer.

“Who were you emailing?”

Eun-ho turned his head and looked at Wife. She was wearing the sleeveless dress that she often wore at home. Eun-ho’s nose was filled with a clean scent, as though Wife had just gotten out of the shower. Her long hair was down, and she was giving off the familiar smell of body oil.

When did she come home? Why didn’t I hear her? Eun-ho was so confused. He had two ears; what were they doing while he was writing the email? Why hadn’t they heard her taking a shower, drying her hair, and putting on clothes? Or maybe she was coming back from the local public bath house.

Eun-ho looked at Wife’s feet which were visible beneath the hem of her dress. She had gotten a pedicure and her toenails had a fresh coat of red nail polish. It was then that Eun-ho realized she was barefoot. He remembered that Wife moved like a cat when she was barefoot.

“I was sending a message to the principal that I’m starting work again tomorrow.”

Wife’s clear eyes looked at him silently before replying, “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

Instead of answering, Eun-ho dropped his gaze. Noah’s picture, which was next to his laptop, caught his eye.

“It hasn’t even been three days since the funeral.”

Wife perched herself on the edge of the desk. Her body naturally turned into him. It felt like Noah and Wife were both staring at him, Noah from the left, and Wife from the right.

“Don’t overdo it.”

Wife’s hand moved from his shoulder to his face. With her thumb, she gently caressed the middle of his rapidly pulsating forehead. With each stoke her delicate fingers made across his skin, Eun-ho felt a chill spread deeper into his spine.

“I’m okay with it if you quit your job.”

Wife started brushing his messy bangs.

“Quit and go on vacation with me. We can go away for a long time, until the pain goes away.”

Eun-ho knew that this was her way of trying to comfort him. He also knew that she expected him to accept immediately. But there were times when he didn’t want to accept anything. No jokes, no criticism, no consideration, no comfort—times when he wanted nothing.

And right now was one of those times. There was just one thing he wanted from Wife. And that was for her to get her hands off him. Even better would be if she left him alone.

“I’ll think about it.”

Eun-ho’s downcast gaze met Wife’s hand, which was propping her up on the desk.

Her bandages were gone now, and he could see red lines, both long and short, on her fingers.

There was one on her thumb, two on her first finger and pinky, and four on the edge of her palm.

There were dark scabs where they had pulled out the stitches.

What did she say happened again? She cut her hand while cooking?

Eun-ho felt a sudden rush of nausea. The white hand from his dream had appeared in front of his eyes.

But he didn’t understand why he was seeing this image now.

Eun-ho turned his head to the side and fled from the hand.

He pushed the chair back and put distance between himself and Wife.

He used his arms to lift himself up. His inner thighs were shaking as he tried not to fall.

“I’m going to look at Noah’s room for a moment.”

The smile on Wife’s face disappeared as though someone had pulled the plug.

The whites of her eyes became icy cold, like chilled porcelain.

She always gave off this cold aura whenever someone rejected her kindness.

Eun-ho picked up Noah’s picture and left the study.

As he started up the stairs, he could hear Wife calling out from behind.

“Come back soon. I’ll prepare dinner.”

Eun-ho continued up the stairs. He could feel the daggers shooting out of Wife’s eyes and stabbing him in the back of his skull. This time, he didn’t hesitate and went straight into Noah’s room. Inside, he was met with darkness.

In the city, it never got completely dark.

Rooms were always invaded by light from streetlamps, apartments, neon signs, and cars.

One of the reasons Eun-ho liked this house was because it was located in a forest. When night fell, it became shrouded in proper darkness, as though they were living out in the mountains.

It was a luxury to have such darkness in the middle of Seoul.

But right now, Eun-ho didn’t feel that way. This darkness was a specter, threatening to pull him back into the nightmare from that night. It wanted to drown him at the bottom of a frozen lake. Eun-ho frantically groped around until he found the light switch.

This time, a second wave of nausea rushed over him.

His eyes were met with a sight he hadn’t been prepared for.

Neatly closed curtains, an empty desk and bookshelf, and a bed with new sheets.

Eun-ho put the picture on Noah’s desk and looked around the room again.

Pengsoo was gone, and so were Noah’s school bag, soccer cones, and soccer ball.

Eun-ho opened the closet. Noah’s padded jacket and all his clothes were gone. The drawers and hangers were empty, too. There was no sign of Noah anywhere, as though he had never existed.

Eun-ho felt steam rising from the top of his head. He straightened his back as though a large amount of electricity was flowing through his body. Something heavy and hot was working its way up his throat.

Eun-ho ran out of the room. He bounded down the stairs two steps at a time and then marched toward the kitchen. Wife was washing something in the sink when she turned around to look at him.

“What’s the meaning of this?”

*

A telephone was ringing in the empty faculty room. It appeared that Eun-ho was the first one in today. Eun-ho put down his bag and picked up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Oh—is that you, Mr. Cha?”