Chapter 3: The Frozen Wall
The next morning, I woke to a sharp knock on the door. Sleep still clung to me as I opened it to find the butler yet again, this time holding a tray with a neatly folded piece of paper resting on it.
"Good morning, Miss Yoon. Mr. Kang has requested your presence in the lounge for breakfast," he said, his tone devoid of warmth.
I took the note, murmuring a quick thanks. Unfolding it, I read the curt message scrawled in a bold hand: Be punctual.
Punctuality, it seemed, was Jiho's latest weapon in his arsenal of coldness. I quickly dressed and made my way downstairs, where he was already seated at the head of a long dining table. The breakfast spread was elaborate, yet he sat with a cup of coffee, flipping through his phone as though he hadn't noticed my arrival.
"Good morning," I offered, determined to remain polite.
"You're late," he said without looking up.
I glanced at the clock. I was three minutes early. Deciding not to argue, I sat down across from him, noting how he didn't even glance in my direction.
"Shall we continue our discussion about the sessions?" I asked cautiously.
He finally looked at me, his gaze as sharp as ice. "You're relentless, aren't you?"
"This isn't about me," I replied evenly. "This is about finding what works for you."
His lips curled into a mocking smile. "You talk as if you know me."
"I'm trying to," I admitted.
Jiho's expression hardened, and he set his cup down with a deliberate clink. "Let me make this clear, Miss Yoon. This arrangement is nothing more than my mother's attempt to control me. You're just another one of her pawns."
His words hit like a slap. I opened my mouth to respond, but he cut me off. "Save your righteous speeches. I don't need therapy. I don't want therapy. And I certainly don't want someone like you poking around in my life."
"Someone like me?" I repeated, my voice calm but firm.
He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "Someone who thinks they can fix what isn't broken."
I met his gaze, refusing to be intimidated. "You're right. I can't fix you, Mr. Kang. But I can help you, if you're willing to let me."
His jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he might walk out. Instead, he pushed back his chair and stood. "I have a meeting. Don't waste your time waiting for me."
He strode out, leaving me alone at the massive table. My appetite vanished.
---
The rest of the day passed in tense silence. I spent the hours reviewing notes and researching methods that might resonate with someone as closed-off as Jiho. By evening, I decided to take a walk around the estate to clear my mind.
The gardens were sprawling and meticulously kept, but even they couldn't escape the chill of Jiho's presence. As I turned a corner, I spotted him sitting on a stone bench by the koi pond, his expression unreadable as he stared into the water.
I hesitated, debating whether to approach him. Before I could decide, he spoke without looking up.
"Are you planning to hover all night, or do you have something to say?"
His tone was as sharp as ever, but I walked closer, taking a seat on the edge of the bench. "I didn't mean to disturb you."
He laughed, though it was devoid of humor. "You always mean to disturb me, Miss Yoon. Isn't that your job?"
I ignored the jab. "You seem more at ease out here. The gardens must hold some significance for you."
"Don't read into it," he said curtly.
"I'm not," I replied. "I'm just observing."
He finally looked at me, his gaze searching. "You're persistent. I'll give you that."
"I have to be," I said with a small smile.
For a fleeting moment, his expression softened, but it vanished as quickly as it came. He stood, brushing invisible dust from his jacket. "Don't think this changes anything. You're still just here because my mother insists on it."
"Then why did you agree?" I asked, genuinely curious.
He paused, his back to me. "Because sometimes it's easier to give in than to fight."
And with that, he walked away, leaving me to ponder the man behind the frozen wall he'd built around.
The days following my conversation with Jiho passed in a strained silence. His avoidance was as intentional as my persistence, but I wasn't sure who was wearing down whom. Therapy sessions had stalled before they even began, and his icy demeanor made progress feel like a distant dream.
One evening, as I sat in my room, my phone buzzed with an email notification. Glancing at the screen, I froze. The subject line read: Offer Letter from St. Luke's Medical Center, Boston.
I opened the email with trembling hands, my eyes scanning the text. It was real. An offer for a position I'd applied to months ago, back when I thought my future would unfold anywhere but here. The salary, the role, the opportunities—it was everything I had dreamed of.
But excitement quickly gave way to anxiety. My father. I would need his blessing to make this move, and I already knew it wouldn't be easy.
---
The next morning, I waited until breakfast to broach the subject. Jiho, as usual, was absent, and I found myself sitting alone in the dining room with my father, who had come to visit me.
"Appa," I began carefully, placing my coffee cup down. "I have something to tell you."
He looked up from his plate, his brows knitting in concern. "What is it, my child?"
I took a deep breath, gathering my courage. "I received an offer letter from St. Luke's Medical Center in Boston. It's a great opportunity, and I think—"
"No."
The single word cut through the air like a blade. My heart sank.
"But Appa, you haven't even—"
"I said no, Yoon Seo," he said firmly, setting his fork down. His tone left no room for argument.
I swallowed hard, my voice trembling. "This is my career, my chance to—"
"Enough," he interrupted, his expression unreadable but unyielding. "We will not discuss this further."
Tears pricked my eyes, but I blinked them away, refusing to let him see me falter. "Why, Appa? Why can't you just support me on this?"
His jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he might answer. But instead, he stood, the scrape of his chair against the floor ringing in the silence.
"You will stay here, Yoon Seo," he said quietly but firmly. "And that is final."
I watched him leave, anger and hurt warring within me. For the first time in my life, I felt the weight of my father's expectations like chains around my ankles, holding me back from a future I so desperately wanted.
---
That evening, I found myself in the garden again, seeking solace in the quiet. The koi pond rippled softly under the breeze, its surface reflecting the pale glow of the moon.
"You're not very good at hiding your emotions," came Jiho's voice, startling me.
I turned to find him leaning against a tree, his hands shoved into his coat pockets. He looked as composed as ever, though his gaze carried an unusual softness.
"And you're not very good at minding your own business," I shot back, my voice sharper than intended.
He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Fair enough. What's bothering you this time?"
I hesitated, unsure why I even considered sharing this with him. But something about Jiho's detached curiosity made him feel like a safe, if unconventional, confidant.
"I received an offer for a job in the US," I admitted.
He tilted his head. "And?"
"And my father doesn't want me to take it," I finished, trying to keep my voice steady.
Jiho studied me for a moment, then smirked. "Ah, the ever-present parental disapproval. A tale as old as time."
"It's not funny," I snapped, crossing my arms.
"Relax, Miss Yoon," he said, his tone softer now. "I'm not mocking you. I know what it's like to be under someone else's control."
The weight of his words hung in the air, and for once, I saw a glimpse of vulnerability behind his usual facade.
"What do you do when someone tries to control your life?" I asked quietly.
He shrugged, his gaze drifting to the pond. "I do what I want anyway. But then, I've never been good at following orders."
I gave a bitter laugh. "It's not that simple."
"Maybe not," he conceded. "But it's your life, Miss Yoon. You can either let them dictate it, or you can fight for what you want."
His words lingered long after he left, echoing in my mind as I stared at the rippling water. Could I fight for my dreams, even if it meant defying my father?
The answer, I realized, wouldn't come easily. And neither would the courage to face what lay ahead.