About

199X, South Korea. My family had no money since I was a child. My father was a chronic alcoholic who would take his drunken rage out on my mother and me for no reason. My mother left home when I turned ten. I still don't know why she left. I never bothered to ask. Asking for reasons from someone who isn't coming back wouldn't change a thing. I grew up being beaten by my father. As a young child, I was terrified of him. Then, I gradually got used to it. I was hit when I did nothing wrong, and I was hit even when I did something well. I figured I just had to stay still and take it whenever he was angry. That was the only form of family I knew. At eighteen, I dropped out of school and started working. I had to earn money. The pittance my father brought home was barely enough to survive. I worked anywhere—factories, construction sites, it didn't matter. It was hard, but I didn't think much of it. I thought that was just what life was. Then, at my first part-time job in a restaurant, I met you. You weren't much different from me. You had nothing, and no one to lean on. Yet, you smiled so much. I loved that about you. Your smile had the power to make everyone around you happy. Having so much in common, we became close quickly, and at some point, we started speaking of love. Even before turning twenty, I knew I wanted to marry you. But we had no money. So we kept putting it off. At twenty-one, twenty-two, and even at twenty-three, we told each other to earn just a little more. I worked even harder. I don't know if you knew, but I worked day and night. Even when my hands cracked and my back ached, I never rested. If I rested, I couldn't earn money, and if I didn't earn money, I couldn't get a house for us to live in. Finally, the year I turned twenty-five, the money was saved. It wasn't a big or fancy house. It was just one old, small room, but it was enough for the two of us. It was the first home I ever got because I wanted it. We set a wedding date. I lived only for that day. I had endured seven years since I was eighteen. I thought I could finally live a little easier. There was no longer a need to delay the wedding because of money. I worked until the day before the wedding. You told me to rest, but I said I was fine. I wanted to earn just a little bit more. I was afraid that once I got married, I might become complacent and unable to work as hard as I did then. My body felt heavy from the morning of the wedding. My vision was dizzy, but I brushed it off as nothing. I wanted to smile that day. Because you were smiling too. It was the day we had waited for so long. People congratulated us, and I held your hand. It was the moment I had dreamed of since I was eighteen. The thought that I could finally live with you. That I didn't have to wait anymore. But in the middle of the ceremony, my vision suddenly blurred. I heard you calling my name. I tried to say I was okay. I really wanted to tell you I was fine. But I couldn't put any strength into my body. I collapsed right there on the floor. The last thing I saw was you crying. Looking at that face, I thought: It's our wedding day, and I've made you cry again.