I spent the rest of the day trying not to cry. After I got back to the palace, Chung-He took one look at me, pulled me into my room, and drew me a warm bath. She didn't say anything as she helped wash and comb through my hair, but I could tell that she knew. She reminded me of Halmeoni that way—she would never say anything to you if you were upset, but if she did, she would always be gentle.
After my bath, Chung-Hee brought me some dinner in my room. I smiled and thanks her, but I knew I wouldn't be able to eat much. I was trying to force a polite spoonful down my throat, when I heard Chung-Hee speak for the first time that night.
"I changed the water for you, Miss Ha-Na."
"Hm?" I asked, still focused on the soup that wouldn't quite slide down the lump in my throat.
"Your flower." She gestured to the flower that Chi left for me.
"Oh, thank you." I stared at it for a moment. Even though cut flowers often started looking worse-for-wear early on—especially without proper care—Chi's flower was still as soft and bright as when he gave it to me.
"The Rose of Sharon," Chung-Hee mused. I shifted my attention to her. Maybe it was a bit subconsciously snobby to think so, but I hadn't imagined her knowing the proper names of flowers so well. "My mother taught me all the proper names of herbs and flowers. She certainly wasn't as good as you, Miss, but it helped with making flower essences for medicinal purposes. That headache remedy that I gave you," she smiled at me. "Was one of her specialties."
"I'm sorry I never asked you for more advice," I said, a little guiltily. "You should have been the one consulting with Chi for the wheat planting project."
"Oh no, Miss! I'd never be as good as you. Why would you even suggest such a thing?"
I sighed. "Between you and me, Chung-Hee, I don't think I don't even know why I'm here.'
"Oh, Miss." Chung-Hee knelt in front of me, taking my hand in hers. "We all feel that way sometimes. That's why I know that I was never meant to work on your project with Prince Chi. I believe we all have our roles in life. I have mine, and you…you have yours." She gave my hand a pat, before standing up. "Will you be eating your dinner, Miss?"
I shook my head.
"I'll take it with me, then. Can I get you anything else?"
I shook my head again. "I think I'm fine now, but thanks, Chung-Hee—for everything."
She smiled. "Of course, Miss. Call me if you need anything, and if not, good night."
"Goodnight, Chung-Hee."
After Chung-Hee left, I picked up my flower from my vanity table and brought it back over to my windowsill. After I opened my shutters to let the emerging moonlight in, I lay down on my side, just staring at my gift from Chi. Maybe this would be all I'd ever have from him—probably. Even if we worked out, in some small way, it was really him and Ha-Na who would work out—not me. In a way, I'd known that already, but I thought I wouldn't mind. But now, I knew that it was just another lie I'd told myself. Of course, I minded, so much that it almost physically hurt.
And I also knew if I continued on this path, it would only lead to heartbreak.
I bit my lip to stop the tears and fixed my gaze on my flower. The flower Chi gave me. I scanned it, taking in the soft, pink shade and the way the petals cascaded from the stem, the shadows that they created with the moonlight. That was what I would hold onto now; the shadows of what could have been. I was good at doing that.
After a while—I couldn't tell if it was minutes or hours—I fell into that half-in-half-out lull of fitful sleep, awake, and yet, numb. It was in the numb side, when I heard a pair of footsteps outside my door. Chi, I knew. Without even realizing it, I'd memorized the sound of his footsteps, with their decided, yet soft, rhythm. The footsteps stopped, and I heard a gentle knock at the door. I ignored it, not even turning. Not because it wasn't hard—it took everything in me to not turn around. But because it was for the best. Doing the right thing and doing the thing that would hurt the least were separate concepts all together, I knew. But I also knew that doing the right thing would mean not having to face the pain and sorrow that I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to recover from. I'd do anything to be able to not face that.
I heard the knock again, and shortly after, the soft swish of the door sliding open a crack. Every part of me wanted to turn around. Still, I stayed where I was, slowing my breathing against my beating heart. Eventually, the door slid closed again, but I still didn't turn around. Instead, I tucked my knees against my chest, stopped biting my lips, and let the tears I'd been holding back fall freely.
******
When I was finally able to unstick my tear-glued eyes, sun streams had replaced the moonlight, and I could already hear Chung-Hee bustling around. "Oh good, you're up, Miss," she said when she saw me struggling to sit up. "Did you sleep well?"
From the way she was looking at me, I could tell it was a courtesy question. "I've slept better." I sighed and shoved the silk coverlet off my legs. "I guess I should get ready to help plant."
"Take your time, Miss."
"Huh?"
"Prince Chi is going away for a while, so he won't be there. He told me to let you know that the men can handle most of the work, and that I should let you sleep."
I felt something jolt in the pit of my stomach. "Going away? Where?"
"I never ask, Miss. There isn't a need for me to know." Still, the look on her face told she did know.
"Please, Chung-Hee?" The desperation in my voice surprised even me. It seemed to have an effect on Chung-Hee too.
"Is it alright if I sit down, Miss?"
"Of course." I folded my legs into a cross-legged position to make space for her. Chung-Hee perched on the edge of the bed, avoiding my eyes. I reached out and touched her wrist. "It's ok, Chung-Hee."
She offered me a weak smile. "Thanks, Miss. It's just that…" She started again. "I think that Prince Chi is going to meet his future wife."
I swallowed. "His future…wife?"
"Yes, Miss." Chung-Hee peered at me. "I wish I didn't have to tell you that. I hadn't planned to, but you insisted…"
"No, Chung-Hee, it's fine." If my prior desperation had surprised me, the calmness and resignation in my voice now surprised me even more. "It really doesn't matter."
"It doesn't?"
"No," I lied easily. "I just wanted to know where he was, that's all."
"But what about…" She looked me straight in the eye this time. We both knew what she was about to say.
"There's nothing there, Chung-Hee. We were friends when we were children, nothing more. If he hadn't asked me to work with him now, we likely would never have seen each other again. There is nothing…" I internally hesitated, but leveled my gaze with hers. "…nothing between us. There never was."
"Miss…"
"I'm not feeling very well, Chung-Hee." I pulled the comforter up to my neck, suddenly cold, despite the rising morning humidity. "I'm sorry, but would it be ok if I had some alone time?"
"Of course, Miss." Chung-Hee rose to her feet. "Do you want anything to eat or drink?"
"No, but thank you. I'll probably go and work in the fields in a bit."
"You're welcome. Please call me if you need me." Chung-Hee had almost made it to the door, when she turned around at the last minute. "Miss?"
"Hm?"
"Remember what I said last night."
I scrunched my nose, trying to remember. "Oh, that we all…"
"We all have our roles. Remember that everything that happens, happens because it's in its rightful order. But also remember that just because we're given roles, doesn't mean they'll be the same forever."
My mind raced as I tried to untangle the meaning behind Chung-Hee's words. Were they metaphoric? Or…something else?
Before I could ask her, she was gone.