Soojin can't help but gush over what had unfolded at the Festival.
She was sat in her caravan, knees drawn to her chest, finger twirling the stray strand of hair that had so conveniently fallen out of her bun, over the side of her face.
Her eyes stared out of the window in her carriage, watching carts of rice being carried with the help of buffalos and some driven by majestic horses, whose black tresses were floating in the air with every graceful prod.
Passerbys, women who sold flowers and milk, stared into the palanquin painted in red, with eager eyes, wanting to be the ones seated inside, comfortably.
Only, life wasn't as convenient as it looked.
The detailed report of whatever had unfolded would reach her husband's ears much before she'd reach the Palace.
She'd have to owe him an explanation and he'd humiliate her in the court.
She knew the process, all too well.
She knew he��d corner her, push her against the wall in his red chamber.
