In the following days, my mind swirls with thoughts of Yul and how I can bridge the distance between us. Ever since that steamy photoshoot flashback, I can't seem to get him out of my head. The desire to be close to him, to truly know him again as my husband, burns brighter with each passing day.
I know there's history there, a dark memory that neither Yul nor Inha are giving up details about. But I refuse to let it stop me. If I have to tempt Yul into being intimate, into letting down those walls he's built up, then so be it.
As I move through the apartment, I notice little traces of him everywhere - a stray guitar pick on the coffee table, a well-worn leather jacket draped over the back of a chair. These glimpses into his life fuel my desire, my need to reclaim what we once had. It's also evidence that he left a trail behind him, like it was sudden. I wonder why he never came to get his stuff and move it to his studio apartment.
I pause in front of the spare bedroom, the one that used to be Yul's. Slowly, I push open the door, taking in the space that was once his sanctuary within our home. The lingering scent of his cologne hangs in the air, mingling with hazy images just out of sight. They're just blurred pictures in the back of my mind, irritating me when I can't quite make them fully form.
Moving further into the room, I trail my fingers along the rumpled bedsheets, picturing him there - tousled hair, sleepy eyes, that crooked smile playing on his lips. A shiver runs down my spine at the thought, and I have to force myself to take a deep breath, to regain control.
Because control is what I need right now. If I'm going to tempt Yul, to coax him back into my arms, I can't let my own desires overwhelm me. I need to be strategic, calculated in my approach.
I turn my attention to the closet, rifling through the clothes he left behind. A soft, worn t-shirt catches my eye, and without thinking, I bring it to my face, breathing in the lingering traces of his scent. It's intoxicating, it also makes my heart ache.
An idea begins to take shape in my mind. If Yul won't open up to me, won't let me in, then perhaps I need to take a more direct approach. Perhaps I need to remind him of us, to awaken those dormant desires he's been suppressing.
I gather the t-shirt and a few other choice items, tucking them away for later. Maye a little push is all it will take.
***
The next few mornings pass in a blur of routine - getting the kids up, dressed, and fed before ushering them off to school and daycare. It's become a well-choreographed dance, one that I'm surprisingly adept at despite my lost memories.
As I'm cleaning up the breakfast dishes, my phone rings with a familiar number. Yeji's name flashes across the screen, and I quickly swipe to answer, cradling the phone between my ear and shoulder as I continue wiping down the counter.
"Hey, Thing Two," I greet her in a teasing tone, a smile tugging at my lips. Her voice is a comforting constant in this ever-shifting world I find myself in.
"How's my favorite amnesiac doing this morning?" she teases back, and I can practically see the playful grin on her face.
I roll my eyes good-naturedly. "Oh, you know, just another day in the life of an average thirty-two-year-old soccer mom trapped in a teenager's mind."
Yeji laughs, the sound warm and familiar. "At least you've got the hot husbands to keep things interesting."
"Oh, that's an understatement." I snort. "It's also driving me crazy," I say, leaning against the counter as I relay the latest developments. "With Inha, it's like my body just... knows him, you know? We fell back into this intimacy so naturally, despite my lack of memories."
A sly chuckle comes through the line. "Somehow that doesn't surprise me. How did you think you ended up with five kids in the first place?"
I laugh, shaking my head. "It's more than that, though. I had this flashback of us, of how I fell for him in the first place. He stood up to his mother's shady business dealings, did the right thing even when she threatened to cut him off. I think that's when I really started to see him for who he is beneath that rich boy exterior."
"Aww, my unnie, the hopeless romantic," Yeji coos, and I can picture her exaggerated swooning. "But what about tall, dark, and brooding husband number two? Any progress on cracking that angsty shell?"
I sigh, the smile fading from my lips. "That's just it. With Yul, I don't know what to do. I keep getting the feeling we were close once too, that it was passionate and intense between us. But every time I try to get close he shuts me out."
Yeji seems to sober up at this.
"You know, maybe you should just take things slow with Yul. He's a little more complicated than Inha and I don't think rushing into anything with him would do you guys any good."
I frown at her words, unsure of what to make of them. "Why does everyone keep saying it's complicated? Did Yul and I have some kind of falling out or something? Is that why he's being so distant now?"
There's a pause on the other end of the line, and for a moment, I think the call may have dropped. But then Yeji's voice comes through again, soft yet resolute.
"No, not exactly." She takes a deep breath. "If anything, I always thought you had a special kind of love for Yul that was almost more intense. A little more dangerous, in a way, than what you had with Inha's. You were kind of obsessed."
My brow furrows in confusion, her words only serving to muddy the waters further. "So how did we end up with him so far away? Why does he always seem like he's pushing me away?"
Yeji sighs, and I can practically see her shaking her head. "I shouldn't talk about it. All I can tell you is that whatever happened between the three of you, it had a lot of layers to it."
Her words hang heavy in the air, and I find myself at a loss for how to respond. A part of me wants to push, to demand that she tell me everything she knows. But if I push, Yeji might start to realize I'm onto it already, that I'm already trying to piece it together. I don't want to worry her, or have her worry the guys by telling them I'm starting to remember things I shouldn't. So I say nothing and let my curiosity simmer.
* * *
That night, I find myself drawn to the spare bedroom once again. Yul's empty room. There's a strange pull I can't quite explain, a magnetic force guiding me towards it. Toward any lingering hint of him.
I run my fingers along the spines of the books lining the shelves, pausing when I land on a worn paperback. Curiosity piqued, I pull it from its place and open the cover. A small, rectangular shape flutters out from between the pages, landing softly on the floor at my feet.
Bending down, I scoop it up, my breath catching in my throat as I realize what it is – a Polaroid photograph. And not just any photograph, but an intimate snapshot of Yul and I, our bodies tangled together beneath a crumpled blanket on a well-worn couch.
My eyes drink in every detail, from the way Yul's arms are wrapped so tenderly around me, to the soft, contented smile playing on my own lips. We look... blissful. At peace in a way I haven't felt since waking up in this strange new reality.
Warmth blossoms in my chest as I trace the outline of our entwined forms with my fingertip. This moment, frozen in time – whatever came after, however things may have shifted and fractured between us, this is proof that we were happy once. That we had something precious, something worth fighting for.
The ache that's been my constant companion since those first fragmented memories of Yul came rushing back intensifies tenfold.
As I hold the Polaroid, a sudden rush of memories floods my mind.
I'm transported back to that night, the soft glow of the television illuminating our faces as we lay entwined on the couch. The scent of popcorn lingers in the air, mingling with Yul's unique, comforting aroma.
I can hear our laughter echoing through the room, feel the vibration of Yul's chest as he chuckles at my playful attempts to distract him from the movie. His voice, warm and teasing, fills my ears. "Yena, I'm trying to watch this," he protests half-heartedly, even as his arms tighten around me.
But I'm not deterred. I can see the amusement dancing in his eyes, the way his lips twitch as he tries to suppress a smile.
I lean up on one elbow, my eyes sparkling with mischief as I tease him. "Well, we won't be missing anything, we've watched this movie a thousand times." I know it's one of his favorites, a classic mobster film that he could probably recite line for line if he wanted to.
Yul chuckles, his dark eyes warm and amused. "Of course we have, and you know it's one of my favorites." He shifts slightly, his hand coming up to brush a stray lock of hair from my face. The gesture is so familiar, so intimate, that it sends a shiver down my spine.
I can't help but smile at him, my heart swelling with affection. "Then you won't mind if we watch something else instead," I suggest, reaching for the remote control. I know I'm pushing my luck, but I can't resist the opportunity to tease him a little more.
Yul raises an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Oh really? And what do you propose we watch instead?"
I shrug, trying to look casual even as my heart races with excitement. "I don't know, maybe one of those cheesy rom-coms you always make fun of." I know it's a risky move, but something tells me that he won't be able to resist the challenge.
Sure enough, Yul's eyes light up with amusement. "You want to watch a rom-com? Are you feeling okay, Yena?"
I roll my eyes, feigning annoyance even as a laugh bubbles up in my throat. "Hey, I'll have you know, I happen to enjoy a good love story every now and then."
Yul's grin widens, and he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Alright, but only if you promise to let me make fun of it the whole time."
I laugh, feeling a surge of happiness wash over me. "Deal."
Back in the present, I clutch the Polaroid tightly, savoring the lingering warmth of the memory. The flashbacks are becoming more frequent, more vivid – little glimpses into the life I've forgotten trickling back like a gentle stream.
I suspect my full memories might return eventually, the dam finally bursting open. But I find myself oddly at peace with the gradual rediscovery. There's something bittersweet about these fragments of time, each one a piece helping me to reconstruct our story.
This latest flashback, however, has given me more than just a nostalgic reverie. It's provided a spark of inspiration, an idea for how to bridge the distance between Yul and myself.
The easy affection, the playful banter captured in that moment – it's clear we shared a deep intimacy once, something that went beyond the purely physical. If I can recreate that closeness, that sense of comfort and familiarity, perhaps I can coax Yul's walls down once more.
I know how to get to him.