A whiff of haute couture unfurled
“Even more refined than yesterday, isn’t it?” Seo-jin murmured, adjusting her collar before the mirror. An eight-thousand-dollar cashmere cardigan, a three-million-dollar diamond necklace, and a seven-million-dollar bracelet flashed back at her in relays of light. On the bed her husband, Hyun-su, stared only at his phone.
Who is it this time?
She read the answer in his eyes. A syrupy notification pinged beyond the glass. She kept acting to the end—with a bright smile.
The bedroom at 18 °C
Five years into marriage, the thermostat was locked at 18 °C. No matter how often Seo-jin inched it up to 20 °C, Hyun-su quietly returned it.
Whose house is this, anyway?
The cold accusation lodged in her chest. Even with her eyes closed she could hear her heart skittering across ice. When she opened the wardrobe, an amethyst mink coat hung like a crystal goblet about to shatter. Fingering the sleeve, she thought: so this is how vulgar the proverb sounds—money can’t buy love. She had wanted to buy love. Curiously, money wouldn’t oblige.
The hidden clock of dawn
Every night Seo-jin checked the hands of the clock. The nights Hyun-su came in at 2:47 a.m., the nights he returned at 4:12 a.m.—she was awake each time, feeling where his breath settled. No warmth bloomed; only a chill swept in.
He doesn’t want me. The simple fact seethed with a strange, cold fire.
Around three she rose and drifted to the bathroom. In the mirror a woman in diamonds looked desolate.
Even with this necklace.
She opened the refrigerator; cool air exhaled. Her heart shivered colder than the draft.
The name Jennie
Second year of marriage, Seo-jin first learned it. Whenever the name Jennie flared like a spark in Hyun-su’s phone, she became a living corpse. She wept on the marble living-room floor. Hyun-su said, “The place is a mess.”
That was when she understood: once love had left, home was no refuge.
The second woman in the house
Not long ago, Seo-jin caught the scent of perfume in her husband’s car—Chanel No. 5.
“Who were you with today?”
“Dinner with colleagues,” he said.
She knew: colleagues don’t wear Chanel No. 5.
Since then she waits every night. 2:30. 3:15. 4:12. Eyes open on the bed, yet he does not come. Each time she opens the refrigerator, cool air exhales. Her heart trembles colder than the chill.
The trap of opulence
Why are we lured by splendor? Not for love, but for the desire to feign it. The longing for her husband’s gaze to ignite.
Look at me.
Yet splendor builds a taboo that cannot be undone. Money can’t replace love, yet without money love itself feels precarious. That anxiety burns with an icy flame.
Seo-jin lights her phone. Hyun-su has not texted for three days. Today, again, she dresses magnificently, smiles magnificently, and grows magnificently lonely.
Love has vanished, but the diamonds remain.
She wants to shake off the cold. Yet if she does, what will be left?
The final question
Tonight Seo-jin switches on the bedroom light. Hyun-su has still not returned. She fingers the diamond necklace and whispers:
If love is gone, who am I?
Suddenly it occurs to her: is it destitution she fears, or the absence of love?
Outside, the 4:12 a.m. light glances across the window. Seo-jin closes her eyes.
What I truly wanted was never a gilded life.
The words slip from her lips. Now the reader must ask:
In place of love, what am I hoarding?