“You must be the director’s girlfriend?”
“So this is the beautiful woman you’ve been seeing. He still hasn’t introduced us?”
Hand-made noodle shop in front of the department-store’s luxury wing. My husband stood with arms crossed; I gave an awkward wave. His mother smiled and asked the question. I smiled back, lipstick thick as armor.
We had already celebrated our fifth Lunar New Year as husband and wife.
“Let’s… keep things quiet for now.”
We took wedding photos, but never mailed a single invitation. His words still ring in my ears.
“My family is… complicated. Let’s just keep things quiet for now.”
So I clinked beer glasses with my own parents, laughing too loudly, and in front of his family I existed as merely “the woman.” One month after the ceremony I couldn’t even bow at my mother’s memorial table. My husband spooned up a mouthful of rice-cake soup and said,
“My older brother still isn’t married… if you show up, he’ll feel awkward.”
Then who am I? The wife you vowed to honor?
“Sister-in-law— I mean, Ms. Mi-young!”
Third anniversary, father-in-law’s sixtieth birthday banquet. I waited two hours in a back room of the hall. A younger cousin burst in, then froze.
“Ah, you were here. Sister-in-law— I mean, Ms. Mi-young!”
That day I learned for the first time that my husband’s eldest uncle looked at me with ice in his eyes— because I resemble “the other woman.” She had vanished after swindling the family, a ghost they still whisper about.
The real reason he hides me
I stayed another half-year after discovering the truth. The reason was simple: he was terrified that if his family refused to accept me, I would leave. I unwittingly handed him the excuse.
“If Father finds out we’re married, it might kill him.”
I melted at those words. Guilt swallowed love’s alibi. Among acquaintances I became “his girl”— nameless, simply present.
The desire of a hidden wife
Why do we uphold this taboo? Ultimately, to avoid rejection. He fears his family’s rejection; I fear his. The anxious whisper: Am I truly someone worth loving? I have never opened the family photo tucked in his wallet— frightened of who might be inside, and of who might not.
The bride’s tears
Last week my husband’s older brother finally married. I stood in the lobby of the wedding hall. The radiant bride accepted flowers from my mother-in-law and smiled. I went to the restroom and wiped away tears.
When will I be allowed to greet them properly?
A final question
How long could you live as “just a friend” in front of the family of the person you love?