0. On the locked screen, the name “Wife” flashed. It was Sujin.
“I’ve been sleeping with your husband. Please make him stop seeing me.”
For an instant my breath cut out. The line went dead. My fingers were stone. The cold glass grazed my cheek. A single irreversible sentence had split the air.
1. From the very first day, Min-woo was someone else’s husband.
At every company dinner he’d pass his phone around, proudly showing off Sujin’s photo. A teammate on the same project, sharing the same late nights. His dependability seeped like slow poison, and I began to crave the taste.
The first time I met Sujin alone was after a club outing. Min-woo had left early; we shared an umbrella. Raindrops pinged against the awning, mixing the scent of shampoo with wet asphalt. From that night on, whenever I looked at the nape of Min-woo’s neck, I could feel Sujin’s kiss still pressed there.
2. One month ago, B3 of the parking garage.
Behind a partition where the fluorescent lights were off, Sujin’s eyes glittered from the passenger seat. Reflected inside them I saw Min-woo’s face. So I kissed her deeper, deeper. From her collar rose Min-woo’s cologne. I wanted to scrape it away with the tip of my tongue.
Today really is the last time.
Those words were both a secret vow and the signal for a darker beginning. Min-woo’s overtime became the key to our underground room. Trust was the sturdiest lock that kept our secret safe.
3. After emptying a bottle, I picked up the phone.
“I’m sleeping with your husband. Make him stop seeing me.”
A long silence. When the line clicked off, Min-woo’s reliable smile surfaced: the hand that clapped my shoulder every time we handed over a project. The sound of that trust shattering would be pitiful. What had I hoped to gain? To claim all of Min-woo? Or simply to stand on the shards of broken faith?
4. At two a.m., Min-woo’s black sedan rolled in.
The window was cracked open. He sat in the passenger seat—not asleep, staring straight at me. We looked at each other. He was calm. Sujin must have told him, or he had answered my call. Quietly he started the engine. The car eased forward. I watched the taillights melt into the dark.
5. I lifted the black silk headband left on my passenger seat.
Sujin had forgotten it; Min-woo still didn’t know she’d ever sat in my car. I started the engine. On the road I spotted his sedan, paused at a light. A faint silhouette. The light changed; Min-woo flicked on his right blinker. I followed. He turned left; I followed. We chased each other—he was reeling me in.
Eventually his car slipped back into the garage. I followed. He stepped out and approached. I backed away.
“Enough.”
One word. I nodded. Min-woo returned to his car; I to mine. He drove off, and I watched until the darkness swallowed him.
Inside my car I clutched the headband. Min-woo had trusted me, and I betrayed that trust. Sujin had loved me, and I used that love. What have I become? Had I only wished to be Min-woo’s shadow? Or had I wanted to expose myself within it?
The car slid slowly into the dark.