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It happened two days later.
Jeong-yeong steps into the noodle shop carrying a file on a recent crime, one she was certain was related to the Counters and what they did.
Mo-tak was working in the kitchen while So Mun sat on the counter next to him. They were talking about something that Jeong-yeong couldn’t hear yet.
She walks closer, her heart hurting just slightly. She could almost imagine that it was like it used to be, when she’d come after work to see So Mun and Mo-tak playing chef.
“Uncle GoGo, don’t eat all the dumplings again!”
Jeong-Yeong froze. That wasn’t her imagination. The folder slips from her hand, landing on the ground with the papers scattering everywhere.
Mo-tak turned towards the sound, eyes already widening.
So Mun follows his gaze and jumps from the counter so quickly that he stumbles and almost falls.
“Jeong-yeong…” his voice falters. “Auntie YoYo…”
Jeong-yeong gasps, hand coming up to cover her mouth as tears spring to her eyes at the name. She hadn’t heard it in so long.
“You-” she chokes out, not even able to finish her sentence.
Mo-tak walks forward and places a hand on her shoulder, looking down at her with eyes that hold heartbreak, regret, and love .
“I remember. I remember everything, Jeong-yeong.”
Jeong-yeong sobs, throwing her arms around him and holding him tightly. Tears fall from her eyes, staining Mo-tak’s shirt, but she doesn’t care. Because finally, finally, she has him back.
<>
It’s later that night that she has a conversation with SoMun. They’re at a table in the noodle shop after hours.
So Mun is holding tightly to a warm cup of tea, not looking over at her. Jeong-yeong seems more composed, but everytime she lifts her own cup to her mouth, her hand shakes.
Finally, So Mun breaks the silence. His eyes are red, but there are no fresh tears anymore.
“Why didn’t you ever visit me?”
It’s not asked cruelly. Nor an angry tone. He just sounds tired.
Jeong-yeong flinches, her gaze dropping to the table.
“Because I lost everything that night,” she explains quietly. “My fiance, my best friends, my-” her voice cracks. “My whole future.”
So Mun’s jaw clenches. “So did I.”
He wasn’t loud. He wasn’t accusing. His voice was full of pain.
Jeong-yeong’s eyes shimmered with more tears as she looks up at him. “I know.”
“Do you?” He whispers. “Because I don’t remember seeing you. Ever. Not after that night. I thought I had made you two up.”
“You wouldn’t have remember,” she says, shaking her head. “I…I was there, when you woke up. After your coma from the crash. It was my job to interview you. Ask you about what happened.”
Her voice wavers and she has to take a couple sips of tea to compose herself. “I asked if you remembered anything, and you said no. You looked right at me and didn’t even know who I was.”
So Mun goes still.
“I thought,” she trails off for a moment. “I thought you’d erased me. To make your grief easier. I thought that you didn’t want me, and that my trying to come back into your life would just make it worse. Would make you worse.”
Jeong-yeong lets out a shaky laugh, wiping away a fresh tear. “I didn’t realize you had remembered me again. Not until you said ‘Aunti YoYo’, and suddenly my entire world just stopped. It was like I was in the past again.”
“You’re not,” So Mun says.
Jeong-yeong flinches just slightly. She doesn’t argue, doesn’t try to explain. She just sits there, staring at the table. “I know.”
So Mun shakes his head, pushing his cup aside and grabbing her hand. “We’re not in the past. A ton of things have changed. But we’re still here. And…and we can all have a future…if you want,” he trails off at the end, unsure.
Jeong-yeong clasps a hand over her mouth, shoulders shaking from the force of her sobs, and her other hand holds tightly to So Mun’s.
She nods, unable to speak just yet, and So Mun smiles, tears falling freely from his eyes.
After a while, Jeong-yeong gently takes So Mun’s face in her hand, wiping away his tears softly.
“When did you get so mature?” She whispers.
“I’ve always been mature, Auntie YoYo,” he shoots back, head leaning into her hand.
From behind the kitchen door, Mo-tak wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, leaning against the wall.
He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t walk in. He lets them have their moment. His family. Finally together again. Finally healing.