The tears come, hot and furious and so out of place I don’t realize I’m crying until I taste the salt on my lips. I pull back and try to wipe the wetness away, but the tears are like a flood bursting through a dam, and a little finger or two isn’t going to stem the deluge.

“I don’t cry,” I say, weeping.

“Of course not.” His smile is tender and it makes me weep even harder. I don’t even know what I’m crying about. Is it Pat’s death? Is it Lee Jonghyung’s death? Is it Ellen’s betrayal? Is it Wansu? Is it me feeling like I don’t belong in the one place I thought I could call home? Is it that I found Yujun, who has suddenly become so precious and vital to me, but that I’m about to leave him to go back to my boring existence where I fill my cup with books and television shows? I feel like I’m crying for everything at the same time. My nose starts to run and my chest and throat ache. My knees begin to buckle. Yujun catches me and pulls me against his chest, pressing my face against his shirt. He tries to dry my face with his own hands, but he doesn’t have enough fingers, so he pulls a tie out of his pocket and presses the expensive silk against my eyes.

“I’ve never kissed a girl until she’s cried before. Not even as a kid.”

“I’m going to pretend that you’ve never kissed anyone until me because I feel fragile right now and the thought of you with other girls is a little too much.” I snivel into the silk.

“It would be the truth.” He places an arm on either side of me, a protective shield against the outside. “Plus, you are the only woman I’ve allowed to use my Hermès tie as a handkerchief.”

I laugh but a sob catches in my throat, choking off the sound. Yujun pats my back until I stop coughing.

Someone comes over and says something to Yujun. He answers in English, probably for me. “She dropped her phone in the river.”

“You should buy her a new one,” admonishes the woman.

“I will,” Yujun promises while I hide my face in embarrassment. This is only slightly less humiliating than walking out of the bathroom with your skirt tucked into your tights, but not by much. A public breakdown so loud and obvious that strangers are coming up to Yujun to see if I need help? Dig a hole in the concrete and cover me with the leftovers.

“I’m not much of a crier,” I say when the tears subside to a small trickle. “I didn’t even cry at my dad’s funeral. Either of them. Pat, my adoptive dad, didn’t like it when I cried. It made him uncomfortable.” I draw the damp silk across my swollen eyes. “What about you?”

“I’ve been known to shed a tear or two.” He bends down to gauge the tear status.