—I wrote up a whole contract with oppa. That we’re never going to have babies. As for the in-laws, well, I’m going to think of it as having two more birthdays to take care of. We’re going to keep on living like we’re dating.

—Then why not just keep on dating? Why get married?

—He suggested it, so I thought I might as well try it. And if it doesn’t work out, I can always leave.

—Yeah. If it gets to be too much, ditch him and come back here.

—Do you think I wouldn’t?

—You’ve come all this way because you know you wouldn’t.

That’s what I said, but there was no reply. Instead, a boisterous snoring. Jaehee’s careless catchphrase, “Or not,” was reverberating in my head; it used to drive me up the wall, but now it felt reassuring.

Jaehee was the one getting married, but I was the one who couldn’t fall asleep. And so, our last night together wore on.

5.

The emcee called my name, announcing me as the singer for the congratulatory song.

My whole university cohort turned their heads toward me. Some burst out in incredulous laughter. I got up from the immaculately set table and slowly moved toward the stage. My shoulders were stiff from nerves. Jaehee and her groom were smiling widely at me. Hundreds of wedding guests were staring. Intimidated by their glares, I gripped the microphone tight. The lyrics on the music stand in front of me were swimming before my eyes. Why did grabbing a microphone always have this effect on me? As a writer I had had to do some events speaking into a microphone, and I always ended up saying too much or suddenly bursting into tears at a random moment, startling the audience. My inner drama queen had surprised me on more than a few occasions.

I heard the intro. Melon Music had been offering the instrumental track for 1,000 won, which for some reason annoyed me so much that I purchased a different, 700-won version, but it sounded tinnier than a karaoke track. Tears threatened any moment—I concentrated all my power on my nose. Don’t do this. You’ve got to endure it. Press it down. I bit my trembling lower lip. At least three of the guests were men Jaehee had slept with, and there were even two in the audience who I’d slept with. (Putting an ironic spin on the “minority” in “sexual minorities.”) Jaehee and her groom, in their caked-on wedding makeup, gazed at me as they smiled their fake smiles.

In the end, I failed to sing the song properly. I managed to muddle through the first verse and chorus in my shaky voice, but in the second verse, everything fell apart.