—Are you going to wait for me?

—They say going out with a local helps you pick up the language faster.

—Why do you keep smiling? Is this funny to you?

—You know I smile a lot.

—Are we breaking up?

—Stop asking me. No one cares anymore.

—And you don’t care if we’re not together anymore either, right?

Gyu-ho shoved the pastry he was eating into my hand. Then, looking like he was about to cry or was infuriated with me, he got up and walked swiftly toward the departure gates. He was as big as a mountain, but he walked like an angry elementary school student. Rarely did he have such emotional outbursts—I suppose it was because I hadn’t given him any of the answers he had wanted to hear. I sat there watching him disappear before turning my head.

The airport link was surprisingly empty, even for a weekday morning. Outside the window, gray mud flats and the dried-up tufts of harvested crops stretched endlessly into the distance. As I gazed out, I realized we were passing what was technically the city of Incheon. “Incheon is famous for You Sulhee.” I mumbled the You Sulhee Nursing Academy jingle under my breath like a crazy person, and then looked around, embarrassed. I was the only person without any luggage. Just a half-eaten cold pastry in my hand. I looked down at his teeth marks in it. I had the urge to listen to a fun song, something by Kylie Minogue or T-ara, but my cell phone battery was drained. This was when Gyu-ho normally handed me a portable charger. And what else? He portioned out my pills and water every morning, passed me his lip balm when my lips were cracked, hung up blackout curtains in my room, scratched my back when it itched, took a shower first so the air in the bathroom was nice and warm. You were the only person who did those things for me, so honestly, Gyu-ho, I actually really care that we’re not together anymore, a lot . . . I continued to gaze out at the scenery outside the window that kept blurring as the train sped toward Seoul, back to the big city that I knew so well.

PART FOUR

PART FOUR

Late Rainy Season Vacation

1.

I was a little surprised when the Uber that Habibi had sent for me arrived at its destination, because what I’d assumed was a large shopping center turned out to be Bangkok’s Park Hyatt Hotel.

I realized I’d forgotten all about the place once I stepped into the lobby.

The peach-colored palette of the lobby interior was just as it had been this time last year, the classy yet oddly cheap feeling of the twisted chandeliers, and the chestnut-colored carpeting that muffled each footstep. The French man who introduced himself as the proprietor stood in the same place wearing the same clothes, which made me smile. This was exactly the same building as before, but looking back, I was standing there feeling utterly different.