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Youngju's Permission.
Technically, our relationship didn't require permission. It was more of a hierarchical bond. However, I viewed Youngju not as an employer-employee relationship, but as a partner on equal footing, so her consent was important to me.
Once I had Youngju's approval, I couldn't contain my excitement.
Though it seemed out of order, I first contacted Monica to accept the offer from Italy, followed by informing my colleagues and lastly my family. In truth, the last two were more of a notification, but everyone supported me.
The flight to Italy was a month away.
But my heart was already there.
Acting without realizing, thinking and preparing the travel documents in response to Monica's request.
Embarrassingly, I hadn't planned anything specific to do in Italy.
The mere fact that my first trip abroad was to Europe, and to Italy of all places, filled me with joy.
As each day dragged on, looking back, the month flew by like an arrow.
As July began and the heat intensified, I faced the day before my departure to Italy.
"So, there was this guy in the department next to yours when you were in school, he harassed me so much for your phone number, practically roasted me alive for a month. The value of the meals I got out of her was almost equivalent to my current salary," Youngju rambled.
It was our last company dinner with the employees, most of whom lived in Seoul, so we stayed late in the Jongno area. Youngju didn't seem sad about the farewell but was chattier than usual.
Though my mind was already in Italy, Youngju was going to take care of the company in my absence, so I casually engaged in her conversation.
"Really? What was her name?"
"Jae-yeon."
"Oh, really? Sounds unfamiliar."
Of course, you wouldn't know. She whined so much about not being able to talk to you until graduation. What an idiot, right? If she liked you, she should've just come and talked to you, why trouble me? At least I got some free meals out of it."
"Hey, if you weren't going to give the number, why accept the meals?"
"Why refuse when offered? Am I a fool?"
"Did you end up not giving my number?"
"Are you crazy? You said you didn't like her."
"................"
I don't remember. I vaguely recall Youngju mentioning something similar, but I never paid much attention.
It's not that I lacked interest in women. Like my friends, I wanted to walk around the campus as a couple, to love and be loved. As these old memories resurfaced, Youngju fell silent.
We walked through the backstreets of Jongno in silence. Finally, Youngju broke the silence.
"Hey."
"Yeah."
"Do you ever think about her?"
"Who?"
"Ji-Hye."
"...................."
Yang Ji-Hye. My first girlfriend in freshman year of university.
"I don't think about her."
A lie.
It's impossible to forget the first real relationship I had, beyond my high school teacher crush.
Youngju, tasting the air, said, "She must be kicking herself now, seeing where you are, right?"
"...................."
An old, deliberately forgotten memory resurfaced.
In my sophomore year, I met a pretty junior during an MT (membership training). She was full of charm and laughter at the drinking party, understanding men's psychology too well. Sometimes motherly, sisterly, or innocently provocative.
The day after the MT, Ji-Hye began pursuing me. She called more than five times a day, texting over thirty times. Initially, I was flustered, but she was quick-witted and sensitive, refraining from contacting when I seemed busy.
I thought being with such a woman would be wonderful.
So, we started dating.
After we became a couple, Ji-Hye's capricious and pretentious side emerged, but I still found her endearing. She was more rational than emotional, calculative but still lovable.
But the relationship didn't last long.
Who would like a guy who only brings a single bill for a date? Most students were broke, but I was particularly so.
Tired of walking all day on our dates because we couldn't afford typical dates like movies, meals, and coffee, Ji-Hye couldn't endure it for more than two months before breaking up with me.
'I felt sorry at that time.'
Seeing my upset face, Youngju tentatively asked, "Do you still hate flowers?"
"...................."
I despise flowers.
That's why I don't paint them.
I had considered flower paintings for the refrigerator design contest at Youngju's suggestion, but eventually didn't go through with it. Of course, the reason was encountering the bizarre art gallery, but even if I hadn't, I would have chosen differently.
You might have felt it when taking pictures of your lover.
The situation where the subject loves the photo I took.
Why is that? Because in my eyes, she looks beautiful.
To draw and photograph beautifully, one must find beauty and love in the subject.
An object of hatred can never be expressed beautifully.
That's also why I don't draw flowers.
After receiving the breakup news, I felt terribly sorry for her.
Even if we were breaking up, I didn't want to leave with a sense of guilt, so I emptied my wallet and bought a large bouquet of flowers. A bouquet I had never bought in my entire life.
I went to her house, put the bouquet in front of the front door, and sent a text.
"I'm sorry, I'm leaving one last gift before I go. You probably don't want it, but please accept this."
I wanted to apologize, but I didn't plan on seeing her again.
From the next day, the way the juniors at school looked at me changed. At first, I thought it was just because the news of my breakup with Ji-Hye had spread and they were being considerate. But then, when Youngju showed up, fuming with anger, I heard the truth from her.
What Ji-Hye had been saying about me.
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