Chapter 5: Grocery Store Confrontation
The grocery store was Da-rae’s sanctuary. It was a mundane, beautiful ritual she’d claimed for herself. Jin-woo’s world was one of silent attendants and pre-arranged deliveries, but here, among the misted kale and pyramids of shiny fruit, she felt normal. She hummed softly, comparing the weight of two pears in her palms, the cool air of the produce section raising goosebumps on her arms. She was planning a pear tart, something messy and sweet. Something Jin-woo would pretend to hate but would finish in two sittings.
“Some things never change. You always did dawdle over fruit.”
The voice was a shard of ice down her spine. Familiar, polished, and utterly out of place. Da-rae turned slowly, the pear suddenly heavy as a stone in her hand.
Soo-ah stood five feet away, a vision of calculated jet lag. She wore a cream-colored trench coat belted tightly over designer jeans, her hair a sleek, darker brown than Da-rae remembered, cut in a sharp bob that ended just below her jaw. A small, hard smile played on lips painted the color of dried blood. Her French manicure, as promised by the chapter synopsis, gleamed under the store’s amber lights.
“Soo-ah,” Da-rae breathed. The name tasted like ash.
“Surprised?” Soo-ah took a step closer, the scent of Chanel No. 5 cutting through the earthy smell of vegetables. It was the smell of their mother’s dressing table, of special occasions, of a life Da-rae had left behind. “You didn’t think I’d let you play house in my world forever, did you?”
Da-rae’s heart hammered against her ribs. She clutched the pear, her knuckles white. “It’s not your world. You left it. You left him.”
“A tactical retreat.” Soo-ah waved a dismissive hand, her eyes scanning Da-rae from head to toe—the simple jeans, the wool sweater, the practical boots. Her gaze snagged on the delicate gold chain at Da-rae’s throat. A flicker of something dark passed behind her eyes. “Looks like you’ve settled in. Made yourself… comfortable.”
“What do you want?” Da-rae’s voice was steadier than she felt.
“What’s mine.” Soo-ah closed the distance in two swift strides. Her hand shot out, fingers like talons clamping around Da-rae’s wrist. Her French-manicured nails dug in, sharp and purposeful. Da-rae flinched, the pear dropping to the polished floor with a dull, rotten thud.
“Let go of me.”
“Did you really think you could keep him?” Soo-ah hissed, her perfect teeth bared in a smile that held no warmth. She leaned in, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. “Playing the devoted little wife. Does he know how you jump at shadows? How you check your phone every five minutes, waiting for our family’s ruin to be your fault?”
Da-rae tried to yank her arm back, but Soo-ah’s grip was iron. Shoppers passed by the end of the aisle, oblivious to the quiet warfare.
“He’s kind to me,” Da-rae said, the words a desperate shield.
“He’s kind to a idea. To the dutiful Luis daughter he was promised.” Soo-ah’s smile turned pitying. “But ideas are fragile. And facts… facts are so much heavier.” She pulled Da-rae even closer, until the clashing scents of perfume and wet earth were overwhelming. “Father’s already signed the annulment papers.”
The world tilted. The mist from the vegetable sprays felt suddenly arctic. The humming of the refrigeration units rose to a deafening roar in Da-rae’s ears. “What?”
“On the grounds of fraud.” Soo-ah enunciated each word with cruel clarity. “Misrepresentation of the contracted party. He was very… understanding. Once I explained how you’d manipulated everyone, how your childish crush threatened the stability of the merger.”
“That’s a lie!” The protest was a gasp.
“Is it? You stood at that altar in my place. You wear a ring meant for my finger.” Soo-ah’s eyes dropped to the gold chain again. “You even wear his little trophies. That’s fraud, little sister. A pretty, punishable fraud.”
Terror, cold and slick, coiled in Da-rae’s stomach. Her family’s safety, the precarious peace she’d built, Jin-woo’s quiet smiles over shared meals—it all crumbled like sand in this woman’s grasp. “He won’t believe you,” Da-rae whispered, but the conviction was bleeding out of her.
Soo-ah finally released her wrist, leaving four crescent moons indented into the skin. She straightened her coat, the smile back in place. “He doesn’t have to believe me. He just has to read the legal documents. Father’s signature is quite distinctive.” She picked a piece of invisible lint from her sleeve. “I’m meeting him for dinner tonight. To discuss the transition. I suggest you pack your things. The real bride is home.”
She turned to leave, then paused, glancing back over her shoulder as if remembering a minor detail. “Oh, and Da-rae? Try to be gone before I bring him home. It would be so awkward for everyone.”
Then she was gone, her heels clicking a staccato beat of finality down the polished aisle, leaving Da-rae standing amidst the vibrant, misting produce, utterly alone. She looked down at her wrist, at the red half-moons. She touched the gold chain at her throat, the metal now cold as ice.
Belong to me. Jin-woo’s words echoed, but they felt distant, drowned out by the crashing wave of Soo-ah’s truth. Annulment. Fraud. The words were real, legal, unforgiving. The sanctuary of the grocery store was just a cavern of cold air and mocking abundance.
She didn’t remember leaving the store. She found herself on the sidewalk, the autumn sun glaringly bright, her reusable bag empty. The city noise was a muffled boom. She pulled out her phone, her fingers numb. The instinct to call Jin-woo was a physical ache, but shame clamped her mouth shut. What would she say? Your real wife is back, and my father has signed me away?
Instead, her thumb moved on its own, pulling up the contact she both loved and feared. Her father. The call connected after two rings.
“Dad?” Her voice was thin, cracked.
“Da-rae.” His voice was weary, burdened. It told her everything.
“Is it true?”
A long sigh traveled down the line, a sound of utter defeat. “She came back. She had… arguments. About the company’s liquidity. About what would happen if the Choi family felt deceived.” His voice broke. “She said she’d fix it. That she’d marry him properly and everything would be restored. I only… I only wanted to protect us. To protect you.”
He had signed her away. Not just her marriage, but her legitimacy. Her safety. The admission hung between them, a verdict.
“Do you understand?” he whispered, pleading.
Da-rae closed her eyes. She did understand. The calculus of their family had always been brutal. She was the smaller number, the one to be subtracted for the greater sum. “Yes,” she said, the word hollow.
Ending the call, she stood swaying on the bustling sidewalk. The gold chain felt like a shackle. Belong to me. But he didn’t own her. Her own family had relinquished all claim. She was property awaiting return.
A text buzzed in her hand. Jin-woo.
Running late. Client dinner ran over. Don’t wait up. Order in?
A client dinner. Soo-ah’s perfect, predatory smile flashed in her mind. I’m meeting him for dinner tonight.
It wasn’t a client. It was her. The real bride.
Da-rae stared at the message, at the casual, kind words. The last words he might ever send her thinking she was his. The momentum of the morning—the confidence after facing his mother, the feel of his arms around her in the car—shattered completely. She was back in the dark, alone, with the cold, hard facts settling around her like a shroud.
She looked at the shimmering glass tower in the distance, where their sanctuary waited. She couldn’t go back there. Not to wait. Not to pack. She turned and began walking in the opposite direction, the city swallowing her whole, the only anchor the cold, accusing weight of the gold against her skin.