[Chapter 3] Departure~
Wednesday was better. The kids were occupied with the novelty of Paris.
Juno took them to the Musée d'Orsay in the morning while Soo-yeon worked from his laptop at the kitchen table, calls with Seoul that couldn't wait even here.
Minjun stood in front of a Monet for a long time without saying anything. Ara tried to touch everything and had to be redirected with the focused diplomacy of a UN negotiator.
Thursday, Juno cooked. Something simple, something he'd learned since being in Paris. Soo-yeon sat on the kitchen counter the way she used to do when they were younger, when their apartment in Seoul was small enough that the kitchen and the living room were essentially the same room and everything felt closer.
"You've gotten better." She said, watching him.
"I've had time."
"Do you like it here? Honestly?"
He considered the question. "The work is good, the pay is even better."
"That's not what I asked."
He glanced at her. She was watching him with that particular Soo-yeon expression — calm, direct, patient. She had always been able to hold silence better than him.
"It's lonely sometimes." He said finally.
"But I'm managing."
She nodded slowly. "I know I should have come sooner."
"You're here now."
"Juno—"
"You're here now Soo-yeon."
He said it gently. He meant it gently.
She was quiet for a moment. Then she slid off the counter and set the table without being asked.
That night they tried again. The kids were properly asleep this time, door closed, Paris white noise machine Soo-yeon had downloaded running on her phone in their room.
They were both trying. He could feel how much they were both trying and maybe that was the problem.
It had never required this much trying before. It had never felt like something that needed to be assembled from separate pieces and hoped into working.
His hands knew where to go. Her responses were familiar. All the component parts were present.
And yet.
He pulled back after a while. Not dramatically. Just quietly. Just enough.
"Sorry." He said.
"Don't apologize." She said it quickly. Too quickly. Like she'd been waiting for it.
They lay side by side in the dark. Not touching. Not not touching.
"Are you okay?" She asked the ceiling.
"I'm tired." He said. "The ribs still pull sometimes."
It wasn't entirely a lie.
"Okay." She said softly. "Okay. Sleep."
He closed his eyes.
Neither of them slept for a while.
_______
Friday the kids filled every silence beautifully and Juno was grateful for them in a way he couldn't have articulated.
Minjun wanted to see a football match — there was nothing scheduled but Juno found a local youth tournament in a park nearby and they spent two hours on a cold metal bench watching teenagers take the game very seriously. Minjun analyzed every play.
Ara ate an entire crepe and fell asleep against Juno's arm.
He sat there with his sleeping daughter warm and heavy against him and watched his son watch football and felt something quiet and real move through his chest.
Love. Uncomplicated and solid.
It was still there. Some things were still there.
That night Soo-yeon's phone rang at 9pm. She was apologizing before she even answered it, sliding out of bed, her voice dropping to professional calm as she moved to the living room.
Juno lay in the dark and listened to the murmur of her through the wall.
A deal. A complication. Someone in New York who didn't understand time zones or didn't care about them.
He wasn't angry. He understood ambition. He understood the particular pull of work that matters to you.
He just lay there staring at the ceiling.
And the ceiling stared back.
_______
Saturday was their last full day. They kept it gentle by unspoken agreement — a slow morning, a long lunch, a walk through Montmartre in the afternoon where Ara made them stop at every street artist and Minjun bought a small print of the Sacré-Cœur with his own pocket money and carried it very carefully all the way home.
That night Soo-yeon packed while the kids slept. Juno sat on the edge of the bed and watched her fold things with that quiet efficiency of hers.
"Thank you for coming." He said.
She paused. Looked at him. "Of course."
"I mean it."
She sat down beside him on the edge of the bed. They were quiet for a moment. Outside a siren moved through the city and faded.
"Juno."
She said his name carefully. The way she said it when she was choosing her next words.
"I know." He said.
She looked at him. "What do you know?"
He didn't answer right away. He looked at his hands. At the wedding ring that still sat where it had always sat, so familiar he rarely noticed it anymore.
"I don't know." He said finally. Honestly.
She nodded slowly. Like that was the answer she expected. Like she had her own version of the same answer.
She reached over and took his hand. Just held it.
No performance in it. No agenda. Just two people sitting on a bed, holding hands in the quiet.
It was the most connected he'd felt all week.
And somehow that made everything sadder.
Sunday morning was pancakes and noise and Ara crying because she didn't want to leave and Minjun pretending he wasn't sad by being very focused on making sure his suitcase was properly zipped.
Juno drove them to the airport. He carried Ara through the terminal on his chest even though she was probably too old for it and she let him because she was sad enough to allow it.
At the gate he held Minjun first. The boy hugged him properly this time, no dignity about it.
"Come home soon Appa."
"I will. Keep working on that defensive tracking."
Minjun pulled back and nodded seriously. Then ruined it by hugging him again.
Ara he held for a long time. She had stopped crying and was just quiet against his shoulder, her small fingers gripping his collar.
"I'll video call tomorrow." He promised her. "And I'll ask the fish how he's doing."
She giggled despite her mood. "He can't talk Appa."
"I'll figure something out."
Finally Soo-yeon. She stood before him neat and composed, her carry-on at her side, everything about her put together the way it always was.
"I'll talk to my boss about the holidays."
He said. "Try to make it work."
"Okay."
She reached up and straightened his collar. A small gesture. An old gesture. Something she had done a thousand times.
"Take care of yourself Juno. Eat properly."
"I will."
She kissed him. Brief and warm and familiar.
"I love you." She said.
"I love you." He said back.
He watched them disappear through the gate. Ara turned back once to wave with her whole arm. He waved back until she was gone.
Then he turned and walked back through the terminal alone.
The airport moved around him. Reunions and departures. Joy and grief sharing the same tiled floor.
He kept walking.