Til Death Do Us Part

"Jyeon, take her hand." Jyeon's mother picks up his hand by the wrist and forces it into mine, stopping me from venturing into the open doorway of the ballroom, where she's standing guard for our arrival. I squirm, hating that we are constantly forced to interact this way, pushed together, and made to act like young sweethearts. My face flushes with heat, and I chew on my inner lip.

"Yes, mother." Jyeon does as he's told, his blank tone and non-reaction, sliding my tiny hand into his and holding it loosely. His noticeable coldness in his manner, like always, since we got into our young teen years, and my heart sinks. His skin contact and warmth don't remove the chill from the air between us, and I look away from him, gazing at my feet in downhearted depression. I cannot remember the last time he looked upon me affectionately or gave me any kindness, even though I've known him since I was born.

"Sohla, lift your chin, smile. You two look beautiful together, as always." She chirps at us, tweaking his bow tie and smoothing his lapels before turning to me and fixing a strand of my hair.

"Yes, mother." I do as I'm told, lifting my face to meet Jyeon's mother's eyes on mine. Calling her the title she prefers, given that I will be her daughter-in-law someday. I try to correct my posture and stand tall because I know she hates my slouching. She's stern as a mother figure and doesn't tolerate slackness.

"Where’s your brother, Jyeon?” She turns back to him, irritation in her tone evident, and then glances over us at the filling hallway with guests arriving.

“Following. He’ll be here shortly.” Jyeon doesn’t move. He awaits her approval before we get set free to join the others inside.

“That boy. You need to get him in hand. You’re older and should be showing him how to behave.”

“Yes, mother,” Jyeon answers robotically, knowing that his brother is not a handful at all and his lateness will not be his fault. He’s a sweet and caring boy who looks after me continuously, even though he’s a year younger. I miss him right now, standing here with this awkward tension.

“Okay, go inside. Remember to keep Sohla on your arm. All eyes are on our future heirs. Enjoy your birthday.” She leans in, air kisses him, and then finally lets us move past her. My body sagged slightly with relief, and I caught Jyeon giving me a side-eye.

“I hate that dress.”

It’s all he says to me. Looking down at the overly childish sequin dress his mother bought for me, although I agree, it wounds me to the core. My heart aches, and I swallow a knot that forms in my throat, nodding his way without showing him that his words always hurt me. He reluctantly leads me into the crowded room, and our appearance causes a minor reaction from the guests.

Some rush forward to say hello, smile, and raise glasses, but the affair is entirely fake. I grin and bear it and play the part of the young wealthy daughter of the Kim family, knowing my place well.

“The big sixteen…. Your parents are really going all out for this one.” Bryant, Jyeon’s best friend, slides between us from behind, shoving me aside while unlatching our hands. “Don’t worry; I’ll save you both from forced romantics. Your parents like to shove it in everyone’s faces that the Parks and the Kims will continue their joint supremacy by marrying off their kids to keep their corporation undented.”

“Please tell me there’s an escape route.” Jyeon relaxes his stiff posture, loosening up his naturally broad shoulders, and quickly darts a glance around for his father or other watchful eyes. I am drawn to watching his mannerisms, which have changed from an awkward child into a bro type of demeanor over the past year. He’s grown taller and filled out, and his naturally handsome dark looks have lost puppy fat. Next to a smaller and fairer Bryant, Jyeon is mysterious, sophisticated, and starting to look like his father.

“Bide your time. Hang out here for an hour or so until the old folks get drunk and push off to their VIP lounge upstairs, and then we young uns can get a party started.” Bryant winks, moving to stand in front of us, and turns to face us. Eyeing me up and frowning with instant dislike.

“Sohlly Bolly …. What are you wearing? You look like a ten-year-old in that.” He disapproves as much as Jyeon does, and I glare back.

“I didn’t pick it….. Jyeon’s mom did, and I’m thirteen, not ten.” I stick my tongue out at him and slap him on the shoulder. Sassy initiated from deep inside when away from the watchful eye of the seniors, and Bryant leans in and pinches my cheek. Grinning at me before rubbing my head and messing my hair. He’s always been like an older sibling that loves to rile me at every opportunity.

“Oooh, attitude, missy. And here I thought all these lady lessons you were getting had culled the tomboy spirit and turned out something tolerable.” Bryant tries to poke me in the face, and I slap his hand away with instinctive impulses.

“Stop it.” Jyeon elbows me and nods towards the far right of the room where my parents have turned this way. My eyes follow his gaze, and I catch my father’s cold and intense stare. That I’m behaving in a manner he disapproves of.

“Yeah, Sohlly. Your dad will send you away to reform school if you don’t behave. Listen to your husband.” He jests at me, sticks his hands in his pockets, and looks at his feet when Jyeon glares coldly at him. Visually shutting him down and making it clear he doesn’t find that term amusing.

Jyeon hates this whole arrangement, although he’s never verbally said it to me or around me. Ever since we were told, when I turned eleven, that our future had already been mapped out and we would be officially engaged when I turn seventeen, he’s turned aloof and cold towards me. What used to be a warm and sometimes fun sibling relationship turned sour, and he avoids me now when not forced into proximity.

Our family decided when we were born that they would put us together for the sake of our company, to keep the shares and money as one, even when our parents were no longer here. I can feel his efforts to keep us apart. The lack of emotion when he’s close and the rebellious aura when he’s made to take my hand. He’s obedient to a fault though, and would never refuse what’s expected of us. Jeon will obey.

“Where’s Yoonie, anyhow? Isn’t he late for your formal soiree?” Bryant changes the subject fast and looks around for him, taking the icy hint. “It’s not like him to be AWOL when there’s cake.”

“He got side-tracked by my grandfather. He’s twelve now, so he’s expected to start shouldering some responsibility for being a Park son.” Jyeon moves to a passing waitress and picks up two fruit cocktails, handing one to me first and the other to Bryant before picking up his own, and we stand cradling them.