For several seconds, Emily simply stared at her husband.
“What do you mean your mother showed you my photograph?”
Joon didn’t answer.
Emily stepped closer.
“You told me we met by accident.”
“We did.”
“No.”
Her voice hardened.
“You told me you happened to be at that café because your office was nearby.”
“That part was true.”
“And I happened to be sitting there.”
“Yes.”
“But your mother had already shown you my picture?”
Joon closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
My stomach turned.
“When?” I asked.
“About two months before Emily and I met.”
Emily looked as if she’d been slapped.
“Two months?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Joon stared at the floor.
“My mother told me you were an American working in Seoul.”
“That doesn’t explain why she had my photograph.”
“I know.”
“Where did she get it?”
“I never asked.”
“You never asked?”
“I should have.”
Emily laughed once, but there was no humor in it.
“So your mother hands you a photograph of some random American woman and you don’t think that’s strange?”
“She said a friend knew you.”
“What friend?”
“I don’t know.”
Emily stared at him.
Every answer created another question.
Then Joon’s phone rang.
Sun-hee.
His mother.
Nobody moved.
The phone continued ringing.
Emily looked at him.
“Answer it.”
Joon hesitated.
“Answer it.”
He put the call on speaker.
“Mother?”
Sun-hee spoke rapidly in Korean.
“Where are you?”
“At home.”
“You need to come to the hospital.”
“We’re going.”
A pause.
Then Sun-hee asked, “Is Emily with you?”
Emily’s expression changed.
Joon looked at her.
“Yes.”
Another pause.
Longer this time.
“Bring her.”
I felt cold.
Emily stepped closer to the phone.
“Why?”
Silence.
Sun-hee hadn’t expected Emily to answer.
“Emily?”
“Yes.”
“You should come.”
“Why?”
“Min-jae is very sick.”
“I understand that.”
Emily’s voice remained remarkably steady.
“But why did the hospital call me?”
Sun-hee said nothing.
“And why did you have my photograph before I ever met your son?”
The silence on the other end lasted so long I thought she’d hung up.
Then Sun-hee whispered, “Who told you?”
Joon’s jaw tightened.
“Father.”
Sun-hee inhaled sharply.
“He had no right.”
Emily almost laughed.
“No right?”
“Emily, this isn’t the time.”
“No, I think this is exactly the time.”
“Min-jae needs us.”
“Then answer me.”
Sun-hee’s voice changed.
“Come to the hospital.”
“Answer me first.”
“I will explain everything here.”
“Why not now?”
Another silence.
Then Sun-hee said something that made Joon grab the phone.
“Because your mother needs to hear it too.”
I stared at the phone.
“Me?”
Sun-hee didn’t answer.
The call ended.
Emily slowly turned toward me.
“What does she know about you?”
“Nothing.”
“Mom.”
“I’ve met that woman once in my life.”
“At our wedding.”
“Yes.”
Joon was already pulling on his coat.
“We need to go.”
Emily didn’t move.
“Emily.”
She looked at him.
“I’m going because there’s a sick child at the hospital.”
“I know.”
“Not because I forgive you.”
“I understand.”
“And if anyone asks me for blood, tissue, signatures, anything medical, I am not agreeing tonight.”
Joon nodded.
“That’s your choice.”
Emily stared at him.
“It always should have been.”
He looked away.
That sentence hurt him.
It should have.
Twenty-five minutes later, we entered the hospital.
Sun-hee was waiting outside the pediatric hematology unit.
She looked ten years older than she’d looked at dinner.
Young-ho stood several feet away.
When he saw Emily, relief crossed his face.
Sun-hee immediately approached.
“Thank you for coming.”
Emily stepped backward before Sun-hee could touch her.
“Where is Min-jae?”
“With the doctors.”
“Is he conscious?”
“Sometimes.”
Joon walked toward the doors.
Sun-hee caught his arm.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“There’s nothing you can do right now.”
“He’s my son.”
“I know.”
“Then let me see him.”
“The doctors are stabilizing him.”
Joon pulled his arm away.
Young-ho approached us.
He looked at Emily.
“You read the documents?”
“Yes.”
“All of them?”
“Enough.”
His eyes shifted toward his wife.
“Then she deserves the rest.”
Sun-hee glared at him.
“You’ve done enough.”
“No.”
Young-ho’s voice was quiet.
“I should have done this years ago.”
Sun-hee looked around the hospital corridor.
“Not here.”
Emily folded her arms.
“Here is fine.”
Sun-hee looked at me.
Something in her expression made my stomach tighten.
“Do you remember me?”
I stared at her.
“From the wedding.”
“Before that.”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“Quite.”
Sun-hee reached into her handbag.
She removed an old photograph.
She handed it to me.
My hands went cold before I even understood why.
The photograph was nearly thirty years old.
It showed several young nurses standing outside a hospital.
And there I was.
Twenty-something.
Hair pulled back.
Still wearing my uniform.
Emily leaned over my shoulder.
“Mom?”
I couldn’t speak.
Because I remembered the photograph.
Not Sun-hee.
But the hospital.
I had spent eight months there as part of an international medical training program when I was young.
Before I married Emily’s father.
Before Emily was born.
“You worked in Korea?” Emily asked.
“For eight months.”
“You never told me.”
“It was decades ago.”
Sun-hee pointed toward the woman standing at the edge of the photograph.
Her.
Young Sun-hee.
Slowly, the memory returned.
“You were an administrator.”
She nodded.
“We barely knew each other.”
“No.”
Sun-hee looked at Emily.
“But I remembered you.”
“Why?”
“Because of something that happened during your mother’s final month here.”
I felt uneasy.
“What happened?”
Sun-hee took out another document.
An old medical form.
My name was printed across the top.
I recognized it.
Employee health screening.
“What does this have to do with Emily?”
Sun-hee looked toward the pediatric unit.
“When Min-jae became ill, doctors struggled to find a suitable donor.”
Joon interrupted.
“Mother, stop.”
She ignored him.
“We tested relatives.”
Young-ho.
Joon.
Extended family.
No ideal match.
“We joined registries.”
Nothing.
Then Sun-hee remembered an unusual detail from her hospital work.
Something in my old medical file.
A rare combination of tissue markers.
She had remembered because years earlier, a doctor had used my screening results during a teaching discussion about uncommon HLA profiles.
I stared at her.
“You kept my medical information?”
“No.”
“Then how did you get it?”
“I contacted someone who still worked in the hospital system.”
Emily’s face hardened.
“You illegally accessed my mother’s old records?”
Sun-hee didn’t answer.
That was answer enough.
Emily looked disgusted.
“Then what?”
“I searched for your mother online.”
My stomach turned.
“And found Emily.”
“Yes.”
Emily took a step backward.
“No.”
Sun-hee continued.
“I saw photographs.”
“Stop.”
“I learned she was living in Seoul.”
“STOP.”
Everyone in the corridor looked toward us.
Emily lowered her voice.
“You found me because of my mother’s medical records?”
Sun-hee’s eyes filled.
“My grandson was dying.”
“That doesn’t give you ownership of my body.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
Emily pointed toward Joon.
“You showed your son my photograph.”
“Yes.”
“You encouraged him to meet me.”
Sun-hee didn’t answer.
Emily’s voice shook.
“Did you tell him why?”
“Not initially.”
Joon stepped forward.
“I didn’t know.”
Emily turned on him.
“When did you find out?”
“After our third date.”
Silence.
Emily’s face emptied of emotion.
“What?”
My heart dropped.
“You knew after your third date?”
Joon’s eyes filled.
“Yes.”
“But you told us earlier you found out later.”
“I lied.”
Emily actually stepped backward.
That lie hurt more than everything else.
“You knew before you told me you loved me.”
“Yes.”
“You knew before you proposed.”
“Yes.”
“You knew before we married.”
“Yes.”
Each answer sounded like another door closing.
Emily whispered, “Was any of it real?”
“Yes.”
“How am I supposed to believe that?”
“I don’t know.”
Joon was crying now.
“I don’t know how to prove it.”
“You can’t.”
“I met you because my mother manipulated both of us.”
Emily stared at him.
“But I kept seeing you because I loved being with you.”
“You could have told me.”
“I was afraid.”
“You could have told me before we got married.”
“I know.”
“You could have told me yesterday.”
“I know.”
“You could have told me an hour ago.”
“I know.”
Emily’s eyes filled.
“But every time you had a chance to choose honesty, you chose yourself.”
Joon had no answer.
Young-ho looked at his wife.
“This is what I told you would happen.”
Sun-hee turned on him.
“You agreed!”
“I agreed to finding her.”
Emily stared at him.
“What?”
Young-ho closed his eyes.
“I helped.”
Joon looked shocked.
“Father?”
“I paid someone to locate your mother.”
He looked at me.
“Then Emily.”
I felt sick.
“You investigated my daughter?”
“Yes.”
“How much did you learn?”
“Employment. Education. Public information.”
“And her inheritance?”
Young-ho’s face changed.
There it was.
Emily saw it too.
“You knew about that.”
“Yes.”
Sun-hee immediately said, “That wasn’t why—”
Emily cut her off.
“Stop.”
She looked at Young-ho.
“Did you tell Joon?”
“No.”
Joon stared at his father.
“Then how did you know?” Emily asked him.
Joon looked ashamed.
“I saw paperwork after we married.”
“At our apartment?”
“Yes.”
Emily laughed bitterly.
“So one person wanted my body.”
She looked at Young-ho.
“One person knew about my money.”
Then Joon.
“And my husband knew enough of both secrets to lie to me every day.”
A doctor appeared at the end of the corridor.
“Family of Park Min-jae?”
Everyone turned.
Joon ran toward him.
“I’m his father.”
The doctor spoke quietly.
Min-jae was stable.
For now.
But his blood counts had deteriorated significantly.
They needed to move forward with treatment planning.
Joon asked, “Can I see him?”
“In a few minutes.”
Then the doctor looked toward Emily.
“Ms. Parker?”
Emily froze.
“Yes?”
“We were told you might be willing to undergo compatibility testing.”
“No.”
The doctor immediately nodded.
“That’s completely your decision.”
Sun-hee stepped forward.
“Doctor—”
He raised a hand.
“We do not pressure potential donors.”
I saw Emily’s shoulders relax slightly.
The doctor continued.
“And the previous compatibility report isn’t sufficient.”
Emily frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“We would require properly consented testing.”
She stared at Sun-hee.
“So that report can’t be used?”
“Not to proceed with donation.”
Sun-hee looked devastated.
But Emily looked relieved.
Someone had finally said it clearly.
Her body.
Her consent.
Her choice.
Then the pediatric unit doors opened.
A nurse pushed a wheelchair into the corridor.
A little boy sat beneath a blanket.
Min-jae.
He looked tiny.
Much smaller than seven.
A surgical mask covered his mouth.
His skin was pale.
Joon immediately knelt.
“Min-jae.”
The boy’s eyes brightened.
“Appa.”
Joon took his hand and began crying.
Whatever Joon had done, one thing was undeniable.
He loved his son.
Min-jae looked around.
Then his eyes landed on Emily.
He stared.
Emily went still.
The boy slowly raised his hand.
“Emily?”
Every adult in the hallway froze.
Emily looked at Joon.
“How does he know my name?”
Joon’s face changed.
“Min-jae?”
The boy smiled weakly.
“Grandma showed me.”
Sun-hee closed her eyes.
Emily walked closer.
“What did Grandma tell you about me?”
Sun-hee whispered, “Min-jae, you’re tired.”
The boy ignored her.
“She said you were going to be my new mom.”
Emily’s face collapsed.
Joon stood.
“What?”
Sun-hee began crying.
“Please.”
Min-jae continued innocently.
“And she said you could make me better.”
The silence was unbearable.
Emily looked at Sun-hee.
“You told a sick child that?”
“I wanted to give him hope.”
“You promised him my body.”
“No.”
“You told him I could make him better before I even knew he existed!”
Sun-hee started sobbing.
Min-jae looked frightened.
Emily immediately stopped.
She crouched beside him.
“Hey.”
The boy looked at her.
“None of this is your fault.”
“Are you mad?”
“Not at you.”
“Are you really my new mom?”
Emily’s eyes filled.
“No, sweetheart.”
Min-jae looked disappointed.
Emily swallowed.
“But I’m very happy to meet you.”
The boy nodded.
Then a nurse wheeled him back through the doors.
Joon watched until he disappeared.
When he turned around, Emily was holding her wedding ring.
She had removed it.
“Emily.”
She placed it in his hand.
“Not here.”
His face crumpled.
“Please.”
“Your son needs you.”
“I need you too.”
“No.”
Her voice remained gentle.
“You want me.”
She looked toward the doors.
“He needs you.”
Joon stared at the ring in his palm.
Emily took my hand.
“Mom, let’s go.”
We started walking.
Then Young-ho called after us.
“Emily.”
She stopped.
He approached slowly.
“There is something else.”
I almost laughed from exhaustion.
“How can there possibly be something else?”
Young-ho looked at me.
Then at Emily.
“The compatibility report wasn’t the only reason I brought that envelope.”
“What else?”
He reached into his jacket.
A small USB drive.
“I copied records from my wife’s computer.”
Sun-hee’s face changed.
“You didn’t.”
Young-ho ignored her.
“I thought Emily needed proof.”
“Proof of what?”
He handed the drive to my daughter.
“That Sun-hee had been searching for potential donors before she found you.”
Emily stared at it.
“How many?”
Young-ho looked ashamed.
“Seventeen women.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
“Women around Emily’s age.”
“Did Joon meet them?”
“No.”
Joon looked as shocked as we were.
Young-ho continued.
“Sun-hee researched them.”
“Medical information?”
“Where she could obtain it.”
I felt physically ill.
Emily stared at Sun-hee.
“You were shopping for a human being.”
Sun-hee shook her head.
“I was trying to save my grandson.”
“You were searching for a person you could manipulate.”
“I never hurt anyone.”
Emily held up the USB drive.
“You violated people’s privacy.”
Sun-hee cried harder.
Emily turned toward Young-ho.
“Why are you giving this to me?”
“Because there may be crimes involved.”
The corridor became silent.
“You want me to go to the police?”
“I want you to decide.”
For the first time that evening, someone was actually giving Emily a choice.
She closed her fingers around the drive.
Then we left.
Back at my hotel, Emily sat beside the window until nearly sunrise.
She didn’t cry.
That worried me more.
Around four in the morning, she finally spoke.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“If I don’t get tested and Min-jae dies, am I a terrible person?”
I moved beside her.
“No.”
“But what if I really can help him?”
“Then you decide what you want to do with that information.”
“What would you do?”
I looked at her.
“I won’t make this decision for you.”
She nodded.
“I hate Joon.”
“No, you don’t.”
She looked at me.
“I wish I did.”
“I know.”
She finally cried.
I held her.
Not like she was a married woman living thousands of miles away.
Like she was five again.
Like heartbreak had made her small enough to fit beneath my chin.
Two days later, Emily contacted an attorney.
Then the hospital.
Then authorities regarding the medical privacy concerns.
And finally, she made one decision nobody expected.
She agreed to undergo a new compatibility test.
Voluntarily.
With independent doctors.
No Sun-hee.
No Joon in the room.
No promises.
No pressure.
When I asked why, Emily gave me one answer.
“Because Min-jae didn’t do any of this.”
A week later, the hospital called.
Emily put the phone on speaker.
The specialist explained the results.
Then he said the sentence that made her sit down.
Emily was compatible.
Not merely possible.
A strong potential match.
She closed her eyes.
I held her hand.
But then the doctor continued.
“There is something unusual in the testing that we’d like to discuss in person.”
Emily frowned.
“What?”
“I’d rather explain it with a genetic counselor present.”
My stomach tightened.
“Is something wrong with Emily?”
“No.”
“Then what is it?”
The doctor paused.
“It concerns why Ms. Parker is such a strong match for Min-jae.”
Emily stared at me.
“What does that mean?”
Another pause.
Then the doctor said something neither of us understood yet.
“The degree of similarity is greater than we’d normally expect between two unrelated individuals.”
Emily stopped breathing.
I felt my hand go cold in hers.
She whispered, “Are you saying we’re related?”
The doctor chose his words carefully.
“We need additional testing before drawing conclusions.”
Emily looked at me.
I couldn’t speak.
Because suddenly I remembered something from my eight months in Korea almost thirty years earlier.
Something I had not thought about in decades.
A hospital room.
A doctor.
A procedure.
And a form I had signed without ever imagining that one day my daughter might be standing in Seoul asking why her DNA looked strangely connected to a little boy she’d never known existed.
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