Epilogue 8

Epilogue 8

Miran’s eyes widened.

“Ommo! So you came all the way from Korea to New York just to be a witness at our wedding?”

Andre snorted.

“Hardly. It’s been a while since I returned after being discharged.”

Long ago, on the way to a trip to a valley in Gangwon-do, she had asked if he was close friends with the blond man who had lent them the camper van.

Andre had snapped back, wondering why she was even curious about such a thing. Then, reluctantly, he told her they were childhood friends whose families knew each other.

For the cold-hearted Andre, who rarely let anyone get close, to not only define Jared as a ‘friend’ but to also call him as a wedding witness meant he trusted him quite deeply.

Just then, Jared waved at Miran. His smile, revealing a full set of bright white teeth, was refreshing.

She smiled back and waved.

“An-nyeong-ha-se-yo! Toh ma-na-suh ban, um… ban-ga-yo?”

Jared’s voice rose at the end of the last word as if he lacked confidence, and he crinkled his nose. Between his playful expression and his clumsy Korean, Miran briefly forgot her worries and burst into laughter.

Her opinion that Andre was handsomer remained unchanged. However, Jared was also a quite attractive man with a likable impression.

Still, thanks to a personality as bright and easygoing as his hair color, he seemed like the type to smile sweetly and act friendly toward any woman. Because of that, at a glance, he also looked a bit like a playboy.

“Hello! It is a pleasure to meet you again.”

When Miran greeted him back in accurate Korean, his deep blue eyes shone mischievously as he gave her a wink.

[I honestly cannot fathom why such a beautiful and lovely woman would decide to spend her life with a bore like Andre de Lafayette. If you change your mind even now, just tell me. I’ll risk my life to help you escape.]

Miran caught the general drift of what Jared was saying through his nuance and nodded with a smile.

He was a fun person.

She thought that perhaps they had become friends so easily because his personality was the exact opposite of Andre’s.

[Shut up, Hamilton. If you’re just going to talk trash, get lost.]

Andre growled, his voice laced with a threat.

[Is this how you treat me? You called me out of the blue three days ago and told me to clear my schedule. I dropped everything to come watch—I mean, to be your witness.]

Jared jerked his chin toward Miran.

[No matter how much I think about it, the bride is too good for you. I’m seriously considering saving a soul and running off with her right now. If I so much as open my mouth about what a consistent prick you’ve been since we were kids, this wedding is history. So watch your tone, Lafayette.]

Jared grinned ear to ear, clearly delighted to have caught an opportunity to tease Andre.

[I already regret inviting you, so shut that mouth of yours.]

Andre pressed a hand to his brow and let out a sigh. Jared, however, remained unfazed and tapped his temple with his finger.

[Andre de Lafayette. The debt you owe me is piling up. I’m not going to forget a single bit of it; I’ll put it all on your tab. Even if it takes thirty years, I’m getting paid back in full, just so you know. That aside, you’re going to be the witness at my wedding, right? Give and take.]

Andre’s expression turned dead serious as he flatly refused.

[I don’t think so. That’s going to be difficult.]

[What? You can’t do that!]

[I’m a busy man, unlike you. Besides, isn’t a wedding only possible if there’s a partner involved? No matter how much you want it, you can’t do it alone, Jared Hamilton. If you’re that desperate to get married, stop chasing women who hate you and find one who actually likes you first.]

One corner of Andre’s mouth curled up into a smirk. He truly knew how to mock someone with surprising spite.

[Shut up, Lafayette!]

Jared shouted, snapping back in irritation.

Miran watched with fascination as the two men, both built like mountains, growled at each other as if they might start brawling at any second.

Perhaps it was because he was with a childhood friend, but Andre looked uncharacteristically relaxed and comfortable around Jared. The unfamiliar glint of mischief in his eyes made him look younger than usual.

Just then, a man in his mid-thirties with a thick, bushy beard appeared and bowed politely toward Andre. A large camera bag was slung over his shoulder.

Andre introduced him to Miran.

“He’s the photographer who took the photos I sent you.”

Andre knew all too well that she had carefully laminated those photos and kept them as her most prized possessions.

She had once mentioned that while they didn’t quite do him justice, the photos were so well-shot that she wondered who had taken them. It seemed he had remembered her passing comment and hired the very same photographer.

The man introduced himself as Danny Brown and shook Miran’s hand. He stared at her with a look of pure fascination until she gave an embarrassed smile and pulled her hand away.

Only after noticing the fierce, menacing glare from his boss did Danny finally avert his eyes, hurriedly fumbling to pull his camera out of his bag.

“Let’s go in.”

At Andre’s words, Miran’s heart began to race once again.

Dressed in gowns and suits, people constantly streamed in and out of the government building. It was a place far removed from any sense of romance. By the time she walked out those doors, her entire life would be fundamentally changed.

Miran moistened her lips, took Andre’s outstretched hand firmly, and stepped inside the Marriage Bureau of New York City Hall.

—

The waiting room was buzzing with the excited chatter of people holding queue numbers, waiting to file their paperwork. Along the benches by the windows of the high-ceilinged marble hall, couples-to-be and their parties sat waiting for their turn.

There was a bride in a long-trailed wedding dress and veil next to a groom in a tuxedo and bowtie. There was a bride with purple hair wearing ripped fishnets and a plaid miniskirt, beside a punk groom in a leather jacket and combat boots. From young couples who looked like they had just graduated high school to elderly pairs with snow-white hair.

All sorts of people, their faces glowing with excitement, laughed and talked while holding the hands of the ones they loved.

Miran, who had been quietly taking in her surroundings from her seat on the bench, suddenly lowered her head. Tears began to patter down onto her bouquet of white calla lilies.

Startled, Andre lifted her chin.

“What’s wrong, Miran?”

Miran bit her lip hard, but with every blink, tears traced paths down her cheeks.

Standing nearby, Jared and Danny looked on with flustered expressions before awkwardly averting their gaze.

Andre watched her with a troubled look in his eyes before pulling the pocket square from his welt pocket and handing it to her. Miran wiped her tears carefully, mindful not to smudge her eye makeup.

After a quick glance around, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and helped her up.

Miran kept her head bowed low, letting Andre lead her along. Even without looking up, she could feel the weight of curious stares pinning her down. Every time her shoulders trembled with a muffled sob, he tightened his grip slightly, offering a steadying pressure.

Andre came to a stop behind a pillar in a quiet corner where foot traffic was thin. He stood there, using his broad shoulders like a shield to block her from the view of passersby.

“Miran, why are you suddenly—”

His voice cracked slightly. He cleared his throat and tried again.

“Tell me why you’re crying. Is it… did I do something wrong?”

A complex swirl of emotions flickered in his eyes as he tilted his head toward her, his brow furrowed in concern.

Miran dabbed at the corners of her eyes with the pocket square and shook her head.

“It’s not that…. Andre, I’m scared.”

His expression froze, turning as rigid as a stone statue.

He blinked a few times, opened his mouth to speak, and then clamped it shut again. His Adam’s apple bobbed heavily. Taking a deep breath, he asked in a voice that sounded like it had been forcibly wrung out of him:

“What is it? What are you afraid of? Is it… me?”

Shaking her head, Miran’s lips trembled as she choked back a sob.

“No. It’s the marriage.”

“……”

He seemed rendered speechless, simply staring at her with a face drained of color.

Through her quiet weeping, she asked in a trembling voice:

“I left my family and my friends behind to get married, and I came to a country where I don’t even speak the language, with nothing but my trust in you…. But what if your heart changes? What if you don’t love me anymore? What becomes of me then?”

“…What?”