Chapter 1 — The Last Proposal

Cigarette smoke burned its way through the tightness in my chest before vanishing into the sky. Cough. Cough. I crushed the cigarette against the wall as a sudden fit overtook me. Huh. After glancing briefly at the passersby below, I stood up. Walking past the balcony garden into the living room, I saw her—my wife, who had somehow quietly become just “a middle-aged woman.” She had her feet propped up on the table, lounging on the sofa, eyes glued to a drama. When she noticed me, she turned, her bright pink lips parting.

“You said you’d stop smoking at home, didn’t you? You stopped for a while—why are you back at it now?”

I found her grumbling strangely beautiful.

“Just… needed one. Cough. Cough.”

“How can you smoke when you’re coughing like that? My friends brag about how their husbands quit. What am I supposed to say about you?”

At that very moment, a kiss scene flashed across the TV screen. I glanced at her and said flatly,
“If we’re not even kissing anymore, what does it matter?”

“What? Are you seriously saying that?”

“I mean it. Who’d want to kiss a middle-aged woman anyway?”

The suffocating silence that followed was shattered only by the sound of a slap from the television. I couldn’t bear to look at her any longer. Her trembling eyes held mine for a heartbeat—then I turned away and walked toward the bedroom. Thud. The door closed behind me, severing us completely. I threw my heavy body onto the bed—the same one we once shared. Now it felt too wide, too empty. I shut my eyes, then shut them again, chasing sleep that wouldn’t come.

---

Emma Song

“Who'd want to kiss a middle-aged woman anyway.”

That single sentence slammed into my chest like a hammer. It lodged itself deep—no apology, no regret? Don’t just stare at me like that, so cold, so indifferent. He looked at me with that blank face, then turned and disappeared into the bedroom. What now? Should I rush in after him and slap him hard, just like in the dramas? I sank into the sofa, tangling my fingers in my hair. Middle-aged woman? I looked down at myself.

A loose white cotton tee, gray sweatpants clinging to soft curves. Yeah, okay, maybe I haven’t been taking care of myself lately. But what about you? Aren’t you just a middle-aged man too? I don’t exactly feel like kissing an old man either. Glaring at the closed bedroom door, I stormed into the smaller room and laid out my bedding. So now what…

“…Mijin-ssi?”

“Huh? Yes?”

Snapping back to reality, I found the store manager standing right in front of me. When did she get here? Seriously, she moves like a ghost. Ugh, business has been so slow these days my mind wanders everywhere.

“What were you thinking about? We need to start preparing for Christmas tomorrow, so please check the inventory.”

“Yes, of course.”

Lately, the manager’s been on edge because of all the new outdoor stores popping up nearby. I quickly grabbed my notepad and began walking the shop floor, checking racks for empty spaces and items running low, then headed to the storage room. Seeing clothes stacked all the way to the ceiling, I couldn’t help but sigh. Come to think of it, Christmas is coming up already. So what? This year, I’ll probably spend it alone. The cold front that’s gripped the city for days shows no sign of breaking. And he… ever since that night, he’s been eating out, barely touching meals at home. Tch. Better finish this fast. I scanned the shelves, marking missing items in my notebook. Once I gathered everything available, I returned to the sales floor, hung the clothes, and handed the inventory list to the manager.

As evening fell, customers started trickling in. Before I knew it, my shift was over. I changed clothes and wrapped a scarf around my neck. The manager was busy with a customer, so I just waved at the part-time worker and left.

My plump butt met the seat with a familiar bounce. My bright red Vespa. I climbed onto my sexy 125cc classic scooter, pulled on my pink helmet. Tonight, I’m settling this once and for all. My heart pounded in rhythm with the sputtering engine. As I sped off, the wind quickly turned from crisp to sharp, slicing against my face.

Vroom-vroom. I shivered. Sure, this bike’s hot—but really not made for winter. Maybe I should trade it in for something else. After a short ride, I spotted my apartment building. I stopped by the convenience store nearby, picked up imported beers and some snacks, then headed home.

I put his favorite—Asahi—and my preferred Hoegaarden into the fridge, then stepped into the shower. Warm water poured over my closed eyelids, cascading down my body. The stream beat gently against my skin, washing away the fatigue of the day. I dried off, then carefully chose my outfit—black lingerie, black dress, designed to highlight what still deserved attention. I painted my lips a bold crimson.

Glancing at the clock, I realized it was almost time for him to come home. I set the table with nachos, peanuts, and neatly arranged peach slices on a plate. Under the dim red light, I waited. Then—the click of the door. He walked in.

---

Daniel Park

I opened the door and saw her. The moment I laid eyes on her beneath that red glow, I wanted to drop my bag, sweep her into my arms, and carry her straight to the bedroom. I regretted every word I’d said calling her a “middle-aged woman”—she was still stunning, still intoxicating. She looked at me with that sultry gaze, but I forced myself to stay composed, walking past her indifferently toward the bedroom.

Behind me, her voice followed, soft but clear.

“Go take a shower. I’ll wait.”

“Yeah.”

Without turning, I answered and entered the bedroom, stripping off my clothes. I knew she was waiting—yet I took my time in the bathroom. I let the shower spray wash over me, standing there with my eyes closed, motionless. Minutes passed. Only then did I dry off and pull on sweatpants. I gripped the doorknob, paused for a long breath, then stepped out.

She looked different now—her expression stiff, hardened. Without a word, she stood, opened the fridge, and pulled out two beers. Finally, her face softened slightly as she spoke.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

I nodded, popped the can open, and took a sip. It had been far too long since we last sat together like this, just the two of us, sharing a drink. She took a small sip too, then looked at me.

“You’ve been acting strange lately. Tell me—what’s going on?”

Her bright red lips glistened with beer, shimmering under the low light, dangerously tempting. For a split second, I nearly gave in. Instead, I put a cigarette to my lips and lit it. Puff… I smoked in silence until the cigarette burned down to the filter, then finally spoke.