The second week of my internship fell into a comfortable rhythm.
Monday through Wednesday mornings, I worked at Hansung—reviewing compliance reports, researching case law, building my analysis of potential red flags for the August inspection. The work was challenging and engaging, exactly what I'd hoped for.
Wednesday and Friday mornings, I went to running club. Bok-Jin and I would run together, then grab coffee after, maintaining our normal relationship outside of work.
Thursday and Friday afternoons, I worked on outlining my senior thesis proposal. Professor Kwon wanted preliminary ideas by the end of summer, so I was researching topics at the intersection of environmental law and constitutional theory.
"You're very organized," Min-Ji observed one evening, watching me color-code my calendar. "It's slightly concerning."
"Organization is survival."
"Organization is obsession. But I respect it."
Yoo-Na came home from work looking frustrated. Again. It had become her default expression.
"Min-Woo?" I asked.
"Min-Woo. He asked me out for the third time this week. I said no for the third time. He said I'm 'playing hard to get.'" She threw her bag on the couch. "I'm not playing anything. I'm just not interested."
"Have you told your father?"
"My father thinks Min-Woo is a 'nice young man with good prospects.' Telling him would just make him pressure me to give Min-Woo a chance."
"That's terrible."
"That's family business. Everything is strategic alliances and beneficial connections." She slumped onto the couch. "Seven more weeks. I can survive seven more weeks."
"We should do something fun this weekend," Min-Ji suggested. "Get your mind off work stress."
"Like what?"
"I don't know. Beach? Hiking? Something that isn't corporate hell?"
"Beach sounds good," I said. "If everyone's free Sunday?"
"I have vet clinic Saturday morning but Sunday works," Min-Ji said.
"Sunday I'm supposed to have lunch with my father," Yoo-Na said. "But I'll cancel. Beach is more important than enduring his lectures about my future."
Wednesday morning running club, Bok-Jin seemed distracted.
"You okay?" I asked as we ran.
"Yeah. Just thinking about work."
"Good thinking or bad thinking?"
"Frustrated thinking. My father wants me to present a strategy proposal to senior executives next week."
"That's good, right? Opportunity to show your skills?"
"It's a test. He wants to see if I can handle pressure and think strategically. If I do well, he'll push me harder. If I do poorly, he'll be disappointed."
"So basically you can't win."
"Exactly." He was quiet for a moment. "I'm starting to resent him. The constant testing, the judgments, the way he treats everything like a business evaluation. Even our relationship—he mentioned you again yesterday."
I nearly tripped. "What? What did he say?"
"He asked if I was 'still involved with that law student' and if I'd 'considered the implications.' I told him my personal life was separate from work. He said there's no such thing as separation when you're part of a family business."
"What does that even mean?"
"It means he's going to make this difficult. Probably sooner rather than later."
We finished the run in tense silence, and I felt anxiety creeping back in.
This was what I'd been waiting for. The other shoe dropping.
After the run, Ji-Yeon bounced over.
"Unnie! I'm visiting my dad for lunch today! Want to meet up? We can eat together in the cafeteria!"
"Oh. Yeah, sure. What time?"
"Noon! I'll text you when I get there!"
After she left, Bok-Jin looked apologetic. "Sorry. That conversation kind of killed the mood."
"It's fine. I knew this was coming eventually."
"Nothing's changed. We're still together. My father's opinions don't change that."
"But they complicate it."
"Everything about my family complicates everything. That's not new." He took my hand. "Don't let him get in your head."
"I'm trying."
At noon, Ji-Yeon texted that she was in the cafeteria.
I found her at a table with an older man who looked like her—same smile, same energetic presence.
"Unnie!" She waved me over. "This is my dad! Appa, this is Han Ji-Mang, the running club president I told you about!"
"Nice to meet you," her father said, shaking my hand. "Ji-Yeon talks about you constantly. Thank you for mentoring her."
"She doesn't need much mentoring. She's a natural runner."
"She says you're the reason she didn't quit in March when it got hard."
"I just encouraged her to stick with it."
We ate lunch together, and Ji-Yeon talked enthusiastically about running club and her classes and her plans for next year. Her father listened with obvious pride, asking questions, making encouraging comments.
It was nice. Normal family interaction.
Made me miss my own family.
After lunch, as I was heading back to my office, I ran into Director Shin in the hallway.
"Ms. Han. How's the compliance review coming?"
"Good. I've identified three potential issues that might need attention before the August inspection."
"Excellent. Can you have a preliminary report ready by Friday?"
"Yes, definitely."
"Good. Also, I wanted to mention—your work has been consistently excellent. Have you thought about what you want to do after law school?"
"I'm interested in environmental law. Probably a mix of regulatory work and litigation."
"You should consider corporate environmental compliance. The pay is better than nonprofit work, and you'd still be making meaningful impact."
"I'll definitely consider it."
"Good. We'll talk more as the summer progresses."
She walked away, and I stood there processing. Director Shin was basically offering me future employment. At a major corporation. In my specialty area.
This was exactly what I'd been working toward.
So why did I feel weird about it?
Friday afternoon I submitted my preliminary compliance report. Director Shin called me into her office an hour later.
"This is excellent work," she said. "You caught two issues I hadn't noticed. The wastewater discharge documentation gap could've been a problem."
"Thank you. I wasn't sure if it was significant enough to flag."
"It's significant. Good instinct." She closed the document. "You're doing well here, Ms. Han. Better than most summer interns. Have you thought about extending your internship into the fall semester?"
"I... I hadn't considered that."
"Think about it. We could structure it around your class schedule. Ten to fifteen hours per week. Continue the work you're doing now."
"That would look amazing on law school applications."
"It would. And it would give you more experience before you start applying." She smiled slightly. "No pressure. Just an option."
Walking out of her office, I felt overwhelmed. Everything was going too well.
Good internship. Excellent work. Potential extension. Future job prospects.
All at my boyfriend's family company, where his father was increasingly hostile to our relationship.
That couldn't possibly end badly.
Sunday morning, the four of us—me, Bok-Jin, Yoo-Na, and Min-Ji—drove to the beach.
It was crowded with summer weekend traffic, but we found parking and claimed a spot on the sand.
"This is exactly what I needed," Yoo-Na said, already applying sunscreen. "No work, no Min-Woo, no family pressure."
"How did your father take you canceling lunch?" I asked.
"About as well as expected. He said I was 'prioritizing friends over family obligations.' I said I was prioritizing my mental health. He said that was 'very American of me.'" She shrugged. "But I'm here, so I win."
We spent the afternoon swimming, lying in the sun, playing in the waves like we didn't have internships or family pressure or complicated lives.
Around 3 PM, while Yoo-Na and Min-Ji were swimming, Bok-Jin and I sat on the sand.
"This is nice," he said. "Just being normal."
"We're pretty good at normal."
"We're excellent at normal. It's the everything else we struggle with."
"Your presentation is Tuesday, right?"
"Yeah. Strategy proposal for expanding into Southeast Asian markets. I've been working on it all week."
"Are you ready?"
"I'm prepared. Whether I'm ready is a different question." He drew patterns in the sand with his finger. "My father sent me a memo yesterday. 'Guidelines for professional conduct when presenting to executives.' Like I don't know how to behave in a meeting."
"He's anxious about you succeeding."
"He's anxious about me embarrassing him. It's different."
"Maybe he just wants you to do well."
"If he wanted me to do well, he'd offer support instead of criticism." He looked at me. "Sorry. I'm being negative."
"You're being honest. That's different."
"You always say that."
"Because it's true."
We sat in comfortable silence, watching Min-Ji and Yoo-Na splash each other in the water.
"Can I ask you something?" Bok-Jin said.
"Always."
"Are you happy? With us? With how things are going?"
"Yeah. I'm happy. Are you?"
"I'm happy with us. I'm frustrated with everything around us. Does that make sense?"
"Complete sense."
"I just wish we could exist without all the complications. The family pressure, the work dynamics, the constant feeling that something's about to go wrong."
"Maybe nothing will go wrong. Maybe we're just anxious people expecting disaster."
"Maybe." He didn't sound convinced.
Monday morning I arrived at work to find an email from Director Shin requesting a meeting at 10 AM.
The subject line: "Important Discussion."
My stomach dropped. That didn't sound good.
At 10 AM, I knocked on her office door.
"Come in, Ms. Han. Close the door."
I sat down, anxiety climbing.
"I received a call this morning," she said carefully. "From Chairman Choi. He asked about our summer interns."
My blood went cold. "Oh."
"Specifically, he asked if we had anyone named Han Ji-Mang working here. I confirmed that we did. He asked about your work quality. I told him it was excellent."
"What did he say?"
"He said, 'Interesting.' Then he hung up." She looked at me directly. "Ms. Han, is there something I should know? About your connection to the Chairman's family?"
I took a breath. "I'm dating his son. Bok-Jin. We've been together since March."
"I see." Her expression was unreadable. "Does Bok-Jin work here?"
"Yes. He's a summer intern in strategy."
"And you didn't think to mention this when I offered you the position?"
"I didn't want it to affect your decision. I wanted to be hired based on my qualifications, not my relationship."
"Which is admirable but naive." She was quiet for a moment. "The Chairman doesn't typically involve himself in internship matters. The fact that he called means he's paying attention. That's not good."
"Am I being fired?"
"No. Your work is excellent, and I stand by my decision to hire you. But things just got more complicated." She pulled up her calendar. "I'm going to move you to different projects for the rest of the summer. Nothing that directly involves the Chairman's interests. It's better if you're not visible to upper management right now."
"I understand."
"And Ms. Han? Be careful. The Chairman is... protective of his family interests. If he sees you as a problem, he'll handle it. That's how he operates."
Walking out of her office, I felt sick.
His father knew I was working here. He was paying attention.
This was exactly what I'd been afraid of.
I texted Bok-Jin: Your father called Director Shin asking about me.
His response came immediately: What? Are you okay?
Me: She moved me to different projects. Said to be careful. Said your father sees me as a problem.
Bok-Jin: I'm so sorry. I'll talk to him.
Me: Don't. That'll make it worse.
Bok-Jin: I can't just let him intimidate you.
Me: You can and you will. We keep our heads down and finish the summer. Then we figure out what's next.
Bok-Jin: This isn't fair to you.
Me: Life isn't fair. We adapt.
But even as I typed it, I felt something cracking.
The foundation of our relationship. The belief that we could make this work despite the obstacles.
His father was actively working against us now.
And I didn't know if love was enough to survive that.