Tuesday morning I woke up with a knot in my stomach that hadn't been there since before the LEET.
Bok-Jin's presentation was today. And his father knew about me working at Hansung. And everything felt like it was teetering on the edge of something I couldn't control.
At work, Director Shin had reassigned me to a different project—reviewing environmental impact assessments for potential new facilities. It was interesting work, but it felt like being shuffled to the side. Made invisible.
Which was probably the point.
Around 11 AM, my phone buzzed. Bok-Jin.
Bok-Jin: Presentation is at 2 PM. I'm freaking out.
Me: You're going to be amazing. You've prepared.
Bok-Jin: What if he asks questions I can't answer? What if I look incompetent in front of senior executives?
Me: Then you say "I'll research that and follow up." Nobody expects you to know everything.
Bok-Jin: My father expects me to know everything.
Me: Your father's expectations are impossible. Do your best. That's all you can do.
Bok-Jin: Thank you. For not telling me to stop spiraling.
Me: I understand spiraling. It's my native language.
Bok-Jin: I love you.
Me: Love you too. Text me when it's over.
I tried to focus on work but kept checking my phone. At 2:15, I imagined him starting his presentation. At 2:45, I imagined him fielding questions. At 3:10, I imagined it being over.
At 3:30, my phone rang. Bok-Jin.
"Hey," I answered. "How'd it go?"
"I don't know. Maybe fine? Maybe terrible?" He sounded exhausted. "The executives seemed engaged. They asked good questions. I answered most of them. But my father didn't say anything. Just sat there taking notes with this expression I couldn't read."
"What happened after?"
"Everyone filed out. My father told me to come to his office at 5 PM for feedback. So I have ninety minutes to spiral about whatever he's going to say."
"He probably wants to give constructive feedback. That's normal."
"Nothing about my father is normal. But I appreciate the optimism."
"Want me to call you at 6? After the meeting?"
"Yes. Please. I'll need to decompress."
"I'll be here."
After we hung up, I stared at my computer screen without seeing it.
Everything felt fragile. Like we were walking on glass and any wrong step would shatter everything.
At 6:15, Bok-Jin called.
"How bad?" I asked immediately.
"Complicated." He sounded tired. "The presentation itself was fine. He said my analysis was solid, my recommendations were reasonable, my delivery was professional."
"That's good!"
"Then he said, 'But we need to discuss your judgment regarding personal relationships that could compromise your professional standing.'"
My stomach dropped. "He brought me up."
"He said he was 'disappointed' that I hadn't informed him I was dating someone who works at the company. That it was a 'conflict of interest' and 'inappropriate' given my position."
"What did you say?"
"I said you're an intern in a different department and there's no actual conflict. He said that's not how perception works. That people will talk, and it reflects poorly on our family."
"So basically I'm an embarrassment."
"That's not what I—"
"That's exactly what he means. I'm unsuitable. I'm a problem. I'm something that needs to be managed."
"Ji-Mang—"
"I should quit. End the internship early. Remove the complication."
"No. Absolutely not. You're not quitting. You earned that position. Your work is excellent. Don't let him control your career."
"But if I stay, it makes things harder for you."
"I don't care if things are hard for me. I care about you sacrificing opportunities to make my father comfortable. That's not happening."
"Bok-Jin—"
"I'm serious. You finish your internship. You do excellent work. You get your recommendation letter and you use this experience for law school applications. My father's opinions are his problem, not yours."
"Easy to say when it's not your career being affected."
"It is my career being affected. And I'm choosing us anyway. Can you do the same?"
I was quiet for a long moment. "Yeah. I can do the same."
"Good. Now let's not talk about my father for the rest of the night. Tell me about your day. What did you work on?"
We talked for another hour, deliberately avoiding the subject of his father and family pressure and all the ways this was getting more complicated.
But the conversation felt different now. More careful. Like we were both aware of cracks forming and trying to pretend they weren't there.
Wednesday morning running club was smaller than usual—mid-summer meant people traveling or sleeping in.
Bok-Jin and I ran together in silence for the first kilometer.
"Are we okay?" he asked finally.
"Yeah. We're okay."
"You sure? You've been quiet."
"Just thinking about everything. Your father, my internship, how complicated this is getting."
"It's always been complicated."
"But now it's actively complicated. He's paying attention. He's trying to interfere."
"He can try all he wants. He can't make me stop dating you."
"He can make your life miserable."
"He's been making my life miserable for twenty-two years. This is just a new variation."
We ran for a while longer, and I tried to focus on the movement, the morning air, the simple act of being together.
"Can I tell you something?" I said.
"Always."
"I'm scared. Not of your father specifically, but of what happens if this gets worse. If you have to choose between me and your family."
"I won't have to choose."
"But what if you do?"
"Then I choose you."
"You say that now—"
"I'll say it always. Stop waiting for me to bail. I'm here. I'm staying."
I wanted to believe him. I really did.
But I'd seen what family pressure could do. How it bent people. How love wasn't always enough.
After the run, Ji-Yeon caught up with me.
"Unnie, are you okay? You seem sad."
"Just tired. Work stress."
"Is the internship too hard?"
"No, the work is fine. Just... complicated personal stuff."
"Oh." She looked concerned. "Well, if you need to talk about it, I'm here! I'm not good at advice, but I'm excellent at listening!"
"Thanks, Ji-Yeon. I appreciate that."
She bounced away, and Bok-Jin appeared at my elbow.
"She's sweet."
"She is. Reminds me there are still good things in the world."
"Like what?"
"Like enthusiastic freshmen who haven't been crushed by reality yet."
"Dark but accurate."
Thursday afternoon I had a meeting with Min-Soo to review my environmental impact assessment analysis.
"This is solid work," he said, scanning my report. "You've identified all the key issues. Good attention to detail."
"Thank you."
"Director Shin mentioned you might be interested in extending your internship into fall semester."
"I'm considering it."
"You should. You're good at this. And the experience would serve you well for law school."
"Can I ask you something?" I said carefully.
"Sure."
"Have you heard... any talk? About me? Around the office?"
He looked at me directly. "You mean about you dating the Chairman's son?"
My heart sank. "People know?"
"Some people. Office gossip travels fast. But it's not affecting your work reputation, if that's what you're worried about. Everyone who works with you knows you're here on merit."
"But they're talking."
"They're always talking. That's what people do. Ignore it." He closed my report. "Your work speaks for itself. Focus on that."
Walking back to my desk, I felt exposed. People were talking. Everyone knew.
And if everyone knew, that meant Bok-Jin's father definitely knew.
Which meant whatever he was planning, it was coming soon.
Friday evening, all four of us gathered at the apartment for dinner.
Yoo-Na made japchae. Min-Ji brought fried chicken. I made salad. Bok-Jin arrived with beer and looked exhausted.
"Rough week?" Yoo-Na asked him.
"Complicated week. Family drama, work stress, general existential crisis."
"So a normal week in the Choi family."
"Pretty much."
We ate and talked about lighter things. Min-Ji's stories about bizarre pet injuries. Yoo-Na's ongoing battle with Min-Woo ("He asked me out again today. I said I'd rather date a cactus. He thought I was joking."). My environmental impact assessment work.
Around 9 PM, Yoo-Na's phone rang. She looked at the caller ID and her expression closed off.
"It's my father. I should take this."
She went to her room, and we heard her voice—polite, formal, agreeing to things she clearly didn't want to agree to.
When she came back twenty minutes later, she looked defeated.
"Everything okay?" I asked.
"My father wants me to attend a business dinner next Friday. With Min-Woo and his father. 'To discuss potential collaboration opportunities.'"
"That's basically a setup dinner," Min-Ji said.
"That's exactly what it is. But I can't say no without creating family drama."
"So what are you going to do?"
"Go to the dinner. Be professionally polite. Make it clear I'm not interested in anything beyond business. Then come home and drink an entire bottle of wine."
"We'll help with that last part," I said.
"I'm counting on it."
After dinner, Bok-Jin and I sat on the balcony while the roommates cleaned up inside.
"Your family dynamics make mine look functional," I said.
"That's a low bar."
"True. But still." I looked at him. "Are you okay? Really?"
"I don't know. I'm tired of constantly managing my father's expectations. Tired of everything being a test or an evaluation. Tired of feeling like nothing I do is ever good enough."
"You're good enough. You know that, right?"
"Intellectually, yes. Emotionally?" He shrugged. "I'm working on it."
"We're both working on it."
"Look at us. Two people with family issues trying to build a relationship while everything around us is complicated."
"We're doing okay, all things considered."
"Are we though? Sometimes I feel like we're just waiting for the next crisis."
"Maybe that's life. Just managing one crisis at a time."
"That's depressing."
"Welcome to adulthood."
He laughed despite himself. "When did you get so cynical?"
"I've always been cynical. You're just now noticing."
We sat in comfortable silence for a while, and I tried to ignore the voice in my head saying this was the calm before the storm.
Saturday morning I woke up to a text from Bok-Jin.
Bok-Jin: My father wants to have dinner with me tonight. Just the two of us. He said we need to "have a serious conversation about priorities."
Me: That doesn't sound good.
Bok-Jin: It's not. But I can't avoid him forever.
Me: Call me after? Or come over?
Bok-Jin: I'll come over. I'll need friendly faces after whatever lecture he has planned.
Me: We'll be here.
I showed the texts to my roommates.
"His father is definitely going to push him to break up with you," Yoo-Na said immediately.
"You don't know that."
"I absolutely know that. That's how these families work. They identify problems and they eliminate them. You're a problem."
"That's comforting."
"I'm being realistic. You need to prepare yourself."
"For what? For him to choose his family over me?"
"For the conversation where his father makes him choose. And then you decide if you can live with whatever he decides."
That evening, I tried to distract myself with work—reviewing materials for next week's projects, outlining more of my senior thesis proposal, anything to keep my brain occupied.
Bok-Jin texted at 6 PM: Heading to dinner now. Wish me luck.
Me: Good luck. Remember you're an adult who makes his own choices.
Bok-Jin: I'll try to remember that when he's lecturing me.
At 8 PM: Dinner is over. On my way to you.
At 8:30, he arrived looking exhausted and frustrated.
"How bad?" I asked, letting him in.
"He wants me to end our relationship. Said it's inappropriate given our respective positions. Said I'm jeopardizing my future with the company. Said I need to 'think seriously about what's important.'"
My stomach dropped. "What did you say?"
"I said you're what's important. That my personal life is my business. That I'm not ending a relationship to make him comfortable."
"And?"
"He said I'm being 'naive and emotional.' That I'll understand when I'm older. That family legacy matters more than 'youthful romance.'" He sat on the couch heavily. "Then he said if I won't see reason, he'll have to take other measures to protect family interests."
"What does that mean?"
"I don't know. But it's a threat. He's threatening to do something."
"To you? Or to me?"
"I don't know. Both, maybe." He looked at me. "I'm not leaving you. Whatever he does, I'm not leaving you."
"Bok-Jin—"
"I mean it. He can threaten, he can manipulate, he can make my life hell. I don't care. You're worth it."
I wanted to believe him. But I also heard the fear in his voice. The uncertainty.
We were standing on the edge of something. And I didn't know if we were strong enough to survive it.