Sunday I woke up to an email from Director Shin.
Ms. Han,
Can you come to my office Monday morning at 9 AM? We need to discuss your internship status.
Director Shin
My stomach turned to ice.
This was it. His father had made his move.
I showed the email to Bok-Jin, who'd stayed over and was making coffee in the kitchen.
"Shit," he said, reading it. "I'm sorry. This is my fault."
"It's not your fault. It's your father's."
"Same thing. He's doing this because of me."
"He's doing this because he's controlling and I'm an inconvenience." I set my phone down. "What do I say in the meeting?"
"The truth. That your work has been excellent. That you've done nothing wrong. That this is personal interference in professional matters."
"That's not going to change anything."
"Maybe not. But at least you'll have said it."
Min-Ji emerged from her room, took one look at us, and immediately understood something was wrong.
"What happened?"
"I think I'm getting fired from my internship."
"What? Why?"
"His father." I gestured at Bok-Jin. "He doesn't approve of us dating, and I work at his company, so he's eliminating the problem."
"That's illegal. You can't fire someone for their relationship status."
"He won't frame it that way. He'll find another reason. Or no reason at all."
"This is bullshit."
"Welcome to how powerful families operate," Bok-Jin said bitterly. "Everything is a chess game and people are just pieces to be moved or removed."
Yoo-Na appeared, looking half-asleep. "Why is everyone awake and angry before coffee?"
"Ji-Mang's probably getting fired because Bok-Jin's father is an asshole," Min-Ji summarized.
"Ah. Yes. That tracks." She headed for the coffee maker. "What's the plan?"
"I go to the meeting tomorrow and find out how bad it is."
"And then?"
"I don't know. Figure out what to do next, I guess."
Monday morning I arrived at Director Shin's office at exactly 9 AM.
She looked tired. And apologetic.
"Ms. Han. Close the door and sit down."
I sat, trying to keep my hands from shaking.
"I received a call from Chairman Choi on Friday evening," she said. "He expressed concerns about potential conflicts of interest regarding your internship."
"I'm dating his son. That's not a conflict of interest."
"I agree. But the Chairman feels differently. He's requested that we end your internship, effective immediately."
"Even though my work has been excellent?"
"Your work has been exemplary. This has nothing to do with performance." She looked frustrated. "I fought this, for what it's worth. I told him you were one of our best interns. That you'd done nothing wrong. But he's the Chairman. He makes the final decisions."
"So I'm being fired for my relationship."
"You're being 'released early due to restructuring priorities.' That's the official language. It protects you from any negative implications on your record."
"But everyone will know the real reason."
"Probably. Office gossip being what it is." She pulled out an envelope. "I've written you a strong recommendation letter. It emphasizes your excellent work and makes no mention of the circumstances of your departure. You can use it for law school applications."
"Thank you."
"I'm sorry, Ms. Han. This isn't fair. But sometimes fair doesn't matter when you're dealing with people who have power."
I took the envelope and stood to leave.
"For what it's worth," she said, "the Chairman is wrong about you. You're going to make an excellent lawyer. Don't let this discourage you."
"I'll try."
Walking out of her office for the last time, I felt numb.
Seven weeks of work. Excellent performance. A strong recommendation letter.
All of it ended because I was dating the wrong person.
I gathered my few personal items from my desk—some pens, a notebook, the law books Bok-Jin had given me. My office-mates looked sympathetic but said nothing. They knew.
Everyone knew.
By 10 AM, I was out of the building.
I texted Bok-Jin: It's done. I'm out.
Bok-Jin: I'm so sorry. Are you okay?
Me: No. But I will be.
Bok-Jin: Can I see you? After work?
Me: Not today. I need to process this alone.
Bok-Jin: Okay. But call me if you need anything. I love you.
Me: Love you too.
I went home and found the apartment empty. Both roommates were at work. I sat on the couch and stared at the wall.
Seven weeks.
I'd worked for seven weeks and it meant nothing because I'd chosen the wrong person to love.
My phone rang. My mom.
"Eomma," I answered.
"Ji-Mang-ah, I heard from your text that you finished your internship early. Is everything okay?"
I'd texted her a vague message about "changes in scheduling." I should have known she'd call immediately.
"I'm fine. Just... complicated work situation."
"Are you in trouble?"
"No. I didn't do anything wrong. It's just politics."
"Politics." She said it like a curse word. "Rich people's politics?"
"Something like that."
"Is this about your boyfriend? The one from the good family?"
I was quiet for too long.
"Ji-Mang-ah. His family doesn't approve of you?"
"His father doesn't. He thinks I'm not suitable."
"And he made you leave your job?"
"Essentially."
She was quiet for a long moment. "Do you love this boy?"
"Yes."
"And he loves you?"
"He says he does."
"Then his father can go to hell. You're brilliant and accomplished and any family should be proud to welcome you."
"That's not how his world works, Eomma."
"Then maybe his world is wrong." She paused. "But Ji-Mang-ah, you need to think carefully. Love is important. But you've worked so hard. Don't let a boy—even a good boy—cost you your future."
"I won't. I promise."
"Good. Because you're my smart daughter and you deserve everything good."
After we hung up, I cried. Not because I'd been fired—though that hurt. But because my mom, who'd struggled her whole life, who'd scraped and saved to help me get an education, believed I deserved better than what I was getting.
And maybe she was right.
That evening, Yoo-Na and Min-Ji came home to find me still on the couch, now surrounded by job listings on my laptop.
"You're job hunting already?" Min-Ji asked.
"I need income. Can't just sit around feeling sorry for myself."
"You're allowed to feel sorry for yourself for at least a day."
"I'll feel sorry for myself while applying to jobs. Efficient multitasking."
Yoo-Na sat next to me and closed my laptop. "Stop. Take a breath. What happened today?"
I told them everything. The meeting with Director Shin. The official termination. The recommendation letter that meant I'd done excellent work but it didn't matter.
"His father is a monster," Yoo-Na said flatly.
"He's protective of his family interests."
"He's a controlling asshole who can't stand the idea of his son dating someone he hasn't pre-approved. That's not protection, that's tyranny."
"Same thing in families like his."
"That doesn't make it okay." She looked at me directly. "What are you going to do? About Bok-Jin?"
"What do you mean?"
"His father just cost you your internship. Are you going to stay with him anyway?"
"I love him. That doesn't change because his father is terrible."
"But will it change if his father keeps interfering? What if this is just the beginning?"
"Then we deal with it as it comes."
"Ji-Mang—"
"I know what you're going to say. That I'm being naive. That love isn't enough. That I should protect myself." I looked at both of them. "Maybe you're right. But I'm not ready to give up yet."
"We're not saying give up," Min-Ji said gently. "We're saying be realistic. His father has power. He just proved he'll use it. You need to think about what you're willing to sacrifice."
"I know. I will. But not today. Today I just want to be angry and sad and not make any decisions."
"That's fair. Very fair."
We ordered too much food and watched bad television and didn't talk about Bok-Jin or his father or any of the complicated things that would still be waiting tomorrow.
Tuesday morning I woke up to seventeen texts from Bok-Jin.
Most of them were variations of "I'm sorry" and "Are you okay?" and "Please talk to me."
I called him.
"Hey," he answered immediately. "How are you?"
"I've been better. How are you?"
"Furious. I confronted my father yesterday. Told him what he did was unethical and cruel. He said he was protecting family interests and I'd thank him later."
"Will you? Thank him later?"
"Absolutely not. What he did to you was unforgivable."
"But you can't do anything about it."
"I can refuse to speak to him. I can make it clear I don't forgive this."
"And then what? He's still your father. You still have to live with this."
"I don't have to live with it. I can choose differently."
"Bok-Jin—"
"I'm serious. I'm done letting him control my life. After this summer, I'm finding work somewhere else. Not at Hansung. Somewhere he has no influence."
"That's a big decision."
"It's the right decision. I should've made it years ago."
"Don't make decisions based on anger. Or guilt. Or me."
"I'm making decisions based on realizing I don't want to become him. And if I stay in his company, in his world, that's exactly what'll happen."
We talked for another hour, and I tried to believe this wasn't the beginning of the end.
But something had shifted. Something fundamental.
His father had drawn a line. And we were on opposite sides of it.
Wednesday morning running club felt surreal.
Everything looked the same—same people, same route, same morning routine. But I was different. I'd been publicly rejected by Bok-Jin's family and fired from my internship because of it.
Ji-Yeon bounced over during warm-ups.
"Unnie! I heard you finished your internship early! Did you get another opportunity?"
So that's the story people were hearing. An opportunity, not a firing.
"Something like that. Just... needed a change."
"That's exciting! Where are you working now?"
"Still figuring it out."
"Well, let me know if you need any help! My dad knows lots of people!"
She bounced away, and Bok-Jin appeared.
"You okay?" he asked quietly.
"Everyone thinks I left for an opportunity. No one knows I got fired."
"Director Shin probably controlled the narrative. To protect your reputation."
"I should be grateful. Instead I just feel humiliated."
"You have nothing to be humiliated about. You did excellent work. This is on my father, not you."
"Your father, your family, your world. Same thing."
"It's not—"
"It is. And we both know it."
We ran in tense silence, and I felt something pulling apart between us.
After the run, I told him I needed space. Not a breakup—just time to figure things out.
"How much time?" he asked.
"I don't know. A few days? A week? I just need to process everything without worrying about how it affects you."
"Okay. I understand." He looked miserable. "But Ji-Mang? We're okay. We're going to be okay."
"I hope so."
But I wasn't sure I believed it anymore.
Thursday I spent applying to every job I could find—retail, tutoring, administrative work, anything that would pay bills.
Professor Kwon emailed asking if I'd thought more about thesis topics. I responded with three ideas, all related to environmental law and constitutional theory. She said they all had potential and we should meet in September to discuss.
Friday, Yoo-Na came home from her business dinner with Min-Woo looking exhausted.
"How bad?" I asked.
"Excruciating. His father and my father spent two hours discussing 'potential synergies between our companies.' Min-Woo kept trying to make conversation with me. I kept responding in monosyllables. At one point, his father said we'd make a 'handsome couple.' I almost stabbed him with my fork."
"Did they actually say you should date?"
"Not explicitly. But it was implied heavily. After dinner, my father said I should 'give Min-Woo a fair chance' because he's from a 'good family with excellent prospects.'"
"What did you say?"
"I said I'd think about it. Which is code for 'absolutely not but I'm too tired to fight right now.'"
"Are you okay?"
"No. I'm trapped in a life I don't want with people trying to control every aspect of my future. But I'm surviving." She looked at me. "How are you? Really?"
"I don't know. Lost? I had a plan. Good internship, strong recommendation, build experience for law school. Now I'm back to square one."
"You're not at square one. You have Director Shin's recommendation. You have your LEET score. You have excellent grades. One asshole family doesn't change that."
"But it changes how I think about everything. About Bok-Jin. About us."
"What do you mean?"
"His father will keep interfering. This won't be the last time. How do we build a relationship when someone with that much power actively wants us apart?"
"I don't know. But I know giving up because it's hard isn't the answer."
"What if hard becomes impossible?"
"Then you deal with impossible when you get there. But you're not there yet."
Saturday morning I got a job offer—tutoring position for high school students preparing for university entrance exams. Twenty hours a week, decent pay, flexible schedule.
Not a legal internship. But it was something.
I accepted immediately.
And tried not to think about how far I'd fallen in one week.
Sunday evening, Bok-Jin texted: Can we talk? I know you needed space, but I miss you. Please.
Me: Okay. Come over.
He arrived thirty minutes later with takeout and an expression that broke my heart.
"I'm sorry," he said immediately. "For everything. For my father, for what he did to you, for not being able to protect you from him."
"It's not your fault."
"It feels like my fault. You're suffering because of my family."
"I'm suffering because your father is controlling and manipulative. That's not on you."
"But it affects you because of me." He set down the food and took my hands. "I love you. That hasn't changed. But I understand if you need to walk away from this. From us. I wouldn't blame you."
"Is that what you want? For me to walk away?"
"No. God, no. But I want you to be happy. And if being with me means constantly fighting my father, constantly having your opportunities taken away, constantly being hurt—maybe you'd be happier without me."
"Don't do that. Don't make decisions for me."
"I'm not. I'm giving you permission to make them for yourself."
I looked at him—this person I loved, who loved me back, who was trapped in a family that would never accept me.
"I don't want to break up," I said. "But I also don't know how to keep doing this. How to stay with you when your father will keep trying to destroy me."
"We figure it out. Together. We build boundaries. We protect each other."
"Is that realistic? When he has so much power?"
"I don't know. But I want to try." He squeezed my hands. "Please. Let me try."
I wanted to say yes. I wanted to believe love was enough.
But I'd just lost an internship. And I had a feeling that was only the beginning.
"Okay," I said finally. "We try. But Bok-Jin? If this keeps happening—if he keeps hurting me because of you—I can't keep sacrificing everything."
"I understand. And I'll do everything I can to prevent that."
"Okay."
We ate dinner and tried to pretend everything was normal. But we both felt it—the shift. The cracks getting deeper.
Love wasn't always enough.
And we were starting to learn that the hard way.