Chapter 6 - TAE RETURNED WITH NOTHING LEILA NEEDED FROM HIM, AND THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING
Their first coffee lasted forty minutes.
The second lasted two hours.
The third became dinner because neither noticed the café closing.
They did not call it dating.
That would have frightened Leila.
So they called it:
“Not marriage.”
Mrs. Han found this idiotic.
Marco refused to comment.
Nora called it “the world’s longest emotional subcontract.”
Leila threatened everyone equally.
For six months, she and Tae rebuilt something that did not resemble their old marriage.
He did not pick her up unless she asked.
She did not rearrange her schedule around his meetings.
He did not have keys to her townhouse.
She did not ask where he went every night.
Not because secrets returned.
Because Tae no longer disappeared for days.
When Park Meridian business required travel, he said where he was going.
When legal matters prevented details, he said:
“I can’t discuss it yet.”
Not:
“It’s safer if you don’t know.”
Difference.
Leila learned how large small differences could become.
One evening Tae canceled dinner.
Old panic rose before she could stop it.
She stared at the text.
Emergency board call. I’m sorry. I can come after if you still want, but it may be late.
Six years earlier, that message might have read:
Busy. Don’t wait.
Or nothing at all.
Leila typed:
Tomorrow.
Tae answered:
Okay.
She put down the phone.
No punishment.
No three-hour wait.
No candle burning down while dinner went cold.
The next day he arrived on time.
That was how trust returned.
Not through speeches.
Through clocks.
Tae attended therapy weekly.
Leila did too, separately.
Once, after eight months of seeing each other, Tae asked whether they should try couples counseling.
Leila stared.
“You hated marriage counseling.”
“I hated being told I might be wrong in a room I paid for.”
“That is the most Tae sentence ever spoken.”
“I am improving.”
“Marginally.”
They went.
Not to save a marriage.
There was no marriage to save.
To see whether building another relationship made sense.
Their therapist, Dr. Rebecca Lin, asked the hardest question in the first session.
“Why do you want to be together?”
Tae answered first.
“Because I love her.”
Rebecca looked at Leila.
Leila took longer.
“Because when I’m with him now, I don’t feel alone.”
Tae looked down.
That answer meant more than love.
Then Rebecca asked:
“What will you do if this does not work?”
Leila answered:
“Leave.”
Tae’s face tightened.
Rebecca turned toward him.
“And you?”
The old Tae would have said:
Make it work.
This Tae said:
“Let her.”
Leila cried.
Not because she wanted to leave.
Because she finally trusted that she could.
Their relationship became public by accident.
A photographer caught Tae leaving Leila’s townhouse one morning.
Tabloids exploded.
BLACK LION REUNITES WITH EX-WIFE
BILLIONAIRE WINS HER BACK
Leila hated the phrase.
Wins her back.
As if she were property recovered after litigation.
Tae issued a statement through counsel.
Leila Grant is not an asset of mine, and no one “won” her. We are spending time together privately. Please leave her business and clients out of coverage.
Leila read it twice.
Then texted:
Not bad.
Tae replied:
Therapy is expensive. I’m getting value.
She laughed in the middle of the workshop.
Then came the test neither expected.
A museum consortium in Paris offered Leila a fellowship.
Six months.
Prestigious.
Fully funded.
Access to collections she had dreamed about since school.
She read the email three times.
Then immediately thought:
Tae.
That frightened her.
Not because he would stop her.
Because part of her still measured opportunities against whether a man would remain available when she returned.
She told him at dinner.
Tae put down his fork.
“Six months?”
“Yes.”
“In Paris.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“September.”
His face became unreadable.
Old Leila would have begun explaining.
Why it mattered.
How often she could visit.
Why this was not abandonment.
She stopped herself.
“Say what you’re thinking.”
Tae exhaled.
“I don’t want you to go.”
There.
Honest.
Her stomach tightened.
Then he continued.
“You should go.”
She blinked.
“Both can be true.”
He said.
“You don’t want me to?”
“No.”
“I like you ten minutes away.”
“I like knowing I can call and ask for dinner.”
“I will hate the time difference.”
“I will probably become unreasonable about French men.”
“Tae.”
“Joke.”
“Mostly.”
She smiled despite herself.
Then he reached across the table.
Stopped before touching her.
She turned her palm upward.
He took it.
“You should go.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“You mean it?”
“I do.”
“What happens to us?”
“We decide.”
“No grand promise?”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“If you want long distance, we try.”
“If halfway through you realize your life feels better without me in it, you tell me.”
“That sentence is terrible.”
“Yes.”
“But true.”
“And if you meet someone?”
Tae’s jaw tightened.
“Then I experience personal growth at an advanced level.”
Leila laughed until she cried.
She went to Paris.
Tae did not visit the first month.
Leila had expected him to.
He waited until she invited him.
She did after six weeks.
He came for four days.
Stayed in a hotel rather than assuming her fellowship apartment was his.
They walked.
Ate.
Argued about French coffee.
He returned to Chicago.
Leila stayed.
Month three became hard.
Month four easier.
They learned video calls.
Actual scheduled video calls.
Tae never missed one without warning.
The irony was not lost on either of them.
On Leila’s birthday, a package arrived.
She hesitated.
Inside was no jewelry.
No expensive watch.
A small wooden box.
Damaged.
Probably worth forty dollars.
Note:
Found this at a flea market. Thought you might like the hinge. Happy birthday. I remembered. — Tae
Leila sat on the floor of her Paris apartment and cried for fifteen minutes.
The man could have sent diamonds.
He sent something broken because he knew what she loved.
More importantly—
he remembered the date.
When the fellowship ended, Leila returned to Chicago.
Tae did not send a car.
She had not asked for one.
He waited inside the arrivals hall holding coffee.
No flowers.
No security spectacle.
She saw him.
Stopped.
Then crossed the space and kissed him first.
Tae wrapped his arms around her.
For a moment, the airport disappeared.
When they separated, he said:
“Welcome home.”
Leila looked at him.
“Which one?”
“What?”
“Home.”
His expression changed.
Years earlier, he would have answered:
With me.
Now he said:
“Wherever you chose.”
Leila smiled.
“Good answer.”
“I studied.”
They drove separately because Leila had left her car at airport parking.
Tae complained.
She ignored him.
Three months later, Leila gave him a key to her townhouse.
Not because he asked.
Because she wanted him to have it.
He held the key in his palm.
Then looked at her.
“What does this mean?”
“It means you can enter after you knock.”
He smiled.
“Romantic.”
“It means trust.”
His smile disappeared.
That was better.
He placed the key on his ring.
Then:
“I still have your wedding ring.”
Leila’s breath caught.
“I know.”
“Mrs. Han still calls me caretaker.”
“She’s right.”
Tae nodded.
He did not ask whether Leila wanted it back.
May you like
Not yet.
For the first time in their history, he understood that love did not need to hurry simply because fear knew how quickly things could disappear.
