Chapter 7 - THE SECOND TIME THEY TALKED ABOUT MARRIAGE, LEILA WAS THE ONE WHO BROUGHT IT UP
Leila waited another year.
Not deliberately.
Life happened.
Her studio expanded.
Tae sold the Lincoln Park mansion.
That shocked Chicago more than his prison sentence.
The house had represented Park power for two generations.
Mrs. Han supported the sale immediately.
“Too many stairs.”
That ended sentimentality.
Tae bought a smaller home near the lake.
Still large.
Still expensive.
But it had windows that opened.
A kitchen designed to be used.
No private security command room hidden behind the library.
Professional security existed.
Transparent.
Reasonable.
Leila did not move in.
Not yet.
She spent nights there.
Tae spent nights at her townhouse.
They learned what relationship felt like when neither location automatically belonged to the man.
Park Meridian changed too.
The company completed years of outside monitoring.
Legacy businesses were gone.
Professional executives ran daily operations.
Tae remained a major shareholder and board member, but not unquestioned ruler.
At first that unsettled him.
Then he discovered something strange.
People disagreed with him.
And the building remained standing.
He began enjoying it.
Marco once watched a vice president tell Tae:
“That’s a bad idea.”
Tae asked why.
Marco nearly applauded.
The criminal world did not disappear overnight.
Tae’s old reputation remained.
Some people still feared him.
Some relationships could never be made clean.
He accepted that rehabilitation was not rebranding.
He could change what he did now without demanding everyone forget what he had done before.
Leila respected that more than any charitable foundation would have impressed her.
Then, on a rainy Sunday morning, Leila found the ring.
Not accidentally.
She asked Mrs. Han.
They were making dumplings in Mrs. Han’s apartment.
Mrs. Han lived independently now and complained when Tae suggested help.
Family trait.
“Do you still have it?”
Mrs. Han did not pretend not to understand.
“Yes.”
“Can I see it?”
Mrs. Han wiped her hands.
Then disappeared into the bedroom.
She returned holding the same small velvet box.
Leila’s chest tightened.
She opened it.
Platinum.
Simple.
The ring Tae slid onto her finger at the courthouse years earlier.
She touched it.
Did not put it on.
Mrs. Han watched.
“Why now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Lie.”
Leila laughed softly.
Then:
“I think I want to marry him again.”
Mrs. Han said nothing.
That was worse.
Leila looked up.
“What?”
“Why?”
“Because I love him.”
“Not enough.”
Leila stared.
Apparently everyone in Tae’s life had become therapists.
Mrs. Han continued.
“You loved him before.”
True.
Leila looked at the ring again.
“Because when he is afraid now, he tells me.”
“When he cannot tell me something, he says that instead of disappearing.”
“When I say no, he gets disappointed instead of punishing.”
“When I went to Paris, he let me go without turning leaving into betrayal.”
“When he is late, he calls.”
“When he makes a mistake, he does not buy me something instead of apologizing.”
Mrs. Han nodded.
“Better.”
“Thank you for your approval.”
“You did not need it.”
Exactly.
Leila closed the box.
“I don’t want him proposing.”
Mrs. Han’s eyebrows lifted.
“Why?”
“Because I left the first marriage.”
“I think I should be the one to decide whether another begins.”
Mrs. Han smiled.
Finally.
“Good.”
Tae was cooking dinner when Leila arrived.
Cooking remained a generous description.
He could make four meals.
This was one.
She placed the velvet box on the counter.
Tae froze.
His eyes moved from the box to her face.
“Where did you get that?”
“Your terrifying nanny.”
“She is not my nanny.”
“She changed your diapers.”
“Defamation.”
Leila opened the box.
Tae stopped breathing.
“I’m not putting it on.”
He nodded once.
“Okay.”
“I need to ask you something.”
He turned off the stove.
Good.
Full attention.
“Do you want to get married again?”
Silence.
Tae stared.
Leila’s heart pounded.
He finally said:
“To you?”
“No, Tae.”
“To Marco.”
“Clarifying.”
She laughed nervously.
Then he came around the counter.
Stopped several feet away.
“Yes.”
One word.
No speech.
Leila’s eyes filled.
He continued.
“I have wanted to ask for a long time.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because wanting something does not create timing.”
Damn therapy.
“Do you think we’re ready?”
Tae thought.
“I think we know what we are choosing now.”
“And if we fail?”
“We separate before we destroy each other.”
Not romantic.
Perfect.
Leila looked at the old ring.
“I don’t want the same marriage.”
“Neither do I.”
“I don’t want to live in your house because we’re married.”
“Okay.”
“I might eventually.”
“Okay.”
“I keep the studio.”
“Obviously.”
“My money stays mine under whatever agreement our lawyers write.”
“Obviously.”
“No hidden security.”
“Yes.”
“No ownership games.”
“Yes.”
“No calling Mrs. Han during arguments.”
Tae frowned.
“That seems unnecessarily restrictive.”
“Tae.”
“Fine.”
Then he looked at the ring.
“Do you want another one?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Because I can—”
She raised one eyebrow.
He stopped.
“I see it.”
“What?”
“Old reflex.”
“Correct.”
Leila took the ring between two fingers.
“This ring wasn’t the problem.”
“The promise was real.”
“We just didn’t know how to live it.”
Tae’s eyes filled.
She held it out.
“But I’m not putting it on yet.”
“Why?”
“You haven’t answered the actual question.”
“I said yes.”
“No.”
Leila smiled.
“Will you marry me, Tae Park?”
For once, Tae had no prepared response.
His mouth opened.
Closed.
Leila started laughing.
“Are you crying?”
“No.”
“You are.”
“Leila.”
“Answer.”
He looked at the woman who once sat across from him in a divorce office asking for nothing.
The woman who left because she could no longer reach him.
The woman who returned only after he stopped trying to pull her back.
“Yes.”
His voice broke.
“Yes.”
Leila held out her left hand.
Tae stared at the ring.
Then at her.
“May I?”
Her eyes filled.
“Yes.”
His hand shook.
Exactly like the first time.
Leila laughed through tears.
“You’re nervous.”
“I don’t get nervous.”
“You’re literally shaking.”
“Cold.”
“We’re indoors.”
Tae looked at her.
Memory passed between them.
Then he laughed.
Not to stop the emotion.
Because he finally allowed himself to feel it.
He slid the same ring onto her finger.
It fit.
Barely.
Leila stared at it.
Then at Tae.
“This is not erasing anything.”
“No.”
“The divorce happened.”
“Yes.”
“Prison happened.”
“Yes.”
“Joon.”
“Yes.”
“The loneliness.”
“Yes.”
“Our first marriage failed.”
“Yes.”
She swallowed.
“We don’t call it a misunderstanding.”
“No.”
Tae stepped closer.
“We call it ours.”
Leila nodded.
Then kissed him.
Their second wedding was six months later.
Thirty-two people.
No business press.
No political guests.
No family alliances.
Mrs. Han sat in the front row and cried openly.
Marco denied tears.
Nora absolutely took photographs.
They married in the courtyard of the restored Chicago courthouse where they had first married years earlier.
Same building.
Different people.
Not literally.
Tae still had the same face.
Leila still had the same scars on her hands.
But both understood choice differently now.
During vows, Leila said:
“I do not promise never to leave.”
Half the guests froze.
Tae smiled.
She continued.
“I promise never to stay silently until love becomes loneliness again.”
Tae’s eyes filled.
Then his turn.
“I do not promise to protect you from everything.”
Leila smiled.
Progress.
“I promise to tell you when I am afraid.”
“To ask before helping.”
“To hear no.”
“And to never use love as permission to close a door you did not ask me to close.”
Mrs. Han began crying harder.
The officiant asked:
“Do you still choose this?”
Leila looked at Tae.
“Yes.”
Tae answered:
“Yes.”
No billion-dollar settlement.
No empire at stake.
No fear forcing either of them into the room.
May you like
Just two people who had already learned how marriage could fail—
choosing to try again without pretending love alone guaranteed success.
