They sit apart from the group at dinner. Silent. She keeps her head down, yet every now and again she'll look around them, eyes lingering too long on the man and his son. Then she'll look back at him and smile slightly, lips barely curling at the corners.
She smiles because she is guilty.
She whispers in Korean, half lies that burn her tongue. He listens and nods, staring at her with something akin to doubt hovering just at the edge of his eyes. She smiles and wonders when it all began to fall apart, when the silence poisoned her marriage and crippled their love. She wonders about the blood on his hands and the coldness in his body that remains even in the jungle heat.
She wonders why she didn't run and remembers how she loved him