"Stop that," I hear, sharply, this time in Korean. He normally will speak a mix of English and Korean with me, but always reverts to Korean when he gets irritated. I hang my head. "I'm sorry, you deserve so much more. You deserve someone who can love you properly. With everything they have." He stops, turning me around to face him. He backs me up to the wall of our favorite coffee shop, one hand in mine, the other against the wall. His patience is unmatched, waiting for me to look at him before speaking. I reluctantly look into his eyes. He cocks his head to the left and says, again in Korean, "You do love me with all you have. Everyday. If you didn't you would not feel the guilt you do for your late husband. You are allowed to have a love for him, to love your life with him, and to love me and our life together. You can do it at the same time too. I know it's hard and you feel like you are betraying both of us, but, in all honesty, you are too hard on yourself. Kayden did not expect you to be alone, to be a spinster."

It takes me a minute because sometimes his words get muddled, and he'll speak in informal Korean, which I am not as familiar with. "Yoon-Gi," I start, closing my eyes. Sometimes it is hard to think clearly when he is so close since I have been fighting with myself about my true feelings for him the initial butterflies still rise. I hear a small growl.

"No." He reaches for my pocket. I know what he is doing — the letter that I carry everywhere. The past I cannot release. "Read it," he says, pulling the old paper roughly out of my pocket. "Read it again. Maybe one day we can burn it like you once said you wanted to." I hate it when he gets so upset over this, but at the same time anger flares as he is so rough with the ten-year-old paper. I feel my eyes narrow, and I know they flashed as the anger comes and goes quickly, but he saw. He smiles slightly, "Get mad at me, get mad at everything. Just read it. Tell me what it says," he says softly. He is much gentler as he unfolds the worn piece of paper.

I take it gently. I see the final letters of my first husband — the last words to me, to our children. I speak in barely a whisper, not even really needing to read the words, them all being etched into my brain, my heart. These words shattered my soul.

Baby,

I know you will not completely understand. I know that you will blame yourself and will never let this go. I know the pain of losing me will make a lasting effect on you and our girls. But, I also know you will all be ok. You are the strongest person I know. You are the best person I know. Our girls are all so much like you, so strong, so smart and amazing. I love you all more than you will ever know.

I just cannot do it anymore. You have been the best support for me over the last 18 years. You showed me how to love, taught me that I am worthy of love. You have loved me through all my shit, you never faltered and has been the best thing that ever happened to me. You sacrificed your body and almost died to give me children — three of the most beautiful and amazing people on this planet.

You have always been able to carry me through the fire, but after finding out about the cancer, I refuse to make you carry me through that as well. With how advanced it is, even with all your connections in the medical community, I will die. You and our children will watch me suffer, wither and I refuse to do it. I must do this on my terms. I know it is not fair. I hear all your words echoing in my brain as if you are here. You have been the voice of my conscious for so long.

What is going to be the hardest is when I come to see you. I will give you one of my biggest hugs, and you'll be confused. I'll give you one last kiss, the ones that still make our heads spin. You'll smile your mischievous smile.

Please forgive me. Please understand why I am doing this. Please know that even though you will be in pain for a while, I am doing this is to prevent more extensive pain in the future. The pain of watching me die. The pain of knowing you cannot do anything.

Take care of the girls. Grieve me, love me, remember me, but MOVE ON. You are so beautiful, smart, funny and loving. I know there is someone else out there for you. Find someone who will take care of your for once. Find someone to love our girls as their own, who will love you as much as I do. Do not give up. Do not check out.

I love you so much, my sugar biscuit. You and the girls are my world. Carry on and always remember your love saved me. Take it to save the world. Or, at least, someone else's world.

Kayden

I sigh as I look at his signature. He had horrible handwriting. I smile lightly, brushing my fingers over the worn paper — tears flowing freely, almost silently. I feel a hand on my waist and stiffen. Being lost in the past, I am quickly snapped back to the present. I raise my head and look at his face. I am always afraid he'll be angry each time I must do this. But he never is. The desire to take care of me, the love he has for my broken soul, it never ceases to amaze me.

"Leigh. I know you still love Kayden. But I also know you love me, and you feel guilt for loving me, for trying to move on. Like I told you years ago, I don't care. I love you, your faults and all. I will spend my whole life mending your broken pieces with gold. There is nothing wrong with loving me and still loving him. It's normal, it's natural," his voice is just above a whisper, telling me the words he tells me over and over. I gently fold the letter back up and place it back in my pocket. His eyes get big as he watches me do so. "That is the fastest you have ever done that. Are you finally starting to forgive yourself?" I smile shrug and lightly tough his cheek. "What can I say, you are growing on me. Maybe that gold is working." He wipes my tears with the sleeve of his jacket and lightly kisses my lips. I allow it, lightly returning the kiss. He takes my hands again and pulls me toward the coffee shop. Ug, he knows my weaknesses so well.

"Yoon-Gi, I look a mess," I protest, pulling back on his hand. "You look beautiful. Plus, Bora doesn't care, she loves us." I follow him into the small coffee shop. As soon as the bell rings a little, wrinkled lady looks up from her newspaper. Her face lights up, and she says, "Yoon-Gi! Leigh! I was beginning to think you had forgotten where I was, even though I am so very, very close to your home." I smile, I love this woman. Her kind soul was a breath of fresh air to me when I first moved to Seoul six years ago. Being a widow and falling in love again herself, she was my main source of advice.

"Auntie, silly, we invited you to Rose's graduation dinner tonight just two days ago," I say, as she fiddles around making our favorite drinks.

"Two days is too long at my age, my dear," she says, smiling. She takes a long look at my face, I quickly look down, but Bora knows me too well. Yoon-Gi speaks in quick Korean dialect to her, on purpose so I cannot keep up. I quickly look up and slap his arm. "Stop that! Don't talk about me where I cannot understand." He smiles evilly and exchanges a glance with Bona. "Told you that would work." They both laugh at the look on my face. I can't help but smile at their efforts to cheer me up. "Y'all are too mean to me," I say, bringing some of my southern states accent into the mix. This makes Yoon-Gi smile even bigger because he loves my natural accent. I hide it as much as possible, but it's nice to let me guard down sometimes.

"Okay, okay. You two sit and enjoy your drinks," Bona says, turning back to her newspaper. She never wants us to pay, so Yoon-Gi slips a note under the ancient cash register. We gather our drinks and make our way to our spot in the back, a small, oblong table with a small couch, just enough room for two. We nod and bow to the other customers as we pass, most of which are neighbors from the area. I never thought the days would come where we could live without gates and guards, without someone following our every foot step, like we still have to in the states. It's amazing how respectful the Korean Army is, living this way would never be possible in the states with Yoon-Gi's fame. Yoon-Gi sits first, getting himself comfortable as if we were at our house, I snicker and settle in close to his side.

As we sip our drinks, I lean more into his shoulder. I finish my drink and sit the cup down. I lean back and start fidgeting with the zipper on my jacket. Yoon-Gi also sits down his cup. "Tell me the past," he says. I pause. "What do you mean?" He's never asked me to actually talk about my past. He knows it, but he's never requested I tell him the stories. He starts playing with my hair, his long fingers brushing through my slight curls. "I've never heard the past in your words. Not your past with Kayden anyway. Your past before you met him, yes, but not those 18 years. I've heard the stories from the children, from the family and friends, but not you."

I close my eyes, his fingers still lightly pulling through my hair. "I didn't think you'd want to hear that from me. About a time your wife was married to another man, from her perspective."

"I'd love to hear about your first love. I could not think of anyone better to tell me about the love you had before I was lucky enough to experience it."

"I think I can do that for you. Where do you want me to begin?" I ask, leaning into his chest and stretching one leg out the length of the couch. "Tell me about when you first met him. Then go from there. Go where ever the words take you," he suggests. "I love to hear you tell stories."

"Ok," I smile, but am also a bit nervous.