We Do Not Part

by Han Kang

Start again. A spell that is always right, always correct. I start again.

I continued in the manner that those who left me had said they couldn’t bear to witness.

There are people who, though not notably handsome, give the impression of beauty; she was one of them. It was the sharp gleam in her eyes, partly; but, more than that, I was convinced it was due to her personality and the care she took with words, as well as her general demeanor, which suggested she was unlikely to struggle with chaos or lethargy. A brief conversation with her, and the realm of confusion, ambiguity, and uncertainty seemed, on the whole, to recede. Her words and gestures revealed a quiet strength, which made you believe that all our acts had purpose; that even when it led to failure, every attempt we made was meaningful. She remained poised even now, despite her bloodied hand, her loose hospital gown, and the IV line dangling from her forearm. She didn’t appear frail or crushed in the least.

I’ll carry on in any case. How those words set me at ease.

It can be difficult to distinguish forbearance from resignation, sorrow from partial reconciliation, fortitude from loneliness. I thought about how difficult it can be to tell these emotions apart on the basis of facial expressions and gestures, about how the person in question may struggle to distinguish these feelings in themselves.

I remember the feeling of aching love, how it seeped into my skin. Clogging the marrow in my bones and shriveling my heart…That was when I realized. That love was a terrible agony.