The boardroom at Hyundai HQ gleamed with polished glass and chrome, the early morning sun catching on the long table. Ashling had come in early, crisp blouse and skirt armor against whatever the day decided to throw at her.
The Director of PR cleared his throat as the meeting began. "I'd like to introduce our consultant for the Philippine market, Mr. Armando Lopez Jr."
Ashling's heart skipped once, but then steadied.
He walked in, suit pressed but a touch too stiff, smile a little too polished. For a moment he looked surprised — pleasantly, even — when the Director added, "And this is Mrs. Ash Kang, who'll be leading strategy with him."
His brows flickered. "Mrs. Kang? I was expecting…" His smile wavered as his gaze shifted to her. "…a Korean."
Ashling inclined her head coolly. "Surprise."
The room chuckled politely, but her eyes stayed fixed on him.
In the clear light of morning, she wondered what she had ever seen in him. The calm confidence that once melted her now looked brittle, rehearsed. His suit hung looser on his frame; he seemed thinner, his skin pulled tighter across his jaw. Wrinkles had gathered around his eyes. And when he took his seat, she caught it — a slight limp, barely noticeable, but there.
Once, she had thought he was the world.
Now, compared to the man waiting for her at home — movie-star handsome, broad-shouldered, boyish grin capable of undoing her with a glance — Armando was nothing more than a ghost with sharp edges dulled by time.
What did I ever see in you? she thought, turning back to the agenda.
She smiled faintly to herself. Her husband was far more handsome. And, more importantly, far more hers.
The meeting unfolded with numbers, slides, and projections. Armando spoke smoothly, sliding jargon across the table with the ease of someone used to microphones. But it was Ashling who held the room.
Every time the discussion turned sharp, she cut through it with clarity. Every time a proposal tangled itself in excuses, she sliced it clean. Her accent was foreign, her name carried weight outside Korea but not in Seoul, yet in that glass-walled boardroom she was no outsider. She was the one everyone turned to when silence fell.
Armando, once the center of her universe, now sat scribbling notes, nodding along like any other consultant. He didn't look at her the same way she remembered; she doubted he could. She wasn't the same girl anymore.
When the meeting ended, she gathered her files calmly. Armando gave a small, almost uncertain smile. "It's good to see a familiar face here."
Ashling returned a polite, distant nod. "Good luck with the project."
And that was that. No sting. No ache. Just a door quietly closing.
The Phoenix
That evening, at home, she found Kwang waiting on the garden steps, jacket off, sleeves rolled, the boyish grin already tugging at his mouth when he saw her. He asked nothing at first — just held out a hand. She took it, letting the warmth travel from his palm into her bones.
Finally, she said it. "I saw him again. In the morning light, across that boardroom table. And you know what I thought?"
Kwang tilted his head, waiting.
What did I ever see in you? she wanted to laugh. Instead, she smiled. "That I've changed. That I'm not the same woman who let him break her. I don't even recognize what I once loved."
Kwang's brow softened, but she pressed on, her voice steady.
"I used to think I was nobody. That I should shrink myself, dim my light, stay in the shadows. But today… in that room… I realized I don't have to. I don't want to. My light belongs out there."
Her eyes shone. "And you—you see me. You've always seen me. And loved me anyway."
He squeezed her hand, eyes fierce in their gentleness. "You're not just seen, Ash. You're unforgettable."
Her throat tightened, but the tears that fell weren't from grief. They were from release. From rebirth.
For the first time, she felt it fully — the ashes of her past burned away, leaving only fire.
She wasn't the woman Armando had walked away from. She was Ash Kang, Director at Hyundai, wife to Kang Young Kwang, the man who had become her stone, her refuge, her mirror and her flame.
And beside him, she wasn't afraid of anything. Not the spotlight. Not the world.
Because when she rose, he rose with her.
And together, they burned brighter.