Soha’s family believed she died from stress caused by her in-laws' harsh treatment. Her in-laws said Soha’s family, who were invited to America, kept asking them for help settling down. Some women whispered that Soha had suffered because her husband cheated on her. Other rumors—spread by men—said that Soha had secretly loaned money to someone, and when she couldn’t get it back, she got angry and collapsed.
In the early 1970s, some Korean-American men went back to Korea and brought home young, pretty wives. One of them was the older brother’s friend who had moved to the U.S. When he came to Korea and saw Changsook, he fell in love right away. He married her quickly and brought her to America.
Her husband had only barely graduated from a technical high school. He worked in an auto repair shop. Changsook didn’t like how he came home in dirty overalls with oil on his hands and touched her body. She said she had been tricked into marriage. Every weekend, she complained non-stop, like chewing tough LA-style ribs.
After six months of doing nothing, Changsook made a decision:
She wanted to make money, buy a house, and live a better life. She found Soha’s sewing factory. “I want to learn to work,” she said.
Her white skin, big eyes, and full chest caught everyone's attention.
The workers stopped and looked up. She didn’t look like someone who would sew. Soha stared at her, as if trying to figure out something hard to see. At that moment, Changsook understood why people said:
“Soha works hard alone. She never complains, even if workers take it easy.”
As Changsook worked under Soha, she saw how her in-laws treated her badly. It made her angry. She said,
“Why do you live like this? Don’t just work all the time. Go out, enjoy life!
Who are you working so hard for? They don’t even respect you. If you stay quiet, they’ll treat you like a doormat. You need to stand up for yourself. You earn the money—don’t let others just spend it! Get your driver’s license. I’ll help you.”
Later, Changsook said sewing didn’t suit her. She quit. She became a casino dealer and divorced her husband. Soha started driving little by little. When she felt down, she would visit Changsook. They shopped, went out to eat, and Soha began to enjoy life for herself.
Changsook turned out to be a popular casino dealer—maybe it suited her personality. One day, she said,
“I have bone cancer. I need surgery, but I don’t have money. Can you please lend me some? Please.”
Soha had always been stressed about money—by her husband, in-laws, and family. She didn’t want to lend money to anyone. But Changsook had been kind to her. So four years ago, Soha gave her some saved-up money. Later, people said Changsook didn’t really have cancer. Some said the doctor made a mistake. Others said she lied to get money.
Soha finally said,
“I heard casino dealers make good money. Even if you don’t pay me interest, could you at least pay back the original amount?”
Changsook acted like she didn’t remember borrowing money. She changed the subject. Soha couldn’t say anything. She quickly drove home. She had trusted Changsook. Given her heart. “You too... are leaving me?” she thought. While driving, she blamed herself for living the wrong way. She was tired of people who attacked others’ weaknesses. She looked at the sunset—so red, like the sky was bleeding. Pain hit her head. She felt like vomiting. She stopped the car and stepped outside. Her arms and legs lost strength. Her vision blurred. She collapsed.