Autorentext

Se-Ah Jang

Klappentext

**Two women meet on a train. Each is running from a deadly secret. When one disappears, the other decides to take her place—for better, or for worse.

A CRIMEREADS BEST BOOK OF THE YEAR

**Jae-Young has just left everything she’s ever known, not that it was much: her thankless job, her infested apartment, and her abusive boyfriend—who happens to be dead on the kitchen floor. Murder was never the way she envisioned leaving, but times were desperate. Now on a train to the bustling city of Seoul, Jae-Young is hoping to escape her transgressions and just become invisible—safe.

On the train, she meets a chatty mother fleeing with her infant son from an unfaithful husband and hoping to find refuge with the in-laws she’s never met. To avoid further conversation, Jae-Young excuses herself for a moment. When she returns, the woman is nowhere to be found. But her crying child remains with a note, pleading with Jae-Young to take him to his father’s family in a remote province far from Seoul. It’s not an ideal pit stop, but for the sake of the child, she can’t ignore the request.

When Jae-Young arrives, the house takes her by surprise. It’s a gated manor oozing with opulence and the finest luxuries—the kind of place she could only dream of setting foot in. What’s more, the family assumes Jae-Young is their daughter-in-law and invites her to stay. She imagines an easy life in their care, free of worry and fear. And Jae-Young realizes: There’s nothing more invisible than becoming someone else.

But both women have ghosts in their pasts. Though unaware of the rot lurking beneath the shiny veneer of her new life, Jae-Young will do whatever it takes to make sure she never goes back.

Leseprobe
Chapter 1

Can I reset my life? Can I hit delete and start over from a perfect clean slate?

These are the only thoughts drilling into my mind as I sit on a train that’s picking up speed and leaving the station. On this foggy Sunday morning, my compartment’s thankfully empty but for me. No breathing bodies nearby. Not a single soul apart from myself.

Earlier, shivering all over, I’d taken shelter in a dark corner of the station and waited for the first train to arrive, and when it finally did, my knees almost buckled from the surge of relief. No, I can’t think about the price I had to pay for this escape route yet. Later, much later, when I’m alone and feel more like myself. When all this has blown over and I have cleared my head.

I’m leaning back in my chair, with my legs outstretched in front of me, when the door to the car flings open. My heart drops to my stomach. I quickly duck under the backrest of the seat in front and steal a cautious peek from behind it.

A woman has just walked in. A young mother, hair tied up in a bun and a baby in her arms. The large bag on her shoulder seems to be dragging her down with its weight. As she saunters her way through the aisle and closer to my seat, the young mother finds me and beams, eyes lighting up. What a twist of fate—­finding a woman my age in an empty car this early in the morning.

The young mother seems unmistakably relieved at the sight of a fellow female passenger her age, despite my obvious discomfort. She stops at her seat just across the aisle and struggles to stash her bag into the small overhead compartment. I want to keep as low a profile as possible, but I cannot bear the sight of her fumbling around alone. I spring to my feet and help her tuck the bag overhead.

She returns a grateful smile. “How kind of you! My arms were about to fall off. You won’t believe how heavy this little baby can be!”

But her smile evaporates faster than it appears. I feel the woman’s eyes on my arm and scramble to pull my sleeve down. The sleeve hiked up when I lifted the luggage, showing the bruises on my wrist that had already begun to turn a horrible purple. I hurry back to my seat after exchanging an awkward, silent smile.

A quick glance tells me her baby is fast asleep and won’t be crying loudly during my trip. I still have no idea where my destination will be or how far I’ll be going, so that’s one less thing to worry about.

There’s no turning back now. The hard part’s over, so no need to fret over a complete stranger who happened to spot some bruises on my wrist. Let’s not act suspicious and let’s just go back to avoiding eye contact, hiding behind the backrest and acting like a typical unfriendly passenger.

But the young mother, who now seems more relaxed and completely unaware of my wish, retrieves a formula bottle from a pocket in her luggage and says to me, “I had to hurry out today, but the formula cooled down just right.”

She drizzles droplets of milk on the inside of her wrist to check the temperature and nods with satisfaction. What’s with all this unguarded cheeriness and friendliness? I’m actually starting to worry that she won’t leave me alone, acting all bubbly and nosey.

“Oh, you should see how this chubby one eats,” she continues. “I always have to feed him on time, otherwise he becomes a little wailing devil.”

The woman carefully holds the bottle to her baby’s lips, feeling for the temperature again, but he’s lost to the world. He’s cute, with pinkish new skin, cherubic cheeks, and doe-­like eyelashes.

I ask, out of politeness more than anything, “How old is he?”

Even before the words leave my mouth, I have a feeling I might get myself into trouble, but I can’t help myself. What if she starts to chat and pry?

“He’s three months now. He was born on December 12, so it’s easy to remember.”

There’s something disarming about the woman’s smile, and I’m smiling back despite myself. Without a trace of makeup, her face betrays the fatigue of a young mother looking after her infant child day and night, but she is a beautiful woman. She’s fair-­skinned with luxuriant hair and big dark eyes that turn light brown in the sun. She’s about the same height and weight as me, but our similarity ends there. She is the kind of person who lights up everyone around her with her contagious smile. Had I walked a different path, made different decisions in the past, could I have become someone like her? Maybe I could have been a bubbly young mother, too.

“We’ve been running around since dawn to catch the first train, so this little prince is just not having it. I give up.”

Shaking her head, the young mother wraps the bottle back up and puts it away.

“Spring must be coming late this year. It’s still so chilly in the morning,” says the woman, wrapping her baby tighter in a blanket. I get the feeling she’s not going to leave me alone. But getting up out of nowhere just to move to another compartment, where there might be other nosy passengers, seems too much of a risk. Better stay here and engage halfheartedly. Who knows? Maybe she’ll be my alibi. Unless she’s going to be a witness? What should I do? As all these thoughts run through my mind, the woman asks, “How far are you going? Seoul?”

“No, um, I don’t think so.”

“I’m going to Juyoung-­si, you know, the new city near Seoul?”

Juyoung-­si? I haven’t considered it an option. “What is it like?”

“My in-­laws live there.” The woman lowers her head with a hint of hesitation and smiles lightly.

I can’t think of anything else to say, but it’s unnecessary as she continues without pause. “Actuall…