Contract marriage

Shinhee and Jikyung met at the Hudson Yards mall in Manhattan. After some shopping, they went into a restaurant.

"Let’s each have a glass of wine," Jikyung suggested.

"Drinking in the middle of the day? Why not. I’m in. All that’s left is to eat and head home. Walking home, a little tipsy and humming to myself, sounds nice," 

Shinhee replied cheerfully. ikyung stared into the deep red wine in a glass as big as a child's head. After a long moment, she took a sip and said,

"Isn't it too much? Living your whole life with just one person? There should be a law where marriage expires every ten years—something you have to renew."

Shinhee nodded as if she had said the most obvious thing.

"Exactly. No matter how much I like my husband, I’m just tired of it. It’s boring—feels like I’m stuck in a cave. I want to break free and live freely. Why didn’t I realize it before getting married? If I had known it would be this dull, I wouldn't have done it."

Resting her chin on her hand, Jikyung said, eyes half-closed,

"Recently, I asked my husband if he wasn’t bored living with me. He said he wasn’t. And just hearing that made me feel even more suffocated. You know that feeling?"

Shinhee took a long gulp of her wine, her throat dry.

"Of course I do. Same here. It’s not even that I hate my husband—I just need a change. The other day, I finally asked him, 'Wouldn’t it be nice if we split up and you found someone younger?' He said it’s too much hassle. Said the paperwork was annoying, and he couldn’t trust another woman with the money he earned—that she might scam him and take everything. So he’d rather stay. Like seriously? Is that little money more important than starting a whole new life? Then he just walked off to the bedroom saying we’ll talk again in ten years."

Jikyung perked up.

"That’s what I’m saying—we need a legal renewal option every ten years. That way, there’s no need for all this drama about cheating or mistresses or lawsuits. You can just go your separate ways, stay friends, and live freely. It’s the law that traps us in these rigid boxes. Oh! Did you know in Japan they have something called ‘graduated marriage’? You don’t divorce, but you live separate lives under the same roof—no interference, no property division. It’s such a good idea. So I suggested it to my husband—why don’t we try that instead of divorcing? And he goes, 'Don’t talk nonsense.'"

Shinhee paused for a moment, looking thoughtful, then suddenly remembered something.

"There’s this far-off place, I think Nicaragua? Women there live in a way that if a traveler passes by and wants to stay, they just live together. And when he leaves, she lets him go, no hard feelings. Then the next traveler comes and they start fresh. The woman gets help farming, the traveler gets a place to rest, and kids just grow up helping on the farm. It’s like win-win-win. And apparently, the kids don’t need to be coddled—they crawl around, feed themselves, and grow up just fine. Even the animals—dogs, cows, pigs, chickens—they roam during the day and all come back at night, no fighting. Everything lives in harmony. No fighting over what’s ‘mine’ or ‘yours.’ Maybe that’s why their happiness level is so high. I know, you look like you don’t quite believe me. But we live in a cave of social pressure and outdated marriage vows like 'till death do us part.’ There’s a whole other world outside that frame. And I heard this story directly from someone who lived in Nicaragua."

Jikyung sat quietly, as if imagining those women and wandering men in her mind.

"So in that place, there’s no jealousy, no obsession, no fights between men and women—just acceptance and peace?"

Shinhee nodded, confident.

"Sure, they probably deal with diseases and a harsher environment. But they don’t live with envy, comparison, or resentment like we do. When a man leaves, they just wait for the next one. Compared to us, stuck with one man for life, pretending to be the perfect wife just to be respected? I think those Nicaraguan women are living way ahead of us. Honestly, do we even need to be respected as 'proper’ women anymore? When I told my friend in LA about all this, she said I was spoiled and needed a reality check."

Jikyung, now nearly finished with her wine, suddenly remembered something and spoke with excitement.

"Well, we probably can’t just pack up and move to Nicaragua. But we can try living like that here, if we really want. I watched this YouTube lecture recently about Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs. You know, the five levels: physiological needs, safety, love and belonging, esteem, and self-actualization. The lecturer talked about this woman who was a school teacher. At 50, she retired and gave her husband half her pension in exchange for a peaceful divorce. They weren’t even fighting. She just wanted to be free. She left Korea with just a backpack, started traveling through Southeast Asia, working odd jobs when she needed to eat. She even has an Indian boyfriend she sees sometimes. They bump into each other, spend the night, and go their separate ways again. The lecturer said that woman had reached the highest level of self-actualization. But… I don’t know. What do you think?"

Shinhee nodded, her voice raspy.

"Yeah, I mean, freedom like that does depend on your circumstances. But if you let go of your attachments—your greed—you can live like that. It’s not impossible. But it’s not easy, either. Most women don’t have the guts. So they stay stuck at the lower levels—worrying about basic needs, safety, being accepted. They live their whole lives like that. Never taking the leap. Just struggling day by day, never truly living for themselves."

Jikyung, agreeing, said,

"It’s not just the law—it’s society, too. We care way too much about how others see us. And people love meddling in others’ lives. Why do they care who’s divorcing or remarrying or having affairs? If people want to live freely, let them. I’ve never met someone who constantly talks about others who actually has their own life together. If you want to live free, just do it. Let people live however they want—whether they end up happy, alone, or as old folks with no one, it’s their life."

Shinhee drained the last of her wine, glanced at her watch, and muttered,

"It’s dinner time. I should go cook before he starts getting grumpy. Why do Korean men get so cranky when they’re hungry? Even cavemen weren’t this dramatic—and food’s everywhere these days!"

Then she suddenly jolted,

"Oh no! Look at the time! I won’t make it in time to cook a proper meal. Let’s stop by H-Mart and grab some ready-made side dishes."

Jikyung and Shinhee quickly headed toward Koreatown on 32nd Street. They each picked up the dishes their husbands liked and trudged back toward the caves of their married lives—toward that walled-in world called a "successful 25-year marriage," their steps slow and spiritless.