If someone asked me what part of my body I’m most proud of, I would have answered without hesitation: my teeth. The teeth I inherited from my parents were strong and healthy—so much so that even dentists often complimented them. I once read a dental column that said a single healthy tooth could be worth over 30 million won. Multiply that by the 28 teeth I have (excluding wisdom teeth), and the economic value inside my mouth could buy one or two apartments in Seoul. Just thinking about it made me feel rather pleased.

In truth, I’ve always taken meticulous care of my teeth—brushing thoroughly morning and night, using dental floss after meals, and visiting the dentist every six months for regular checkups. My husband, however, was the complete opposite. His teeth were weak, and he preferred soft, tender foods. He avoided anything chewy or hard. Even cold water or chilled fruit straight from the fridge on a summer day made his teeth ache. The concept of “weak teeth” was something I couldn’t understand. Sitting beside him, I would sometimes crunch ice or enjoy sour fruits and cold dishes with ease, proudly showing off my dental strength.

But last month, during a routine dental visit, my lifelong pride was shattered. As the dentist examined my mouth, he found a small pocket in the gum where my wisdom tooth had been removed years ago. He referred me to a periodontal specialist. I had only heard secondhand about the pain of toothaches and couldn’t comprehend it—because I had never felt any discomfort myself. When I protested, the dentist explained that periodontal disease often progresses silently, without pain. If left untreated, bacteria could erode the jawbone, and one day, without warning, a tooth could simply fall out. The idea that a tooth worth over 30 million won could just drop out was unthinkable. The dentist added that once a tooth is damaged, it cannot heal naturally. He reassured me that it was caught early, but I still needed time to recover from the psychological shock.

To live with pride in something, only to have it vanish overnight—without pain or warning—is not unique to dental disease. Sudden accidents, divorce, bankruptcy, illness, the collapse of relationships built with strangers, even the death of loved ones—these are all pains we must face and endure in our lifetime. I’ve come to realize again that having more than others, being healthy, or having honor is nothing to boast about.

On the day of my gum surgery, after sipping a bowl of soup and lying in bed, I opened my eyes through the haze of toothache to find a yellow rose my husband had placed at my bedside. The rose glowed like a flash of light and seemed to speak to me: “There is nothing in life worth boasting about. Only when we share in each other’s weakness does our life shine more brightly and smell more sweetly.”