I haven’t meet Doctor Kwon Jiyong since our last encounter that turned into his reunion two weeks ago. He is busy with back to back surgery in the hospital while I have a load of customer’ orders from the shop – 1000 wedding invitation with manual papercut detail, a wallpaper to design, 500 customized envelops, and also the regular orders like photo album and personalized journal. Then when we have free time, we agree it should be used to rest.

Not that I’m complaining.

Because I’m not!

Because I still can’t forget the rejection feeling when he sent me home alone by taxi then he got back inside to continue his meeting with his friends – which one of them is that Doctor Cho Sira. I know I should not, but I can’t help my feeling. Even though it was what I told him, but he should be sensitive enough and insist to take me home. But no! He just put me in the taxi then go back inside to be with his friends, and that Doctor Cho Sira.

I’m not jealous, okay!

It just that she makes me felt unsecure about myself, because she’s everything that I’m not. She’s sophisticated, educated, and the modern woman kind that usually become a contemporary romance novel – the kind of heroin that everyone envy.

 And judging from her manner the other night, I read there’s some history between her and Doctor Kwon Jiyong.

“Just go and bring him lunch,” Katie’s voice startles me.

“Aisht, you’re startling me!” I scold her, putting my hands on my chest trying to calm my heartbeat. “And what are you talking about?” I pretend ignorance.

“Don’t play dumb, Unnie, you glance at your phone for every five minutes. Just go to the hospital and see him, bring him lunch or something. The hospital only around the corner.” Clearly she doesn’t buy my acting.

Slump down on the table I cover my head with both hands. I don’t like myself at this moment.

**

After been kicked out from my own shop, I square my shoulder and go to the hospital after a quick stop at the Italian restaurant just right before the hospital from the shop – order two servings of pasta carbonara for take away. I don’t know if he likes Italian cuisine or not, but I’m craving for some. He can give it for the nurse if he doesn’t want – even it would surely upset me. Not that I can call him to ask, because I left my phone back in the shop, and I just too lazy to go back to take it.

Walking in the familiar place still doesn’t make me feel welcomed here. Who would, though? Even as good as the hospital can be nobody wants to stay here willingly.

Smiling to the attendance, I ask for Doctor Kwon Jiyong in the information desk.

“Doctor Kwon Jiyong just went out, no more than five minutes ago.” The attendance says, blown my spirit away. Feeling dejected, I manage to smile to the attendant before turn my back and walk out from there.

Just as I reach the driveway I see a familiar figure, the one that I don’t like to see. Doctor Cho Sira. She stands alone, look like waiting. At the moment, a familiar car stops in front of her and she casually opens the passenger door and enters the car.

I stand there watching the taillights disappear from afar… I still stand there for I don’t know how long. The bag in my hand feels heavy, like it has additional unseen load. A lump formed in my throat and my eyes feel burning.

I don’t like this feeling.

If earlier I don’t like myself for acting crazy, now I don’t like myself for many more. Before I wasn’t this weak and I never go mellow over any guy all my life. Why it’s different with him?

I don’t want to think the answer.

**

I walk home, which usually I don’t. Even from the shop.

Going home from the shop takes 15 minutes of bus ride, that’s mean around 45 to 60 minutes walk. And from here, it will cost me around 70 to 80 minutes of walk. That I welcome with open arms at this moment.

I need the distraction.

I arrive home past noon and once I enter, I give the pasta to Durami, tell her to heat it up first. Then I call Katie, tell her I go home and won't back to the shop. She asks why but I don't give her any explanation. After that, I sleep from exhaustion trough the night until the next day.

**

It’s been three days since I see Doctor Cho Sira entered Doctor Kwon Jiyong’s car and off they went for wherever their destination was. I don’t know and I don’t want to know. I’ve switch off my phone for the last three days and don’t want to talk about it to Katie. I focus my attention to the orders I have to finish, the shop – I – still have rent and loan to pay. I don’t want to dwell on the unimportant matter.

I avoid for being too long in the shop and I even go out for delivery when usually I ask Katie to do it or simply use a delivery service. It just I don’t want to face Doctor Kwon Jiyong yet.

I’m confused with my own feeling. I shall not feel this way. He doesn’t give any promise or whatsoever. The only time he just told me his interest on me and nothing more. It’s a possibility his interest has worn out and decides to stop whatever we have.

“Katie, I’ll go to deliver the envelopes.” I say to Katie.

She stops her activity, papercutting an album, to look at me. She opens just about to say something but closes it again. Her eyes dart at my direction – to something or someone at my back. I don’t feel good.

And true, because when I turn my back, I see someone that I’ve worked hard to avoid in the past three days. Doctor Kwon Jiyong, who else?

“Oseyo,” I greet him like any other shop visitor, bowing my head in the process and giving a small smile.

I turn back to Katie, who watches me intently. “I won’t be long, bye.” I walk start to walk and bow while passing him. He stares at me looks taken aback, but it doesn’t stop marching out from here.

I success in passing the door before I hear my name is being called, ”Sandara!” and I feel a hand grips me on the elbow.

“Please, take off your hand,” I say. But he ignores me and pulls me to the side, to avoid the passerby.

“What is this?” he asks, but I turn my head away, reluctant to see his face much longer.

His presence gives my heart no justice. I don’t like how my heart leaps at every sight of him or when I hear his voice.

“Sandara, why are you ignoring me in the last three days?” he asks, hand still holds me in place.

“I’m not ignoring you.” I reply, lying. But he doesn’t know it.

“Then why I can’t reach you these past three days?” he sighs, looks like trying to invent more patience to himself. Which makes me feel sorry for him, but I shall not!

Because since that incidental reunion of him and his med school’ pals, he’s the one who phoned me less and less. Our text started with me cheered him up for the day. It just tiring, I don’t want to look like I was trying too hard to catch his attention. I may start to invent some of my feeling for him, but it’s not too late to withdraw if needed. I don’t want to be a pathetic (may or may not) girlfriend (to be) of him.

“Because I turn off my phone.” I answer truthfully, in that’s-doesn’t-matter manner. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to deliver this.” I shake my arm in his, in showing the paper bag I’m holding.

He doesn’t comply at once on the contrary he takes a deep breath. Does he finally see the useless in prying for me? I’m glad – but a small part on me isn’t.