5.

“I love you,” the woman’s voice was a soft whisper, “my dear boy,” she said with a sad smile as she brushed the hair back from his forehead, “always remember that,” she quietly added before placing a gentle kiss against his cool skin. She then stood up and exited the room not before casting a last glance at the child’s sleeping face.

The next day, five year old Jongin descended the stairs with a yawn. His eyes scanned the living room in search of his mother who would be usually sitting on the couch drinking a cup of tea as his father read the newspaper. A pout made its way onto his face at their absence. His tiny feet scurried to the kitchen to find his father sitting on a stool. The young boy smiled and rushed to hug him but stopped as he noticed his tear-stained cheeks.

A bottle of scotch laid on the table, a half empty glass by its side.

“Dad are you okay?”

The voice of his son made him snap out of his thoughts. Looking up he locked eyes with a curious pair. The man sighed as he rubbed his forehead, trying to ease his headache. Forcing a smile, he affectionately ruffled his son’s hair, “I’m fine son,”

Jongin might be young but he wasn’t stupid. He knew something was up. His father never cried. He had never seen him cry before, “Where’s mom?”

His father rubbed his eyes tiredly, “she left,”

Big eyes blink innocently up at him, “left?” Jongin pursed his lips, “as in went shopping?” he asked with a tilt of the head.

The older man shook his head.

“Then she went to see her friends?”

His father sighed, “No son,”

Jongin gulped, “but she’ll be coming back,” he bit his lip, “right?” he asked, voice hopeful.

Silence then ensued and Jongin got his answer.

His father kneeled down in front of him and took him in his embrace, “she loves you,” he said and tightened his hold on the latter’s smaller frame, “don’t you ever forget that,”

Tears cascaded down Jongin’s cheeks, “if she did,” he sniffled, “if she truly did then why did she leave?”

Why?

“Did I do something wrong?”

His father started rocking them back and forth, trying to ease his son’s cries, “No,” he said, in a firm tone, “you did nothing wrong,” then in a softer undertone he added, “None of this is your fault,” none of it is.

Jongin sniffled, “then why?” he asked in a broken voice that tore his father’s heart apart, “why?”

Why?

Mr. Kim remained silent as his son cried in his hold.

His question left unanswered.

That day marked the last day Jongin had cried.

That day marked the day he had locked down his heart (for good.)

And that day marked the day Jongin had died leaving in his stead a hollow shell that went by the name of Kai.

Kai abruptly opened his eyes, sweat trickling down his forehead, why did I recall that? Why did I even think about that woman? Getting up from bed, he ruffled his hair in frustration, loved me? If she did she wouldn’t have left. She wouldn’t have ran away with that lover of hers.

According to him, women are masters of deceit. They pretend to care. They pretend to love. Yes, that’s what they do. That’s exactly what they do. They pretend. They lie. They make you feel special and then you leave in the end. They’re sly and deceitful creatures that shouldn’t be treated with an ounce of kindness.

Kai slipped on his shoes and went out the door. He needed to go on a walk to clear his mind.

Please Subscribe to read the full chapter