Park Chanyeol died September 20, 2013. A drunk driver ran him down 9:00PM. Three days later, his wife Kim Namjoo put him to rest, buried him alongside his family members. Three years and counting was spent mourning his loss.

Grief is such a small word to describe loss. The painful reality of losing what means most cannot be described with words. Words don’t weigh anything. Words do not carry mass, are not made from mass. Words are not alive. They only carry literal meanings that can only last so long.

Loss is to have your own life literally out of your body. When death takes the hand that once promised to protect you, the arms that embraced you like a blanket. The warmth that was once there is now replaced by a thorny cold. You are filled with ache, emptiness infiltrated by sadness that tugs at every corner of the heart.

Loneliness becomes the companion of the night when you wake up to the body that is no longer there. No more big hands to run through your hair, hush you back to sleep. No more one person to stay awake and watch the sunset, imagine what’s beyond the horizon with. At the table, there’s no one to share a meal with and no one to cook for. Nothing to look forward to. No body to sit with. No one to welcome you home, hug you to tell you it’s ok. The arms that once draped around her shoulders like a scarf disappeared.

Life slowly becomes like that. From colored to dull. In the matter of a few nano-seconds Kim Namjoo lost it all. The physical meaning of life. The laughter that once described her home as enlightenment. What once made her who she is. The loving husband.

7:25AM. Eyes flickered open. First staring at the beige ceiling above her then feeling around for the crochet blanket she had kept for the sake in Yeol’s memory. When they first got married she about keeping such a childish thing at his side. It was a gift from his beloved grandmother when he was first born. Over time she had come to love it on their bed as well. Now, she couldn’t do without it. Sometimes, she even hugged it to sleep. It would be the first possession she’d save if her house caught on fire.

That morning, the crochet blanket was nowhere. She never slept without it.

Panic-stricken, she sat up. Her room was no longer recognizable. No bedside table, no pictures of her and Yeol, no picture of her beloved. Where was it?! Where had it gone?! She internally shrieked.

Namjoo scrambled out of bed, turned to scour the room with her agonizing eyes. Her closet was nowhere. The clock on the wall she and Yeol had chosen together had vanished. Nowhere, nowhere!

In the middle of her breakdown she heard noises outside the bedroom door. Breathing a little harder now, she turned to see the wooden door had been left a crack open. She never left her bedroom door open. Yeol had always spoken about the uninvited coming in if doors were left open. He had been superstitious. He had rubbed off on her.

Slowly moving forward on feet as light as possible, she touched the door and glanced outside. No, this was definitely not her home. The walls out there were a soft white shade and full of light coming from, perhaps, a very big window. There was an aesthetic painting of the river hanging on the wall. A handsome black sectional couch stretched throughout the living room matched with a large smart TV. She had kept Yeol’s old 45” TV and it wasn’t equipped with that kind of technology. So, she wondered, who was out there? Or actually, whose home was she in?

Her breath hiked up when she recognized footsteps and fell a step back just in time when a man pushed the door open. The organ that felt like it had frozen in her chest started pumping wildly when their eyes landed on each other’s. Her insides crumbled at the speed of light, a voice screaming inside .

¤¤¤¤¤

Though the night had been an awkward one, it was a particular day Oh Sehun had looked forward to. For one, he was finally starting a big boy job at TQ Financial. Secondly, his parents finally let him move out of their home. He was an individual, a real independent now and he would live to fulfill the dream of a singlehood.

The financial quarters was located far in the heart of Seoul, far away from his hometown in Busan. It was really a miracle his parents let him come so far up and all by himself. Seoul was a big city that even he, a city boy, felt drowned in. So many career people, so many students, so many babies. Everywhere he walked he'd see a portion of the said few. And so many business buildings pieced together by admirable architectures.

Sehun felt like he wouldn’t be able to discover enough of the city even if he tried, but that was all right because he was going to live here a long time. He planned on that.

Proudly yielding the ID linked around his neck he strut through the glass building. From today onwards, he was just like any other individual in this place. He would have a desk and he would make new friends. Everything would be a fresh start for him, a good start.

A managerial secretary greeted him when he walked into the department. The Mr. Go led him into a room along with the new hires and introductions were made. They were a team of 15 consultants. Today, their team leader was absent so Mr. Go was in charge of making them feel at home. Mr. Go was a 45-year-old man who laughed at his own jokes, but he was lighthearted and lacked the characteristics of a rude old man. Sehun liked him.

He spent the day getting acquainted with the computers and telephone at his desk. It was 4PM when Mr. Go enthusiastically strode toward the new group, inviting them to a company dinner for the new hires. If it was free food, Sehun was all in. He joined along with the others and headed off toward a bbq restaurant. It reeked of meat and beer.

Three entire rows of tables had been reserved for them ahead of time. “Sit where you’re most comfortable!” Mr. Go had chanted. Sehun sat between a man of his age and a woman who didn’t seem to be enjoying her first day. An employee of the restaurant brought out plates of fresh raw meat, another employee started their grills, and another served jugs of beer.

Sehun enjoyed this atmosphere. It was what he’d been looking for. Amidst the co-workers, everyone seemed upbeat. The vibe passed around almost like a virus. No one had any gossip to make yet and at the core, all were delighted. His first day was so far so good.

He took a swig of his beer before feeling the fresh breeze of the outside waft in. He turned to see the door open and heard Mr. Go greet with a loud welcome, “Team Leader!” with a haughty laugh, “Now, come pass drinks to your new inferiors!”

Sehun was turned away when the man at his side continued telling a tale about his old friends. They spoke comfortably, even laughed together joyously. That was when the Team Leader started passing drinks around to everyone…but him.

It had all been going well with everyone then all of a sudden, with the Team Leader there was a problem. Oh Sehun had never been disliked before. Everyone he’d met liked his cheery attitude. He was open to anything, to conversations of all kinds, and he accepted everyone. Some may think of him weird and annoying, but no one hated him.

Sehun wasn’t even sitting at the far end of the table. He was smacked right in the middle. There was no way the Team Leader would have missed him. Sehun didn’t understand it. Throughout the meal while he continued conversing and laughing with his new co-workers, Sehun also made sure to watch the Team Leader who was swigging one drink after another heavily. He was waiting to see if she might pass him the drink that was long overdue. Late into the night, she still hadn’t even looked at him.

When she finally stepped outside he followed her. The Team Leader was in a black dress and she was sitting on the curb. If she was waiting for a cab he was going to talk to her before she had the chance to leave. He just wanted to know why he was being ignored.

“Excuse me,” he walked up to her.

Surprised, she turned to look at him and quickly shot up to her feet gasping. He was stricken with her reaction. He hadn’t touched her, he hadn’t done anything wrong. Why was she so shocked?

In an effort to avoid him she stepped back but barely lost her balance in those black heels of hers, and most likely because she was drunk. Sehun snatched her arm to help her keep balance. In the next moment, she yanked her arm away and drew it over her face.

“Yeol…wait…” she sounded haggard, “go…j…just leave me alone.”

“What?” he asked confused. “My name is Oh Sehun.”

She looked up at him appearing dazed then frowned as if she was seeing doubles. She swayed and seemed like she would lose her balance again. Those heels were the problem he thought. The Team Leader grabbed his arm and swayed again, her feet moving back and forth. Then her palms landed on his shoulders and she peered up at him drunkenly. Her hands squeezed his shoulders for a moment and in the next, leaned up to kiss him. She smelled of beer. Stupefied, he stared. The Team Leader moved away and then leaned up to kiss him again, pressing her parched lips against his mouth. With a quiet sigh, she leaned against him and passed out. Her legs nearly gave way if he hadn’t caught her in time.

Now stranded in a situation he hadn’t foreseen, he peered back to the bbq restaurant. No one had glanced out the window. Everyone too occupied with drinking and eating and socializing. Sehun was doomed.

Staggering toward the road he waved an arm for a cab.

“Where to?” the driver asked when he got them both inside.

Sehun glanced at the Team Leader knocked out next to him, head twisted uncomfortably to the side. “Uh…wait a moment,” he said and searched through her purse. He found her keys but nothing else that told her where she lived. He was really doomed. There was no way he could abandon a woman on the street at this time of night, and she was his Team Leader.

In the end, Sehun gave his address. He ended his night by carrying her up to his new home, a one bedroom apartment meant for a bachelor. At this time of night, the hallways were as abandoned as a ghost town. The motion sensor lights came to life when the door closed behind him. Hurrying toward his bedroom he laid the Team Leader down feeling flushed, his night degraded because of her.

Peering down at the knocked out woman he prayed she wouldn’t vomit in his bed, because he really didn’t want to do his laundry twice in one week. He had a busy schedule, too. Pulling her heels off and setting them neatly onto the floor Sehun tugged the blanket out from under her and tucked her in. He hadn’t expected that he’d be sleeping on his couch, but he supposed tonight was his night to see how comfortable it was.

When he woke up the next morning he went right to breakfast. The Team Leader would have a hangover and he would impress her with his mother’s recipe, but that morning when he found her at his bedroom door agonizing fear crossed her face like he was the grim reaper there to take her. The woman’s wide eyes were starched with shock. And it was not the reaction he’d been anticipating.

“Are you ok?” he worried.

Turning away, she pressed a hand to her face then peered around his bedroom once more as if trying to make sense of something he didn’t understand. Noticing her heels, she impulsively grabbed them. Without even meeting his eyes she said, “Thanks. I should go.”

Sehun blocked her exit, “I made breakfast. It’d only be right to thank me by eating before you go.”

She looked at him unsteadily.

“And don’t forget your bag,” he said walking out toward the kitchen. “Don’t worry, I didn’t take anything.”

¤¤¤¤¤

He had just cooked, whoever this man was. There was still steam flowing off the soup on the table.

“The food is edible, I think, at least in my definition,” he explained sitting down across from her, “but the soup should be good. It’s my mom’s recipe for hangovers. Try it.”

Namjoo eyed the food feeling sick at heart. Yeol used to cook for her after a night of drinking too much. He had continued that tradition into their marriage. His lectures had also followed her. Be more careful out there. You never know who you can trust. Don’t do it again next time. She wished she could hear his nagging voice again.

With a trembling mind, she tasted the soup that warmed her stomach, like a book to the soul. “It’s delicious,” she commented.

 “See,” he laughed with a smile, delighted, “have some more.”

Namjoo could imagine Yeol laughing at her, glad that she was home and reaching over the table to teasingly ruffle her hair. Yeol, her husband, not the one here…

“You should try this, too. I cooked it,” he offered her a spoonful. “I just moved up from Busan, so I’ve started cooking. It saves money.” Then he urged, “Eat it. Is it good?”

He waited anxiously, so Namjoo was forced to eat more. She thought about Chanyeol’s absurd recipes he’d make her try before spitting them out.

Gripping her spoon tighter, she ate silently and quickly left after telling him, “Don’t talk to me when I’m eating.”

Olly the pug eagerly jumped at her feet when she opened the door. He whined then circled around her leg as she closed the door. She’d adopted him after Yeol passed away. He always wanted a dog, but they didn’t have the time to look after one. Now she had all the time in the world. And she was sad and lonely.

“Hi, buddy,” she greeted, leaning down to pet the dog that sometimes treated her like the pet. “Sorry I didn’t get back yesterday.” Walking over to Olly’s bowl she filled it with food. Olly scratched at her ankle, “I know. I’ll get you some water, too.”

Pouring the remnants of Olly’s old water out she refilled it and set it down onto the floor. The pug greedily dug his entire face into the silver bowl and noisily inhaled his food. Squatting down to watch her dog Namjoo gently his back.

“I went to see your dad yesterday. That was why I wasn’t home. You miss him too, don’t you?” Namjoo asked. “I miss him.”

Olly, too busy with his breakfast, didn’t reply. “Fine, I’ll leave you alone. Eat up.” Rising to her feet she walked into her bedroom, sat down on the bed. She had moved to a pet friendly apartment, unable to live in the space that she once shared with her husband. The old home was the shell of his ghost, smelled of him, had too many memories. It tortured her constantly, so she moved.

Touching the expensively framed photo of Yeol, she his face imagining how handsome he would be in this time and day. Unfair, because he’d been taken too soon because nothing no one did would bring him back. Yesterday marked the third anniversary of his death. Three years without him was still as painful as the day she’d received that dire phone call. Thinking about it burned her heart.

“I miss you,” she whispered.

¤¤¤¤¤

Namjoo showered, put on some makeup, and pulled on pants and a blouse. The only reason she’d become Team Leader was because the last one abruptly retired. Due to the fact that she’d been the last consultant working the longest in the company, she’d been promoted. It’d only been three months since her position and she still didn’t understand anything.

Olly jumped on her when she walked out of the bedroom, anxiously whining for his walk. Namjoo gave him a long rub instead. “I’ll walk you when I come home,” Namjoo promised. Grabbing a treat out of the closet where she hid them from his sight she made him sit, “Only one for today. If you gain more weight, you’ll no longer be able to jump.”

Olly wasn’t listening, but staring at the treat. He was good at pretending like he understood. Namjoo gave him the treat anyway and pet his head promising to be home soon. Today, she would take her time getting to work. She needed to brace herself for any embarrassment that might foil her confidence when she walked into her office.

Last night when she’d arrived at the restaurant she thought Park Chanyeol had come to life. After grieving so long, everything was turning out to be a horrible dream. Yeol was still alive. God had forgiven her.

No, it wasn’t Yeol. It was boisterous laughter that belonged to another man. He was so disturbing because all Namjoo had seen before her was Yeol’s ghost, the husband she so missed. It was torturing, the way he laughed. And he was tall, and he had come after her, and she had kissed him because he was Yeol.

But he wasn’t.

Namjoo chewed her inner lip nervously as she walked into the building. Scanning her ID up front she started toward the elevator. The silver doors were about to close when Namjoo reached. She stopped to wait for the next lift, but the doors opened again and like this morning, something inside her crumbled. Among the others, the guy who had boisterously laughed last night grinned at her.

“Get in,” he said.

Gripping her purse, she stepped inside and watched the doors close. Their slurred reflections gave her an idea of how tall he was. Yeol had towered over her. When she wanted to kiss him she’d have to get up on tiptoes. She had done that last night.

felt dry. Her heart hammered inside her blouse. If it jumped out she hoped it would honor her with a quick death.

Then the doors opened and she stepped out. Others filed out toward their locations, hurrying past her. Namjoo was forced to a halt when the boisterous laughing guy raced past her and stopped in front of her.

“Hi.” He greeted.

“Good morning,” Namjoo stiffly greeted and took a step forward, stopping abruptly again when he raised a hand up to stop her.

He squinted, glancing at the ID around her neck then grinned broadly. Yeol used to grin in that silly way.

“Good morning, Team Leader Kim Namjoo,” he cheerily said. “I’m one of the new consultants. I already told you last night, but I’m not sure you remember.”

Namjoo stared at him hoping he would hurry on with what he wanted to say, because she was already so done with looking at him. Everything screamed at her Park Chanyeol.

“Nice to meet you,” he extended his hand, “my name is Oh Sehun.”