There had been a time in his miserable life that he’d been in love. Chanyeol still remembered, he still relived it when he was desperate. Sometimes it felt just like yesterday when he met Kim Namjoo, the first girl, the first person to approach him at Seoul Private High. She had walked with him between classes, sat with him at lunch, and protected him from the bullies. They immediately started dating after she confessed. Chanyeol had never felt so alive. She had been perfect. She had been his god forsaken angel. In the harsh reality of transitioning from a poor orphaned boy to a rich man’s son, she had been his biggest comfort.

He still remembered having her between his legs, tasting with his, and how they had rolled around trying to figure out how to insert his into her body. He had been young. He had been naïve.

But now was not the same.

Not after he heard Yoon Pyunghwa and his friends cackling at him, his long arm riding around Namjoo’s shoulder. The betrayal had stung so bad. Chanyeol had never felt such humiliation. When he imagined what Namjoo must have told Pyunghwa about their one night his face grew red every time, his fists shook with hot anger, but he couldn’t do anything.

Chanyeol cursed himself so many times over. To this day he still hated himself for falling for her. Right now, he hated himself even more for feeling his heart race. When he ran his eyes over her he saw that she was an established cop. So where were the handcuffs? Would she, too, boast and brag to her fellow colleagues about him as he rot behind bars?

“Chan…” she finally spoke.

“No, that’s not me,” he was quick to deny even though it was good to hear her voice. Reaching into his sweater he pulled out the packs of noodles he’d stashed away. Dropping them to the floor he glanced at her with cold eyes, “I gave them back. I’ll go now.”

Swiveling on his feet he bolted out of the doors. First, hotly walking slowly before transitioning into a run because he wanted to get as far away as possible. He never graduated high school. He’d never been anything to start with, so why was he feeling so embarrassed? So bitter?

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After leaving her mother’s Namjoo had gone shopping just because. She had dropped whatever food she wanted into her basket then placed all the expensive items back on the shelf. She couldn’t afford much anyway. She was deadbeat poor. Sometimes she had to mooch off other colleagues or waited for them to bring in treats to share. Until she accidentally bumped into another shopper.

“I’m sorry,” Namjoo quickly apologized.

“No, it’s all right,” the woman turned back.

Namjoo froze. It was a face she hadn’t seen since graduation. It was the face whose voice kept screaming in her ear. The best friend who was no longer a best friend.

“Cho…” Namjoo began to call out but the petite woman quickly left. Namjoo couldn’t chase her, because she didn’t have the right to. She no longer had the right to a friend. Dispirited, she stood there as if the petite friend might return.

She didn’t.

Namjoo returned to her job driving and supervising the city traffic. It was one at night when she turned in. Her routine would consist of bathing, eating, then sleeping. Tomorrow she had a late shift at a ty hour so she would sleep in. That was the plan until she heard something in her home. It was more on the instinct side than anything else that told her something was wrong, so when she caught her intruder she wasn’t very surprised. It was more shocking to her to find out the identity of the thief.

If there was anyone else she couldn’t forget since high school his name would be Park Chanyeol.

“My name is Park Chanyeol actually,” he had told her. “I’m not my father’s real son.”

Namjoo hadn’t forgotten. He was number two on her list of persons she’d done wrong. She owed him, but how she didn’t know. Never had she imagined meeting him again like this. One day he had suddenly disappeared from school. Good riddance everyone had said then they joked about how he devalued their school, calling him rich wannabe, desperate kid, low-life. Namjoo had laughed with them.

How cruel they had been she had only realized too late.

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Chanyeol had been unable to sleep last night. He must’ve tossed and turned 100 times, waking up from horrid dreams of being in high school again. He ended up waking early morning and ventured out of the house after binging on the only noodles he had left. Despite his means to never see Namjoo again he headed back down the alley he traveled the previous night. Pacing and waiting behind the building until afternoon when Namjoo’s door finally opened. Placing himself flat against the building in case she might see him he waited. When she passed he stepped out from hiding and watched her head down the road. Cautiously looking around he followed.

Namjoo was in her clad uniform again today. She hadn’t bothered to clean it he realized after noticing mud streaks at the back of her legs. Namjoo always wore clean clothes. Now that he thought about it why the hell was she living in this dump? Had her family gone bankrupt? Why hadn’t he thought about that earlier? Namjoo ate several entrée dishes for breakfast. She was woken up every morning like a princess. Her bedroom had princess drapes, was itself the size of a suite not the crappy closet sized he’d seen. He didn’t know a Namjoo who fed on instant noodles and chocolates for snacks. Something weird was going on.

Chanyeol stopped when she turned the corner and stepped into a 7-Eleven. A convenience store. Even rich kids barely stopped by this kind of shabby place in this rutted neighborhood. What the hell was Namjoo doing at a convenience store feeding on cheap foods?

He watched through the window as she prowled the aisles and decided on a bag of shrimp chips and a can of iced coffee. Instead of an unlimited card Namjoo struggled to pull folded cash and some coins out of her pocket, smiling and laughing embarrassed as she handed them to the clerk. Chanyeol carefully watched her exit and cross the street toward her outdated car. For a minute, she sat inside snacking and sipping on her iced coffee without a worry in the world.

The picture did not sit right for Chanyeol. Namjoo was high class. She had been born with a silver spoon in . Her body had come from a pair of millionaires. She was supposed to be sitting in the highest chair of her father’s company. Yet here she was. Some police officer who didn’t fight corruption or crime. Instead, she was sitting the hour away eating.

Who was this Namjoo?

Chanyeol turned his back to the road when Namjoo started the engine of her car. He listened to her drive off before turning around to have a last glimpse of her vehicle.

He hated her all the way down to his bones, but he was also very curious.

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Namjoo was close to ignoring the phone call but she picked up after pulling over by the red light. There could only be two reasons why her mother was calling. Either something had happened to her father or her mother wanted to lure her back home.

“Dr. Jo called this morning! Your father can finally go in for kidney transplants! Though he’ll have to see what he can do about your father’s liver,” her mother told. “We’re taking your father into the hospital this afternoon in case you want to be there.”

“No,” Namjoo immediately replied. “I’m busy.”

“It’s your father.”

“I just started my shift,” Namjoo explained, “I can’t just take off whenever I want.”

“Fine,” her mother spat before hanging up.

Namjoo stared at her phone bleakly before tossing it into the passenger’s seat. It honestly wasn’t her problem she told herself. Her parents were rich. They could solve whatever problem came in their way. They could even pay their way through the waiting list of organ donors. Rich people were like that. Her parents were probably like that.

She remained sitting a while longer before starting the car up again and sped off.

Namjoo patrolled the streets for a few hours before dropping into a restaurant for lunch. She’d only been there once before and she was sure to say, she liked the friendly staff. The food was quite delicious although they could also be found elsewhere for a cheaper bargain. Its interior was a glazed red due to what she learned was a color that enhanced appetite. There was a crowd today. A group of high schoolers. An elderly couple hangout from the community center. The usual family.

Namjoo ran her eyes over the paintings depicting flower fields while waiting for her order to be taken. She liked the peanut curry they made here. It tasted like home, reminded her of the happier days when she was younger. She came to attention when she heard footsteps approach. A blend of black and white appeared at the side of her table and when Namjoo looked up, felt the remnants of her order melt away.

In front of her, the petite woman with pretty almond shaped eyes stared back at her. It was the pretty brown hue Namjoo used to stare into. She remembered those eyes laughing, once looking at her with love. A kind of horrid pain crossed her face but more than that Namjoo recognized bitter hatred.

Park Chorong’s lips grew into a tight line. Gripping her notepad, she quickly turned around to dash away.

Shooting up from where she sat Namjoo hurried out from her seat, “Wait, Chorong!”

The old friend paused only slightly with a foot ready to continue her escape. Namjoo’s heart sunk. Yes, she understood Chorong must hate her beyond what words could say and she would acknowledge that hate.

“I’m sorry,” Namjoo felt the need to apologize, “I…I didn’t know you work here.”

Chorong refused to speak or turn. The world still continued spinning. The conversations still hurling around them. No one noticing that Namjoo longed for a friend but that friend didn’t want anything to do with her. Because 5 years ago Namjoo was a perpetrator who ruined her life.

Naïve now was not the same as naïve then.

Namjoo had only grown up a little. There was so much more to do.

“Ok,” she softly said giving up, “I’ll leave.” Reaching for her purse she hurried out without looking back, but still shamelessly hoped that somewhere in Chorong’s heart she’d want to run after her. Of course, she didn’t.

Namjoo didn’t eat lunch that day. She remained in her car watching the restaurant until night fall. Until Chorong clocked out of her shift. She wanted with all her might to follow Chorong, find out where she lived now. By the time they graduated Namjoo heard Chorong moved out of her home. She wanted to be on her own. Perhaps to start over because her life would never be the same. And that was all because of Namjoo.

So many lives ruined because of her.

Naivety was the worst.

The headlights of Chorong’s vehicle disappeared around the corner leaving Namjoo sitting in the darkness. Just as she’d always been.

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Not back yet. Chanyeol watched the clock tick. Restless, he headed out for a night stroll. He’d get some work done tonight and head back in case Yeorum returned. She hated being alone. The darkness especially frightened her. It was trauma from being locked in the basement as punishment.

A good hour was spent prowling through an empty house. Chanyeol left with prizes but before returning home he turned toward the junction that led to Namjoo’s house. Bright headlights forced him into the shadows where a stray cat meowed at him before stalking off angrily. Holding his breath, he watched the car pull over to the side of the street. The silence grew even heavier. Right now, he probably wasn’t even breathing. He dare not to.

Under the faint street light, he watched Namjoo step out of her vehicle, slam the door close, and walk toward him. Her eyes focused straight ahead never minding him. She passed without the littlest clue that he was there. Chanyeol waited a beat before poking his head out from the shadows before deeming it safe to step out. Namjoo was moving slowly as if she had all the time in the world. A step forward and another as he followed. He watched until she unlocked her door and disappeared inside.

Chanyeol had to admit he was still in awe.

Turning back around he headed home. The moment the door opened he fell a step backward when something lunged at him.

“Chanyeol!” a voice screeched. Her thin arms squeezed him around the neck before she released him. He recognized the familiar smell of cigarettes lingering off her. There was also a mix of liquor that made his stomach swirl. “I missed you!”

Smacking his face between her palms she triple kissed him before twirling around to head inside. Closing the door after him he pulled off his over-sized sweater. Yeorum’s hair was mussed but her makeup was still somehow on point. Sitting on the floor near the futon she patted for him to sit down.

“That’s my boy,” she beamed grinning widely then settled her head against his shoulder. “Did you miss me?”

“I did.”

“Me, too,” she sleepily said. “I’m so glad to know you’re always here.”

That night he slept with Yeorum beside him but he dreamt of Namjoo instead. They were by the river watching the colorful lights on display. The stars romantically twinkling above them. The water calm and traffic quietly moving in the distance. Here Namjoo was sitting beside him with her fingers gently touching his. And she was saying sorry for everything she’d done, would he forgive her? All along his heart had been soft for her, so he said yes. They kissed before he awoke staring at the ceiling.

“Are you up, babe?” Yeorum called.

From the corner of his eye she was pulling her long hair back into a ponytail. Her thin white shirt gave way to her bra underneath but it was how she dressed. They shared a background having come from ugly orphanages. He believed she understood his pain as he understood hers.

“I saw what you got me,” she turned around to grin at him. Crawling over she gave him a quick peck on the lips. “You’re the best.”

Chanyeol glanced at the money she’d neatly sorted beside her. Sometimes Yeorum dealt drugs, but more recently these days she did her share of buying. Once in a while she would get high around him. She did most of the talking, concocting intelligent plans of how to become rich through someone else’s fall. How she might steal someone’s identity, hoard that money so they could leave this trash. But she didn’t do it around him much. She had her own crowd she ran with. That was why she left him so often. That was also why he had to make the money for her.

Chanyeol knew she used him for the money, because she knew he would just do it for her. When she called him stupid he went with it. It was just kind of normal for him. After all, he had once been a rich man’s son and he’d done everything he’d been told to do.

“Lets go out to eat,” she sweetly suggested. “I haven’t seen you in a long time. We should spend some time together that’s worthwhile, don’t you agree?”

Pulling on fresh clothes they headed downtown where life was bustling around them. The fresh smell of food assaulted his senses distracting him from the crowd gathering up ahead. Yeorum clung onto his arm happily searching for her a place of her choice. The people swarming into the streets reminded him of ants returning to their queen. Taxis impatiently honked, drivers stuck their head out of windows to scream at pedestrians. The humid weather made his shirt stick to his back.

Instinctively, Chanyeol tilted his head back to look up at the screen attached to the news station. A middle-aged reporter was currently speaking. His round hands clutching onto his black mic while reporting an accident on the road near Hankook Hospital. Subtitles rushed by in a blur but Chanyeol managed to recognize the words Daehan Corporation.

That was Namjoo’s family company. Attention caught he watched more closely as the screen shifted to display an ambulance its lights flashing urgent red behind a wrecked vehicle.

Something had happened to Namjoo’s family.

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The phone had been ringing on and off as Namjoo slipped in and out of her dreams. She wasn’t tired. She just didn’t want to wake up. Waking up would mean she had to deal with the day’s reality. She wasn’t in the mood for it. So she continued sleeping.

The phone continued ringing. Still, when she woke up she didn’t bother checking the voice messages she’d been getting nor did she check who had called. Assuming it was her mother just giving her updates about her father’s condition. He’d gone into surgery as soon as he was admitted into the hospital. It would have been successful. Namjoo just knew, because they were rich and they had a doctor with the most expertise. Even if they wanted they’d fly over any great doctor from abroad. Money had that much power. Anyone would do anything for that money.

Money ruined everything.

After showering Namjoo slipped into her uniform. Standing in front of the mirror she combed her hair, pulling it back into a neat bun. It was just another day for her. Patrolling and then coming home. Eat, sleep. Nothing new. It was a dreadful routine Namjoo had still not gotten used to, but she was living it. This was her life now. She had chosen it.

Snagging her phone she headed out the door, again, without checking her messages. She turned it on silence before slipping it into her pocket.

“Good morning,” she greeted the 7-Eleven clerk as she walked into the store. She would grab her breakfast and head out like usual. Slipping back into her beat up vehicle, Namjoo chowed down on her ham and cheese sandwich while flipping through the radio. Finding her favorite station, she bobbed her head up and down along with the music. The radio in her car cracked with static. An officer giving another officer updates about something that had happened. An accident at the intersection.

Namjoo immediately turned the radio down, listening for scoops. On a boring day, any accident was interesting gossip. Wondering if her co-workers were yet passing news about it to one another by text message she pulled out her phone. The nosiness slowly dissipated when she discovered the hundred missed calls from the hospital, some from the family’s lawyer.

With calm hands Namjoo pressed for her voicemail and listened numbly to a man’s recorded voice. “Your mother’s been in an accident. You need to come to the hospital.”

***Here, you see Namjoo has isolated herself from reality but she doesn't see that she's being selfish and that hurts those around her even more. Then zoom into Chanyeol who still has the light of day in him. Maybe he's the one who still believes in love