“Seojun…” the name dropped from instinctively.

Still gripping her arm, he shook her, screaming, “I don’t care whose it is! Just get rid of it!”

Her breath hitched when Jongin grabbed Seojun’s wrist, “Let go.”

His enraged eyes darted toward Jongin. “This isn’t your business. Back off.”

“If you’re going to talk, be civil about it,” Jongin said. “I doubt violence will give you the answer you want.”

Her heart pumped wildly when Seojun released her. Glaring at Jongin he ordered, “Lets talk in my car.”

Walking away, Seojun unlocked the car he had earlier abandoned and slid into the front seat. Namjoo stared at the car filled with uncertainty. Her thoughts were clashing. Wanting the baby, needing her wedding.

“Will you be ok?” Jongin broke through her thoughts.

Swallowing, Namjoo peered down at the pamphlets. Noticing, Jongin gathered them up again but he didn’t hand them to her.

“I’ll hold onto these until you come back.” He bargained. “I’ll wait here for you.”

Because he had questions. Namjoo pressed her lips together. Today wasn’t her day at all.

Without replying, Namjoo started toward Seojun’s car. He sped off as soon as she got into the passenger’s seat. They stopped at a curb down the street. Icy silence swelled up the dreary atmosphere. Namjoo’s hands turned clammy. The courage to spill the truth vanished as quickly as the breath coming out of .

“We’re going to get married, Namjoo,” Seojun’s breath shook. “We were going to get married.”

Guilt clawed through her chest and Namjoo’s eyes welled up with tears again.

“How could you?” The ache in his voice was as relevant as the moon shining over the window. Inhaling, he spoke, “Lets make an appointment. To get rid of the baby.”

Finally turning to him, Namjoo let a teardrop fall. “No.”

His brows pulled down and he repeated menacingly, “No?! What the hell do you mean no, Namjoo?!” Slamming the steering wheel, he angrily declared, “You can’t have this baby if it’s not mine!”

Crying out of anguish, Namjoo gripped onto her purse. “I can’t.”

“You are,” he stated. Moving his hand onto the shift gear he angrily said, “We’re going to do it right now.”

“Seojun, please! Please,” Namjoo begged panicked. Clinging onto his arm desperately, Namjoo cried, “This is the only baby I’ll ever be able to have. Please, please don’t take it away from me.”

He shoved her off violently. “Don’t touch me.”

“I’m sorry,” Namjoo apologized.

Refusing to look at her, Seojun stared straight out of the window. “Get out of my car.”

Namjoo sobbed despaired. Knowing she wouldn’t be able to get him to budge, she opened the door and stepped out. Seojun sped off the second she closed the door. She wanted to run after him, but her legs didn’t move. Plopping down onto the curb she buried her face into her knees aware that she had lost everything she had prayed for.

֎֎֎֎֎

Jongin glanced at his watch again. It had been an hour since Namjoo left with that man. Her boyfriend he supposed. Stepping away from the wall he peered out the glass doors. Either they were making up or having an argument. He hoped it was neither.

Dispirited, he peered at the pamphlets in his hand again. The fact was that Namjoo was pregnant. He wanted the baby to be his. Just because…

It made sense, didn’t it? For the baby to be his.

But then it didn’t seem like the time or place to ask her for verification. Namjoo was going through something he wasn’t. He should be sorry instead of trying to foresee a baby crawling around.

What should he say to her? Tell her he hoped things worked out between her and her boyfriend? But when he thought about his baby never knowing him, he refused that route. If the baby was his, he wanted to watch it grow up. Be there for his child like his father had been for him. Be there in the moments when his child first found love, when he or she would cry and laugh for the first time. Jongin wanted every experience with his child that his parents had had with him.

It was only right that it worked out that way.

He turned when the doors opened and Namjoo stumbled through looking drained. His mouth opened to speak, but nothing came. What was the right thing to say to her that wouldn’t destroy the chances of getting on her good side? Without looking at him Namjoo headed straight for the elevator. Her eyes were downcast, expression forlorn. She was shuffling her feet as if too tired to lift them up for every oncoming step. When the doors opened he watched her quietly go in. Realizing she was about to leave him behind he rushed in after her.

Standing adjacent to her back he watched her hesitantly. Debating if he should talk now or wait a few seconds until his thoughts were more organized. As if sensing him, Namjoo muttered, “Please don’t talk to me.”

Forced to press his lips together he looked up at the screen when he realized they were on the sixth floor. Namjoo left him behind in the dust as she walked off with her drooping shoulders and her head hanging low.

֎֎֎֎֎

Namjoo hadn’t cried herself to sleep since junior high. Half the night was spent staining her pillow with broken tears. The depth of her misery unable to be told with just tears while she sobbed. Her heart ached deeply. Bleeding pain and agony.

She loved Seojun. She never wanted to lose him this way, because death till we part was still supposed to validate their love. Gone forever were the words “I do”. She would have to find a grave to tuck her heart away. Namjoo didn’t feel like being a person anymore.

She finally fell asleep in the early morning dreaming of a non-existent wedding. Waking fifteen minutes before work. Scrambling to get dressed Namjoo ran out of the apartment shivering and someone pounding a nail into her skull. Cutting a near red light she arrived at work one minute late.

Carrying an inventory checklist with her she rode the elevator down to the second floor where the models would be gathering. Her stomach was grumbling, but she was helpless to satiate the hunger. Guilt rammed her at the back of her head, a voice chiding her for starving a baby.

Opening the door Namjoo stepped into the meeting room. First hearing thundering chatter before her head started spinning. The clipboard clattered onto the ground as she lost her balance and knocked into the open door causing a bang. The room silenced as she struggled to gather herself.

Squinting as her vision became foggy, Namjoo saw a thin woman bend down to pick up the fallen clipboard.

“Hello again.” Smiling, the woman held the clipboard out to her.

Namjoo stared a second harder before she recognized the pretty face from yesterday. The woman who had gone looking for Jongin. Quietly snatching the clipboard Namjoo pressed her lips together.

“My name is Mina,” she introduced herself.

“Well, that’s nice,” Namjoo muttered looking elsewhere.

Flabbergasted by her reaction, the woman exhaled then grinned unaffected. “You must be a neighbor of Jongin’s. Do you know him by any chance? He’s my boyfriend.”

“No, I don’t know him,” Namjoo looked into the woman’s face. “Oh, Sinbi,” she called out and stepped away from the woman feeling a little aggravated, a little stuffy. If she heard Jongin’s name again she might start screaming.

Namjoo only had a candy bar for lunch before she returned to the meeting room to check off the list of makeup the models would be requesting. She spent the entire rest of the day in the stockroom before driving home. She threw up the moment she walked through the door and drowsily laid on her couch for a half hour before she started burning up.

Throughout the day she had waited. Hoping Seojun would call her. Even a one sentence text would do it. There was nothing from him. By now would he have already canceled their wedding preparations? The list of invitations?

She must look really despicable in the eyes of his parents. For betraying their one and only son. Wasting the money they had invested in their future. How much of that money would they be able to get back? All the monthly efforts were for naught.

Tears threatened to fall again, but Namjoo was too weak to cry. She was hungry, the last of her food having left her stomach. She lay there sweating, feeling hot, and like the world was disappearing right under her.

And then the voice of reason made her get up. Pick up her car keys from the kitchen table and stumble down the hallway. There was no use wallowing in pity. When she got in her car she slumped against the wheel and fell asleep.

֎֎֎֎֎

Yawning, Jongin drove into the parking lot ready to call it a day. His usual slot had been stolen he realized. Pulling into an available slot he stepped out and peered over at the silver vehicle wondering who it belonged to. He would have walked away, but he saw someone was still in the car.

Taking a peek, he recognized Namjoo. He knocked on the window two times before she stirred. Sweat drenched her hairline and she had really deep eyebags her makeup refused to conceal. Knocking again he waited for her to roll down the window.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“Oh…I was on my way to the hospital,” she sounded dazed.

Reaching in to unlock the door he opened it. “You don’t look like you’re in the shape to be driving. I’ll give you a lift.”

She glanced up at him wearily, but sighed once and stood. Passing him she pulled open the passenger’s door and slid into the seat immediately closing her eyes. Assuming that was that, Jongin took over the driver’s seat and backed out of the lot.

The urgent care unit was bustling with energy when they arrived. Namjoo kept staggering behind him forcing him to continuously stop so she could keep up. Looking around at all the activity, he managed to grab a nurse as she passed by.

“Excuse me,” he pardoned, “I need help. My friend…she’s really sick.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m a little caught up in something, you may need to…”

He quickly cut her off, “She’s pregnant. Please.”

He got Namjoo admitted easily and sat around as another nurse came to take her temperature. While the nurse worked, Jongin stared at the form he had been handed. Name, age, address, phone number.

“She has a high fever, of about one-hundred-two degrees,” the nurse stared at the thermometer. “It’s a little high, but not critical. She should be fine after some rest.” Turning to him she asked, “I can take the papers if you’re done.”

“Oh, uh…no, not yet,” he awkwardly smiled.

“Then I’ll be back in a few minutes,” the nurse told. “You may leave after that.”

He nervously waited for the nurse to leave before glancing down at the papers. When he looked up he saw that Namjoo was sound asleep on the bed. This was awkward for him. He didn’t know so much about her. Why did it feel like he was intruding on her privacy by filling in the blanks?

Jongin managed to answer everything but left her phone number blank. When the nurse returned he asked, “Is it all right if she rests for a few hours? She just fell asleep and I don’t want to wake her.”

“Yes, that’s fine,” the nurse smiled before disappearing again.

Left with the chorus of beeping monitors and hushed murmurs, Jongin watched Namjoo peacefully sleep. She still looked tired he thought. Yesterday must have been hard for her, he sympathized.

Pulling his phone out he went through his emails and messages while waiting for her to wake up. To his dismay, Mina had sent him a text. A picture of herself exclaiming that she had taken her first step as a model. He would have exited out of their chatroom, but a tiny figure in the background caught his attention. The flaming blue blouse looked familiar. Glancing up he stared at the blue of Namjoo’s blouse then back to his phone.

This couldn’t be happening he thought just as Namjoo mumbled something. Lowering his phone, he watched her eyes flitter open. Her gaze roved over the ceiling confused before she turned to see him.

Getting up, he was quick to explain, “You have a fever, so I brought you to the hospital.”

Pulling herself up, Namjoo stared blankly straight ahead. Appearing in a dream state as she continued frowning. Her eyes were puffy from exhaustion and if it was possible her eyebags had grown darker.

Wrapping her arms around her stomach she murmured, “I’m hungry.”

֎֎֎֎֎

They were back on the road headed home. Jongin was a little dumbfounded. They hadn’t even had a decent conversation and he already felt as if he was responsible for everything. As if Namjoo had asked for a silver platter and he owed it to her.

Pulling into the dark parking lot they stepped out quietly. Namjoo didn’t say a word, not even a thanks to him as they entered the elevator and embarked on their way up. When they passed the second floor Namjoo seemed to finally wake. He watched her press the button for the sixth floor, but he was quick to press the button again to cancel it.

“What?” She asked.

He hesitated then said, “Come over. I’ll cook something for you.”

They stared at each other until the elevator landed on his floor. He turned to peer out into the hallway and stepped out. Glancing back to see that she hadn’t made a move he backtracked.

It was as clear as day that they were still strangers. Namjoo definitely had no reason to trust him, but he had no reason to cause her harm. Since it didn’t look like she was in the shape to look after herself the least he could do was be nice. And sadly, it didn’t look like she had anyone. Obviously, it didn’t look like her boyfriend would be coming for her.

“Come on.” Gently touching her hand, he pulled her out of the elevator after him. His vessels swelled with anxiety when he reached his door and unlocked it. Besides his mom, he hadn’t had anyone over. His home still needed organizing, more cleaning. A box was still sitting in the living room. The windows still needed a curtain. His books lay splayed around on the floor because he’d been looking through them, deciding which to throw out. The only homey effect he had was his sofa.

Kicking his scattered shoes aside he opened the door. “I just moved in,” he said the obvious, “it’s still messy.”

Namjoo stood to the side awkwardly now fumbling with her hands.

“Sit down,” he offered touching a chair at the kitchen table. Walking over to the fridge he said, “I can make porridge for you. I have some chicken s I can boil for you. That sound ok?”

Nervous, Namjoo blankly stared at the tabletop before glancing at him. Quietly, she replied, “Yea, that’s fine.”

This was weird, but since she was already here he just had to get on with it. Filling up a warm glass of water he set it in front of her. The small satisfaction that filled him when she took a sip made him smile. A little calmer, he went to work.

As the water started boiling he pulled down some cookies from the fridge. Offering them to her he said, “Have some since you’re hungry. It’s going to be a while yet till the food is done.”

Namjoo observed the delicacies before grabbing a cookie and took a bite. He listened to it crunch between her teeth and couldn’t help but ask, “Do you want some milk? I always have milk when I eat cookies.”

Shyly looking up at him she nodded. Glad to have something to do, Jongin grabbed another cup and poured her some milk. Taking another cookie Namjoo ate it whole this time and he thought the baby must like it too.

It took forty-five more minutes to complete the entire meal. Namjoo wolfed everything down speedily. Rather, he thought, more than greedily, Namjoo was forcing her anguish down . He set his spoon down midway through the meal to fill up the plates on the table for her. Thinking about how much more she had cried by herself yesterday to get sick today.

Clearing up his dishes he dropped them into the sink to wash. Once he finished cleaning up his set he turned around to find Namjoo with her head down on the table. Her bowls were empty assuring him she’d had a good meal. He didn’t know what to do next. Wake her? But she was sleeping soundly and it would be a pity to disturb her.

Jongin hesitated, uneasy. A little bashful, somewhat volatile as his hand moved forward then pulled back. Inched forward and drew away again. Sliding a hand behind her head he drew her head back. Namjoo didn’t wake at the movement. A slight touch of the forehead and he noticed she was really burning up. Fulling drawing his arm to support her head he bent down to slide his arm under her legs before carefully hefting her up.

Shifting her more comfortably against him so he could carry her without dropping her he slowly started toward his bedroom. Settling her onto the bed he pulled out the blanket from under her to keep her warm before leaving to find a towel. Running it under water he squeezed the remaining water out before folding it up. He sat at the edge of the bed for a while wiping away her sweat then cleaned the towel and repeated the process two more times.

By midnight he finally cleared up the table, took a short shower, and as soon as he laid down on the sofa he fell asleep.

֎֎֎֎֎

Yiruma’s Kiss the Rain rendition was playing again. At the foot of the red carpet Namjoo stood staring at nothing. No Seojun waiting for her. No pastor prepared to recite the wedding script, to stand as witness for their ceremony.

Namjoo tossed and turned and kicked before she woke up smelling a scent she wasn’t familiar with. Her heart thudded, wary. Eyes searching the room she glanced at the empty bedside and sat up. A damp towel landed on her lap. She touched it before realizing that the blue blanket wasn’t hers.

Realizing where she was, she made a face sighing embarrassed. God, she needed to bury herself. Before she could continue scolding herself her stomach grumbled calling for attention. Recalling Jongin’s dish from last night she nearly drooled. Suddenly it was all she could think about.

Setting the damp towel aside, Namjoo climbed out of bed and poked her head out of the room. She spotted the leather couch and Jongin’s fluffy hair by the arm rest. Holding her breath, she tiptoed out of the room thinking food, food, food. One step and another brought her closer to the kitchen. She spotted the pot on the stove and heard her stomach growl. Demanding it to be patient she reached for the lid and glanced inside.

The porridge he had made for her was inside. Discovering the dishes in the dishrack, Namjoo grabbed a bowl cringing when they rattled against each other. Glancing back, she made sure Jongin had not waken. She would eat just a few spoonfuls and be out of here. Snatching a spoon, she scooped up a greedy handful and dumped it into the bowl nearly panicking when the porridge refused to slide off the utensil. Sighing relieved when it did she turned around to start toward the table. Too excited, she reached out for the chair without thinking and listened to it screech against the floor as she pulled it out.

The hair on her neck rose up and she listened to Jongin land with a thump on the floor surprised. In the matter of a few seconds her heart started hammering against her chest as she watched him stand up rubbing the back of his head. When his eyes landed on her Namjoo wished she hadn’t woken up.

Overly anxious, she didn’t know how to react, so the words poured out, “Uh…morning.”

***the first thing he did for her is cook for her \^^/