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Namjoo saw the texts each time she received one, but didn’t click on the messages to let him know she read them.

Her mother called once. Namjoo rejected the call. Her betrayal pained Namjoo every time she remembered being guilt tripped. Furious each time she thought about Sehun being told off by her mother. How it must have hurt him the exact way his mother scorned her.

She’d always thought her mother liked Sehun but abhorred his parents. Actually, she was the stupid one.

Namjoo dwelled but was forced to tend to daily duties because of work and Kihoon. Aware the funeral service ward in the hospital never closed, Namjoo planned carefully in order not to run into Sehun or his family. One look into his hopeful eyes and all her resolve might float out the window.

He didn’t need her right now. She couldn’t face him after discovering her mother’s atrocious acts. She was the one that needed time. To contemplate her life; if she should let Sehun go; if she deserved him one last time. Unable to, in her heart, ask him to forgive her foolishness or her mother’s cruelty.

The two of them already done in by their families. Was it worth it anymore?

Things like that chased its tail in her head endlessly. Getting her exhausted. Burning her fuel that she felt lifeless by the hour.

Namjoo caught the door before the bell rang. “Thanks for coming.” She let Eunkyung into her home. Only the kitchen light was on leaving every room dark and gloomy.

“It’s no problem.” Eunkyung assured, keeping her voice low.

It was early dawn. The world was still asleep. She’d chatted with Eunkyung previously in order to arrange this. Of course, there would be pay included.

Reaching into her purse Namjoo pulled out a wad of twenty. “Here.” She handed it to her part-timer.

“Oh no, boss.” the young girl shook her hands.

“Take it.” Namjoo forced it into her palm. Her eyes dashed in Kihoon’s direction. “He’s still sleeping and won’t be up before I come back. There’s food in the fridge if you’re hungry. I made a bed for you on the couch if you want to sleep.”

“That’s quite a lot,” Eunkyung fiddled with her fingers. “Thanks, boss.”

“I won’t be long.” Namjoo promised.

Smiling, Eunkyung ensured, “I’ll be fine. Go ahead.”

Grasping the doorknob Namjoo nearly turned. Stopping herself she pulled the door open and rushed down the hall. Starlights blew past her on her drive toward the hospital. Arriving to a parking lot of ten cars she eased into an open spot nearest the spinning doors.

Under all circumstances, she had to come. She wanted to say goodbye to Hayoung.

Standing alone in the parking lot, she tilted her head back to stare up at the towering hospital. Lights were out in every room. Each rectangular window masked with a darkness that would soon be lit with health, sickness, death.

No one close to her had died before. Not old enough to understand grief when her grandparents passed. She had no siblings. No close cousins in the city. Aunts and uncles scattered across the country. Namjoo didn’t know how deep the weight of grief pressed a person. She could only imagine how hard it was on Sehun. His parents.

Namjoo thought of witnessing Hayoung’s last moments and thinking no one deserved to go like that.

Readying herself, Namjoo entered and took the elevator up. Ghostly wails of misery and hollowed life echoed around her when the elevator opened with a noisy ding. Stepping out she stared down the winding hallway. Now that everyone had gone home to rest the ward looked bleak, dark like a tunnel with no end despite the lights still on. Several rooms down there was a mourner weeping for a loved one lost in the a.m. hours.

Passing quietly Namjoo searched for the room reserved for the Oh family. Discovering it when she spotted the family name on a computerized sign on the wall. Scores of arrows struck her heart the moment she glanced inside. Sorrow emanating through her when she saw a fatigued brother sitting on the floor. Alone. Asleep.

Turning away Namjoo wiped a tear of agony. Sehun so piteous. Wiped out by the onslaught of endless suffering in his life. Here and not at home where he should be comfortably resting.

What was wrong with him?

Quietly kneeling in front of the casket overflowing with beautiful white flowers, Namjoo struggled not to cry too hard. For the siblings. Sorry was all she could think to say because nothing else could describe what she really wanted to say or do for them.

A blurred vision of Sehun caught in the vision of the corner of her eyes, but she fought not to look at him. Afraid she’d want to wake him. Tell him to go home. Don’t sleep here. Don’t be too sad. Scared she would hug him. Cry with him. Ask him to return with her.

Pushing herself up, Namjoo shuffled out of the room. Peering into the cafeteria. The rows of tables wiped clean; the floors swept. She went through everything anyway. Call it a habit of a restaurant handler, a mother of a messy son, a nosy woman. Spotting stained areas, dirty pots, and plates randomly piled on the counter Namjoo cleaned and rearranged everything. Hoping it would make it easier for the grieving family when daylight hit. Because this was all she could do for them.

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Silence lingered when the family departed from the columbarium. Decorating Hayoung's space lovingly with flowers, an individual portrait of her and the family. Standing in silent remembrance of her. His mother wept heartbroken in his father’s arms. All of them needing to rest and recharge for coming days.

Sehun drove them home where desolation and emptiness welcomed them with wide open arms. He stayed around out of obligation. Still thinking of his parents’ well beings. Worried for them. Also, thinking about his own family.

He stuck around in the kitchen rummaging through the shelves. Putting the kettle on the stove for tea. Bringing it to his parents. His mother lying in bed but not sleeping. He heard her sniffing. Her back to him. A wad of rolled up tissues scattered across the bedspread. His father quietly sat in the living room by himself. Pointlessly staring at the blaring television set to a sports channel. His eyes reflecting what was on screen but his eyes were glazed miserably.

All the bodies were back home but none of them were here. Like he, who wanted to be elsewhere. Still here.

Returning to the kitchen he turned the stove off. Watching the steam blowing from the kettle die out. The hot water go cold. Thinking all tears he and Namjoo had shed could fill up the kettle.

Sad because she hadn’t called him once. Even sadder because he hadn’t woken when she came to the funeral ward. Innately aware that something was wrong, because Namjoo would have called. She would have read his text messages. She would check up on him. Bring him food because she assumed he wasn’t eating properly.

The hole in his heart growing a mile wider because he ached so much.

Sehun proceeded to scrubbing the table, the counters, the fridge doors, the stove, and the sink. Spending his hours glued in the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” his father gruffly asked. Hours later finally traveling a distance from the living room to the kitchen. Escorting his mother, hands around her shoulders as if her frail body would fall apart and he needed to hold her together. The woman having aged 100 years. Expression haggard and listless. Her dark hair dry and brittle like her blank eyes.

“Are you hungry?” Sehun started moving toward the fridge.

“Just go home.” His father sounded irritated. Pulling a chair out he seated his wife.

Sehun barely touched the handle of the fridge before he stared at the floor. He hurt enormously, too. His body was entirely battered and bruised. All this fighting and he was exhausted.

He knew he was their disappointment. The moment he got a woman they never met or approved pregnant. Bringing Namjoo into the family. They’d tested her to see how long she could last. When she lost, it still wasn’t enough. Nothing he did surpassed their standards. He just could never make them happy.

All this fiddling with Kihoon’s future because they just wanted to be the bigger party. Forget customs, because they made no one happy. They were just invisible traditions people chose to ignorantly value over a person’s health and happiness.

Sehun, too, wanted to return home but not where he would be alone. He wanted a home with his family.

His wife. His son.

That kind of home.

Too many years had gone by. Six months wasting and maybe more. He didn’t want more.

“I’m going to marry Namjoo again.” Sehun quietly declared. Eyes still on the floor.

“Sehun, please,” his father sternly pleaded.

“I’m not asking,” Sehun determinedly said. “I’m telling you.”

His mother sobbed. The sound so deep like her insides were overturning.

“Isn’t it enough for you?” his father angrily yelled.

Sehun raised his eyes to the metallic fridge then peered over his shoulder. Saw that his mother was horrendously weeping. Her tear streaked face paining him.

They were all tired. Sehun knew this wasn’t the best time, but there would never be a perfect time. Come again. Now or later.

He was done. He wanted his family back.

Some sunlight in this gray weather was all he asked for.

“Your sister already died,” his mother sobbed, “do you want to kill me, too?”

“Don’t do this now, son,” his father stared him in the eyes.

And he would obey. He would succumb to them because he knew how hard it was being a parent. Immediately recalling Hayoung asking him to have the heart to forgive their parents. It hurt a hundred times over.

His eyes welled up. He really, really wished he could forgive them. For everything they had done to Namjoo. His family. Hurting him all the times over.

“You’re the only one we have left,” his mother cried, “and you’re going to do this to us?”

His teeth clattered as his lower jaw trembled. Tears sparked his eyes. “Do you know what happened to Hayoung was your fault?”

“Sehun!” his father raised his voice.

“I’m not wrong,” he furiously ranted. “I brought her home because she wanted to come home! You sent her back, so it’s on you.” His eyes widened menacingly thinking of how horribly they’d all failed their daughter, his sister. Saying the truth as he saw it. “As our mom and dad, you’re supposed to put your children first, but you put yourselves before us. So, it’s on you. What happened is your fault.”

Clinging onto her chest his mother screeched angrily. Sobbing violently. Shaking in her chair from despair.

“Get out, Sehun.” His father raged.

The tears fell. Disappointment gnawed him. The sadness and anger warred inside him. He couldn’t tell which emotion lost or won as he turned to walk out.

Feeling it come crashing down on him as he got into his car and sped off. Thinking he wanted a hug. Some comfort. All he needed was to cry and vent. Then tomorrow he would do better. He would be better and try to forgive his parents like his sister wanted him to. Because he was not a bad son.

Finally reaching his destination Sehun rode the elevator up to Namjoo’s apartment. His heart scurrying back and forth in circles inside his chest as he punched the doorbell.

When it opened his first words were, “I love you.”

A disheveled Namjoo stared back at him. Appearing haggard and worn, she stared at him. Leaking a cry as she teared up.

His heart ached as it beat for her. “I love you.”  

This time, Namjoo cried harder.

It broke his heart for how sad they were. Tears perked his eyes as he repeated more steadily, “I love you.”

Stepping forward he pulled her into a hug. Holding her tightly in his embrace as they broke in each other’s comfort. Relief plunged through him that she had waited. She had opened the door for him. Hadn’t ignored him like he had been afraid she would.

Slightly withdrawing he cupped her head. Drying the endless tears with his thumbs. Realizing only then that she was burning up.

“You’re hot,” he touched her forehead.

She moved his hand away. Croaking, “I’m just a little sick.”

“You should be laying down.” Pushing her in he closed the door. “Where’s Kihoon?”

He followed her gaze to the sofa where the two of them had been napping. His son was still deep asleep.

“Come on.” Taking her arm, he led her to her bed.

Namjoo weakly pushed back. Refusing to lie down as she worried, “He hasn’t eaten yet.”

“Ok,” he nodded. “Just lay down. I’ll take care of it.”

Tossing the blanket over he urged her down and covered her before heading out. He first started into the kitchen. Rummaging through the materials in the fridge and the drawers. Starting a boiling pot of water on the stove first. Next, he went to rouse his son awake.

Kihoon irritably moaned. Opening his eyes. Closing them and opening them again. Uncertain he was seeing correctly. Then calling, “Daddy?”

“Yea, it’s me. Daddy’s home.” Sehun smiled.

Urgently opening his eyes Kihoon lunged toward him. Wrapping those tiny arms around his neck to hug him. Laughing happily Sehun held him.

“I miss you.” Kihoon professed.

“I missed you, too.” Sehun said.

Laying his head on his shoulder, Kihoon asked, “Daddy go again?”

“No. Daddy’s not going anymore.”

Kihoon tightened his arms around his neck. “No go, daddy. Pwease.”

Running a hand over the back of his head, Sehun quietly hugged him. He boiled some chicken for Kihoon and ate with him. Namjoo was asleep when he checked on her. Out from her cold. He adjusted the blanket over her before leaving her to bathe Kihoon. Staying up with him watching a children’s television series. Putting him to sleep when it got later and reheated some food for Namjoo who’d slept all day.

Blinking tiredly, she just stared up at him through the dark. Touching his hand, she asked, “I don’t want to eat. Can you just lay down with me?”

Eat first he wanted to say. It was painful seeing her this way. How long had you been sick he wanted to ask? Why didn’t you answer my calls? Read my text? Let me know you came? Why are you sad all alone?

Giving in, he moved to the other side of the bed and climbed under the blanket with her. Quietly laying with her while holding her hand underneath the blanket. Feeling his heart tear up for her. Yet also, strangely warm up because they were together.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Namjoo softly asked. There was a slight pause. He stared up at what, he imagined, the same ceiling their eyes were both set on. “That my mother hurt you?”

Sehun noticed the slight tremor in her voice. She was probably crying again. It was a punch to his guts.

“I didn’t want you to know.” He thought of the day her mother asked him to let her go.

The bed trembled under the weight of her cries. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” Raising an arm to cover her eyes she sobbed, “I shouldn’t have given you the papers.”

His eyes burned with regret. They shouldn’t have had to go through this mountain to realize all this meaninglessly.

It shouldn’t have happened this way.

But it had and there was nothing they could do to make any difference.

Turning he pulled her into his arms. Hugging each other as the night waned.

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Namjoo didn’t know when she slept but was aware she’d been in Sehun’s arms the entire night. He wasn’t beside her when she awoke, so she got up to find him. The table was set with a warm bowl for her.

“You’re up?” he greeted. Smiling in front of the stove as he turned it off. Namjoo didn’t hesitate to walk right into his arms. Hugging him because her heart was still sore but the sight of him made her feel stronger.

It rammed and beat faster when she heard his giddy laugh as his arms went around her. The familiarity of his solid body healed every part of her damaged self.

Moving back, he cupped her face. His fingers bristled across her cheek. Allowing her to absorb the sight of his face. The bags underneath his glowing eyes. Allowing him to soak in the sight of her.

The two of them, despite the exterior, was still injured beneath, but that was ok. She longed too much for him to be apart any more. She didn’t want Sehun to spend any more lonely days by himself. She would be sad with him. He would hurt with her. As long as they did it together.

Right now, that was all that mattered. Having him back in her life. She still wanted him even if the odds continued to be against them. The roller coaster ride could continue to be bumpy. Namjoo would still cry for him. She could come last in his life just as long as he didn’t stop opening his arms for her.

Staring into her eyes, he brushed a hand up into her hair. “Say it to me, too. I want to hear it.”

Her heart fluttered. Tears threatened to swell in her eyes, because, Lord, she didn’t ever want to lose him again.

“I love you.”

The grin that split his lips enamored her.

Sehun always made her so soft for him.

Holding her by the jaw he kissed her. Giggling Namjoo broke the moment. “I didn’t wash up yet.”

“That can wait.” Linking an arm around her waist he pulled her in for a more tender kiss.

***I cry a little /sheds tears/

***I updated in time! Merry Christmas wherever you are and if you read this today! It's still the 24th here though, but I still get to see blonde Joo perform later so I'm thrilled regardless. Next chapter will wrap everything up!

***Thank you for the love and support for this story <333 *sends many hearts to you all* Lets thank 2019 for all the real life interacts between Hun x Joo ;D