It’s 11 o’clock and the seething sun hovers high above the horizon, its penetrating rays seeping through wooden blinds to expose the faint glimmer of drying tears.

Today, I watched her sleep as I used to when we were younger, a little naïve, and much deeper in love. Seemingly peaceful, her slumbering expression is an ethereal masterpiece but I know deep down she’s plagued by her darkest demon.

Me.

I’m the reason she’s crying in her sleep like that.

Silent tears continued to fall through lidded eyes like steady streams during the calm of the storm and for once, I noticed them and felt my heart break in two.

I wanted to reach out to her, to comfort her, but I knew I couldn't.

It’s just not the same anymore.

I can never touch her the way I used to.

---

It’s noon and finally, she wakes up though later than usual.

She missed work. Again.

She used to be so devoted, dependable and enthusiastic when it came to her career—just as she was with our marriage.

But nowadays, it seems she isn’t interested in much.

With a light groan, I watched her wipe tears unconsciously shed as she dragged herself to the bathroom without so much as a glance in my direction.

I bowed my head in somber disappointment. What was I expecting?

Gone are the days I woke up to her angelic face, unspoken love filling the voids of her tired eyes as she faintly smiled at me.

I should’ve taken the time to appreciate them more.

I should’ve taken the time to appreciate her more.

It’s too late now.

--

Sitting down in front of a large mirror, she mindlessly brushes her long brown locks with a vacant expression.

Orbs once full of life were now a pair of glassy eyes, the depth of those pits a never-ending abyss of black.

I slowly walk towards her yet she pays no heed; she just continues to dully brush the tangled strands in a trance, once soft and smooth between my fingers.

Warily, I sit down beside her and as expected, it does nothing to change her passive demeanor.

I wanted to reach out so as to gently pry the brush away from her frail hands, partly to break her out of the cycle and partly to give me an excuse to feel her, no matter how brief.

But I retracted before I could touch that soft paling skin in fear of her reaction and so continues the repetitive motion while she stared back at her lonely reflection.

Up, down, up, down...like love on the rocks; like an unstable rollercoaster bound to crash.

The silence is deafening and although still in denial, I know we’ve already hit a wall.

It took every fiber of my soul to keep myself from encasing her in my arms, to turn back the hands of time and envelope her in the familiar comfort and safety I used to provide.

But not anymore.

Warmth is the last thing she’ll feel from my touch.

Before I could apologize for what’s become of us-- of her-- she walks away, leaving me to sit alone on an empty chair, counting her every step as she left me.

---

Breakfast used to be a noisy but comforting affair, with her perceptive personality and my opinionated nature, there was always much to talk about. From her universal theory of global synergy and my highly-acclaimed diagnosis of her obsession with all things healthy and green, we would playfully bicker for days on end when cruel life permitted it.

Rarely did I tolerate the quiet air aside for special occasions where breakfast was served in bed, when we just laid there appreciating the feast before us in silent gratitude. Concocted with varying flavors of sweet passion served insanely hot with a side of her on top and a hint of spite to spice it up if the occasional whip cream didn't cut it, we used to take our time devouring what was in front of us until there was nothing left; until it was reduced to nothing but a pile of two spent but contented bodies as our hearts and breaths slowly synchronized as one in unity.

Perhaps breakfast in bed wasn’t that quiet after all.

But we haven’t spoken in so long…

Breakfast was never the eerie silence that now casts itself like a net of despondency in our once lively kitchen, trapping us in its perpetual reticence.

After fetching endless stacks of depressing mail addressed to Mrs. JooHyun Im from co-workers, family and honestly, people she couldn’t care less of or know for that matter, she begins setting up the table, taking out her usual plate along with the matching cups and utensils. Mechanically, she reaches for mine as well. I see her hesitate for a brief second, pondering whether to do it or not before finally submitting to the tempting urge to give in.

Old habits never die even when people do.

Now sitting just across from each other on our modest coffee table, we are worlds apart as the usual aroma of her cooking fills the room.

There was only stillness between us as she ate.

The dull butter knife in her hand would’ve been enough to cut the thick, gloomy atmosphere around us.

I hate it.

She looks so lonely and lost.

I wanted to apologize.

But how can she forgive me?

She can’t; at least not yet, so she just keeps her head low while occasionally throwing glances at my untouched plate.

--

I stopped my wandering when the familiar tune of the grand piano echoes throughout the house.

It’s been awhile since she played.

Rooted on the spot, I stood with eyes closed, allowing her sweet voice to entice me as I listened to the slow melody while trying to grasp the bare essence of her hidden emotions.

She’s never been the emotionally open type.

Even with me, Seohyun can be a very stubborn, reserved and independent woman; traits I’ve grown to love and hate.

It was that mysterious aura that had me first captivated. Like a walking rubiks cube with infinite sides waiting to be solved, I wanted to be the first daring explorer to step foot in unexplored territory, to figure out how she worked, to know her like the back of my hand and to maybe one day, find the hidden treasure buried within.

And I found it; a loving woman who bruised easily and had many weaknesses—the exact opposite of her every-day façade. I fell deeper in love with that surprising discovery.

Looking back now, there were only a handful of instances in our life together where she unwillingly allowed me to mend her broken spirit.

I let her cry on my shoulder then and I wish I could do the same now.

It surely doesn’t help that I’m the reason for her misery.

With every of the keys, I listened to her heart break. At the top of her lungs she yells at and yearns for me through gloriously controlled notes, her rhythm slow but powerful like the grief that manifested itself inside her like a leech, gradually reducing her to this petty shadow of her former self just like me.

She’s grieving but so am I.

What has become of my wife?

--

Just as we were losing ourselves to the spell-binding sound, the phone rings and she stops the harmony to get it.

Her footsteps echo in the empty house as she went to the next room to answer it, yet it keeps ringing when she didn't pick it up and I was reminded that she never answers the phone nowadays.

Seconds later, I hear my own voice: “Hi! You’ve reached the residence of Im Yoona…”

Then hers, “and Im JooHyun”

“Please leave a message after the…”

“…”

“Hyunnie!”

“Oh now?”

“Yes now!”

“BEEEEEEEEEEEEP~”

“...Okay, it doesn’t need to be that long...”

“I’m sorry~”

“Pabo~…”

Followed by the actual beep.



“Hey Seo, it’s Yuri”



I pinched my eyebrows in distaste as soon as I heard that voice.



“I don’t see you at work today so I take it you’re sick. I’m really worried about you. Take care, okay? Just remember I’m here if you need anything…”



I never did like that co-worker of hers; she takes better care of Seohyun than I ever did.

I had too much pride to admit that I was envious of Yuri.

Aside from spending more time with my wife than I do, she seems more compatible with her too.

Even when Seohyun assured me that she feels nothing but friendship for the woman, I know for sure that wasn’t the case for the other party.

How she looks at Seohyun at business parties…it was blatantly obvious although I thank her for not trying anything out of respect for me and our marriage.

Regardless, their chemistry was undeniable; the same background, the same professional mannerism, even the same health-conscious mentality and I often wondered why Seohyun chose me when she’s had this woman all along. They seemed like destined soul mates with so many things in common while the only thing we shared passion for was love for the other.

Although I hate to admit it, Yuri seemed like a more mature version of me—probably a better version of me in Seohyun’s eyes.

She used to tease me, “I don’t think you should feel offended if I ever cheated on you with Yuri”

“Excuse me?”

“Because she looks like you. In the end, I’m still thinking about you”

And I remember smiling like an idiot after her lame attempt to sweet talk me; that is after freaking out like a madman at the possible insinuation.

But I know she said it because she will never do it.

The perfect embodiment of an earth nymph, she’s grounded and a bit of a stiff however possessing steadfast loyalty as solid as the mountains, serving as the pillar of strength that supported our very foundation…until now.

She was so unlike me.

A wandering air spirit at heart, I’m fickle and moody in every right, constantly seeking perfection even when I had it beside me all along.

--

“*Voice Mail Full. Please delete the older messages to clear up your Voice Mail*”


Backtracking to the old messages, she deletes them all without listening to them in entirety…until she heard my voice.


“Hey, why aren’t you answering your cellphone? Are you mad at me or something?...Well just call me back when you can...bye”

-Deleted-



*Playing next message*:

“Listen, if you want to ignore me all day, fine, I’ll go away. I don’t even know why you’re so angry. I don’t know who that Jessica girl was. Believe me; I wouldn’t lie to you--”

-Deleted-



*Playing next message*:

“Please pick up…I want to see you…We have to talk about this. Hear me out--”

-Deleted-



I wanted to burst into that room and tell her to stop rubbing salt on my wounds but what right did I have especially when she was just as wounded as I was if not more?



*Playing next message*:

“Seo, pick up. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I-I didn’t mean it. I don’t know. I’ve been so confused lately and…and you’ve been so busy with work. I was mad at you. I wanted to see you but you were never there. I wante—“

-Deleted-



*Playing next message*:

“Are you kidding me? You don’t even have the ing decency to tell me you’re divorcing me?! Answer the ing phone right now! I swear to God I’m gonna—“

-Deleted-



*Playing next message*:

“Im Joohyun...I-I can’t live without you…please pick up…please, I love you so much…I--”, I heard myself stifle a sob and that’s when I hear her answer me then, our last conversation captured on tape.

“It’s Seo JooHyun. You can keep your name; I don’t want it defiling mine.”

“Seohyun! Please, let me explain—“

“If you love me so much, why did you do it?”, she wasn’t yelling but she might as well have screamed at the top of her lungs.

“I’m so sorry!”, an unexpected outburst of tears on my part only to be countered by a scream just as uncharacteristic.

“Tell me Yoona!”

“…I-I was drunk…you were overseas with Yuri for a meeting and I was jealous…”, I heard myself choke on tears as the thought of actually losing her finally sat in.

“So apparently a night with a random stranger is worth more to you than our nine years together?”

“…Seohyun please, it’s all a mistake… “, I was hysterically sobbing on the other end until I managed to choke out a desperate but genuine reply.

“I love you, Seo…”

“…I trusted you...”

“Please give me another chance…”

“...and you lied to me…”

“I’m so sorry…”

“I don’t ever want to see you again. Sign the damn papers so I can get on with my life”


And I hear the click.

...

...


-Saved-

--

It’s midday now and Seohyun takes a nap to escape reality, the inevitable tears soon following after.

Although I shouldn’t be surprised, I see all of my clothes neatly laid out right beside her on the bed, ready to be put in a box and shipped out to Tiffany.

It’s time.

She’s actually moving on; she’s going to let me go.

I feel relieved but dejected at the same time.

As much as I want her to cling onto what was us, I knew it wasn’t good for her to keep going like this.

For once, I won’t act out of selfishness.

I’m willing to let her move on, even if it means living a dull dreary existence filled with many regrets.

I deserve it.

I should’ve loved her more.

--

It’s early evening now and the doorbell rings, waking up the sleeping woman beside me.

She opens her eyes and sighs at the discovery of her tears, growing tired of crying over the same unfaithful woman over and over again.

Ignoring the door, Seohyun only pulls the blanket closer to her body as she feels a sudden chill.

Regardless, it continues to ring, quickly irritating the once patient woman.

She tosses the blanket aside in exasperation and stomps downstairs, restless to find who dared interrupt her depressing desolation.

Taking a place by the stairs, I quietly follow Seohyun out of curiosity, just in time to catch a glimpse of her opening the door for Yuri.

Had it been anyone else, I know she would’ve slammed the door in their face without so much as a second thought.

“Hey, are you okay? You look sick”, Yuri says with genuine concern as she's led in, putting a gentle palm on my wife’s forehead.

“I’m okay”, Seohyun replies lethargically, offering a weak smile. “What are you doing here?”

“Well I thought I’d surprise you with my company…and gogumas”, Yuri added with a warm smile when Seohyun remained unresponsive.

But now she complies, not because of the gogumas but rather the thoughtful gesture. Come to think of it, I’ve never surprised her with her favorite food…

“Come to the kitchen”

--

“You know, Taeyeon’s going to have your a** in a platter for not coming to work today. What have you been doing all day?”, Yuri says as she sat herself down on my chair and began serving gogumas for the both of them.

“I was cleaning out Yoona’s clothes”, Seohyun bluntly states, placing a warm cup of hot chocolate in front of Yuri.

Yuri abruptly halts everything to look at her, unsure of what to say.

After seriously going over her words to make sure it wouldn’t upset the grief-stricken woman, Yuri finally breaks the silence I’ve been unable to break.

“Listen, you don’t have to hole yourself up in here all day. Want to eat dinner with me? My treat! C’mon, it’ll be fun~”, I see her playfully pinch Seohyun’s arm in a kind and friendly manner.

Warmth.

So with a faint but genuine smile, she left with Yuri.

I begin healing her soul by doing nothing.

Yuri is exactly what Seohyun needs.

--

Homebound, I seem to lose track of time when Seohyun’s not around. Moments without her are too insignificant to note. This existence is now dedicated to her, and only her. Nothing else matters.

So it was a safe guess that it must’ve been around midnight until the two finally came stumbling back to my house, with Yuri supporting an obviously wasted Seohyun.

I fumed at the sight.

How could she let her drink? Seohyun never drinks!

I knocked some things over in anger, a lamp, some books; anything to be heard past their booming footsteps merely to have both of them overlook my signs of frustration as nothing more than the wind rushing in from a seemingly open window.

“I told you not to drink too much…”, Yuri scolded her as she dragged the half-conscious girl up to our room.

“I need it…”, I hear Seohyun mumble in reply.

“You don’t need it”

“I need Yoona…”, she says truthfully, the alcohol now eradicating all signs of her inhibition.

Yuri just sighs as she wiped my clothes off the bed to lay the intoxicated woman down.

“Yah…what are you doing to Yoona’s stuff?”, Seohyun slurred in protest, trying to get up but was instead pulled back down by overpowering vertigo.

“I’m packing it for you”

“No…I’ll do it myself…”

“Can you? You’ve been telling me you’ll send these to her sister...”

Seohyun stays silent, cuing Yuri to add onto her previous statement.

“This isn’t healthy. You don’t think anybody notices what you’ve been doing to yourself, but I notice. You need to move on...”

I see Yuri reach for her hand in consolation, providing her with the comfort and warmth I could never have given.

Seohyun stays silent in agreement; Yuri is right.

Tonight, I witnessed her walls further crumble, allowing yet another soul to help heal her fragmented ones.

--

Seohyun wakes up in the middle of the night in Yuri’s arms and I'm glad to see that there are no more tears this time.

But I felt conflicted when she uttered her first words, “Yoona?”

“No, it’s Yuri”, Yuri corrects the sickly girl, effortlessly tucking a strand of Seohyun’s hair behind an ear.

“Oh…You look so much like Yoona…”, she blurted mindlessly.

I see Yuri halt her loving gestures to look seriously into her eyes.

“Stop it, Seohyun”

“Stop what?”

“Comparing me to her. I feel insignificant”

Go figure; she was envious of me all this time too.

“I’m not Yoona”, Yuri added, her voice carrying a somber tone.

“I know…”

Silence; but this time, Seohyun willingly breaks it.

“I dream of her every day and I can’t help but cry when I see nobody beside me…I’m still not used to it. But I’m not crying now”

She pauses but continues when Yuri’s expression softened, a sign of her understanding.

“Do you know the last thing I told her?”

“What did you tell her?”, and Yuri resumes her hair as Seohyun snuggled closer into her arms and closed her eyes in painful reminisce.



“I told her I never wanted to see her ever again…I’m horrible aren’t I?”




“Seohyun…Yoona wouldn’t have wanted to see you like this”




Another reason why I never liked Yuri: she was always right.

--

Yuri smooths the wrinkles of her clothes after getting up, grabbing a set of keys in her pocket.

“I’m going to go now but I want you to call me when you’ve cleared your head”, she whispers to the groggy woman.

With that, she kisses her forehead, irking me to no end.

I didn’t stop her though; I know Yuri can take care of her better than I can.

And I wish Seohyun would call her as soon as she wakes up.

I just want her to be happy.

Maybe then I can move on too.

--

Yuri’s company proved therapeutic as Seohyun awoke with the absence of the familiar tears she’d grown accustomed to.

Her eyes immediately snapped on the bedside table where her cell phone lay, contemplating on calling Yuri.

Instead, she stumbles up to unpack all of my clothes before laying them on the bed, much to my unheard protests.

Not yet. She’s not ready to wake up from this dream.

One by one she folds them neatly and puts them back on the shelf. She stopped when a certain hoodie catches her eyes; or rather, her nose. I’m sure she smells it; my favorite perfume on my favorite sweater. The one she gave me on our last anniversary in exchange for my half-a**ed present.

It wasn't long until the tears came back, my anger rising with every drop.

Furious, I yelled at her, although it came out like a gentle whisper of the wind.

“Stop doing this to yourself!”

I raised a hand to snap her out of it but it passes through her flesh and out the other cheek, leaving her with a chilly feeling rather than the intended burning sensation of my nonexistent hand print.

I see her slightly shiver before putting herself in my sweater, completely oblivious of my presence and rage.

This is all unfair; to her, to me and to Yuri; the first reason frustrating me more than the other two.

Why is she doing this to herself?!

More importantly; why did I do this to her?

“Yoona…I’m sorry”, she clutches my sweater tighter in her hands, hoping to grasp the last traces of my physical remnants.

And like that, my anger vanishes along with all hopes of us moving on. We’ll both suffer dearly for it but we can’t bring ourselves to let go of each other just yet.

“I’m so sorry”, she repeats and like a calling, I answered with my misty presence, flowing to her side like a gentle summer breeze.

“Stop blaming yourself...It’s not your fault…”


It wasn’t her fault I drowned myself in alcohol to dull the pain that day.


It wasn’t her fault I was reminded just then how much I loved her.


It wasn’t her fault I decided to go back home and beg on my knees if I had to for her to take me back.


It wasn’t her fault I got in that car.


It wasn’t her fault I never made it home.




It was never her fault; it was all mine.




It was my fault I let her see me like that; weak, red and beaten atop a white hospital bed, barely clinging onto fleeting life.


It was my fault I couldn’t wake up, despite the tears that I felt fall on my face and the begging I heard from a far away place.


It was my fault I lost the strength and will to hold onto to her hand.




I gave in to temptation and I gave up on us.




It was all my fault.




This time, I speak as loudly and as clearly as I can, my voice just a feathery whisper although undeniably reaching her ears.





“I’m sorry”





Suddenly, light shines brightly down from the sky upon us, brought forth by the declaration of an overdue apology.




“Yoona?”



She stares at my golden silhouette with wide eyes, feeling warmth returning to my body as it solidified from its translucent form.

Yes, she’s staring at me now.

In disbelief, she dared reach out for my face, tears of joy welling in her eyes at the feel of my familiar warmth.

Her wife, Yoona.

But before I can enjoy her exploring touch, I feel a nagging pull upwards, knowing someone else is waiting for me on the other side of that blinding light.

I remove her fingertips from my face to kiss them.



“I want you to live a long and happy life”



With a somber smile, I begin to part with my other half, ready to ascend and answer a greater calling.

But she only holds on tighter, “Stay, please…”, looking up with pleading eyes.

I almost listened had I not heard the voice of reason:

She needs to move on with her life.



“I can’t…I’m sorry”


And it pained me to forcibly pry myself out of her clutches.



But this…this is selfless.


It was my sacrifice.


This is my love.



“I love you”




And I said it because I actually acted accordingly.


I didn’t say it out of guilt.


I didn’t say it out of jealousy.


I said it because I meant it.


“Yoona, don’t leave me!”, she calls out with outstretched arms, desperately trying to keep me from leaving her a second time.


To her anguish, I didn’t reach down to take them and so with streaming tears I ascended, never taking my eyes off her fading face, forever engraved in my memory until the next time I see her as the blinding light gradually engulfed my entire being...














--






Bright light.





Nothing but bright light consumed my vision.




Then I felt heat; aggravating heat on my face.




Hell?




I furrowed my eyebrows and opened my eyes.

When my vision adjusted, I realized I was in my room, with the sun beaming on my face, the familiar aroma of Seohyun’s cooking filling my nose.

Before a single thought could process through my head, Seohyun sticks her head inside our room.

“Oh good, you’re awake. I made breakfast~”, she said with a smile, a spatula proudly held up as she waved it around like a trophy.

At a loss for words, I just gawked at her, as if I was going to find the things to say written on her forehead.




Is this…Heaven?




Sensing my weird behavior, she approached the bed and sat herself down beside me.

“Yoong, were you crying?”, she questioned, genuinely surprised.

She runs the pad of her thumb across my cheek to wipe them, and I couldn’t help but lean into her touch.



No…this is real.



“You can see me”, I breath out in relief, more to myself than to her although she heard it loud and clear as indicated by her teasing laugh.

“Of course I can see you, stupid~ Are you still drunk?”

I threw her an instinctive glare, “I’m not stupid”

“No, you’re right…you’re just a little slow”

Playful bickering; we were actually bickering...




Was it really all a dream?




"I still don't understand...", I started.

"I rest my case"

"Come here Hyun, I need to see something"

"Don't try to seduce me. We are not having breakfast in bed again"

"I'm serious Hyunnie. I need to make sure you're real. I think I just had one of those lucid dreams..."

"Well weird and unexpected things can happen when you drink too much alcohol. I told you you can't beat Tiffany"

"Tiffany?"

"Yes, your sister Tiffany? Honestly, did you hit your head on something?", she says, taking my head into her hands to inspect every side of it.

Yes, I had a sister. I shook my head, still trying to wake up the senses along with the memories that goes with them.

"But I died"

"Huh?"

"We were married and older; I cheated on you and I died"

"Oh, in your dreams? I'm sorry; did I murder you when I found out?"

I glared at her playfulness a second time yet she just smiles innocently.

"Is this your way of proposing to me? By telling me a fabricated and morbid dream about your infidelity and premature death? I was kind of expecting something more romantic...", she further teased, feigning disappointment.

She wasn't taking me seriously at all.

I couldn’t take it anymore.


"Oh I'll show you romantic"


True to my bi-polar nature, I pulled her down and attacked her with my lips, feeling her warm hip on my hand while the other combed her silky hair.

She's breathing life into me.

I’m alive; but most importantly, she's alive.

Reluctantly, I pulled away to look at her just to make sure.

She looked down at me with twinkling eyes; not a trace of sorrow to be found.





This is real.





I closed my eyes and immersed myself with this blissful feeling, connecting our lips once again.

For awhile, I lost myself in a trance until...




'Yoona, please don’t leave me…'




I snapped my eyes open when I heard her voice.

My wife's voice.

I pull away from this Seohyun, young and flawless; too perfect.

"Did you hear that?", I asked her.

"Hear what?"

"You--...Somebody just called out to me…"

She just gives me a weird look and I know she couldn't have uttered them as she had her lips pressed against mine the entire time.

"Seriously, what’s gotten into you?", the woman in front of me laughs, tucking a strand of my hair behind an ear.

I lost myself to the gesture and she drove me into sweet oblivion when she wrapped her arms around me, turning the voice into nothing but a faint murmur in the back of my mind; nothing but a fading memory.




_{'Yoona, come back...'}




I felt no hurt, no sadness as I snuggled closer to the woman I love.





I can stay in her arms forever, her whispers of sweet nothings lulling me deeper and deeper to sleep.





So this is what heaven feels like.