Please be advice that the story is not mine and I already ASK for permission to post it. Please visit her website at http://wattpad.com/thedispirit - the author of this story is thedispirit.

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Chapter I

I watched him as he piled up his papers and placed it inside his briefcase. His fair skin glowed healthy white as the morning sunshine trespassed through our kitchen window and touched his smooth skin. He wore his square-rimmed glasses—which made him look cool, and at the same time, hides his identity. I watched him closely. He got his mother’s eyes and his father’s beautiful jaw and ambition.

He looks so normal.

He looks so innocent.

He looks like an angel. But that’s not it. It’s just physical appearance.

You can never judge a person by his cover.

“You sure you’ll be okay?” he asked as he fixed his eye glasses. I nodded and forced a smile. I’m used to this. I’m used of him being away for long. He didn’t smile back. He just nodded and bid me goodbye.

“Use the door.” I warned as I saw him backing up to go out through the window. He sighed and gave me an apologetic smile. I wouldn’t want to fix another window he breaks. It’s troublesome, especially to a school girl like me.

“Bye.” His final words echoed inside my head as he closed the door behind him. I sat straight up and stretched my arms, lazily grabbing the remote from the top of the fridge. I sat comfortably on the island counter and the television. I’m certain he’ll be on the front page of every newspaper again. He’ll be broadcasted in every channel in TV. He’ll be the superman again.

“Once again, our own superman saved the world.” The guy in a black suit with a big smile stared back at me as I watched him report about him. I smiled and felt proud for him. I wondered where he’s going next. He’s been to China, Africa, North Pole, Philippines, and the whole U.S.A. he’s been around the whole world. While me? School. Home. School. Home. And did I mentioned—school. I sighed and jumped off the counter, readily to go to bath. I still have school. And he also needs to be at school on time. He’s busy with his duties. While me? I still have the duty to be a student—and in the evening, I have a duty to be the wife.

I hummed inside the bath as I thought about the first time I saw him. He was serious in flipping through the pages of this old book. I was wondering that time if he understands hieroglyphs because he was reading that book that I used to read. I watched him closely that day. His every movement was swift and graceful—it’s like he’s dancing. Every blink of his eyes motioned with the clock and the time around me. Everything stopped when I first peeked into those deep brown eyes. I haven’t seen him smile—and I waited for that smile—until now. Even in front of the cross, I didn’t saw him smile. Even when he vowed to me, when we exchanged vows—I didn’t saw that smile. I’m still waiting. And I will wait for it. But for now, that’s not the important matter.

I’m late.

That’s what matters.

“Hey, I saw him on TV earlier this morning. He’s good.” CL whispered to my ear as she caught up to me, heading for our lockers. I smiled and nodded at her. I’m used to this—he’s the every topic of the world, news, and people. He’s the reason for every smile the girls make whenever they talk about him. He’s the reason behind my jealousy.

“So, how’s life?” she asked. I grabbed my books and shook my head. “No change.”

She patted my back and gave me an apologetic face. CL knows everything. She knows that at a very young age—I’m married. She knows that he’s my husband. She knows that we’re living in the same roof. She knows everything. She knows that my husband is a superman.

“It’ll be fine. I mean—uh, do you love him already?” she focused her brown eyes on me. I stared back into them and I was caught in a deep thought. Do I love him? I don’t know.

Our marriage was forced. It wasn’t our desire. Well, a part of me liked the idea—but I don’t know why he agreed. He never said he loves me. He never showed that he feels something for me. It’s just—well, it’s like it’s his duty to marry me. He’s just full of duties especially to the world.

“All I know is that I hope he don’t chase other girls.” I joked and CL laughed. But if truth be told—I really hope he don’t fall with girls he saves every day from all over the world. It’s hard for me. I know. It’s like a one-sided love.

Our history class was about heroes. The U.S.A heroes—and now, even though he’s still not yet history—we’re talking about him already. The teacher talked about him with full of amazement. She described him with her imagination—she doesn’t really know him in person. But I do. He’s complicated and irrational. He’s dead serious and even though, his reputation seems bad—he’s not that bad at all. He’s just not a man of emotion. But somehow, I know, I don’t clearly know him. We always eat at home in silence. We awkwardly bid each other goodnight. We’re not like your typical husband and wife. Maybe—reporters and biographers know him more than I do? Maybe people who just knows him as ‘superman’ sees his smile, sees for who really he is than me, the person who knows him when he’s not superman. Maybe I really only know him as Kwon Jiyong. I only know him when he’s not wearing his superman suit. I only know him by his real identity. But I don’t know who he really is.

“Ms. Park.” The teacher was standing in front of me—interrupting my mental drama moment.

“Yes, ma’am?” I stood up and I heard laughter everywhere. I forgot. No one should stand when Mrs. Bocher is in your class. It’s insulting for her. Well, it’s kind of a height matter. With my five feet six inches height, I really shouldn’t stand next to Mrs. Bocher who’s four foot ten inches in height. That’ll be harsh.

I quickly sat down and hid my face with my hair.

“How will you describe the person who we’re talking about right now?” her tattooed eyebrows raised at me. I felt the shiver all over me. I can’t just tell them that he’s dead serious at home. I can’t tell them that he rarely smiles—but the truth is whenever he’s being interviewed for three seconds, he’ll end it with a smile. I can’t tell them that I wish his smile was for me.

“Uh…he’s a superhuman, ma’am.” I shyly said and the roaring laughter filled the room.

“Silence!” the teacher faced everyone, and then back to me, “I’ll see you in detention after class, Ms. Park.”

Great.

I’ve never been to detention and this is my first time. My heart is leaping out of my chest, and there it goes, running away. I can’t do this. I don’t want to be in detention. It feels weird—but I don’t know what detention is. What do people do there? Do teachers torture students there? I don’t know. I’m scared. But, I shouldn’t ask ‘why’ life is like this. I’ll look forward and ask ‘why not?’

That’s right. It’s just detention.

 No big deal.

“Bummer, I’ll see you later, Dara!” CL pitied me going to detention. I smiled at her and bid her goodbye. I grabbed my stuffs and ingested all my pride—I went straight to detention. Every step I take made my heart leap even more. My fingers touched the cold doorknob and according on its own—my finger twisted the knob. Slowly.

 “Mrs. Bocher, I’m he—“I paused when a pair of deep brown eyes greeted me. Those eyes hid behind the square-rimmed glasses. My heart ran back to me and now, it’s escaping my throat once again. I can’t describe what I’m feeling. It’s just—happiness and confusion.

“Hi.” He greeted with a flat tone.

“Hi.” I greeted back and closed the door behind me. I sat at the other end of the couch—making the farthest distance we could have from each other. The atmosphere is awkward. Many questions ran inside my mind. Why is he here? What is he doing here? Superman doesn’t have any mind reading powers. He can’t be spying on me? Is he here to accompany? Why am I hoping?

I admit—I’m happy to see him. My fear was relieved being here in detention. And I am totally hoping he got in detention because he knew I was here.

“Why are you here?” I opened the conversation. Mrs. Bocher isn’t still here and the secretary behind the desk is busy reading the newspaper. I could see his picture in the front page. Written in bold was the news headline’s ‘Superman saved the day again’. Another one was him carrying an old lady. Good thing it’s an old lady, if ever that’s a beautiful y woman—I don’t know what I’d do.

“Late.”

Well I am sorry if he could only say a few words. I was irritated by that, of course. He could’ve just said ‘I was late’ or maybe ‘I’m here to be with you’. Alright, my thoughts are mushy but girls expect that, right?

“Oh.” I just said hoping he would keep up the conversation. Expect the expected—he didn’t continue the conversation. I just fidgeted with my fingers and focused on them—ignoring his presence.

“Dear, dear. Superman surely was hurt by this.” I quickly looked up to the secretary who’s still reading the newspaper. I glanced at him and he was looking out at the window. He must be hearing helps once again but he can’t just burst out. He of course knew that there are police and firemen out there ready to help at the most smallest crime or help needed.

“Excuse me, ma’am. But what happened to superman?” I asked standing up and walking towards the secretary.

“My, look at this.” She showed me the column she was reading. Written in italic was the news sub-headline: Superman being clawed in the stomach. And then a picture of a rounded robot with his claws gripped around superman’s waist. My knees weakened. That must have hurt because I saw blood in the picture. I covered my mouth with my hand and looked at Jiyong. He looks okay but his hand was resting on his stomach.

“T—Thank you.” I said in almost a whisper and went back to my seat. I looked at him once again, “Does it hurt?” I asked in a low voice, really being careful that the secretary doesn’t hear.

“No.”

“Liar. It must have!” I raised my voice a little but still in a whisper.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” I insisted. I feel like—I’m worried sick. I’ve never felt this way before in my entire life. I know I’m not the one that got clawed in the stomach but still, it’s hurt to see him being hurt. Maybe I am being a worried wife but—it’s my duty. I don’t care if he’s superman. I just care if he’s safe or hurt. I can’t help looking at him and at his stomach. I just want to tell him to stop being so super manly. It’s not about me being jealous or him lacking time with me—it’s about his safety.

“I wouldn’t be superman without any reason.” He gritted his teeth as he whispered it to me. I didn’t notice he was sitting so close to me. I didn’t notice his face being an inch away from me.I gulped and felt my heartbeat running away.

“Of course.” I sadly agreed and he stood up, leaving the room.

I have never felt so afraid of him before. But I don’t care about that.

 All I care about is that it’s heartbreaking that he doesn’t see that I care.

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Aigoo! Bad Jiyong!