The place was filled with a rush of people. Cries from children and protests from teens. There was a soul black hole draining the place down to hell.

He felt his chest collapse as he fell into one of the arm chair. He tilted his head towards his mother again and saw the sleeks of tears falling from her eyes. She was panicking. It was the foundation of the chaos slowly being built inside the Chairwoman.

He stood up, despite the heavy pressure in his chest and went over to his mother.

"I'm not leaving these children uncared for." She sternly stated to one of the staffs. Hoya put his arm on his mother's shoulder catching her attention. She met eyes with him and gave him a thanking smile. His mother needed the comfort right now.

Everything felt like a rush. Everything happened so fast. He himself couldn't figure out how it happened.

Maybe it was time catching up to them. Old age, they say.

The three of them, him, JiAh, and his mother to the orphanage to find it in utter disheveled crisis.

The caretaker had passed away, her heart had simply stopped. She was sleeping and had felt nothing, they said. Her body was taken to the hospital shortly after they arrived.

Everything was chaotic. Some of the children had woken up. Some didn't understand. How could they, they were children and the idea of death had never crossed their minds. The older kids, had awaken. It started with one. A girl, she was 14, she was the first to break down, and after that it was a domino effect.

Sure, the teenagers didn't like it her much, but none could deny that they weren't heart broken. The care taker took care of all of them like they were her own. No matter the harsh treatments that they threw back at her. And now she was gone.

That was the thing about life. Sometimes you don't realize what you have until its gone. And when that happens, not even memories can bring everything back.

The pounding in his head mixed with the darken mood of the place was suffocating him.

After what felt like ages he found himself alone in one of the hallways that connected to the sleeping quarters. The back door of the house was located there. He sighed stepping that way. He needed some fresh air. He opened the door and stepped outside. His eyes met with a wide green field. Flowers laid randomly rooted here and there. He told himself he could get used to the sight. It was a field of Paradise surrounded by the fires of Hell.

He stepped out, remembering to crack the door open a bit so he could return in.

He took a few steps before he noticed her. Her red gown popping out in the blackness like the brightest star in the sky. She was kneeled on the ground, the dirt staining the dress, but she didn't care. Her head hung down, falling into her knees. Her hair fell down her face, a beautiful jungle or a mess.

He took another step towards her. And another, and another. With each step he felt his heart beat faster and louder. Every breath he took he felt like a brick was being thrown at him. Standing before her, he frowned. She looked so broken, so alone, so lonely. It made his heart hurt to see her like this.

He stepped beside her and slowly and hesitantly sat down next to her. She didn't lift her head up, she didn't move. She didn't even acknowledge his presence. That scared him.

He didn't know how long they sat there. All he concentrated on was her. His eyes didn't leave for the slightest second. If it wasn't for the slight movement of her arms now and then, he would had assumed she was dead. But that was the thing, she was dead on the inside.

Finally he made up his mind. He had to do something. He couldn't just sit here and do nothing while she was in so much pain. But the question was: what was he to do?

He then noticed the mild layer of goosebumps on the skin of her arms. He then remembered that was she in a dress. It was probably uncomfortable and didn't provide much warmth. So he took off his suit jacket, slowly he placed it over her petite frame. She flinched when her skin came in contract with the fabric.

Her head slowly rose up. She brushed the loose strands of hair out of her face. Her eyes never met his. Was it because she was scare of him, was it because she was upset or even mad. He just wished he knew what she was thinking

She stared out into the field. Her eyes were dancing in the stars above, shining with the moon, and as deep as the skies.

Hoya took note of how her face was free of tears. She wasn't crying. She wasn't a broken china doll. JiAh wasn't fragile or weak. She wasn't made out of glass or straw. No, she was the opposite. She was stone and fire melted with steel.

"I'm sorry." He whispered. His voice was easily picked up by the wind and blown away. But not before reaching her ears.

She didn't say anything. She didn't replied. His eyes laid on her. He studied her features from her large chocolate eyes, those orbs that could withstand the wrath of the gods, her soft lips, stained in red, her porcelain white skin.

"How many times can a heart stop before it finally dies?" JiAh asked softly it only came out as a mere mumble. He caught a glimpse of her face. And everything she felt was written down. Her mind and her emotions clashed endlessly, leaving her in a permanent state of frustration and confusion. She was dead, everything she touched, everything she cared about, everything she loved, was gone. They all left her to suffer the ages of the world by herself.

She chuckled, it was mostly meant for herself to hear. In his eyes it looked like she was punishing herself. "Not enough times. Not enough." She whispered. Her eyes fell down to the ground.

"I never wanted to lose you. Not you too, I'm so sor-" She mumbled as her voice cracked mid sentence. He saw her quickly bring her fingers off to wipe the single tear that had fell from her eyes.

Realization hit him, the care taker was probably the only person who had understood JiAh. She was the only person who knew JiAh like JiAh knew her own self. She was family.

He didn't know much about his wife. But he knew that she had lost her family. She had lost her younger brother too. When you lose family, you lose herself. You lose another part of your hart. JiAh lost another part of her heart tonight.

And it made him wonder about her question. How many times can a heart break before it dies?

"Let's go inside its cold." Hoya suggested. He didn't want to keep thinking about this. He didn't want to see her in this state. He didn't want to see her lost and broken. He realized he had never seen her any other way. It didn't matter, he didn't want to see her like this.

"I like the cold."

"Why?"

"Because it suits me." And she was right. The cold did suit her. She and the cold were best friends, soul mates even. He didn't know which one was more tormenting to stand with. The cold had slowly numbed him to ice. Or the wife who seemed as cold as ice, and carried a broken heart.

"Hoya-ah." She stated and he felt a rush of blood flow to his face. That was the first time he heard her speak his name. It spilled off her tongue like a beautiful and addicting melody.

"Yes." He turned away from her just as she turned her face towards him. He already saw this coming. He already knew this would happen. JiAh had her last straw. It was the death of the woman who had been JiAh's family for the last few years of her life that her broken her. And when the last straw falls, the world falls with it.

He could see it in her eyes. And he wished he was prepared for it. But he wasn't.

"I don't think I can do this anymore." She mumbled. And he didn't know it then, he didn't know it yesterday, or the day before that, not even a hour ago, but know he knew. He felt it in his really core. It was astonishing how eight short words can kill him.