He sat at the kitchen table gripping at the wood, digging his nails into the soft glaze that coated the table, mercilessly carving out a slot for his short nails. His eyes stared forward, hard, glaring holes into the wall infront of him, through the empty chair across the table. Images of her leaving the table with a phone call and an untouched plate flashed before his eyes as the memories beat his soul into oblivion. He couldn't believe how stupid he was for not knowing, for not even suspecting anything. Maybe, he thought, she was just really good at hiding it. He only scoffed at himself; what a good fiance, not knowing that the love of his life was sick near death. How could he not have noticed, or even been suspicious! He began to question his love for her. Was he blinded by his love, or was he oblivious because of his schedule?

He remembered the sermon that he and Dara had last attended. Their pastor said something rather intriguing, and the relevence had just flown over his head, through one ear and out the other, and right back again to hit him hard.

"If your love is true and your faith is strong, and this prevents Satan from making you bad... he'll just make you busy."

His fists rose and quickly hit the table top once again, physically expressing the anger he had built up inside of himself. He was angry at himself, for being oblivious, for being a workaholic, for not paying attention to the one thing that kept his faith and his love strong. Images of her wide, desperate eyes glued to him, her boney, frail fingers reaching out for him, clawing against the nurses that held her back, and her small, weak frame in that child's hospital dress replayed in his head, torturing him even more. Visiting hours would end in just two short minutes and his temptation would be only slightly settled. He wouldn't have as much reason for his heart to pull him back.

His stomach growled, inturrupting him from his thoughts about his mixed emotions. He wondered, was she hungry? What did she do when she was hungry? Was it anorexia, or bulimia? He never remembered hearing her throw up, not consistently without reason at least. Then again, it was apparent to him that he didn't pay much attention anyhow.

The pain in his heart overwhelmed the craving of his being. He allowed for hot, silent tears to flow as he sat alone in the house much, much too empty for his liking. Often did he prefer small places, regardless of the social rank he had. When he was alone, the less empty space he had, the better -- the less lonely he felt. But he never regretted buying this house.

---

"This is the one, Ji, I know it." She took his hands, a twinkle in her eye as she looked from the front door to her husband's eyes. Her bright, excited smile made it hard not to smile back at her. The joy that she radiated rejuvinated his soul as she gently held his hands and switched her gaze from the house to him.

"Is it? There's no turning back, nor is there a guarantee that we get the house." He brought her hand up to his lips and looked at her through his  lashes as he kissed her fingers lovingly. She could only roll her eyes and blush.

"You shouldn't be so pessimistic. Besides, I told you, I have a good feeling about this one." She allowed him to bring her hands to wrap around his neck, pulling her body close to his. Soon, she felt his hands rest on her hips. Her eyes met his and he could feel the determination in her gaze. His smile softened.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be a downer. If you say this is the one, then I have all the confidence that it is what you say." He kissed her forhead, taking in her sweet aroma of vanilla and strawberries. "Anywhere I go, as long as you're by my side, and God is present, I'm home."

She flashed him another of her dazzling smiles before raising on her toes to kiss him softly. They gazed into each other's eyes as they shared a loving, innocent kiss. Ever fiber in his body tingled with joy, feeling as if it were his first, and he was a teenager once again. She had that affect on him and he never understood it, but never complained; if it ever left, he wouldn't want to know what he lost.

"I love you, Jiyong-ah." She whispered, as their lips parted.

"I love you, too, Dara-ah."

---

His lips twitched into a sad smile as he reminiced on their days of perfection. He did believe that they had a short period of a flawless, movie-perfect relationship. But it all came crashing down infront of him in the end. As work began to slowly move its way above his beliefs, about his relationships, everything spun out of control in a matter of what felt like seconds. He didn't know what to do, what to think anymore. All he knew was that he wanted to have that perfection again and he would do near anything to get back to that point.

The piercing ring of the telephone interrupted his plotting. His gaze settled on the phone and he stared at it for a while. The caller ID was his mother. He sighed, running his hands through his hair briefly and clearing his throat before he answered it.

"Annyeong."

"Jiyong! Thank God... Honey, come here, I have your son on the line!"

He mentally groaned as he heard his mother and father fussing and fumbling on the other line.

"Omma, Appa, please calm down."

"Calm down?!" his mother cried, "Your wife was hospitalized for the second time and we didn't hear about the first time until now! And we haven't heard from you in what, a month? You are insane to think we are going to be calm."

His father butted in, "Your mother is right, I thought we raised you to know better. I'm sure you are wise enough to know that we would be worrying. Your mother and I care, is all, we just like to know what is going on. It avoids us assuming things and overreacting. But now, it's too late." A sigh vibrated through the receiver. "Your mother and I have been pulling her hair out worrying about you."

He did feel guilty about keeping the secret from his father. But in all honesty, he hadn't known about it until just recently either. Now, his mother, however, was a different story. "Mianhe, Appa, I--."

His mother cut him off, "You will not be forgiven until you explain what is going on."

"Now, now, that's not how it goes. What she means is, we forgive you, but we would really appreciate it if you would tell us what happened."

There was a long pause. The parents waited on their son's reply, one fuming with anger and the other sympathetic, for he knew very well that it wasn't something that his son took lightly.

"...If I knew anything, I would tell you. You have raised me in such a manner. However, I myself do not know what is going on right now. I don't know what's going to happen to her, I don't know how sick she is, I don't know how it happened. All I know is that she is ill and she needs me right now. The doctors don't seem to be helping her, only making her feel inferior and feel worse than she already did. Not only is her physical state damaged, but now her mental and emotional state thanks to the hospitalization and the manner in which she was hosipitalized

As a result, I know no more than you do, maybe even less. But please, Omma, please don't say I told you so."

He shut his eyes and choked down his tears, taking a deep breath before continuing. His mother on the other line could only stay silent and listen.

"I don't think I can handle it, honestly. I know I should be stronger than this, and I'm sorry for disappointing you both for not telling you in the first place. I just didn't know what was happening and I didn't want to tell you what the doctors told me because I didn't believe them. They say she needs mental help, a therapist. I don't know if I can afford that. I don't even think she needs that."

"Son, when the doctor says--"

"Appa, I don't care what the doctor says. I've been praying non-stop and all I've heard back was that she doesn't need anything but a Bible, prayer, and reprioritization. The doctors are hurting her, making her worse, why would I listen to them?" He was shouting now. "I don't know much, I know she's hungry, and that I need to be there for her. That's it."

Another interval of nothing but his huffs and the sound of fists hitting the wood of a table. His parents remained silent.

"If you'll excuse me, visiting hours started just a little while ago. I'm going to the hospital now."

"Jiyong, please, call us back when you get home. And give us the information to the hospital. That's all we ask. We won't question you anymore." His father pleaded.

"...Okay." He slammed the phone back into the charging dock and stood up, grabbing his raincoat, his keys and his bible, and out the door he went.

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YAY an update LOL.

Sorry it took forever and it's kind of short, too. But like I said, this is a side project.

I like this because I'm using it to spiritually vent my opinions on these things. xD

Okay, another long waiting period, probably. Thanks for reading (: