Amina sat frozen in the same spot for several long minutes, the silence of the apartment muted in sharp contrast against the deafening doubts raging inside her mind.  The rhetorical question hung heavily in the air, disturbing her inner thoughts and creating turmoil within her heart.  She couldn’t shake off the hint of sadness she heard in Youngbae’s voice.  Nor the vulnerability she felt when he left her side.  He couldn’t have been serious.  No… not after knowing what they had been through.

Please God.  Let it be imagined.

She shook her head quietly to herself, pressing her eyes closed in silent plea.  No, that wasn’t hurt that she heard in his voice.  No, that wasn’t pain that she saw in his eyes.  No, that wasn’t him trying to play it off coolly…

Her lips trembled.

It was like déjà vu all over again.  She wasn’t ready.  He knew that.  She told him as much before she left overseas to study abroad.  She had just escaped an arranged marriage and still had school to finish – goals to achieve.  They had agreed that he’d give her time until she was ready.  And now… with her father’s recent passing, there was no way that she was going to marry so soon without a proper mourning period.  Even though she was disowned, she at least owed her father that much.

No – they weren’t ready.  Why couldn’t he see that?  They just got back together – were still working things out.  Still learning about each other’s nuances, still their wounds from the first break-up.  Depending upon which day of the week, she didn’t know if they were still on or off.  So volatile… so vulnerable.  Could he not sense her hesitation?  Why did he have to force it between them? 

She didn’t want him to feel like they needed to get married now just because of the baby.  She’d fight tooth and nail to make sure her family didn’t pressure him into doing anything against his will.  When he decided to marry her, she wanted it to be on his terms… no one else’s.  She just hoped he wasn’t deciding to propose to her right now.  Because if he did…

She released a deep sigh.

She wished she could ask him why he wanted to marry her.  Was it because of the girl he used to know?  Because she sincerely doubted he knew who she was now.  More than likely it was for the baby. 

The baby.

If it wasn’t for the baby… she would have never moved in.  They would have never met up at the hospital.  She would have never found a need to see him again.  She would have gone on with her life.  And he would have gone on with his.

Did he not realize that?  They were hanging on by a thread… a very precious thread.  And to solidify that fragile bond, he wanted marriage?  It wasn’t going to be enough to stand the test of time.  Any small event could break them apart… tear them down… kill whatever they had left.  They would fight and bicker until they grew to hate one another.  She could foresee it happening before her eyes.

He had joked about not proposing earlier this afternoon.  Had joked when proposing last night at the restaurant.  So carefree… so thoughtless, his remarks were.  What else could his words have been but another teasing comment?  He had to be kidding…

So why did she feel so blue?

Amina fell back onto the bed, her troubled eyes gazing unseeingly up at the ceiling.  They just needed to talk.  He needed to know how she felt about their relationship, how she felt about herself, and why she felt like she couldn’t give herself completely to him right now. 

She wanted to tell him how much she loved him… always loved him, even when she broke things off with him last summer.  Wanted to tell him all of her regrets and mistakes she made while in New York.  Apologize for not coming back to him sooner… Confess how ashamed she felt that it still bothered her when she saw Nara and him together, even though she knew they were just friends.  Tell him about how deeply depressed she felt to not be able to go to school and work.  To not have a purpose in life.

She wanted to tell him the anguish she felt every time she reflected on the last memory she had of her father.  How it felt to become the disappointment her parents told her she would become.  How alone and afraid she still felt to go to bed each night because every time her eyes closed she could hear her father’s voice reprimanding her for being late to the funeral… shaming the family.  She wanted to tell him the nightmares that often left her hollow in the middle of the night… the ones that took her soul and drained her empty. 

She wanted to tell him much it worried her to bring a child into this world… to become someone’s mother and caregiver.  How much it scared and overwhelmed her to know that she’d be responsible for the life of another human being when she could barely survive on her own.  She desperately wanted to be a better mother than her mother was to her.  But she was afraid she wouldn’t know how.  Was fearful of making a mistake.

She felt half-alive… half-dead.  Somewhere in-between.  There was no way that she could give herself fully to him when there wasn’t the whole of her to begin with.

She wanted to tell him all that and more.  But he wasn’t here.  And today wasn’t the day.

Amina let out a dejected sigh and slowly eased back up into a sitting position.  The rest of the day stretched on endlessly ahead of her, with no plans in sight.  It was easy the first week… but now.  Her motivation to keep busy was starting to lose steam. Glancing absentmindedly over at the clock, she noticed the white package laying on the night stand.

She stared at the hand-sized rectangular box for a few quiet moments before curiosity won out.  Leaning over, she grabbed the box off the nightstand and placed it in her lap.  It was heavy… which was a good sign.  At least it wasn’t jewelry.  He did say it was used…

Quickly, she un-wrapped the box and came face to face with an Apple decal. Her eyebrows rose slightly, as she removed the heavy-weighted cardboard top off and pulled the latest iPhone out, leaving the manual and charger still inside the box.  She creased her brows as she flipped the phone around, noticing the protective film had been removed.  Was that it?  She felt her lips curve against her will.  Maybe that’s what he meant when he said it was used.  She powered on the phone, feeling it vibrate softly against her palm.

“Omo!” she exclaimed in embarrassment, pressing her palm up against .  As soon as the home screen came on, she finally understood what he meant.  He had taken a selca of himself and set it as her screensaver.  It was a dorky one at that, with his face all scrunched up and his aeygo showing.  “Bae-yah…” she admonished, her eyes twinkling with laughter.  Her finger swiped lovingly across the screen.

Smiling, Amina checked out the rest of the phone, discovering the other photos he had taken while he was away last week.  There were several. Some were taken inside the plane, some were of candy or random food.  Some pictures were of mundane things – landscapes, cars, or street view.  Then there were ones of him being silly… loud… y.  She grinned as she panned through the photos. 

She exited the application and checked her contacts.  Just one.  Of course – he saved his number in there.  She quickly sent him a message.

This is what you call used?

She didn’t know if she would receive a response right away, but several seconds later the phone vibrated.

It’s used.  I used it.

Amina grinned. She figured he would say that. She thought hard for a second, her eyes turning mischievous, before activating the camera app on the phone and aiming it on herself.  Lying down on her stomach, Amina tousled her hair to the side and eyed the camera ily.  The position pushed her s up and the angle of the camera caught the back of her peek-a-boo boy shorts just enough to make out the lush curve of her bottom.  She bit her bottom lip, her perfect white teeth sinking into the tender flesh softly.  She snapped the picture.  Her eyes widened slightly as she reviewed the provocative photo.

Quickly, before she lost her nerve, Amina inserted the picture into the message and typed.

Gomawo oppa.

Her face burned crimson red.  She couldn’t bear to wait for his reply and instead powered off the phone and tossed it on the bed before leaving the room with Boss in tow.

“…Taeyang-sshi.”

Someone hovered near his line of sight.  He glanced up from his phone, his dilated eyes slowly focusing.  Damn.  Who the hell called his name?  He looked around.  Uh… you.  “Neh?”  He nodded towards Nara, shoving his phone deep inside his jacket pocket.

“We’re ready for your fitting, whenever you are,” she called again, her eyes expectant.

He nodded quietly, trying to appear nonchalant.  He started walking towards the backroom where all the costumes were located and found the one marked with his name.  Grabbing the outfit, he took it to the private room and stepped up to the mirror.  His face looked a little feverish, his eyes bright.  He rubbed his lips together self-consciously, half-grinning to himself as he pulled his phone back out again with his free hand.

He his bottom lip and quickly typed in a reply, before shutting off his phone.

“You look like you got something on your mind.”

“Huh?” Youngbae smiled, looking back at Jiyong.

Jiyong jerked his head towards the phone that Youngbae just placed back inside his jacket pocket.  “I assume things went well with Mimi?”

The smile on Youngbae’s face faded as his memory slowly caught up with him.  He eyed Jiyong with reserved patience.  “Neh, so far,” he answered in response to Jiyong’s raised brow.

“So far?”

Youngbae shrugged his shoulder slightly, pouting his bottom lip forward a bit.  “We still haven’t found time to talk, but we plan on it the next time I get a break.”

Jiyong nodded once, his eyes watchful.

Youngbae started gathering his gear, deciding on whether or not to bring it up.  But it ate at him too much.  “Hey,” he eyed Jiyong with serious intent.  “Don’t do that again.”

Jiyong’s eyes glinted, giving nothing away.  “Don’t make me do it again.”

Youngbae stood up straight, his chest expanding as he stepped forward.  “I’m serious.”

Jiyong watched quietly, feeling the tension radiating off Youngbae’s body in waves.  He let out a short scoff, the corners of his mouth curving up a little.  “So am I.”  He didn’t flinch when Youngbae’s eyes narrowed on him.  “Look, I know you got a lot going on right now. But your girl… the one you’ve been waiting for to come back.  The mother of your unborn child…”

Youngbae glanced around nervously, seeing if anyone could overhear their conversation.

“…I think there’s something wrong with her,” Jiyong concluded, his eyes dimming.

He felt himself go on defense, a sudden anger coursing through his veins.  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Youngbae argued, his eyes shooting fire.

Jiyong glanced away, his clever brown eyes calculating in the distance.  He shook his head absent-mindedly, his eyebrows furrowed.  “She said something to me the night I dropped her off at the apartment.”  He suddenly got quiet.

“Mwuh?”

“Did she tell you she has trouble sleeping because of bad dreams?”

Youngbae nodded.  “She took sleeping pills to cope, but with the baby…”  He trailed off.

“So how does she cope now?” Jiyong challenged.

Youngbae stared into Jiyong’s eyes, unable to answer him.  He bullted.  “She hasn’t told me about any bad dreams lately, so they must be gone.”  He felt his cheeks heat at the white lie.  He’d often and asked if she dreamt about him… but never did it occur to him to ask if she was still having nightmares.

Jiyong looked incredulous.  He didn’t buy Youngbae’s explanation one bit.  “Man… I’m not going to even tell you what she does now.”  He gave Youngbae one last smirk and backed away.

“Jiyong-ah!” Youngbae snapped.  He bit off a curse as Jiyong strutted quickly out into the hallway, leaving him alone in the dressing room.  Youngbae swept an irritated glance around the empty room before returning to his wardrobe.

He hurriedly put on the garments and made his way towards the make-up area where Daesung was just starting to receive his application.  The cheerful greeting he received from his dongsaeng only served to irritate him further.  He nodded curtly and sank into the black swivel chair next to him.

“Are you okay, hyung?”