I stood in the entrance to the living room and took a deep breath, struggling to remember the things my yoga instructor had taught me just that morning. I did a cycle of calming breaths and started another. I closed my eyes and turned around, heading for the bedroom. A whisper of a prayer passed through my mind as I went up the stairs.

I eased through the doorway and slowly let my eyelids drift up, hoping that what I was expecting wasn’t what I would see. Of course, it was. Why had I thought that today would be different? Why had I harbored that little bit of hope for a change? I should have known better. I should have. Maybe then I wouldn’t have felt so ty. Hope is a herpes-infested .

I forced myself to take those final steps into the darkness that was our room. I tread lightly, forcing myself to do so rather than storming through like I wanted to. Oh, the things that I would not allow myself to do simply because I had no desire to spend time in a prison. Me in a Korean jail? No, thank you.

I took a shower, washed my hair and got all prettied up. I even put on a dash of makeup. Then I went downstairs and cooked myself a great meal and washed it down with the most expensive champagne I could find. After dumping the dishes in the sink I dragged an armchair to the foyer and lined it up with the door. I brought the remnants of the bubbly with me and leaned back in the chair to wait.

I was almost asleep when I heard it, the sound of footsteps on the stairs that led to our front door. It took a few seconds for me to realize where I was and why. Those few seconds were time enough for the footsteps to stop at the top of the stairs and for fingers to dive into a pocket to retrieve the blue Doraemon keychain, time enough for him to get the locks undone and push the door in. Daylight flowed over him as he stood there with the keys in his palm. Despite my anger, his beauty hit me hard like it always did. There was no denying that he was physically perfect. My breath caught when he looked at me and for a long moment I let myself drown in his presence. Then he shifted his gaze and the moment died.

“Elle, what is this?” He gestured to the chair and the champagne. “You know I don’t like it when you drink.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” I retorted, tipping the bottle to my mouth for another gulp of the sunlight hued liquid. “You’re lucky I couldn’t find anything stronger than this.”

“What’s wrong with you?” He kicked the door closed and made a move to snatch the bottle from me.

“What’s wrong with me, Daesung? What’s wrong with me?” I laughed. “Oh, nothing’s wrong with me. I’m fine and dandy, thank you for asking.”

“Elle, I know you. This is not like you.”

“Yeah well I thought I knew you too.”

“What are you implying?” His eyes all but disappeared when he made an expression of bewilderment.

“I’m not implying . I’m tired, Daesung. I’m so ing tired of this. I know you’re all depressed and but you need to get the over it. It’s been six months. You were declared not guilty, in case you forgot that little tidbit. You didn’t kill him.”

Daesung opened his mouth to say something, perhaps to protest.

“I’m not done. I have been the supportive girlfriend. I have held you while you cried. I’ve distracted you from your own thoughts. I’ve watched so much ing Doraemon I could tell you specifics from every episode. I made your favorite meals. I listened when you wanted to talk. I didn’t say anything when you decided to just lay down on the couch with the drapes pulled shut and stayed there all day. I didn’t say anything when you started going down to the bar down the road and get buzzed every day. I didn’t say anything when you stopped helping me around the house. I didn’t ing say anything.” I paused for breath.

“But it’s been six months, Daesung. I have to work. I get up at five every morning to get ready to make my commute. I work till three and spend an hour plus trying to get back here. When I do arrive you’re either lying on the bed or on the couch or down at the bar. I have to cook. I have to do laundry. I have to clean up so your friends won’t think I’m a horrid girlfriend when they come over. I have to go grocery shopping. I have to do everything and I can’t keep it up anymore.” All the emotions that I had kept captive inside myself for so long came surging up and I burst into tears.

“Yeobo, I- “ Daesung began, then stopped, choosing instead to cross the space between us and pull me into a hug. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize… I was so lost in my own pain. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too. I know you’ve been through a lot. It’s just…I came home today and you weren’t there and the house was a disaster area and I got mad and then you can home and you’re so beautiful and I could tell that you’d been drinking cause the tips of your ears are red and…and…” My voice faltered, sobs taking their place.

“I’m sorry. I’ll get help. I’ll go to therapy.” He said, pulling me closer to him.

I nodded.

“You know, you should probably come to. You’ve been keeping a lot of things inside and that’s not healthy,” he suggested.

I shook my head.

“You won’t come?”

“No.”

“But it would help, don’t you think?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Please? I’ll strip for you if you say yes.”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Uh huh.”

*An hour later*

“I lied.”

“So you won’t come to therapy with me?”

“Not unless you drug me and take me there while I’m unconscious.”

“That’s actually not such a bad idea,” Daesung said, his chin with a thoughtful expression.

“I’m not eating or drinking anything you offer me from now on,” I responded, pressing my ear to his chest and closing my eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Dae said for the nth time.

“For what, this time?”

“For being the one thing that pushed you over the edge today,” he murmured, my hair.

“It’s okay. I forgive you for being my last straw.”