"I'm coming over with your father in law. I am looking forward on spending the weekends with our Channie and you." Mrs. Hwang chirped in the telephone. I chewed my lips. "But I understand that Chansung wouldn't be around this week." Mrs. Hwang didn't give a sceond thought, and blurted," That ungrateful son. You're not his secretary, stop talking like one. No wonder I've not have grandchildrens. He better stop doing this. It is almost as if you guys are sleeping in different rooms. Don't worry. I'll be there to make sure everything's okay. He will not be out station this week and the next. I'll ask Taecyeon to cover for him." Mrs. Hwang hung up.

I stared at the phone for another second, and saw Chansung going down the stairs in a hurry, with his blazers in hand, ties loose. He caught me by the eye, and I diverted. He fastened his cufflinks, after resting his blazer on the couch. Maybe it's her cold eyes that made him tatter away. Chansung has always been workaholic, it's in his blood, but the circumstances have changed. Her decision to move was incoherently sudden for him. After all that he's done to make her feel comfortable, she still insisted to leave. It wasn't the new location, or adaptive issue, or the real-estate shortage (suffered by most middle-classes), he could have come up with a new place to live in, in just a few seconds, a phone call away, it was the home his parents had built, for him and his wife.

It had sentimental value so it's worth more than all of his estates combined. Eventhough love was difficult for this sudden-marriage, she made it easy for him to care. She must know that he cares. But does he have the time to show her that? "I'm packing my things today." She blurted.

Chansung tried hard to reconcile his own feelings. All of a sudden, the inconsolable heart of a concrete, is consoling himself in silence. Now she's being the heartless one. "I can't wait any longer. It freaks me out everytime the night comes, and you're not here to be with me," She said, while making him a coffee, "...I can't dwell with my fears anymore." Chansung sat his bag on the couch, and joined her in the kitchen. Before he was even permitted to say a word, she smacked her forehead. "...Ah! Your parents are coming over this weekend." She remembered. She cursed herself for being so forgetful. "Let's move after they're done here." Chansung said with a solemn voice. She stared at him, with a blank expression. "...We have to buy groceries. I'm not a great cook, but I'll try... It's just that, I'm gonna need you to shop with me," she panicked, walking back and forth. It was her first time entertaining elderly after awhile leaving home for marriage, and a broken-heart. She's not gonna lie that she's not feeling a nervous breakdown. Chansung now had to fit-in another event in his already packed schedule. It's his first time coming across an actual 'family-always-come-first' scenario. He didn't care about disappointing his family, but he didn't want to disappoint her. Looking at her, it seems like she was fragile, but she was highly independent. Because of that, she doesn't have any expectations. And it hurts his pride, truly.

She must have been listing out some ingredients, but he was too absorbed in his thoughts. Vibrating phone interupted him. She probably saw the name on the caller I.D., because her expressions changed, abruptly. "I hope she won't be calling when they are here." She turned away from him and occupied herself with the dishes. Chansung hesitated on answering, eventhough the relationship was said to be over when he got married, Hara wouldn't rest. He rejected her calls. And when Omi realised what he had done, she smiled. But her peasant grin disappeared as quickly as it came.

The fearful day has come, and Chansung was even more cautious with his doings, even if before, he couldn't give a slight damn. By putting them in the same room, the in-laws are crossing their fingers for a miracle to happen.

But behind closed doors, Omi and Chansung were not other than strangers in the same room. The presence of the other didn't seem bother her much, Chansung thought, despite sitting right next to her on the king size bed. She had one leg on top of the other, reading her newly bought novel, leaning against the bed frame, recommended by the bookstore; Love Story with Murders.

The title itself spooked Chansung, to be honest. She used to love reading chick-lits by Sophie Kinsella, Alexandra Potter and Danielle Steele, but now her obsession of the recently trails of murders occurring around Seoul have gotten the better of her.

And Chansung felt a pang of...what do you call that...ah! Jealousy.

Outside of the door, Hwang in-laws were peering to hear some noise, which quickly receed to 'any noise', then to... At least 'A noise', only to be disappointed when they hardly hear sounds of breathing. "When we were married, the wine glasses kept getting broken, the walls dented by the bed rocks..." Hwang-eomma whispered, agreed by Hwang-appa. "...The neighbours even called the police to check up on the 'nuisance' ," Hwang-appa continued. The 'cricket sounds' from behind the doors of the newly weds, feared the in-laws. "...maybe they were shy?" Appa suggested. Hwang-eomma nodded approvingly, and drifted her ear away from the doors. So did Hwang-appa.

Inside the room, Chansung was scrolling nothings on his Samsung tab, with the tails of his eyes peeping her movements, any movements or sound. But all the sounds she made was, either a small gasp, or a burp, or just plain 'Hmm..." She tilted her head to the other side as she reads.

He didn't want to hurt his own ego, but no one has to know this: That he actually went to Naver.com.

Wait for it. It wasn't visiting the mostly used online-searching machine in Korea, that caused him to shy off. It's what he types in the search box of Naver: 'How to make a girl moan', that put out his manliness fire.

Making a girl moan is the easiest thing any man could do, he scolds himself. He watches her turning the page, unaffected. What a wench-a word any man with a hurt ego would use against a woman who scarred his pride- this is all her fault, he thought. She yawns, quite audibly to him this time. Chansung rolls his eyes, annoyed. I was named iest man alive in Vogue for three consecutive years, and here she is, yawning her life away... With me beside her. On a bed! Together, and alone!

As if that didn't seem to bother Chansung, she closed her books, and the flat screen, watching what-ever was on, switching the channels, boringly.

Chansung scoffed, his dry lips, before giving her an eye-rolling combo, to which she effortlessly... ...ignored. He cleared his throat. She blankly stares at Rain's rocking body on-screen, promoting his new album.

Is it me, or is it as Rain gets older, he gets hotter...she thought. 

He cleared his throat again, a lot louder this time. She glances. ...Finally! Before she turn her attention back to the television. Chansung, now bewildered, took the remotes from her and placed them on his side table. "...Great. There's nothing to watch either," she responded, then lay down in the bed, and pulled the duvet up to her neck, to Chansung's horror. What the...

Chansung took his tab and made his way to the out of the room. Only then she sat up. "Do you mind if I turn off the lights?" Chansung glanced sideways at her, and answered, "...Knock yourself out." To which she giddily comply.

And then, she remembered something, something about her husband, "...oh! Where are you heading?" She looked as if she memorised the line from a sitcom somewhere, complete with fake smile and wide eyes. Her hair messed up, surrounded by a messy duvet. Chansung muttered under his breathe, but heard clearly by Omi.

"Watching ."

Omi chirped, "Okay!"