Hey,” he calls softly, hand reaching out to caress my cheek so that I’ll look at him. “Baby, it’s me.”

 

 I shiver at his foreign touch on my cheek yet I still let my chin being led to his direction, resulting in an eye-to-eye contact with him. His doe-like eyes stare back at mine in unadulterated concern and I end up being engulfed by guilt—when I am supposed to be the one who is freaked out by his mere existence in my bed.

 

Wait. Is this even my apartment?

 

I look around and curse again involuntarily. The room is a little bit bigger than mine and is definitely doesn't belong to me. Although covered by the same white paint that I like, the furniture is all unfamiliar to my eyes. The huge, white rimmed windows, however, remind me of my parent’s house. Through the closed glass-windows, I can see the top of a couple trees, so I assume that I’m at the second floor of a two-story house instead of my own apartment.

 

It seems that I'm at the blonde's place, which I don't even know where.

 

Great.

 

The last place that I remember is the bar, where I drank with my loyal friend and drinking-mate, Jinri, to chill out. I've always taken her with me whenever I feel like getting wasted, for I'm always afraid that I would end up in some stranger's bed. Like now.

 

To be honest, I don't even recall meeting this blonde man. Probably the alcohol level on my system was already too high when it happened. However, Jinri has never failed to guard me whenever I was too intoxicated to figure my way home, so I wonder how this guy managed to snuck me under Jinri's protective nose.

 

“Baby, are you okay?” he asks gently while his other hand check my temperature on my forehead. I can hear a bit of an accent in his voice. Is he a foreigner? I pull back immediately and I can tell that he is getting more worried, which is odd because you aren't supposed to give that much concern to a stranger. Right? 

 

“Can you give me a ride home?” I ask carefully, as if walking over thin ice. I have never been in a one night stand before, but he gives off a really innocent vibe—with his large eyes, small face, and pinkish thin lips—so maybe he will be kind enough to grant my request.

 

However, his jaw slacks as disbelief fills his facial expression. When he finally takes control of his mouth and closes it, a nervous laugh escapes him. 

 

“Is this some kind of joke, Baby? You should know that this is not funny. I’m not laughing.”

 

When I only look at him pointedly at his lacking answer, he bits his lower lip in what seems to be anxiousness.

 

“But Baby, this is home. This is not the first of April, right?” he asks in a rhetorical tone, clearly hoping that it is April mop when the date on my phone says that it isn’t. 

 

In fact, it says--as I've expected--Sunday, July 14th, 2013. Of course I remember what date it is. Yesterday was the... 

 

Forget it. Didn't I get drunk last night to get it out of my mind?

 

I turn my attention back to the blonde man, who is observing me keenly, as if trying to figure me out. I don’t get him, really. He acts too intimate for my liking, calling me with pet names and touching me freely as if it were a natural thing to do. But then again, he might have laid his fingers on more parts of my body last night, since we were supposedly… yeah.

 

Too bad I don't have any remembrance of what has happened.

 

“Listen,” I start sharply because his odd antics has begun to tick me on the wrong nerves, “I don’t know who you are and I’m not sure you know who I am, but I hope you can cut me some slack and stop acting too familiar with me when you are not.”

 

He scoffs indignantly but his eyes are still showing hints of worry. “I don’t understand what kind of game you want to play with me, Jihye,” he pauses and frowns when he sees me stiffen at the mention of my name (‘How does he know that?’).  “But we already have a plan for today so I’ll go to check up on Jin. I bet your shrilling cursing must have awakened him,” he continues while standing up from the bed, letting the world—and me—to see his bare behind. Blood rushes up to my cheeks at the sight and so I divert my gaze immediately, earning myself a teasing snicker from him.

 

“Don’t act like you haven’t seen all of me, Baby.”

 

I send a pillow flying to his rear as he sashays into the bathroom, making him yelps in surprise. He calls me again, but I refuse to look at him because I’m so done with him and his erted joke. I hear rustling of fabrics--probably he is dressing up--followed by the sound of closed door, telling me that he has left the room. With the comforter still wrapped around my form, I strut toward a nearby drawer to find something I can probably wear. I can feel warmth creeps on my cheeks at the possibility of me wearing some guy's shirt. To be honest, this will be my first time of doing so. I haven't even gotten the chance to use my boyfriend's as we have never passed second base yet.

 

My stomach churns uncomfortably at the thought of my boyfriend--my ex would be a more apropriate term right now--so I shake my head and focus on the drawer in front of me. On normal circumstances, I find rummaging through someone's belonging without permission is offending, but since I can't find my used clothings around the bed and I don't want to walk out of his house , I don't have any other choice. To my suprise, half of the drawer is filled with women clothing, and--even more shocking--many of them are recognizable by me. 

 

If he is just a one-night stand, so how can this possibly happen?

 

Could he be a stalker of mine that he ends up collecting dresses that are similar with mine? An unhealty obsession can easily explain why he knows my name, acts as if we were close, and calls me with pet names. Maybe he has planned to take advantage of my drunkeness from the very beginning. I shiver at the horrible thought. 

 

I can hardly believe that the blonde man is some obsessive creep, though, since he seems so pure and genuine. But experience teaches me that I shouldn't judge a book by its cover: the innocent-looking ones might be the most dangerous. Therefore, I decide to escape now, while he is out of the room.

 

I start to scan my surrounding, trying to find my way out. Going through the regular way out--the door and stairs--is too risque so I opt for the windows. There are tree branches near one of the open windows so it won't be too difficult for me to get down.

 

However, I know that I can't go out without anything on, so I take out a familiar pair of faded jeans, black-and-white stripes turtle-neck, and some undergarments--black and lacy, but it's not like I can pick anything else--and head toward the bathroom. I let the comforter falls to the floor before I step inside.

 

 A woman in her mid twenties stares back at me from the mirror. Her straight, jet-black hair drapes over her small face rather messily, gracelessly resting on her pale shoulders, and her bangs almost hides her almond-shaped, dark chocolate eyes.

It's me.

 

I can recognize that prominent nose, hollow cheeks, and thin lips anywhere. However, my usually almost flawless skin is decorated with numerous small, bluish bruises. Hickeys. I immediately flush at the thought of what has possibly caused them.

 

Is this a dream? I wonder as I hurriedly put on my shirt and tie my hair. I can still hardly accept my own theory of me being taken advantage of by some psycotic man, nor do I want to believe that I have just lost my ity in a blink of an eye, so I really hope that none of this is real. I pinch myself as hard as I can and winces at the pain it elicits.

 

So this is not a dream, then.

 

Or maybe just one that is too damn realistic, my stubborn mind insists.

 

When I step out of the bathroom, I am greeted by the sight of the blonde man in a loose, white robe, playing with a black-haired toddler. He sits on the edge of the bed while the chubby, pale boy rest on the older man's lap. It seems that I'm too late to run away; he has returned.

 

"Papa, fly me, fly me!" The boy enthusiastically pleads while shaking the blonde's arm. The man laughs--his eyes crinkle into small crescents as he does. I don't want to admit it, but he looks really beautiful, even almost angelic. It is almost impossible to think that he is capable of such crime that I formerly accused him of. It is also possible that he is just a really kind guy who easily gets attached after a physical encounter, right?

 

Get ready, Jin-ah," the blonde tells the boy before he lift the small kid, Jin, from the ground. Jin squeals happily and when his eyes find me, he excitedly yells, "Umma! I'm flying!”, taking the blonde's attention to me as well.

 

Did that kid just call me his mother?

 

Okay, I might have forgoten that I spent a casual night with someone, but there is no way I suddenly have a son. No freaking way. The last time I check, I'm still pretty much single and without any experience of being pregnant. I am--well, was--a , for God sake! So how could this brat suddenly address me like that?

 

This is just getting more and more bizzare.

 

It seems that the confusion written on my face doesn't go unnoticed by the blonde that he sets Jin down on the carpeted floor and looks at me worriedly.

 

"Baby, are you okay?" 

 

I don't get to answer him since I have to struggle to keep my balance after the little boy--once his small feet touch the ground--runs toward my legs and hugs them excitedly.

 

"Umma!" Jin whines while tugging on the hem of my shirt, leaving me with no option but to look down at him. As much as I'm displeased by the way he keeps on calling me 'Umma', his doe-like eyes--which resemble the blonde's so much--spark with so much innocent that I don't have the heart to convince him other way.

 

So I do the only thing I can, I lift and cradle him in my arms. "Yes, Jin-ah?"

 

"Fly me, fly me!" Jin enthusiastically pleads and with those teary eyes hopefully staring at me, I can't probably refuse it. As I awkwardly copy what the blonde has done before, Jin's laughter immediately fills the room. The tinkling-like sound stirs the insides of my stomach, but in an oddly pleasant way. As I spin the boy in the air, my gaze accidentally falls on the blonde man, whose features have soften. Noticing my eyes on him, he turns at me and his lips break into a gentle smile, accelerating my heart beat to an uncomfortable rate. 

 

Although the more rational parts of my mind warn me to be cautious of this guy, somehow his presence comforts me, for a reason I can't seem to figure out. I'm supposed to be afraid, to be scared of all the bizareness, yet I feel my anxiety gradually lessens.

 

Well, someone who is so kind likes this can’t possibly be dangerous, right?

---

 

Somehow, I end up spending the day with the blonde man and Jin, who choose to have the time of their life in a zoo. Don't get me wrong; the blonde man is still pretty suspicious for me, but I simply don't have any choice other than to tag along with them. They seem to be pretty harmless, anyway.

 

The streets we passed are familliar; it looks like a suburban area in Busan, where my late parents used to live. However, I'm not relieved by the fact that I recognize the surroundings. In fact, it confuses me more because my apartment, my work, and my life are revolving in Seoul. I'm certain that Jinri and I drunk at a bar in Seoul last night, so how the hell can he bring me here?

 

The rests of the trip is a blur to me, for all of my attention is spent on keeping an eye at the blonde man. I still can't shake off my suspicion on him, yet I find myself slowly enjoying his and Jin's companion. The father and son interaction is really adorable, as well as enviable.  Nevertheless, I remember him buying me an ice cream cone as we walk out of a zoo. It's supposed to creep me out even more when he manages to buy my favorite flavor as if it were natural to him, but strangely, I only feel grateful for the dessert. I can't really explain it, but I'm not afraid at all right now, despite of my earlier paranoia of the blonde man. 

 

The fight-or-flight reflex in the back of my mind keeps me on alert, but somehow, the deeper part of me feels--oddly--at ease, at the sight of the interaction between the blonde man and Jin. He probably isn't much older than me, but he seems to dote on Jin like how a loving father should. Seeing how compasionate he treats Jin makes me feels warmth spreading in my stomach. It reminds me of what could have been mine if Kyungsoo and I...

 

Stop it.

 

I shouldn't be thinking about him right now. Instead, I should find out a way to go back home because the blonde man doesn't seem like he is going to do me the favor. Instead, he only drives us around the city, stopping by in a park to let Jin wander around aimlessly while he and I sit on some swings, our feet grazing the sandy ground as we slowly move back-and-forth. 

 

"Can you drive me to the train station?" 

 

I decide to open the conversation, diverting his attention from Jin, who is being friendly with another toddler. It's getting late; so it will be better for me to catch a train back to Seoul as soon as possible. It has been a quite nice--albeit strange--experience, a refreshing scene as an alternative to my usually hectic days in Seoul, but it is time for me to get back to my life, since Monday is approacing.

 

"What for?" He asks me back hesitantly, while his fingers are idly playing with the loops of the swing chains.

 

"I need to go back to Seoul. I have work tomorrow. Thank you for today..." I trail off as I realize I still don't know who he is. "I'm sorry. I haven't got your name."

 

I know that one-night stands oftenly keep on being anonimous, but this blonde man is exceptionally nice--not that I've been in another one-night stand before--so probably it is worth to keep a contact with him. However, his expression contorts into something resembling hurt as soon as I say that.

 

He turns to look at me. His warm, dark chocolate orbs bore into mine, as if searching for some recognition. When he fails, he sighs dejectedly before he forces a smile on his lips. The pain that is obvious on his features wrenches my heart.

 

"When I was awakened by your screaming this morning, I thought you were pulling a prank at me. Throughout the day, I notice that you are being strange, but I keep on reminding myself that you are only being playful with me, that all of this is just a joke..." He pauses and looks at me hopefully, but when I don't utter a word, he only sighs again while he let's his hands fall from the swing-chain to his thighs.

 

"What is happening?" he muses, more to himself than directing it to me. His gaze falls to his lap, where his fingers are fidgeting with a gold band resting on his slim ring finger. 

 

"Are you really forgetting about me? Us?" He asks in desperation as he looks up once more. I am speechless; what am I supposed to remember, anyway?

 

The blonde then massages his temple in exasperation. “I don’t understand what you are doing, Jihye. Please stop this,” he pleads with exhaustion is written all over his handsome feature. “Baby, please. I’m done with playing along. Just tell me what you want and stop this, because this is creeping me out."

 

“You know, you are the one who creeps me out,” I reply truthfully. “I’ve never seen you before, but you act as if you were familiar with me. Your son even calls me ‘Umma’, which is inappropriate for someone whom he has never met. Last night, I was still in Seoul but somehow, you brought me here.”

 

When he only anxiously runs his hands through his hair and groans in frustration, I’m started to become annoyed with him. What is his problem? I’m only stating the facts.

 

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

 

“What is wrong with me? With me? What is wrong with you, Jihye!” His patience finally breaks; his tone goes higher as he restrains himself from screaming. However, his frustration only triggers me to get equally angry at him.

 

“There is nothing wrong with me! The problem is with you! Why are you keep on pretending that you are close with me!” I yell back and stand up from the swing. I might have attracted other people’s attention at us, but I couldn’t care less. In fact, the more people who watch us, the better. This freaky guy should really be arrested or something.

 

The blonde man’s eyes widen in incredulity. “Well, I am close with you. I’m your husband, for God sake!”

 

What?

 

"You're kidding me. I'm not married yet!" I splutter out in panic, because there is no way in hell or heaven that I could've forgotten of being married. That is just ridiculous.

 

"Then, can you explain the wedding ring on your finger?" he retorts back while pointing on my hand as he rises from his seat as well. I look at where he points and damn, there really is a gold band on my finger. 

 

"H-how... W-When?" I stutter as I take a good look on the ring. "Did you slip it on when I was asleep?"

 

His eyes widen at my accusation. "No!" His hand goes into his pocket in a search of something and for a split second I'm afraid that he will pull out a gun. However, he takes out a phone and scrolls through it, before he shows it to me. "Look, Jihye, it's our wedding picture," he says, almost begging to me.

 

What is pictured on the screen of the phone makes my heart drops into a seamless pit. I see myself in a beautiful, white wedding dress, smiling widely while latching my arms around a man-in-white-tux's arm. His arm. He also has a really happy grin painted on his handsome face, as if he were the happiest man on earth.

 

It can't be.

 

"How could this happen?" I whisper in disbelief.

 

It can't be me, right? It's impossible because I can't probably forget getting married. No way. No freaking way.

 

"You can't... I'm not... I didn't.... We..."

 

 "I married you, Jihye," the blonde says seriously as he wraps his fingers around my trembling ones.

 

“I don’t…”

 

"Four years ago, we got married. You are now Lu Jihye, formerly Jung Jihye, a twenty-five years old woman who was born in Busan but grew up in Seoul. A hard working girl who never gives up on her dreams even after losing her parents. Jung Soojung's younger sister who loves green tea as well as all of its variation. Choi Jinri's best friend who can never sleep unless all the lamps are .  A teacher who isn't fond of kids at all but is able to love her own child endlessly," he finishes in one breath and I am stunned by how much he knows about me--how he manages to find out about my sister, Jinri, and my habits--but I still can't believe that I'm married with him. Although, a little bit of me has begun to believe that, somehow, he isn’t making everything up.

 

"How..."

 

"I love you. I married you. I know you. Please stop this," he cuts me off, but in a really gentle tone. His wistful eyes are staring at mine pleadingly. He carefully reaches out to me and caresses my cheek fondly, but I flinch at the unfamiliar touch. He retracts his hand immediately and wipes his own face with it out of frustration.

 

“God…” I hear him mutters to his palm as he slumps back to the swing. I return to my previous seat as well; thoughts of what he has just said to me occupy my mind. However, it hits me that something was off in his knowledge of me.

 

"I'm not a teacher," I tell him and he looks back at me with confusion.

 

"It is true that I am Jung Jihye, 25 years old. But I'm not a teacher; I'm a brain surgeon resident in Seoul. Single, unfortunately. Last night, 13th of July 2013, I went out for some drink with my friend Jinri in a nearby bar in Seoul." 

 

It is his turn to be dumbfounded.

 

"What?" 

 

"I don't understand what is happening either, but that is what I remember," I tell him honestly, although I can see that he can hardly believe it. The blonde man only scoffs in response, but when he sees the seriousness in my eyes, he freezes.

 

“That is not true,” he denies but I can feel that his confidence is faltering. It seems that he starts to take what I said into account.

 

“It is. Don’t you trust me?”

 

He chuckles hollowly before he answers. “How am I supposed to?” he says, but it sounds like he is debating with himself as well. “I went to the fine dining with you, last night. It was our 4th anniversary. I even slept with my arms around you last night! How am I supposed to believe that out of a sudden, you are somebody else?” he asks me rhetorically, but I sense that somewhere in between those words, he begins to doubt himself.

 

No words are spoken afterward. We sit in silence, with only the children laughter in the playground filling the space between us. I ponder at the possibilities that might have caused this to happen. He sounds too earnest, too frustrated to be lying. He seems to be genuinely distressed with me refusing to admit that I am wife. But I can’t be, right? 

 

Suddenly, an idea comes to me.

 

“Can I borrow your phone?” I ask him carefully and he looks back at me with suspicion. “I’m just going to search for my name in the internet. I’ve written a couple times for the ‘Korean Medical Journal’, so it would definitely turns up if I google my name. That way, you can see that I’m really a doctor and not your teacher-wife,” I explain.

 

Doubt is clear in his eyes, yet he still hands me his smart phone after he unlocks it. It’s iphone 5, the same model as mine, except in different color. His is black, while mine is white. I shiver uncomfortably at the sight of my picture as his wallpaper, but quickly scroll to find the browser. I type my name in the search bar, as well as the title of one of my published papers. I wait anxiously while the page loads. To my surprise, no matched entries are found.

 

This is odd.

 

I refresh the page a couple times, but nothing changes. I go to the homepage of KMJ, hoping that it is on maintenance or something so that it is possible that my articles aren’t showed because of technical problems. To my dismay, it is working perfectly. I enter my username and password, but strangely, it is rejected. My heart races in discomfort.

 

How can this happen?

 

I open other tabs to open my many e-mails--gmail, yahoo-mail, hotmail, and an official e-mail from the university—but oddly, all of my username and password are also refused. I can feel my fingers tremble as fright surges in me.

 

What is happening?

 

Is what he is saying about me true? Then if it is, why don’t I have any memory of it? Why do I remember something else in place of it?

“Are you okay? You look pale,” the blonde man asks me in concern but I am still muted, too shocked with what I’ve found. He carefully picks his phone back and takes a glance on the screen. A look of pity flashes through his features.

 

“I’m not lying. I don’t understand what is happening,” I mumble and surprisingly, he nods in assurance.

 

“I trust you.”

 

My eyes widen at his simple statement.

 

“But you said…”

 

“I trust you. If you say so, then probably that is how it is. You are trying hard to prove your point, so I’ll believe you,” he says calmly while pocketing his phone back. I don’t get the chance of asking him more since Jin has run back to us, telling us that he is hungry. The blonde man then decides to take us all home, so that we could eat dinner there. He looks at me in uncertainty, but I simply follow him to the car, for I have no idea of where else I can go.

 

The ride back to his house is quiet, except for the occasional comments by Jin, which is quickly responded by the blonde. I can feel the not-so-secret glances he steals at my direction, though. Albeit his certainty when he said that he believed me, I’m pretty sure as hell that he is actually still as confused as I am.

 

When we arrive at his house, the blonde man quickly gets into the kitchen, tailed by his hungry son. Jin disturbs him when he cooks, so I decide to give the older man a hand by taking the attention of the little boy. I use up all of my knowledge that I got during my pediatric rotation years ago to keep Jin entertained. Thankfully it isn't difficult since he turns out to be a pretty easy kid. Although, I still get quite uncomfortable with him calling me 'Umma'.

 

The three of us eat dinner not long after. His cooking is only a little bit passing the level of being eatable; not that I can cook better than him, anyway. Jin, however, seems to enjoy his meal, which is a really cute sight to see. When dinner is done, Jin plays around in the living room for a while, before the blonde tells the toddler to brush his teeth and go to bed.

 

Despite of all the bizarreness and confusion, chuckles escape me as I watch the older man chases Jin around. The little boy naughtily refuses his father's order and cleverly dodges the man’s reaching arms, triggering a series of frustrated groans from the formerly calm man. Both father and son look back at me before they also break into laughter.

 

When Jin is finally satisfied with tiring his young father, he finally complies with his father's demand and obediently follows the blonde to the bathroom. Then, they go into Jin's room, where glow-in-the dark stickers in the shape of stars are plastered on the wall as well as the white ceiling. Jin eagerly sits on his bed, clearly waiting for something. Taking it as his cue, the blonde tucks the toddler in his bed, while softly singing a lullaby. His voice is light and tender, but the song is unfamiliar to my ear, in a language that I don't recognize. 

 

After Jin seems to be asleep, the blonde kisses the boy's forehead affectionately before he turns off the light and leads me out of Jin's room. He closes the door gently behind him and turns back to face me. “Maybe you should rest for now,” he tells me, “tomorrow we’ll try to figure this out. Just use our—my—room, the one that you woke up in,” he explains. It isn’t that late yet, probably still somewhere after ten, but he clearly seems tired so I don’t give any complain. He leads me to the bedroom and lets me in while he leans on the wall outside the door.

 

“Lock the door. I promise I won't lay a finger on you, but just lock it so you can be sure that I won’t be doing anything to you,” he orders, as if reading what is in my mind.

 

“What about you? Where will you sleep?” I ask him curiously.

 

“I’ll use the guest room downstairs. Don’t worry,” he answers and smiles reassuringly.

 

“But this is your own house; you shouldn’t be the one using the guest room.”

 

 “You’ll need to change into something more comfortable to sleep,” he elaborates his reason, “so feel free to use anything in the dresser, my clothes included. Besides, this room is the only one with bathroom inside of it, so it will be easier for you if you decide to take a bath.” 

 

I do have a habit of walking out of the bathroom only in my towel to pick my clothes from the cabinet, but I choose not to bother how he knows it anymore. So I just nod and bid him good night as he leaves. I lock the door like how he instructed and proceed to take a shower, because I remember that I haven’t gotten any earlier this morning. The similarities of the bathroom cabinet content with mine don’t bug my mind any longer.  I simply take it for granted, glad that I can use my usual preference of soap and shampoo. 

 

I put on a loose black tee over plain, black cotton pajama trousers and make myself comfortable on the bed, secretly hoping that when I wake up, everything will be back to normal and this will turn out as only a dream. I forget that I’ve been suffering insomnia for the past few weeks. I’ve been turning around, right and left, back and forth, but I still can’t fall asleep. I’ve tried counting hundreds of sheep and imagining them jumping off a fence, but it is also to no avail. My mind has started to wander around the events that happened before yesterday, so I sit up straight and shake my head fervently.

 

I don’t want to remember any of that anymore.

 

I get down from the bed and unlock the door, trying to find something to drink in the kitchen. I am rummaging the content of the refrigerator, mulling over milk or orange juice, when I hear a familiar voice from behind me.

 

“Can’t sleep?”

 

I jump back immediately and bump into him as a result. 

 

“I’m sorry. I’m just a little thirsty,” I quickly apologize since I realize that it is inappropriate for me to look through his fridge unattended like that.

 

“It’s alright. Let me make you something, though. Maybe it will help you relax,” he replies with a polite smile. I notice that he is still in his attire from before, button-up white shirt and black jeans; except that his shirt is now rumpled and the first two buttons are opened, revealing his milky, white skin.

 

He boils some water and prepares what is seems to be tea leaves, taken from the cupboard.  He pours the hot water into the tea-leaves filled mug. He adds a bit of sugar and milk, stirs it, and then hands it to me. Actually, tea contains caffeine, so there is a higher possibility of me being awake after I drink that instead of being sleepy, but I still accept it out of common courtesy.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“No problem,” he replies out of reflex before he opens the refrigerator, fishing out for a bag of peanuts. 

 

“You’re not going to sleep?” 

 

The blonde grin boyishly and I feel my heart flutters a bit. It is just now I realize that he is really good looking.

 

“Nah. MU is playing tonight. Want to watch?”

 

I don’t answer him, but I still follow him when he heads to the living room. He doesn’t seem to mind, though. He makes himself comfortable on the couch while opening the peanuts bag. He offers me and I take some before I decide to take a sip on his drink. 

 

“It’s good,” I exclaim, truly out of surprise rather than politeness. I’m not a fan of green tea, but it really tastes nice.

 

“I know,” he answers with a grin without peeling his eyes from the TV screen, “it’s your favorite.”

 

He notices my sudden silence and apologizes for his previous nonchalant comment. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. This is hard for me to get used to as well.”

 

“Yeah. It’s okay. I can understand that.”

 

Despite of my initial refusal, I really mean what I said. I’ve started to believe the blonde man said, so I can imagine how difficult for him to treat his wife for four years like a guest that he has never met before. I’ve seen him tried, with giving me his room and maintaining his distance from me, so I appreciate his effort.

 

“Can you tell me about yourself?”

 

The blonde man looks back at me in befuddlement, clearly not used of my sudden friendliness.  I smile in return, feeling a bit guilty for making a bad first impression to him.

 

“You know a lot about me and I have told you some things about myself, so it will only be fair if I learn about you as well, right? I’m sorry, your wife must have known you like the back of her hand, but unfortunately it is me here, not her; so will you enlighten me?” 

 

I wince, it sounds much better in my head. Now I sound desperate to know him. The blonde man only laughs lightly before he finally tears his gaze from the screen and turns to look at me.

 

"My name is Lu Han," he starts as he taps his own chest with his gold ring adorned hand, "but usually you—she—call me 'Xiao Lu' or sometimes even 'Lulu'. I hate the last one, anyway," he chuckles nostalgically before he continues, "I am twenty-nine and originally came from Beijing, but I've been here for almost all of my life. I’m a lecturer.”

 

Now I know why I hear a faint accent on his Korean. He turns out to be Chinese.

 

“Anything else you want to know?”

 

“I was thinking of asking you about how you met your wife, but I’m afraid that it will be uncomfortable for you.”

 

Lu Han looks at me with furrowed eyebrows. “Why would I be? It is probably the best thing that happens in my life,” he says truthfully, before he flushes when he realizes how cheesy he sounds.

 

“Oh God, I didn’t say that.”

 

An upward curve creeps on the edge of my lips.

 

“Do tell me, then.”

 

Lu Han takes a glance at me before he focuses his attention back on the screen. “I’ll tell you while I watch, okay. I really don’t want to miss this.” 

 

I chuckle at him. Boys will be boys, eh?

 

“Sure. I don’t get what is so fun of watching twenty-two grown up fighting over one ball, though,” I reply while shrugging, sipping my tea in the mean time. It really suits my taste and for an unexplainable reason, it makes my eyelids feel much heavier. Did he put some sleeping pills on it?

 

“It’s a highly competitive game. It’s not only about taking the ball, it is also about skill, endurance, and strategy,” Lu Han quickly retorts. It is obvious that he is a big fan of soccer.

 

“But it is still, basically, too many people fighting over one ball. Why don’t they grow up and get a ball for each of them?”

 

I take another sip of my tea while Lu Han rolls his eyes. “The beauty of a soccer game is indeed difficult to comprehend by those who have no athletic skills at all.”

 

I almost choke on my tea hearing his answer and place the almost empty mug on the table.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“Well, you at sports so you can’t understand the attraction of soccer. I pity you for that. You missed a lot,” he answers matter-of-factly, as if he were explaining something as natural as the weather, catching me off guard. Well, it is true that I do not excel in sport, but I don’t expect him to be so laidback like this so soon, teasing me as if we have known each other for long. 

 

Maybe this is just how he usually interacts with his wife.

 

“Does your wife hate sports too?” I ask him and Lu Han stops, a faint smile ghosting on his lips. Pleasing memories is probably resurfacing in him.

 

“Hate is a strong word,” he says, “but she shares the same opinion with you.”

 

“She thinks that it is a useless game too?” I casually prod while leaning back to the couch. Somehow, it feels more inviting and cozy than the bed upstairs. 

 

“Yeah. But she still watches it with me, anyway.”

 

“Why?” I ask because I really am lost. If she isn’t fond of it, why does she do it?

 

Lu Han shrugs. “Maybe because she loves me and she tries to show her support for me.” Another smile graces his lips. “Or maybe because she secretly admit that soccer is great,” he adds and I’m not really sure if he means it or simply joking. However, a memory is played back in my mind before I can stop it.

 

“I’m thinking of making pasta for our lunch. Will you join me?”

 

I turned my attention from the TV to face my boyfriend, standing with his apron on. His huge, owl-like eyes stared at me hopefully. Cooking is, after all, his passion.

 

“Why would I?”

 

My answer came out harsher than what I have intended, but I paid no heed at the moment. I was too tired; I’ve just came out from a ten-hour surgery last night. I forgot, though, that his restaurant was also holding a big event in the previous night and being a main chef must have tire him as well. A crestfallen look was casted on his face. 

 

“Well, we haven’t spent time together lately and your mother told me to teach you some tricks with pasta, like what I made for her birthday.”

 

I scratched the back of my head idly. “Just teach her instead, then. I’m really tired, Kyungsoo. Maybe next time? I’ve just sliced a head open; I don’t think I’m up to slice some tomatoes and meat right now. You are a much better cook than me, anyway.”

 

His expression turned sour, alerting me that I probably had gone overboard. I had been his girlfriend for almost eight years, after all. “Kyungsoo-ah, I’m really sorry. Why don’t we eat out instead? I’m starving anyway,” I offered while turning off the TV and then stood up to find my car key. Kyungsoo, however, stopped me halfway to the key rack.

 

“Let me,” he said in a low tone and reached for his own car key. “Help me untie this, please, I’m hungry too,” he adds with a soft smile before turning back to let me untie his apron. But if I pay more attention to him that day, I would have found out that his smile was only a forced one.

 

“Jihye, are you okay?”

 

Lu Han’s worried voice snaps me out of my reverie. I blink, only to found his face blocking my sight. “You spaced out,” he informs me, “Are you sleepy? Why don’t you go upstairs?”

 

I shake my head hurriedly. I don’t really want to sleep and while being reminded of Kyungsoo. I wouldn’t be able to sleep well with that; I’ll only be restless, like the other nights for the past few weeks.

 

“Tell me more about your wife, please, Lu Han.” 

 

He grins in response. “Sure. I first met her almost five years ago, on my first day of being a lecturer. She is in my first class, but being the diligent student she was, she slept during the whole hour. I was as nervous as hell—who wouldn’t in their first day, teaching students not much younger than himself?—but she was snoring oh so peacefully,” he paused to chuckle nostalgically. 

 

“I called her out after class and instead of me being angry to her, she was actually mad at me! She complained that I didn’t wake her up so that she missed the lesson! How dare she? But it was all it took for me to notice her more. At first, I was intending to find out her flaws and pointing it out to the whole class—I know it is low, but I was out for revenge. She humiliated me on my first day,” he explains when he catches my judging look at him, “but what I saw actually amazed me. She has been struggling through a lot of hardships--her parents had just passed away not so long before, her long-time boyfriend broke up with her, and her sister went abroad because of marriage—yet she didn’t give up on her study. After learning more about her, I was keen on helping her reaching her dream.  She was, after all, alone. I didn’t expect it at first, but along the way, we ended up falling for each other.”

 

Lu Han ends his story with a melancholy smile; his eyes that are focused on the screen turn somewhat wistful. However, his expression quickly changes into joy in a matter of minutes, as he stands up to clap and cheers. Apparently, someone has just scored in the game.

 

“That was great, that was great,” he mutters while sitting back to the couch. His eyes are glued to the screen once more and it seems as if he forgets that I was there. He blindly grabs his peanuts bag and starts to munch eagerly. I rest my back on the couch, letting it holds all of my weight. Lu Han’s story sounds like those cheesy, typical romantic dramas, but maybe having a clichéd life isn’t all that bad.

 

Lu Han doesn’t say anything anymore as his attention is all caught by the game unraveling in front of him. Having nothing else to do, I watch the game as well. It is boring; all I’m seeing are men in jersey, running around with a ball. I can hardly differentiate one player and another, so I don’t really get whether the ball has been passed or not. I’m not sure how many minutes have passed, but I feel a yawn coming out. I cover my mouth lazily before I sink even deeper into the couch. The loud sound from the TV keeps my mind from wandering around. My eyes are slowly fluttering close as I gradually drift to sleep. 

 

Little did I know that this is only a beginning of a bizarre journey.

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TBC

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AN: it's finally out!

Wow, this is probably the longest chapter I have written up to date. Thank you for everyone who are patient enough to wait for this. Thak you for the 22 subs, 1 votes, and 2 comments. :)

I hope you all enjoy this story as much as I enjoy writting it.

with love,

himalayancat