Chapter LIX:

The Last Day in Paradise: Part I

06:37 KST 

Sandara awoke with the hazy sunlight pouring into her dim lit room and a lone tear trickling down the side of her cheek. 

She didn't wipe it away.  Instead, she blinked slowly,  parted her lips and she let out a breath, testing the dull edges of her consciousness. Wafting through the small gaps of her window panes, the faint smell of salt in the cool air and the gentle sounds of the crashing waves of the ocean welcomed her senses, and then she was reminded that she was still in DongBaek Island--a paradise that witnessed too many things. 

She stared at the ceiling. 

It almost feels like I've been here for years. 

With all the things that happened in that Island, the week they originally planned on staying there felt like an eternity, and with the tears, sweat and energy she had shed the past few days, it was no wonder she felt almost nothing now like an empty husk of flesh and bones. Aside from the telltale signs of intense stress and fatigue her body had recovered from--the heavy and dull limbs, swollen eyes and dried lips, Dara’s head was light with ease. Perhaps shedding gallons of tears, weeping her grief into the night had its advantages. But of course, it left her with bloodshot eyes and swollen lids.  She imagined herself that instant, could already see the disaster that was her current look, and breathed out a curse.

“Ugh. this absolutely .”

Deciding that she needed to put a cold compress on her eyes, Dara shifted on the mattress. She turned to her side only to be welcomed by Lee Donghae’s sleeping face and his easy breathing, the drowsy tangle of his limbs and the bare stretch of dark pillow between them.  His mouth was slightly parted, hair unkempt. 

Dara breathed, a small smile on her lips.

After everything she had put him through, it was no wonder that he was this tired. True to his words, Donghae stayed with her for long hours while Dara continued to bawl her eyes out. For the whole day she catapulted herself inside the room, suspended between the present and the past while the man served as her anchor, feeding and comforting her. He never uttered a complaint nor did he show any sign of irritation during the time of her vulnerability. The man simply whispered soothing words, all the while her hair gingerly and wiping her tears away. He was patient, so unbelievably patient, caring and selfless that one wouldn’t think this man and the exalted celebrity who was revered by herds of fangirls was one and the same person. At some point, Dara recalled him humming to her, sang her anxiety to sleep with a honey glazed voice. 

Maybe that was why she was able to sleep peacefully and why she had a poignant dream rather than having a traumatic nightmare.

“Focus on what’s in front of you.”

With the echo of Jaewon's words lingering at the back of her mind and the sight of Lee Donghae, a glorified pop star, sleeping so soundly in front of her, Dara couldn't help but chuckle at the uncanny coincidence of it all. 

"Should I focus on sleeping men now?" 

Gingerly, she lifted her hand between them, reached for his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. When he didn’t budge, her fingers began tracing the outline of his cheeks, the little stubbles of his facial hair teasing her fingers. And where her hand touched, Dara’s eyes followed. His face was a smooth expanse of skin--not that she hadn’t noticed this before. But now that she had all the liberty to touch and study him like this, Dara couldn’t help but think how Donghae’s features were molded by an indulgent sculptor who wanted to spoil the eyes of his audience. He was exhilarating to look at.

She then took note of a small scratch mark on his jaw--the only blemish on his face.  A thin, infinitesimal line that was barely an inch with pinpricks of dried blood, the glaring pinkish red on  fair skin. It looked fresh, Dara thought as she stared at it and guessed that maybe he got it during the time when he found her near the cliff, when she thrashed him desperately like a wild animal vying for an escape. 

Dara felt her insides churn as shame and fear rose in her, sudden and sharp. Just as how a sobered person would be stabbed with regrets after a wild drunken night--only this was worse. At least, when you are drunk you could blame the alcohol. In mental breakdowns, you could only blame yourself for being weak, and unstable--and he saw her like that. Donghae had witnessed the pathetic side of her that she dared not show anyone. 

This was the moment of truest peril, and she tensed, fearing the future. How would it change the things between the two of them? How would he treat her now knowing her tragic past? What kind of gaze would be casted at her the moment Donghae opened his eyes? Would it be glazed with sympathy? A leaden look of concern? Would he be disappointed knowing Dara wasn’t actually the tough lawyer he thought she was?

As though the last thought scalded her fingers, Dara retrieved her hand.  

She didn’t want that. Yet these unanswered questions, like seeds, took a root within her chest, growing by each second, twisting and wrapping itself around her heart. For all her imperious grace and guarded stance, Dara was paper-thin. And now that her thick walls had been crumbled, she felt --her true self standing bare and exposed in front of her boyfriend. 

“Fake boyfriend,” the voice of cold reality whispered in her head.

Of course, she had to remind herself of that fact. Beyond their agreement to act as lovers, Donghae was simply her past client. And that there was nothing connecting them to each other. 

What now? 

What will happen to them now? 

Stop. 

Before she could wallow further in her deep, depressing thoughts, Dara shook her head, exhaled the suffocating negativity of it all and lifted herself up. There was no point in thinking about it now. 

Let's just focus on fixing this god awful puffy eyes for now. 

But before she could fully haul herself up from the bed, an arm slithered its way around her waist, trapping her on her spot. Dara stiffened at that, biting back a gasp at the sensation of his forearm touching her belly beneath the thin shirt she was wearing.  Then a low raspy voice spoke behind her. The sudden touch and the effect of his morning voice--which was lower and raspier than usual-- a little too startling for Dara’s heart that it took a moment before his words made sense. 

"Where are you going?" 

She knew she was blushing.  "You--you're awake?" she stammered and hated her clumsy tongue for it.  Of all the things she could say, she stated the obvious. 

"Yup. Still sleep