I woke up the next morning to find myself staring directly at a full-blown picture frame of Kai and me together, smiling down on me. Mocking me. I frowned and got out of bed; the wedding photos must have arrived sometime yesterday, while I was out, because I hadn't seen the picture there yesterday.

After washing up, I headed downstairs for breakfast. Once again, Jongin was heading out. Today I didn't even bother greeting him and simply headed into the kitchen, ignoring him altogether. Even though Eun Hye and the others were already there, I felt like preparing myself breakfast. As I heard the door slam shut, I breathed out a sigh of relief. "Everything okay, honey?" Eun Hye asked me gently.

"Yeah, things are fine," I replied without much conviction. I ate my still-steaming plate of sunny-side eggs and headed upstairs to change and go to my parents' company. It was technically where I worked, even though I was in charge of insignificant tasks like answering the company e-mails. And having something to do was better than wandering around at home with too much time on my hands.

My mother spared me a smile as she rushed past me, busy with something. I went up into my office and plopped down on the couch. After a few moments, I headed to my desk, where I set to work checking all the business e-mails. I was glad that I had to time to think, just working on diplomatic replies. Eventually, though, every important message had been addressed, and I had nothing left to do.

My first instinct was to call Chanyeol and meet up for lunch somewhere. As I picked up my phone, I realized that that might not be such a great idea, considering the terms we'd last left on. I sighed, then dialed anyway. Better to resolve it than to let it linger between us forever. And the longer I waited, the worse it would get.

Three rings. Four. Five. Just when I was sure the call would go to voicemail, Chanyeol picked up. "Hello?"

"Hey, Chanyeol, it's me--"

"I know," he cut me off. "What do you need?"

I was hurt by the rough attitude. "I was just wondering if you had time, you know, to meet up somewhere for lunch? I know you have your job, but you would normally be on break right around now, so--"

"I'm glad you know I'm busy with work, then. Sorry, I won't be able to make it. Have a good day." He hung up.

I stared at my phone, shocked by Chanyeol's outright hostility. I'd never seen him this angry before, for this long. I'd especially never been on the receiving end of his anger. What was wrong with him? 

Alright, then. I went to the nearby cafe and ordered a caramel mocha, along with a slice of cake. I picked at it, not having much of an appetite. Then I headed to some nearby stores and walked around aimlessly. I checked my watch. 3:30 p.m. It was a decent time to go home, considering that I had nothing left to do, really. 

Home. Not the house that Jongin and I shared. I drove back to my real home, the one I'd lived in for the majority of my life. My room was just as I had left it, and much more welcoming than the empty, lonely, spacious room I'd been living in for the past few days.

I decided that I would spend a few days here back at home. Jongin wouldn't miss me anyway; it wasn't as if we ever even really talked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a good three days back in my home environment, I moved back to the one I shared with Jongin. As always, I ate dinner alone, then headed upstairs to my room and sat on my bed, studying the picture hanging on the wall. It had turned out nicely; we both looked happy. I snorted. What a joke.

But in any case, I told myself, even though Jongin had someone he'd loved, and lost, I should still try to talk to him. He wasn't the only one who'd lost someone precious to him. Not only had I lost my boyfriend, I'd lost my best friend, the one person I could talk to in this world. Considering that Jongin was my husband, we should be able to at least greet each other properly.

I waited for Jongin to come home. 7:30. 8:00. 8:30. Odd. He was usually home by nine, at the latest. But he still wasn't home by 10:00. I began to wonder if something was wrong.

Just as I was about to give up and go to sleep, I heard the door opened. Peeking downstairs, I saw that it was Jongin, who seemed to be having difficulty taking off his shoes. I also noticed that he was not wearing a suit, but rather casual clothes: a black t-shirt with a plaid button-up on top, jeans.

Was he out partying?

Was he drunk?

I slowly made my way down the stairs and saw Jongin sprawled out on the couch in the living room. Standing behind the couch, I peered down at him. "Hey," I said. He reeked of alcohol.

No response.

"Hey," I said again, shaking him this time.

There was still no response; he was passed out, snoring. I found a trash can and placed it on the floor, next to the couch. Just in case. I decided to try one more time, poking his waist. He stirred. A few more pokes, and Jongin opened his eyes. They landed on me. "Who..." he started, slurring. "Ahh, So Eun. My wife." He snorted. "What a joke. My wife."

He grabbed my hand, which was still on his waist, finger outstretched. He traced some invisible pattern on it, then flipped it around and studied it some more. "You have pretty hands," he said. Obviously, he was drunk. There was no way he would talk to me like that if he were sober. "You're pretty too. Actually I don't know why I just feel like I hate you; I have no reason to. You're nice, you're pretty, and you seem like a good person."

He was still tracing his fingers along my hand, and it was distracting. "It's just, you don't know what I've been through. No one does! Do you have any idea what it feels like to be under pressure every day, so have so much expected of you? It's tiring. It wears me down. That's why I don't like looking at you, don't like being near you. It reminds of that constant pressure I'm under. Otherwise I'm pretty sure I would have fallen for you at some point, had we met under different circumstances. You're actually pretty close to my type." He was rambling now. "So Eun. So Eun-ah. Jung So Eun. Jung. So. Eun." He kept repeating my name, over and over again, until eventually he was snoring.

I gently pulled my hand out of his, and went to find a blanket for him. I was still unsure how to feel about his little rambling session, but in any case, he wouldn't remember by the time he was sober. Even if he meant what he said, there was no way he would do anything about it tomorrow. It would be the same, ignoring one another in this household.

But if he really meant what we said, couldn't he try a little harder to see more than just bad things when looking at me? I sighed as I draped the blanket I'd taken from his bed over him, then went upstairs to go sleep.

"Good nighht, Jongin...oppa."