Speeding through the streets Namjoo ended up at her apartment in almost five minutes. She was angry at her mother for never sharing with her her father. She was angry with her mother for taking her from her father, leaving him, abandoning him, and letting him die alone. It wasn’t fair. Namjoo would have given anything to see her father once, just once; even a glance from afar would have filled her heart up with satisfaction. But the chance…she’d never been given.

When she thought of how sad her father might have been, not being able to see her grow up; Namjoo felt saddest. He probably didn’t even know how she looked like, he’d missed her graduation and he’d missed watching her grow up. Where she’d grown up and whether she was with fortune or not didn’t matter, all she cared about was growing up with someone she loved. She would have been happier with her father than in that house where she’d felt like an outcast for so many years.

Namjoo suddenly thought that if her father were alive she’d cry to him, she’d tell him about all her pains. He’d hug her and tell her everything would be alright and that was all she needed; someone to hear her out.

Racing into her apartment Namjoo searched through her closet for any kind of duffel bag, but when she couldn’t find one she grabbed her old high school backpack. Immediately stuffing it with any kind of clothes she grabbed anything without much thought. All she thought about was how she wanted to leave this city at this moment.

Namjoo knew she was being impulsive; that she wasn’t really thinking or in her right mind, but she couldn’t stand being in her apartment so alone. For a few days, couldn’t she have the right to escape for a few days?

As she got up to go she stopped in the middle of the doorway. Yet she couldn’t leave her responsibilities just like that.  

A few seconds later, Bo Young picked up, “Bo Young, I’m going to be gone for a few days. Turn in my leave for me; I’ll make it up when I return. Thanks.”

“Wait, where are you going? And for how long? Namjoo, Namjoo!” But Namjoo had already hung up.

Namjoo took another step forward and clutched onto the phone in the middle of her hand. In the end, she didn’t want any contact with anyone after all. Tossing the phone onto her bed she walked out of the door and started toward the road. The sky was starting to darken, but life around her was as lively as ever.

After hailing a cab Namjoo directed the driver to the bus station, bought a ticket, and was headed for the countryside. She slept for half the night before awakening to the dim eerie blue of dawn. The sun was yet to come up and she was yet to arrive at her destination, where she’d born. Along the drive Namjoo stared at the picture of the thin man sitting beside her in old shorts and a dirty tank top. She didn’t think she could have been any older than five or six years old.

Namjoo was overwhelmed with regret, her heart filling up with another hole.

The grandma in front of her handed her a roll as they neared the village. Within another hour and a half Namjoo finally left the bus, its engine roaring into the distance as it left her. Before her was a long dirt road leading to shabby homes, some of them yellow; some of them white but all with some type of red rooftop.

Lifting the piece of paper up Namjoo stared at the address and lost, walked up to a woman walking out of her home in rain boots. She was carrying a basket of some kind of seeds in her hand, Namjoo saw as she neared her.

“Excuse me, do you know where this house is?”

“Ah! Up there,” the woman pointed her hand back, “it’s closer to the bottom of the mountain, way over there. Just keep going straight and you’ll reach.”

Namjoo nodded and stared down the long winding road that seemed to never end. The sun was slowly rising and she was starting to sweat the further she got. There were dogs barking at her from the yards of the village houses and children running around would stop to stare at her before resuming their games. Namjoo saw a few adults, but most of them old grandmas and grandpas in flowery pants or solid colored pants. Few would glance her way, but none of them stopped to question her.

By the time the better looking houses disappeared behind her she came across wooden boarded houses with weaker sheets of some metal roof. The yards were filled with greens and plants, farming tools, and stray cats. Then finally, finally Namjoo matched the photo with an empty yard of about a quarter size of a soccer field made up of nothing but dirt and weeds.

Running her eyes over the plain white papered windows on the side of the wooden home she turned to look at the aged sliding door. This was an older traditional home in the village, Namjoo realized, and her father had lived here by himself.

Two closed sheds stood on either side of the home, but the doors were locked so Namjoo had no idea what they had been used for. Had her dad farmed by himself? Was that how he made a living? All by himself? There was a lot of dirt around and where various gardening tools should have been propped up against the home was emptiness. There was nothing here, but the depressing home.

“Who are you?” A voice popped up behind her.

Turning around brought to her a middle aged woman in a loose brown button up with a gray vest over that and black farming pants. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, her face tan from the many days spent farming outside.

“Hello,” Namjoo greeted and started toward her, holding the photograph from her mother’s office out. “My father used to live here.”

“Really?! Old Man Kim is your father? Oh god, what is this?!” The woman exclaimed, her face blown by surprise. “I guess it is true after all! Look at you, all grown up.”

“Do you know if there’s a key to my father’s house?” Namjoo switched the subject.

“Go right in. Your father never bothered to lock up,” the woman urged. “I live right next door. Your old man was so kind to us all. If you ever need anything, don’t hold back and come by. My, look at you so grown up.” She went on again. “Your father seemed so lonely sometimes, my heart ached for him. Such an old man like that and no one came to visit him at all. At least children should come by, but no one ever did. I always wondered if he was waiting for someone, but then he suddenly got very sick. It was such a sad time.”

Namjoo smiled, imagining how her father must have felt. Her heart was sick.

“But I’ll get going now. Your father must be so happy that you’re here, go on and look around,” the woman encouraged.

Namjoo nodded, watching her waddle off then turning around slowly stepped toward the house; her heart becoming heavier every step of the way. Her poor father had always been alone while her mother had remarried and she’d spent life in luxury.

Pushing the door aside she gazed into the oncoming emptiness. The floorboards were yellow upon entrance; the sitting room barely as large as her kitchen. This was so different from the comfort she knew. Namjoo stared at the door to her far left and opened it to see a small wooden area where the grimy iron stove and the rest of the kitchen was. It was barely enough space for two people to stand in.

Stepping back into the home Namjoo opened one of the rooms to find a small table stashed in the right corner, a tiny lamp atop it. Her father must have slept in this room. How lonely his nights must have been, here all alone. The mere thought of it made Namjoo even sadder. Why had he lived like this?

Opening the next room brought into sight a larger, heavier table by the wall where a few books had been left. A mini-bookshelf stood in the corner and when Namjoo neared it she knelt down to get a better view of them. The only books that took up its space were children’s books. Some of them were new, probably never used; others were old and worn from being read over and over. If she’d read them before, she couldn’t remember. Had her father read these books by himself while thinking of the times he’d read to her? Had he bought new books hoping she might come across them someday?

Reaching her hand out she slid her fingers across the spine of the books; her eyes welling up with tears. She was so sorry she couldn’t even remember being here at all. All the memories she’d shared with her father were no longer alive in her memory, but her father must have cherished them to his death.   

She’d always wondered about what kind of man her father was, what his laugh sounded like, if he was a bit round or thin, if he loved joking or if he was a bit on the serious side, and she’d always wondered if he missed her like she missed him.

When she turned to her right she finally saw the photo identical to the one from her mother’s office, framed in a very expensive silver frame. And she knew then, that her father had never forgotten her.

Taking the photo within her hands she stared into it, her heart wallowing in tears. The depth of silence around her had never been so still before and Namjoo had never felt so broken. There was so much regret. Why must it be like this?

“I’m home,” her breath was merely a whisper and she hoped her father would know it too.

After leaving her bag she asked around for directions before finally treading across the precious piece of land her father was buried in. Where trees grew strong and animals hid, a vast area of grassland stretched out beyond miles. This was where the sunlight hit the earth best and where rainfalls beat the dirt. On this grassland wild grass sprouted up tall and healthily imitating a large wheat field. As the wind cut through them they would wave in one direction like a crowd underneath the sky’s concerto.

This was nature.

Making her way through the knee-high grass Namjoo came across the only mound visible on the hilltop. As she neared her footsteps seemed to quicken, her heart pounding in her ears. A dark tablet stood against the mound, her father’s name, Kim Hyu Woo, sketched across it for identification.

Namjoo felt her feet freeze by the grave, suddenly unsure about what to do. Her eyes raced over the mound sprouting from the grass wildly, unable to believe this was really her father. Calming herself she reached out to sweep the grass and plucked a weed away, her heart hurting.

“I’m late,” Namjoo quietly spoke, her hand on the grass, “but I’m here…dad.”

burned up and tightened; her heart constricting.

“I’m big now, aren’t I?” Namjoo asked, her eyes burning with tears of regret. “I’m sorry I grew up without you. You grew old without me too. Did you know I graduated from medical school? And that I have lots of friends? You know that, right? You’re proud of me, aren’t you?” Namjoo pulled on a smile and pretended she could hear her father praising her, petting her head adoringly. “I know you’re proud. I’m your only child, your best one at that. I’m so cool, right?”

Namjoo jokingly laughed, but painfully and bit her lower lip to prevent tears from flowing.   

“Should I tell you about the new family?” She asked perking up.

A soft breeze brushed by and Namjoo dug her hands into the dirt.

“There’s the nosey Auntie Jin who loves talking. She can go on for hours without a drop of water; I think she’s really amazing. There are the sisters, Seo Jin, Hee Jin, and Gil Jin. Seo Jin’s kind of cool, but I’m not very close to her. Hee Jin and Gil Jin are still babies growing up; they’re pretty though and have all the boys’ attention. And there are the little nephews that are always creating havoc. I think they’d give you a heart attack if you ever meet them. And there’s my uncle who always comes over with his older children, it’s a full house every day, but I don’t know if you’d like it. Do you like kids or not like them?” Namjoo asked and waited in silence. “Me too, I like them.

“New dad was nice to me. He likes joking around unlike mom, but…she’s been good to me too. You know so, right?” Namjoo ran her eyes over the standing grass and lowered her eyes before slightly smiling. “And my only brother, I think you’d like him a lot too, if you ever met him. You two would have gotten along. My brother, Kai, my favorite person. You know, right dad?”

And again, Namjoo waited in silence for some kind of reply.

“I’m sorry,” Namjoo regrettably apologized again, “I should have come sooner.”

And for a long time she stood there silently as if was reconnecting with her father again; listening and talking to him. There was much to catch up on.

With the help of the aunt next door Namjoo was given foods for dinner and blankets for the night. From the woman Namjoo learned that her father often fished a lot by the ocean, sending his heart out on the fishing rod and bringing it back with a prize. Namjoo didn’t know how to fish, but that was where she went first thing in the morning.

She wanted to enjoy what her father enjoyed. In her heart she felt it’d bring her a bit closer to him.

The sand was moist and her feet easily sunk in upon every step. Upon annoyance with how her sandals immediately dirtied she took them off in the end. The cool blue water was warm upon touch due to the high radiating sun. Enjoying the touch of it she swayed her feet back and forth on the shore before running into the water and back out. This was a kind of freedom itself.

Noticing the colorful rocks underneath the water Namjoo walked further into the water to pick them up. The calming waves splashed up against her shorts, but Namjoo didn’t mind. Holding the rock up to the sun Namjoo observed the little patterns on it amazed and felt the wave push her back. Barely losing her balance she ended up dropping the rock in the water, Kai’s bracelet going along with it.

Panicking Namjoo quickly twisted around to search for the silver bracelet. Unable to sight it because of the glare from the sun she took a step back, narrowed her eyes, and looked around desperately once more. She couldn’t lose that bracelet, she just couldn’t. And finally she saw it pinned between two rocks, but the underwater currents threatened to throw her off balance.  Fighting the oncoming waves behind her she twisted around and tossed her hand out for it.

“=====”

Namjoo never contacted him again after she rushed out that morning. Sometimes he sat alone on his couch staring at the ground where they’d kissed. Irritated he’d walk out onto his veranda for some fresh air. While he stared up at the winking stars he wondered if Namjoo was weeping in sorrow somewhere out there.

Luhan still recalled how she’d pounded her chest telling him how empty she felt and how it hurt. And he wondered to what extent did she love her brother? Had she been really serious about him?

He waited to see if Namjoo might call to invite him over to thank him for the dinner he’d offered her. He also wondered whether Namjoo recalled kissing him that night and if she was also too embarrassed about it. Thinking about that made him worry.

On the other hand, wasn’t Namjoo one to quickly wave away awkwardness as if it didn’t matter in the first place? Should he even be worried?

Then he waited again, but Namjoo never contacted him.

Luhan thought about that silver bracelet around her wrist. Did wearing it make her feel safer about bearing Kai in her heart? Or was it for memory?

He felt like he was having some sort of headache from all these wonders, but still…Namjoo had always been good to him. She probably wasn’t doing very well by herself. Namjoo was probably just sleeping a lot, not eating her meals on time, and neglecting herself. So he called her one time, two times, and one more time but she never answered. Luhan called her again the next morning, but still got no answer.

Was she ignoring him? But for what reason?

Luhan started pondering over whether to drop by at her place to see how she was doing one day at work. It sounded like a good idea, but what kind of excuse would he give Namjoo? That he was passing her place and decided to drop in on her, ask for a meal?

That sounded…lowly of him.

“Hello there!” A voice greeted him suddenly.

Snapping out of his thoughts he turned to see a familiar woman of petite size peering up at him.

“You’re Namjoo’s friend, right? The one who came to her brother’s birthday party?”

“Oh…oh…yes,” Luhan nodded, confused about who this sudden woman was.

“I’m Namjoo’s Aunt Jin, you probably don’t remember me,” the woman pointed to herself and lightheartedly laughed. “I thought this handsome young man looked familiar. I guess you are Namjoo’s friend after all.”

Nodding Luhan greeted, “Hello.”

“No need to be polite with me,” the woman waved her hand out toward him.

When Luhan’s eyes landed on her mole he suddenly recalled the woman who’d chased Namjoo’s little nephew. So she was that woman…

“Do you need help with anything?” Luhan asked.

“No, I just decided to come by after seeing you,” the woman explained. “Work hard now.”

Luhan nodded again and watched her turn away to walk off, her shopping bags dangling from her elbow. He barely turned away before he suddenly thought about Namjoo.

“Excuse me,” Luhan called out, stepping toward her.

Aunt Jin swiveled back to look at him.

“Um…” Luhan nervously approached her, wondering if he was going over the line or not. “I was just wondering, if you’ve heard from Namjoo.”

“Ah…Namjoo?”

Luhan waited patiently.

“I’m not sure. After that night Namjoo hasn’t been answering any of our calls,” Aunt Jin seemed to speak to herself and finally looked at him, “so I’m sure she’s gone there.”

Luhan felt his eyebrows twitch, “Gone where?” 

***So I kind of sliced my finger with a pretty sharp knife and my finger hurts a lot so I'm gonna cease writing for a bit. Here's my last update for now. Sorry I couldn't get to the Hanjoo moments yet, but definitely for next chapter