Kris' eyes opened after a wind whisked over him, as if Namjoo had just bent down to kiss his forehead. Pulling himself up and away from the two cups of coffee beside him, the tomb behind him; he glanced far beyond the cemetery. The rising land, the stark sun, and the mountains a thousand miles away were his only company out here. Here, no one could thieve into his thoughts telling him, "It's time to move on, man. Why don't you come out and we can have a drink this weekend? You need to start going out more again."  

In this whole wide world there were some people who couldn't live alone after their spouses died. These people would be on the search for that trickling warmth they once knew so well. It wasn't wrong to do, because some people do move on to live happier lives.  

Kris wasn't one of them. He could live alone for the rest of his life; not that he was determined, but because Namjoo's soul was still pulsating through his blood. He could still feel her and this had nothing to do with insanity because it really wasn't. His heart was still warm and he still loved her lots - it wasn't this that was holding him back. To another woman, he just wouldn't be able to love her the same and no one made him feel the same way Namjoo had.  

Even after meaningless fights he'd still get butterflies from just seeing her. In the entirety of his life Namjoo had been his biggest infatuation. Despite what others said or thought, he had come to terms with Namjoo's death. He wasn't blindly hanging on, because Namjoo would be unhappy if he'd done just that. Kris didn't hurt anymore, not as much as when he'd watched the dirt strike her coffin.   

Deep in the corners of his imagination he could feel her sitting next to him, enjoying the scenery. As if to confirm her presence, a late afternoon wind caressed him; a warmth the back of his hand before fluttering away.      

And he knew someday, they'd meet again.  

"I'm Kim Namjoo. You are?"  

"Kris."  

They first met on a blind date; she pushed there by her friends and he by his mother. Blind dates were out of his generation and out of interest. Obviously it didn't go well. After that he never saw her again - well that was what he thought.  

He'd been a college student at that time, the kind who believed grades had the highest authority in life. Yet, somehow he'd been dragged out to one of those club events popular with young adults one night. That was when he next saw her. 

Sitting alone in a corner away from the booming music she didn’t look the least bit entertained. Differently from their blind date, she was dolled up in a pretty black dress with makeup highlighting her face. The impression he got from her then was, "Wow."  

What guy wasn't attracted to a pretty girl?  

With all seats around them taken he sat with her quietly. At first he pondered over whether she recognized him or not, because he definitely remembered her.                

"You here for the party?" He asked out of the blue. 

"It's boring." 

"Want to leave?" 

The point then wasn't that he was intending to hit on her; he wasn't like that. Curious about her as a person was what had gotten into him. When they left they stopped to eat from a vendor; Namjoo telling him her friends had ditched her for their boyfriends. In return he told her about getting dragged out of his dorm. He got her number that night; later found out she lived off campus and somehow befriended her.

For about two years he got to know her as an acquaintance and a friend, charmed by the way she randomly laughed to herself; how she slept early only to end up waking later than expected; and how she always did projects at the last minute. Even though she lacked an organized life, he was fond of her silly ways. 

To people, sometimes things just tend to click or flow along naturally. On his account, he couldn't tell how they started off. There was no story to it. Perhaps his heart had starting tripping the moment Namjoo started remembering small bits of their conversations where his complaints lie. For instances like when his toothbrush became worn out, but he was too broke to buy a new one. She'd surprise him the next day by giving him a new one. Or when she'd pop up out of nowhere with a sandwich for him when his back to back schedules allowed him no break. 

"You should be grateful to have me around," she spoke one day when they were sitting outside the campus library, her hands clutching onto the bottle of orange juice he'd given her. 

"I am." His eyes swept over her tennis shoes; her backpack sitting between them. "Are you still going out of town this weekend?" 

"Yes." 

"Don't go." And he recalled how imminently fast his heart had raced. Even when the sun wasn't out the temperature had risen, causing sweat to form on both his chest and back. "My room mate is going back home this weekend. Want to come stay with me?"              

Their first ever date consisted of riding bikes around town. Unlike how he imagined it to be - holding hands and pedaling at the same pace, Namjoo ditched him; biking for minutes ahead until she tired. At the movies they'd bicker about sharing a tub of popcorn and always ended up buying two. Other than their little dates, his favorite moments had been cooking with her. Namjoo wasn't a great cook and even though he didn't cook much himself, he had to admit he was a tad bit better. Cooking a meal always proved to be a struggle, but the fun and tease that came with it was worth it. They barely burnt down her apartment once. Kris would never forget that moment when the fire department came expecting an enraged fire engulfing the building, but instead discovered heavy smoke rising from her stove.Cooking was about everything for them; even their first argument had been about that. One of his most uplifting memories was when they'd both bought each other cookbooks for Christmas.      

Meeting Namjoo's parents had served a frightful experience; not because they looked scary, but because her father had caught them getting it on in her bedroom once. Oh, the experience had been so shameful Kris had wanted to dig himself a grave. An hour before that Namjoo had convinced him with, "It's ok. My parents won't be home till midnight."  

She was so wrong about that.

They were out in the living room a split minute later, both their heads lowered in shame. Then he was called over for dinner the next weekend. From then on he assumed they'd planned on getting him married to Namjoo, since he'd destroyed her innocence.

Marriage though, was nonexistent in Namjoo's mind. She talked about travelling the world without him and suggested they get engaged if he didn't trust her. Kris was even surprised himself with how he strongly opposed her dream to travel. The partial reason was that he didn't trust her. Namjoo as he came to know, talked a lot and was very open. The other reason being that he saw her as a beautiful woman with a nice body who solely belonged to him. In the end, with the parents on his side, thank God, Namjoo had to give up. 

When they got married a whole new world opened up; his mornings, afternoons, and evenings all spent with her. It proved to be different from just dating her, because for the rest of his life they would be living together. Being in each other's presence twenty-four-seven would definitely be different as well as the prideful fact that she was legally his.         

They flew out to Europe for their honeymoon; Namjoo refusing to sleep with him if he didn't use protection.

"You didn't mind when we were dating." 

"I missed my period two times! Do you know how freaked out I was?!" 

"Aw...come on. Don't you want a baby? I want a baby and my parents want a grandchild. Plus, we're married now." 

"Between us, who's going to be carrying that child?" Turning her head to the side she eyed him through the corner of her eyes, demanding for the obvious answer. "That's right, me. If you don't want to go out and buy a then lets just sleep." 

Flinging the covers aside Namjoo climbed into the bed, tucking herself in. 

"Noooo!!" He cried childishly, pulling her up. "You can't sleep yet."

The corner of her lips flared up, "Then go buy it." 

Kris wanted a baby; that bundle of joy to hold, cuddle, kiss and hug. Just imagining a seed sowed from their love made him simply happy. A little Namjoo or Kris look-a-like would be running around and how adorable would that be? When he thought about it he wanted to build a family so much, but he almost always conceded to Namjoo. Setting aside his wishes because he cared, he went out to buy those condoms.  

Their newlywed life was sweet, romantic, alluring, and fun. Like their dating days, they still found enjoyment in each other; it was just a bit different considering the fact they'd be sharing bills, chores, and a bed. Other than sleeping together a lot, they enjoyed a lot of outdoor activities; had even started exercising together - one thing they'd never done while dating. 

He'd read once that it takes two to four years in order to really know someone, and couples who get to know each other within that duration of time before marriage, stay married. Kris believed that was him and Namjoo. Even though he wasn't fond of the word "soulmates," he came to believe Namjoo was it for him.

During the first two years of marriage they worked hard, saving money for their own car; finally moved to a bigger flat, and bought a game system they played together on the weekends. They used to play game boards often until either of them started cheating, or Twister until they turned it into a game of doing ual poses. The laughter received from it was still ringing in his ears even till today.  

Every morning upon waking up they'd always greet each other with a "Morning'" in hopes of having a better day than the last. Kris believed the hypnotism worked. When he had a bad day at work he'd come home to find Namjoo struggling in the kitchen in order to prepare a meal for him. He'd walk up to her, hug and kiss her before offering help. He always thought she was adorable in that apron, pretty enough for him to woo her again.  

To know someone was there for him beat out all the stress acquired during the day. What could be better than knowing someone was willing to do things for him without asking?  

In the evenings several times a month he'd prepare a bubble bath for her as a special treat and sometimes join her. In the privacy of their bathroom they'd tickle each other, cuddle, and intimately kiss and talk. The biggest privilege of his marriage life was being able to spend every precious minute with her. He loved every moment of it and they were his most precious treasured keepsakes.  

If he had to be more realistic about their lives, there were a few rocky corners in their relationship. As a married couple, they'd been through it all; the bad, the good, and the worst just like anyone else. Sometimes they had disagreements about the other's friends; Namjoo unable to approve of what kinds of people he got acquainted with and him over the mess she and her friends always left around the house. Few of their arguments were over the most petty things, like losing the remote control or forgetting to buy yogurt along with the grocery and making meals too salty. Other arguments drove them into silent corners for days, but eventually they'd always make up. 

No argument was enough to make him stop loving her. He believed Namjoo felt the same way too.  

Pillow talks after had been one thing Namjoo loved most. While they lay together comfortably with their bodies entwined, he could feel it from her eyes that marrying him was one of the best decisions she'd made. On those nights the ness of their souls were bared to each other. Listening to her talk her heart out eased away worries locked inside their chests. Her eyes would flicker while sharing with him things she thought were amusing or funny. He felt, on those nights, like he was discovering a new part of her every time, becoming even more enchanted with the person she was. They were connected; heart, body, and soul. 

Saying, "I love you," wasn't sufficient enough for all the devotion that was there.

Namjoo finally got pregnant after four years of marriage. It had been her biggest surprise to him on their anniversary.  

"I told you I went to the doctor recently, right?"  

They'd promised not to bring up news that would ruin their anniversary. Kris had made reservations at an expensive restaurant so they could specially spend the day having a grand meal. They'd had an argument a few days ago about why she'd gone to the hospital without telling him anything. It had turned their nights sour, but they eventually started warming up to each other again since their fourth anniversary was drawing near. With no plan to keep their relationship heated he'd decided to let the matter go.  

"I thought we weren't going to talk about it," he mumbled while trying to slice apart the steak with much more force than called for.  

"Are you that angry?"  

With a heavy breath he settled down his utensils and looked at her, "If you're not feeling well, you should let me know. I'm your husband, you know? What if you're really ill and I didn't know? Do you know how useless I'd feel?!"

Namjoo's expression, as he recalled it, had a tad bit of a smirk on it as if she were glad he was upset and his reaction was expected. Peering around she moved her chair over so that she was beside him. 

Nudging him with her elbow, she leaned in to say, "Don't be angry, huh? Forgive me? I'll give you something."

A perplexed frown grew on his face before she slid what looked like a card out from behind her onto the table. His eyes switched from her face to the table to see what he recognized as an ultrasound. Namjoo was broadly smiling, giggling a bit when he stared at her wide-eyed. 

"I'm pregnant."

He swore he let out the loudest shout ever that day before enveloping her in his arms.  

They were elated, excited to-be-parents. Kris had exaggerated his pride of becoming a father during her early stages of pregnancy; keeping her locked down while fulfilling all chores in the house, proclaiming himself her slave. On nights he'd put his hand on her tummy unable to wait for the little bump to grow. They'd talk for long hours about who the baby should look like; what kind of personality they wanted the baby to have; how they wanted to raise their child. If they'd known about the joy a baby could bring, they would have had one earlier. 

One morning when Namjoo complained of a stomach ache their world fell apart. Their two month old fetus was suddenly gone. Maybe it had to do with how overly cautious they were being, but for a long time Namjoo blamed only herself. 

Telling her, "It's ok, it's not your fault. We can have another one next time. I still love you," hadn't been enough to comfort her. When she wept, the very core of his heart shattered at each drop. Depression, he'd heard, was normal for expecting mothers who had suffered from miscarriage. But when he looked at Namjoo during those days she didn’t look depressed. She was a soulless being overdriven by misery.

For a month and a half, Namjoo refused to let him touch her. Those lips of hers refused to utter any words to him. They ended up drifting away from each other, becoming almost strangers under one roof. It had been the worst experience of his life.   

His heart was desolate, but still hoped Namjoo knew she could turn to him; lean on him. When the gap between them exceeded its capacity they broke out into a heavy argument; he demanding for an answer why she couldn't treat him like her husband and she screaming for him to leave her alone. Kris didn't think he ever saw Namjoo break down so terribly before. It was as if the storm that should be raging outside had escaped into their home, roaring chaos; the winds chipping their walls and mother nature's wrath howling into their ears. Slumping to the floor crying stupendous tears she finally said it.  

"I'm sorry, I love you." 

Everything seemed to fall back into place slowly with him putting in as much effort as possible to keep her comfortable and happy. He began waking up to Namjoo's simple breakfasts and her "Good mornings" again; those words making his day better each morning. They'd go out for a cup of coffee every so often; sit together and watch passersby as if watching the morning sunrise. And as if the miscarriage never happened they even started sleeping together again. 

The love that had been displaced was in motion once more.  

Perhaps he'd been too quick to assume all was well. A year later Namjoo suddenly fell ill until she was bedridden. Watching her healthy colored face turn from a distinct fresh white to pale yellow was the most painful experience he'd lived through. The anguish from witnessing such wracked him into depression.  

As a husband, friend, and lover he no longer wanted to ask for anything anymore. All he wanted was Namjoo's health returned. In his deepest prayers, he promised that if she could get up from bed again he'd love her a quadruple times more; do her biddings and not argue with her. He didn't need a baby. He just wanted her laughter and those lights to flicker in her eyes again. He wanted those significant I love you's and to live everyday like it was their honeymoon.  

On many evenings he sat with an untouched dinner crying about the fact that her life was slipping away and there wasn't a thing he could do. Whenever he visited Namjoo he always noticed the pain she tried hiding in her eyes, the weakness flowing through her body as she got smaller and smaller, and how sorry she felt that he had to see her that way. Tears threatened to fall again and he'd momentarily have to excuse himself to the bathroom.

It was like that for months.
 
The indeterminable happiness that had existed between them was suddenly tucked away into the folds of those hospital sheets. No matter how much he cleaned and searched for it, he never found it.  

"You should stop coming," her father had apologetically told him one day after bringing him out into the hall. "We'll take care of her from now on, so don't worry and go on with your life."  

To know they were telling him to leave Namjoo because she was dying made the sorrow increase. He would have left her already the moment she became immobile. What right did they have to say this to him, her husband by law and choice?

"I'm going to stay with her," he declared before begging with a croaking voice, "please let me stay with her."  

Namjoo's father heaved a relentful sigh and watching him so, suddenly caused Kris' tears to spill. It hurt and he felt like a disappointment for not taking better care of his wife. This time, Namjoo's father silently patted his back to comfort him; the two of them sharing a relatable pain. 

In that hospital room he slept, stayed, watched TV, and ate with Namjoo; running to be her aid whenever she needed something. He went to work three out of the seven days of the week and spent the rest at the hospital as if it were his home. Sometimes in the middle of the night when Namjoo burned up he'd crawl into the bed and hug her. He'd envision them sleeping at home as normal as any other day. Other times, with permission, he'd take her around in a wheelchair to watch the scenery, see the sunset, or to the river, but never back to their home. He'd wanted to make her feel alive again as if she were never in the hospital to begin with. 

"You know, I always wanted to be the first to greet you in the morning," she admitted upon watching the sun fall, "just so I could beat you to it."

Its orange hue glowed over them turning their figures into silhouettes. Sunsets were supposed to be romantic among couples, but here the both of them were thrown into a world of torment. The sunset unable to complete its job of romanticizing them. Once this day ended shorter days were up ahead.   

"Idiot." 

Kris had to fight in order not to let his voice break.

"Get married again. Fall in love, get married, and have a family." Her voice was weak, but the intentions in her words were loud and clear.  

Wrapping his long arms around her he leaned forward, locking his chin over her now bony shoulder. All the warm love beating in his chest ached. Kris watched another image of him weep on his knees while his nose caught a whiff of the hospital shampoo coming from her hair.

He'd never love anyone else. He was stubborn that way.

"You wait for me first. I'll come find you and lets fall in love again." 

A breath seethed through her teeth as she clutched his hand with a quiet cough, "I won't wait for you." 

"You will," he stated burying his face into her hair, "because you love me."         

That was the last time he saw her smile before she was finally put to rest a month later with his broken heart. 

As he'd woken up that morning and walked passed the several dozen pictures of them sitting on the bedside table, he could still hear her moving around in the kitchen, struggling to cook something for him. While washing up he could hear her calling for him to make sure he was awake. 

"You're going to be late for work," she'd say in a sing song voice. 

It was Saturday, 8:00 a.m. Sitting at the table with pancakes Namjoo style he hungrily filled his empty stomach.  

Across from him Namjoo would cross her legs and tell him, "The weatherman says it's going to be sunny all day today. Want to go take a walk when you come back from work?"  

The BMW he and Namjoo had diligently saved up for was sitting in the driveway outside when he walked out. Namjoo loved this neighborhood; quiet with mild privacy and majorly because of the countryside-like air. Due to her influence, he too, had become accustomed - rooted in this neighborhood. If blindfolded he'd still be able to make his way home because he knew this place that well and it was all because of his wife.  

"I always make the right decisions," Namjoo would proudly state, "so you should always listen to me, you brat."  

Once he left the coffee shop they frequented when she was alive he started down the busy intersection leading to the highway. A scenery of cornstalks waved at him. Cows were grazing the land and birds flocking into the sky in the shape of an arrowhead. Tractors were cutting through fields while machinery spouted water at the land. It was a mixture of perfect nature, a mirage of the countryside village he and Namjoo once envied through a magazine.

Kris drove along an oriented gold path before putting the mobile to a halt halfway; treading the rest of the way up with two cups of coffee in his hands. A small mound shooting up from the land behind a black marble tomb welcomed him. Kim Namjoo was engraved in gold letters from his very own handwriting. 

To him, their life together had been like a storybook. Stories really never have a beginning, neither did he or Namjoo. Their lives just somehow intertwined, the rules of nature flowing without law and somehow they had ended up falling in love. Stories never really have an end either. Once the pages end the characters still continue living on. In his perspective, though Namjoo's pages had ended, she was still very much alive.  

Someday...someday they'll meet again. It's just that for now they have to be separated for some time and Kris could live with that.  

"Good morning," he greeted upon placing the coffee down. "Brought your favorite."

A whoosh of soft wind brushed by, slightly rustling his hair. Letting out a loud sigh; dropping onto his back with arms folded underneath his head he gazed up. Fluffy clouds helped shade the sun from his eyes as he continued to smile in the company of Namjoo, his everlasting wife. 

"You missed me, huh?"            

***The ending links back to the beginning when he wakes up from his nap, get it?