Namjoo was dead. 

Nothing mattered anymore. He had tried to continue living, but this invisible weight of despair on his body never ceased to bid him farewell. The room would spin around him when he awoke, but the strength to get up wasn't there. 

Luhan didn't even know why his heart was still beating. Why the seemingly useless days kept coming one after another, he no longer understood. Every time he thought about it, only memories of waking to Namjoo hopping onto the bed to disturb him awake would play in the lids of his eyes, like a never ending movie. 

This overwhelming darkness slithering across the rooms of their home was cold and heavy. Even the sun filtering in through the splendidly large windows couldn't win out. All that composed his soul now was a lifeless entity. There was no resolve whatsoever to make sure he would make it through the next month.

Why was he so useless, so pathetic? 

Namjoo had been the center of his life; where all his inspiration and dreams stemmed from. To live out his life in the presence of that ethereal being had been his goal. Growing up together had made them inseparable and he had loved watching her transform into one of the prettiest girls on the block. When she'd said "Yes" he knew this was what his life was all about and spending it with her was all he needed. He'd been that lovesick. It had felt like all the stars had been perfectly aligned for him.                     
   
Then like a rubber band snapping, his life fell apart. They were supposed to go together to the hospital that day. They were supposed to be expecting and he'd been excited to have the news confirmed, but when he got home a pool of police officers blockaded him from going inside - where Namjoo was supposed to be waiting for him. 

Their home had become a crime scene. 

"I need you to calm down and listen to me," the stubby male officer breathed into his face after verifying he was the owner of the house. 

Namjoo was dead. 

A thief - they'd said - stabbed the kitchen knife six inches deep into her chest. 

"Looks like she put up a struggle, so he got angry. We're going to need you to confirm any missing items; jewelries, clothes, important papers, etcetera..."

The white diamond necklace Namjoo received from his mother before their wedding; the one she'd worn with her wedding dress, was nowhere to be found. It'd been the only item stolen, but he could care less about it. 

Luhan only wanted what couldn't be returned; Namjoo's life. 

Everything...everything had been destroyed; his life, Namjoo's life...their baby's...

It was impossible to clear his head of her when he'd spent his whole life with her. They were supposed to have an eternity together.  

The memories just kept coming, stabbing his heart with darts. He couldn't believe it, he just couldn't - that she was dead, no longer there with him. Luhan could accept all else, but not her death. Not like this.  

One night after an untouched dinner he'd gone to flipping through their photo album. The stages of their youth transitioning into adulthood was all packed in those pages, his now only memoir of her. Tears streamed down his cheeks profusely and he missed her in even greater heights. Then he recalled turning his head when Namjoo spoke about witchcraft. Luhan didn't care for such things, magic didn't exist. Namjoo had just been a curious high school girl, who'd done it for fun for some time and when she eventually got bored, left it. 

Witchcraft...

So here he was, in their bedroom with a candle and Namjoo's picture. Turning the lights off he sat down on the ground by the table, lighting the candle to life. As the tiny flame flickered, the shadow of Namjoo's smile came into sight. Holding a piece of paper in hand he stared at the words he'd copied down from the internet to bring back a lover. 

Luhan really hated these things; thought this was unbelievably stupid, but he was desperate. Anything for Namjoo, anything to have her back in his arms again. He was even willing to jump all the way down to hell to retrieve her. If he just had her again...

Clearing his throat, he pursed his lips and read, "Powers of the universe, bring back my love that I know, universe bring her back to stay, this is my will, so mote it be." 

The tiny flame flickered intensely, threatening to go out. The room almost became the darkness he knew so well, but with some durability the flame stayed. Luhan's eyes peered around the darkness half-heartedly hoping Namjoo would walk out of the dark, but only saw the emptiness he'd been accompanied with the past week. 

It wouldn't work, he should've known. These dumb things never work. 

Filled with somber disappointment he crawled into bed, burying himself under the cold sheets, wishing Namjoo's bodily warmth was there to drape him in her arms. 

He missed her.

Miscellaneous noises of things clattering from outside collapsed into the wavelengths travelling into his ears. A sleepless moan burred from his lips before he dug his head underneath the pillow. Luhan still couldn't get used to the sensation of having the bed to himself, but this morning he was over on Namjoo's side. Another minute or two fluctuated with him transitioning in and out of sleep before swearing he heard oil popping on the stove. 

Wide awake, Luhan sat up and stared at the closed white door. The walls of their home were thin that he'd even be able to hear the shower running from the living room. An empty blank mind sought to figure out who'd come over. Ever since the burial he'd cut off contact with his parents, her parents, and their friends.  

Who was out there?  

Shoving the covers off he got onto his feet, slowly treading toward the door. Once he pulled it open a scent of cooked eggs wafted through the air, up his nostrils. There was a tinge of spiciness he recognized hidden in the air.  

Black pepper...

Namjoo liked black pepper with her eggs.  

The room swerved after his one foot matched his other and he stared at the figure by the stove. Blue blouse, white pencil skirt, and a yellow apron...they were all Namjoo's belongings. Dismissing all shock he should have felt, he raced forward to throw his arms around her. 

Bodily warmth met his hands and chest when he pressed himself against her, his heart leaping in utmost joy. The hellish, devastated grief he'd been living with all seemed like a little nightmare. And he hugged her tighter to assure himself that he'd really woken up.  

A tiny shriek of exclaimed surprise befell Namjoo's lips when the spatula clattered to the ground, "Luhan, what are you doing?"  

"I missed you," he dug his face into her shoulder, into her neck, and into her hair, "I missed you, I missed you, I missed you, so, so much."  

He could feel her shrugging her shoulder to shake him off, "Let go!"  

Luhan fell a step back when Namjoo finally forced him off and he watched her bend down to pick the spatula up. His eyes in her face dampened in makeup, being sure to remember every inch of her being. Her eye twitched at his stare and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear turned back to the stove to remove the pan.  

As if he'd never seen her before he side-stepped to his right as if unable to have enough of what she looked like.  

"Go get dressed. We're going to both be late for work if you keep this up," Namjoo ordered.  

"Work?" The word mindlessly rolled off his lips. As if surprised at the mention of it he grabbed her arm, "No, don't go to work. Call in sick or something."  

Allowing him to shift her toward him she ran her eyes over him. "What are you talking about?"  

Slightly lowering his head to stare at her tummy he reached his hand out for the bump that had never even been there before her death.  

"Is it...is it still there?" He questioned, pressing his hand against her abdomen.  

"What the hell?!" She exclaimed in surprise, slapping his hand away. "What 'it'? Are you sick or something?"  

Stupefied, he stared at her. Would Namjoo know? Would she have any collection of getting killed or what happened before the incident?  

No, no...it didn't matter. Even if she remembered or not, it didn't matter. He had her. Namjoo was back. Namjoo was alive.  

That was all he cared about.  

"If you're not going to get dressed, then lets eat," Namjoo turned away from him to grab some fresh plates.  

Grabbing her arm again he asked, "The date...what's today's date?"  

She narrowed a brow, "The tenth. September tenth. Why?"  

Namjoo had died August 25...so this meant...she'd been given back to him...the spell worked! Dear God, it really worked!

A smile faintly lit his lips before he hugged her and let out a whoop of joy. Confusion stirred her up, but his exclamations of delight dominated. Letting go of her so that he could run his hands over her face, he kissed her on various areas of her face. 

"Oh God, I love you," he breathed. her cheeks with his thumbs he went on, "Don't go in to work. Lets spend today together, hmm?"

A worried expression crossed her face while staring up at him, "Did something bad happen? You're making me worried." 

Immediately denying, he shook his head. "I really, really want to be with you today. Can't a husband stifle his wife with some love?" 

Again, she shot him a frown, "Fine. I'll call in, but I'm only doing it once."  

"Of course," nodding happily, he grabbed the plates from her over to the table where they spent many mornings and nights sitting together drinking coffee or tea, nonsensically chatting away the hours.  

Even as he sat beside her and stared at her, he couldn't believe what he was seeing. In front of him so healthily, so normally as if nothing had ever occurred, Namjoo was still alive and well. 

"Why do you keep staring at me?" Namjoo shot her eyes his way. 

Pulling on a smile, he said, "Because you're my beautiful wife." 

A look of disgust with his cheesy words appeared on her expression and she turned away. It was just like her to ignore his gestures so coolly and he wondered if it was possible to fall in love with the same person two, ten times. This time he definitely loved her twelve-folds more. 

When she started on dishes he hugged her from behind, grabbing her soapy hands to scrub the plates with her. They felt like newly-weds just starting out their life. Luhan never wanted to part from her ever again. 

Namjoo's hair brushed his cheek when she turned to glance back, "What is up with you this morning? Being so touchy and all." 

"Why? You don't like it?" 

"No..." her answer held uncertainty, "it's just different. You're acting like I went somewhere and just came back." 

"You're not going anywhere anyway," he stated, "I won't let you." 

Another frown crossed her face before he turned the water off and spun her around. 

"Forget this," he told, "lets go take a bath, nap, and go out on a long date." 

Before giving her the opportunity to retort he lifted her up before racing into the personal bathroom connected to their bedroom. 

"What was that?!" Namjoo asked when he set her down on her feet. 

"Special treatment," he exclaimed and linked his arm around her waist, "come here." 

A yelp escaped her before she slightly cowered back with a laughing smile on her face, "Stop it, that tickles." 

Staggering forward with hands reaching out for her, he listened to her laugh and shriek before cornering her into the wall where he tickled her until she was knee weak. Pulled her toward him he held her close before kissing her forehead.  

"You're messing up my hair," she complained reaching a hand up to correct it.  

Further running his hand around her waist till she looked up at him, he smiled, fazed.  

"Ok, enough," Namjoo pressed a hand against his chest to move back. "I already washed up. I'll wait for you outside."  

Tightening his hold on her, he refused to let her leave. Without giving her the next second to speak he enveloped her lips into his slowly and sweetly, taking to having himself what he'd yearned for.  

"Luhan, really..." Namjoo pulled her head back.  

The sound of his name from those lips and the way she spoke it sent tingles through his veins. He loved it every time she called for him.  

"You know you like it," he told, feeling his breath bounce off her face and watched the corner of her lips hopelessly trail up.

Pressing a hand against her lower back, his other pulling the zipper of her skirt down he kicked the door close.  

As planned, they left their home late afternoon to have dinner, watch a movie, and head for a long walk through the park chasing the birds around. Everything felt all right again, almost as if Namjoo had never left at all. It was amazing how fast she was able to sew his world back into place when it had fallen apart so fast.  

When they slept that night he listened to the soft breathing whistling through her nose as the still night went on. The darkness that had evaded his world was now at a standstill while he now soaked himself into the presence of his loved one. 

Opening his eyes he stared over at Namjoo peacefully sleeping beside him. It couldn't be any more real than this. This warm mist gifted to him by her in his heart made everything just right. Reaching over to touch her face for assurance he moved over to hug her, burying his face into her neck. The somber warmth flowing from her eased out the chill in his heart and for the first time, he slept deeply that night.  

The moment he woke up the next morning, the spot beside him was empty. The nightmare he'd been drenched in by Namjoo's death shook him awake; his heart pounding like mad. Shaken by panic he immediately raced out, ready to lose it all if yesterday had been just a dream. His heavy breathing calmed when he found Namjoo busy in the kitchen. Streamed by utmost relief, he raced toward her to back hug her.  

"What?" She asked when he collided into her.  

"I thought...I thought you left," he uttered, desperately hugging her to reassure himself she was really there.  

Namjoo turned to look at him.

"Nothing, it's nothing," he shook his head to assure her.  

Tilting her head to the side she observed him, "Are you sure you're ok? You don't want to get checked up at the hospital?"

A baffled laugh escaped him, "Why would I go there?" 

"To get a regular health checkup." 

"Why, am I strange to you?"

"It's not that..."

Pressing his lips together he grabbed her hand, "I'm fine, really. I've just...I've just..."  

Flashes of coming home that day to see the officers raiding his home appeared in his head like a living nightmare. Luhan couldn't imagine going through it again...nor could he speak about it to her when it seemed like she didn't have any remnants of it. He didn't want to jeopardize their relationship when he just got her back. 

He would never go back there.  

"I've forgotten how much you mean to me and I just...really love you." 

A smile climbed onto her lips and she reached up to caress his cheek.

Placing his hand atop of hers he asked, "Should we...go see my parents today?"  

That was when he saw something flicker in her eyes, maybe concern...or something, but he could tell something he'd said disturbed her.  

"You mean your mother?"  

"My dad too, of course."  

Then again, obvious unease made her look at him like something was completely wrong. From the pit of his heart, he felt it too; that something was amiss.  

"Luhan," Namjoo started as if talking to a child, to explain something horrible, "you don't have a father."  

***So it begins...

***Namjoo has no recollection of being dead, that's what. Everything is just as normal as if nothing has happened at all, and time is still clicking presently.

***This story mainly revolves around Luhan's undying love for dead and live Namjoo and how he's refusing to let her go. To be quite honest, when I thought about it, I was a little creeped out, but then because he's completely devoted and sincere it's actually a heartbreaking plot because he knows and we know that Namjoo is dead and is supposed to be dead in this story. He can't have her, cause that's just not how things work. And later on, we will find out who the killer is since he has Namjoo's necklace after all.

***P.S. I decided to make this a really short story, since it deserves that much :) So prepare to have your heart broken (and mine will break in the process of writing)