SEUNGHYUN’S POV

Apparently, President Lee—I don’t feel comfortable addressing the man as Leena’s father after what he had done to her and Clarence, although the impression he gave me during our first meeting is not as worthy of the honorific title either—was not in the country when he got the news.

Instead of visiting his daughter in the ward, the first thing he did once he touched down was barge into Doctor Kim’s room and demanded details of her injuries using the glorified reason of being her father. That’s how he had learned of Leena’s accident as well as her miscarriage, before any of us did.

We’ve had that talk about her family, although I suspected there’s more to it but I decided not to push, everyone has that space in their heart where they wouldn’t want anyone else to peek. And I respect that. Besides, what she told me is enough to give me the idea of what an her father is.

Meeting him in person has verified the point, but it doesn’t make me less of a bigger myself.

A baby, we could have a baby, a baby belongs to me and her, a fruit of our love, someone that can relate me with her and let me know it’s not a dream nor a trick my mind is playing with me.

But now everything is gone.

A hard thump can be heard as I throw a punch at the wall.

“Jesus, Hyung, can you stop hurting yourself? You just got your hand wrapped.” He brings my hand closer to check on the bandage and rolls his eyes when he finds blood seeping through it. “Now you need to get it rewrapped, maybe plus a few stitches.”

“Save it, I’m good, Ri.”

“And stop saying you’re good, you’re anything but good.”

“I’m going out for a smoke, let me know if she remem— if anything comes up.” I get up on my feet and drag myself across the hallway to the nearest exit.

“Lucky you I’m out from the army before this . I’ve never thought I’d be a manny.” I don’t have to look to know whose voice is that. Jiyong lays his back against the wall beside me, fishing out a pack of cigarette and a lighter from his pocket, spinning them between his fingers.

I exhale a plume of smoke and stare at the cloudless sky above us. “Thanks, Ji.”

“Nah, I’m not doing this for you, I like this kid.” He lights up a cigarette and brings it over to his mouth. “Daesung’s competing with me though, but I think my English is better than him and I’m funnier so, yeah, I’m still his favourite samchoon.”

I let out a snicker. “Shinyoung in there?”

“Yeah, she said she’s probably the only friend Leena can remember now, maybe she can help her with her memory since she’s someone from her past.”

I don’t care who’s from her past, I’m her present, I’m her future. I’m supposed to be her future.

“What if that’s it? She never got back her memory and I’m just a…a stranger to her?”

He draws in one long puff before removes it from his mouth and turns on his side to face me better. “I don’t think that’s a complete bad idea. Maybe it’s better for you two.”

“Better? How is it better?” I almost choke on my own words. How in the hell is her forgetting better for us?

“She’d had some rough days, some memories too heavy for her to bear. Plus, things got sour between you two, that’s why she ran away isn’t it? But she doesn’t remember any of them now, the way I see it, you can start off with a clean slate.”

I chew on my lips, as much as I hate to admit it, he has the point and hope sprouts into small seedlings in my chest as I imagine her laugh into my shoulder again, her arms around my waist.

Naïve. She has heard it, what her father yelled outside her room. She knows. If she doesn’t, she’ll soon.

LEENA’S POV

Two weeks in the hospital and my physical injuries are recovering well, so I’m allowed to be discharged in spite of the memory loss. There’s nothing they could do about that, I know. To be fair, it doesn’t bother me—yes I get irritated when I don’t know to use most of the electrical appliances and electronic devices, I don’t even remember the password to unlock my phone—but other than that, everything looks novel to me and I’m fine with that.

Until he comes to my house.

I haven’t seen him nor talked to him since the day dad came over to the hospital and almost got himself locked up. I knew he’s always there though, outside my room. When someone came in or out, through the crack of the open door I’ve caught sight of him sitting on the bench, elbows in lap, head hung low as if mourning over something.

Youngbae told me that he barely left the hospital. I asked him why. He asked me did I want him to come in. I said no. I wasn’t ready to talk to him just yet, and perhaps he felt the same, too. Those words my dad said the other day sent tickles down my spine every time I thought of it.

During my stay in the hospital, quite a lot of people came and visited, some from my company to send their solicitude and empathy—I don’t remember any of them, but a smile and a “thank you” wouldn’t hurt. Some from my dad’s company and some relatives from my dad’s side whom most of them I’ve no memory of came as well, mainly to poke around my condition.

Youngbae’s members came too, although usually not together. I didn’t remember Daesung and Seungri, but I believed we would be good friends. At first I didn’t understand what they meant by babysitting a kid at home, but I did when they brought him along one day.

Clarence was cute, smart and…stirring. The first time he walked through the door and bounced onto the bed, crawled into my arms, I felt something was stirring in my heart although I can’t quite put a name to it. He gave me that feeling that we were connected, deeply.

So when they told me he was actually my son—not biologically, but still, my son—I wasn’t as shocked as they had expected me to be. I asked them who his real parents were, they brushed it off by telling me it’s time to rest.

The most familiar figure was my mom, she was the safest place in this world, and she still was. When I was discharged from the hospital and went home, my room was cleaned and everything was in the same place, just like how my memory remembered. “I kept it the way it was,” she said.

She brought me some clothes from my own house, and I wondered how she got access to it because I can’t remember the passcode to the entry. As for that house, she said it could wait until I regain my health to pay it a visit and to decide if I should keep it. I had no objection against that, all I wanted at the moment was to be a spoilt daughter.

My dad, on the other hand, was another story. One minute we were laughing, talking about anecdotes during my childhood and how I made a mess when I tried to bake a cake for him when I was 7years old, the next minute his face changed, smiled died and replaced by boiling anger, his palm hit the table before he stood up from his seat and walked away, leaving me and mom flabbergasted at the table.

All that because of my mention of Clarence smearing batter all over my face when we tried to make pancake at our kitchen few days ago.

I realised then, Clarence was a taboo at home, at least he was when dad was around. I asked mom why, but she just shook her head and promised she would explain when I was better. Better to what extent? I wouldn’t know.

Shinyoung came over regularly too. She was one of the few that made me feel comfortable and at ease when they’re in the room. She was not much different from what I remembered, just a little chubbier and noisier, and she had a daughter now. Another proof that time had passed, annoyingly fast.

We reminisced those years we had spent together, telling each other about our crushes, pranking the bookworm from the next class and sharing those details about our first dates. She sighed and said, “We were so young back then.” I smile stiffened. I didn’t feel the way she did as for me I was still 18. But there’s a large gap of ten years between our memories.

“But you’ve a hot boyfriend now.” She changed the topic with the intention to lift up the mood, but clapped a hand over when she realised she had brought up another worse topic.

I had to be having a boyfriend, of course, I had someone in mind too, but I needed a person, anyone, to confirm that for me. “And who’s that hot boyfriend actually?”

Her eyes looked anywhere but at me.

“You can’t keep this from me forever, I’ve to know. Somebody has to tell me,” I pushed again. “You said you’d help me. This is me asking you to help.”

Her shoulders slumped and she slid lower in her seat. When her eyes met mine, I saw determination in them, not strong, but it’s there. “Okay. It’s Seunghyun.”

One thing that had never changed about Shinyoung, was . She could keep a secret, but once she let it slip, no matter how small it started with, she couldn’t stop.

By the time she left, I knew that we were together for about a year. She said my face told it all, that my face lit up with joy whenever “the man” was brought up. Oh, and she told me I started listening to kpop around that time, to a specific boy group. She knew he was my neighbour too. So, although I never told her specifically who I was seeing, it didn’t take a genius to make a good guess.

However, that’s pretty much everything she could tell me, or what she was willing to tell. All in all, she spoke quite highly of him.

The last day I stayed in the hospital, I suggested to bring Clarence over to stay with me, because he was my son and he used to live with me, with memory to support it or not.

Youngbae shared a weird look with Eomma and he let out a laugh, saying he wanted to keep Clarence for a while because he was so adorable and he really could use some practice with a kid. He went on his ramblings about how s could take turn looking after Clarence, and how they were competing to be the best Samchoon. While he was babbling, I wondered was he aware of his own awkwardness.

But when Eomma brought Clarence into her arms and asked would he mind staying with Samchoons, he pursed his lips, his eyes cautiously dart between me and Youngbae, then went back to Eomma and said he wouldn’t. With that the matter was settled, I didn’t even have a say in it.

It was because of my dad, I knew it now, although not quite sure the reason behind his hatred towards a little kid.

A cough snaps me back from my reverie. I has been staring at him since he’s revealed behind the door. I blink to put aside those thoughts as the man standing at the doorway fidgets in his position, fiddling with the cap between his hands. “Your mom says I could come in.”

I step aside and gesture him to come in. “Oh, yeah, please.”

He stands in the middle of my room, eyes darting around nervously. That’s when I realise I don’t have a chair in my room. “Come here,” I say while taking a seat on my bed, a hand patting on the space beside me.

“Do you want something to drink?” I offer when the room gets too silent and us too awkward.

“No, I just wanna see how you doing.”

“Me?” I lift my right arm and give it a little wave, free of plaster cast. “I’ve been great, that annoying stuff is off a couple days ago.”

He smiles and nods, gratified. Then his eyes catch something spread open on my bed. “What’s that?”

“Photo albums.” I pick up one of them and put it in my lap, flipping through pages. “I’ve been going through these, the doc said it’d help my memory.”

He shifts closer to get a better look. “Can you show me?” he asks, eyes already scanning through the photos.

“I doubt I could be of much help, I don’t remember anything after 18.” I give him a helpless smile, but it evolves into a cheerful one when I see the sadness pooling in his eyes. I’ve this miserable experience of losing ten years in my life, I don’t have to drag others into this chasm of misery with me. “But I can show you those prior to that.”

We spend hours going through photo after photo, majority of them were taken when I was an infant or during my childhood, some when I was in middle school. I would tell him the stories behind photos that I do remember, he would give his guesses on those I don’t. And we both laugh at the made up stories.

Still laughing heartily at the story he fabricates over a photo of the toddler me crying, a lollipop laying on the floor, I flip to another page. My eyes widen in shock when they catch a photo of me playing rubber ducks in a bathtub.

“Let’s skip this one,” I say as I hold the open photo album against my chest, defending it as if a king defending the last of his territory. “This one is getting boring, let’s try another.” I pick up another album from the pile and throw at him.

But he’s not getting any of it as his eyes narrow in on the photo album in my hands. “I think that one is interesting.”

I hold it closer against my chest and turn my back to him. There’s no way I would let him see that. But his hand is long, and he’s obstinate.

With that mischievous smirk on his face, he inches towards me until I’m wedged between his body and the headboard of my bed. “Yah!” I cry out when he snatches the photo album from me with one swift move, giggling while he turns around to guard it from me.

I snap my eyes shut to brace myself for the impending humiliation. That’s it, there goes my dignity of a lady.

But it never comes. It’s silent.

Suspiciously, I crack an eye open and find his cheeks puffing like a frog, his eyes fixed on the photo album, judging from his line of sight, he’s looking right at that photo I so desperately want to hide from him.

“Hahaha,” he bursts out laughing, falls backwards onto the bed, doubling over while doing so. “That’s you?”

It’s my turn to puff my cheeks, sulkily. “I’m glad that my photo amuses you.”

“It’s cute. You’re cute.”

He doesn’t notice how his simple words send a shade of pink across my face for he’s busy getting himself comfortable on my bed. He rolls over on his stomach, pulling the photo album over and planning to spend more time on the same page. “Is that a red mark?”

I shrug a shoulder and offer my answer, just like how I did to my other photos. “Yeah, I got it since I was born, but it faded away with time, it was gone by grade school.” But panic strikes me when I remember the location of the mark. On my chest, right above my left . Jesus Christ.

Pulling both feet onto the bed, I climb over and slam a hand to cover the photo, cheeks burning red. “Yah yah, what are you looking at?”

He rolls over on his back so that I’m hovering over him and he chuckles. “Don’t worry, I can keep that secret for you.”

“I’m sure you can keep the secret, when you’re dead.” I wrap my hands around his neck and give it a gentle press, shaking it playfully in the process. “Now you’ve seen my photo, you’re held responsible for the extermination of my dignity.”

“I’ll be responsible for that.” His words shock me into silence and I’m at a loss for words. How can those words slip out of his mouth so effortlessly, like it’s an inarguable fact? The grip of my hands around his neck loosens, I stare at his dark brown orbs and I force myself not to back away when he whispers, “I want to be responsible for your life.”

He props himself up on both elbows on the bed. I back away reflexively, just enough to maintain the distance as before. I should have walked away or talked about another less embarrassing photo, anything, anything but keeping our eyes locked.

But I just couldn’t, something in his eyes make me couldn’t tear away. He puts a hand on my waist and to make matter worse, I let him be. I could feel my heart beat erratically in my chest. He gives me a gentle pull, and my hands conveniently land on his chest with the force. His eyes are like magnet, the force radiates from them is irresistible, damn his whole is a magnet and I’m pulled towards him like a helpless sailing ship to a storm.

The only memory I hold of him happened ten years ago, when he was that hip hop teen and I was nothing but an ugly duck. And yet here we are, on my bed, our lips mere inches apart, almost touching. Whichever of us inclines that little bit more and we would be kissing.

His gaze changes, as if determined to make a move and I hold my breath, anticipating. His nose brushes against mine and he tilts his head, our lips are touching.

Almost.

A soft knock on the open door stills our motion. We blink at each other and simultaneously, we pull away as if the overwhelming attraction has vanished into thin air. We whip our head towards the door, abashed like children get caught playing in parents’ room.

“Miss, Master’s home and—” her eyes drift across the direction of Seunghyun before settling on me, “he’s not happy.”

SEUNGHYUN’S POV    

What the hell Choi Seunghyun? Do you not have any self-control? She’s 18 for God’s sake! Well not technically, but she doesn’t remember! In her mind she still thinks she’s 18, that makes her an 18, right? So what were you just trying to do, huh? Take advantage of an underage? Come on, you’re a civilised adult, you can do better than that.

“Um, uh, I’ll have to go downstairs.” Her jittery voice puts my self-reflection on hold, but I will come back to that, it needs a good long lecture.

“I’ll come with you.”

“No,” she rejects before I could finish, and immediately looks away as if frightened by her stern tone of voice. When her eyes meet mine again, they are watery, filled with helplessness. “I don’t know what’d happened between you and dad, but I-I don’t think he’d want to see you. He probably doesn’t know you’re here so… Can you wait here? It’s early for him to come back from her, he’s likely back to fetch a file or something. I—”

“Okay.” I can’t say no. She looks so vulnerable, so lost that I want to do anything for her, anything she asks.

“Okay?”

“Okay, I’ll stay in here.”

Standing at the doorway, I watch as she drags her slender figure away from me and disappears at the corner leading to the stairs. Not long after I hear intermittent voices that I couldn’t make words from. She told me to stay in her room and close the door, but curiosity and apprehension get the better of me so I walk stealthily towards the stair case and claim a spot behind the wall but make sure not to expose myself to anyone downstairs.

“Why’s the bastard in my house? Why would you ever let him in?” I know the voice, it’s her dad’s and judging from its tone, he’s far more than “not happy”.

“He’s been lingering outside for days, he just wanna see our daughter, why are you making such a fuss of it?”

“Mom, dad, please don’t—”

“I thought I’d made it clear that bastard’s not to step foot into my house, am I still the man of this family?”

“A man would at least show some respect, he’s your daughter’s boyfriend.”

“Respect? Look at what he’s done to our daughter, do you think he deserves respect? From me?”

“It’s not his fault that I got into the accident.” Leena’s voice is low but firm. I could feel something tightening around my heart. She’s defending me.

He bites back. “You say that because you don’t remember a thing!”

“That’s because no one ever told me a thing!” Rage bursts out of , she clamps her eyes shut, inhale and hold it until she opens her eyes again. My fist clenches at my side, she looks so vulnerable. “Everyone’s dodging my questions, sending me away with excuses. I just want the truth.”

“Truth? I’ll give you the truth. The kid calling you mommy, well that mongrel’s his son, he ed your friend and he walked away when she’s pregnant, he ing disappeared from her life!”

There seems to be more pouring out from his filthy mouth, but it’s cut off by her mom. “Enough! She needn’t to be listening to this!” Since I met this woman in the hospital, it’s the first time she raises her voice to this extent, and it’s directed towards her husband.

Leena’s stupefied, her expression a mixture of terror, disbelief and what pains me the most, confusion. She stumbles backwards as if all energy’s drained out from her legs, her eyes searching around the room to look for support, but she gets none, not even from her mom. “That’s not…that’s not true.” Her voice’s weak as she tries to convince herself with something she wants to believe to be true.

Every ounce of air is forced out of my lungs at the sight of the woman I love so dearly isolated, shaking in front of a roaring beast who calls himself her father.

I come out from behind the wall and barrel down the stairs. Three sets of eyes fixed their gazes at me, mine have no space for any other than hers. Her hands clutch at the hem of my so tightly I could feel my heart clench with it. “I’m sorry you’ve to listen to that.” I look into her eyes, hoping the gesture could convey all that’s within me, hoping it could comfort her.

“You get your hands off her!” His dad rushes over and gives me a shove, sending me backwards. I would have fallen onto the floor if not for the support of the marble statue placed not far behind me. Leena reaches over to steady me but he has her by her arms, shaking her as if trying to shake some sense into her. “Can’t you see it now? It’s happening again. You’re just another Cordelia, he was never in love with you, and you knew it before the accident, otherwise why’d you leave him?”

She looks so fragile in his steely grip. She stares blankly at him, as if processing his words. And her eyes search for mine, the look on her face was obvious, she was waiting for an answer from me, waiting for me to deny all the accusations from the man.

“No, that’s not the truth,” I have my eyes fixed on hers, resolved not to blink even once, hoping to get the message through my gaze. Trust me.

He switches his position so that he’s standing between us, his back to me. “Of course it’s not the truth, there’s more to that, there’s always more to that. He knocked you out, you had his baby, and he didn’t want it.” She keeps her eyes locked with mine over his shoulder all the while he hissed to her ear.

“Because he’s T.O.P, he can’t let outsiders know he’s dating a single mother, and a pregnant single mother? With his child? That’ll ruin his career, media will tear him into pieces, netizens will bite his head off, fans will leave him. He couldn’t let that happen, could he? So he left, he abandoned you, the exact same way he did to your friend in the states.”

I shake my head indignantly and mouth endless “no” to her with every of his absurd sentence, but the hope and trust that were once in her eyes have vanished, replaced with terror and doubt, and her eyebrows knit together in such a painful way it breaks my heart. I could feel blood dripping from it as tears roll down her cheeks. She doesn’t try to hold them anymore, she’s disappointed.

“Leena,” I gasp. I don’t care what he says or what he does, I just want to hold her in my arms and kiss away her tears. But her mom beats me to it. She flings his arms off her and give his chest a push, way more aggressive than I’d have expected from a dolce woman like her. She’s fuming, like a dormant volcano erupting from all the massive forces accumulated beneath the peaceful surface.

He must have been taken aback, too, as he glares at her wide-eyed. He opens his mouth to say something, probably something more offensive, but she doesn’t provide such chance for him. “What do you think you’re doing? She’s your daughter!”

Leena’s crying on her shoulder, arms wrapped around her hand for dear life. She puts a hand on the back of her head, a gesture for protection. “Leave your twisted stories to yourself!”

That seems to greatly irritate him. He throws an arm in the air, incredulous. “Twisted stories? She wanted the truth, I’m giving her the truth!”

She holds Leena closer to her chest. “The truth? The truth is all you care about is your reputation! You chased our daughter out of our house, you denied her! All that because she brought a black kid home! You said she’s a blemish to the name of her family, your name! When I tried to go for her, you said she didn’t deserve to be a Lee, how can a father say such words?”

“I didn’t know back then, I wouldn’t have said that had I known she’s not even the kid’s mom,” he tries to argue. “I loved our daughter, I always do.”

“You do? Huh? Then why did you send those guys to spy on her? Why did you need a report on her whereabouts, on whoever in touch with the kid? Because of love?”

He’s surprised by the accusation, obviously isn’t aware that his wife is a person in the know. Before he could shamelessly accredit his dreadful actions under the name of love, her wife spites again. “I heard what you talked on the phone, you wanted to kidnap her son, you want him gone, Jesus.”  

His eyes widen in shock, unprepared to be confronted for his evildoing.

Leena has been unusually calm since the wrangle between the spouses began, but I know her better; she has been holding in, she wants answers. I feel like an outsider, a bystander outside a typhoon as its centre revolves fervently around the three of them. I doubt I could stop this even if I wanted to.

The revelation of the kidnapping attempt is the last straw, she whips her head around and looks at him in disbelief. “Kidnap? You kidnapped Clarence?” she questions between ragged breaths and sobs.

Her mom cups her face and guides her to face her. “No, honey, you moved before he got the chance. You moved in to a safer place, you protected him, like every mom would do.” Her voice is soft, but it leaves no space for doubt. She needs to make her daughter believe her words, that she’d protected her son from any harm. Because she understands the feeling of being unable to help out her own child.

But the fight isn’t ended, yet.

“I did that for you. You can start a new life once you got rid of the kid. He isn’t yours anyway, why would you care?”

Leena’s eyes are shut painfully, it’s too much for her. She shouldn’t be listening to any of this. “Stop it, please,” she begs, her voice so weak and her face pale.

Get rid of the kid? What kind of father says that? Not to mention attempted to do that.

“Lee Jinhyuk!” Since the start of this shouting war, it’s her first time addressing her husband in full name, and judging from his face, the last time she did so was longer than he could remember. “Do you not have conscience? Do you still not realise how big of a mistake you’ve made?”

“The only mistake I did was send her to the states. She should have stayed in Korea, with us. Then everything wouldn’t have happened.”

Leena’s voice grows weaker, she trembles as her legs give way. “I’m begging you, stop.” She would have collapsed if her mom’s not there, holding her.

He tears away from the glare of his wife and glowers at me. “It’s you,” he paces in my direction, his voice oozes resentment. “If you’d been a better person, she wouldn’t need to look after a kid in the first place, she wouldn’t leave us for that mongrel.”

He pokes a finger at my chest with each sentence. “And then you showed up in her life all so coincidently, what’s your plan, huh? Get your kid back? If that’s it then you should’ve taken him with you and off! Why did you sleep with her? And dumped her when you got her pregnant?” 

I hate this man, I hate the way he throws accusations at me, I hate how he defences himself so brazenly without the slightest of shame. I wish I could do something, refute with words or punches, anything. But I just stand there, I couldn’t even squeeze a word from my throat to retort, because as vulgar as his words are, deep down I know that he’s not entirely wrong.

My silence seems to have boosted up his shamelessness, his eyes narrow as he inches forward. “Now that she’s lost her memory and you think you can lure her with that pretty face of yours again? you! I wouldn’t let you with her again!”

He lifts a fist and flings it my way, tries to put on that old play in the hospital, but I wouldn’t let that happen again, I’ve had enough. He can curse me, bark all those expletives at me, but insulting Leena is not something I’d put up with. I grab hold of him by his wrist, nostrils flaring with rage, and he’s too stunned to react for a moment, perhaps the force I apply on the restraint is greater than I’ve intended because he stutters and looks at me, his face contorted in pain.  “W-what are you doing?”

I hiss under my breath, “Mind your words, she’s your daughter.” I push his hand away and shoot him a disgusted glance.

When I passes over him to get to Leena, I catch her pallor from the corner of my eyes.  God she looks like she’s going to pass out any moment. But he sure is on another level of being a leech as he gets hold of my biceps and spins me to face him, his hands reach over to grasp the front of my shirt. “We’re not done yet.”

Prying open his hands off me, I scowl, “Yes we’re done.”

“Nahyun? Honey?”

I whip my head at the source of the concerned voice and finds her clinging feebly to her mom’s arms, her eyes have lost focus, and her face as pale as the marble statue behind me.

With all the strength she could gather, the lady tries to support her daughter, tries to lift her up but Leena’s slowly losing her consciousness. I run over, brushing off another attempted grab of the jerk’s hand and slip an arm under her neck, another around her torso, draw her closer to me before she falls over the edge of consciousness.

I shake her gently but get no response from her. “Leena! Leena!” Fright washes over me as she lays in my arms, lifeless.