Love…

Fluttering butterflies overrode her stomach as she leaned up into him, taking a good whiff of his musky scent. Closing her eyes she dug her face into his neck smiling, hugging him tighter.

~~~~~

Often the question of what love really is is beyond explainable because there are so many variables to it. Words could not simply tell how such an emotion touched one in depth. As Namjoo slowly packed away her clothes she wondered about what kind of love she may harbor for Jongin – if it could be called that at all.

“Do you love my uncle?” the little boy innocently asked.

Bending down to his level Namjoo asked, “Do you think I can?”

He nodded, “I think you already love him. You look at him like this.” The little boy blinked his eyes furiously making Namjoo break out into a round of giggles.

Was it possible to love without being aware of it?

Namjoo didn’t know. Aside from the love she felt for her brother she’d never felt anything beyond the line of family. Yet there was the fact that before even knowing it, she’d become attached to having Jongin around. And it hadn’t taken very long for it to happen.

That…she couldn’t explain. Namjoo still couldn’t fathom over why it had happened when she hadn’t pursued it from the very beginning. These sudden feelings that fluttered through her – what were they, why was she feeling them, and what purpose did they serve? The biggest wonder, at all, was why Jongin even possessed an ounce of feeling for her because she knew she very well she did not deserve them or him.

Here she was though, preparing to move in with him despite the fact that she would cause her own agony by seeing her mother every day, maybe for the rest of her life. When she should have questioned it from the very beginning, here she was pondering over it too late.

Walking out of her room after storing all her possessions away carefully she stopped to stare at the framed pictures of her and Joohwan. He would be angry with her when he found out why she’d chosen Jongin. He would perhaps not talk to her for a period of time in order to punish her for her wrongdoing, for tricking an innocent fellow into marrying her. Joohwan would be disappointed and it would hurt her to know he felt that way.

She was foolish. Had always been without a brain, only living with her guts and impulsive nature. To have come up with such a scheme, to betray, and manipulate.

Lifting the photo up Namjoo brushed her finger over the glass and blew the dust off. Joohwan wouldn’t be coming to her wedding. She wouldn’t let him meet the mother who’d caused them to reach to this point on their own. She would never introduce him to Jongin’s family. She had decided that after introducing him to his brother-in-law. Namjoo would spare him the pain of finding out that while they lived on the streets, their mother had lived in the riches with everything possible. While they had been forgotten, she’d taken care of two other children in their place.

When Namjoo thought of it, the deploring sadness hit her like a fist to the stomach. She and Joohwan had not been good enough. Mother had left their hard stricken life for a rich man and his well off children.

While she and Joohwan’s hearts were ripped to shreds each day, that woman lived with a smile and those kids warmly under her. As those children fit for the face of society went to school, she had been forced to admit them to an orphanage. When those high class children graduated from school, she worked long nights trying to provide. And compared to those kids who lived each day in top notch health, in top class comfort, she fought off the impending doom to make sure Joohwan never got ill.

The anger that pelted her, the disappointment, and the frayed anguish of being left behind once again reminded her why she would never forgive the mother who left. Yes, it had been hard and that woman was the reason why it had been hard. The mother, whom she trusted would forever be their sole protector, gave up halfway.

Clutching the frame to her she promised that no matter what, Joohwan would never learn of that woman.

~~~~~

“Is that all you have?” Jongin questioned the next day when he came to pick her up.

“That’s all,” Namjoo replied lugging the suitcase after her and glanced at the box in his arms.

“I thought you might have more,” he commented.

“That’s all,” Namjoo smiled pulling the door close. She stood there, pausing to relish in the fact that she was really leaving. It was a weird emotion indeed.

“What’s wrong?” Jongin’s voice entered her ears and she turned around with a shake of her head. “Come on, lets go. Jaegeun’s really excited. He wants to welcome his Auntie with wide, open arms. My parents are also waiting for you too. Mom’s been up since morning, fussing over what to cook.”

Namjoo’s expression stiffened at the mention of her mother but forced a quick smile into its place, in case Jongin sensed anything was off. She didn’t want to face him ever if he found out she’d lied about being an orphan.

As soon as they loaded his car and slipped into the front seats Jongin grasped onto her hand, holding it tightly.

“Besides the upcoming wedding, today’s got to be one of the best days of my life,” he peered at her, his face beaming nothing but happiness. He looked like the sunshine shining fiercely even on a rainy day through the rolling clouds.

Namjoo’s heart rocked back and forth when he lifted their hands up to his lips and kissed the back of her hand. And what would await them after this…she didn’t know, but she was here and they were going to step forward down the same road.

~~~~~

“Uncle’s girlfriend!” Jaegeun leapt up at her when she walked in through the door with Jongin behind her.

“Hey kiddo,” Jongin called, “what did I tell you to call her?”

Jaegeun grinned up at him mischievously then snatched her hand and pulled her down the hall. “This is my room,” he pushed open his door to let her in.

Namjoo stumbled into a boyish room with the bed donned in Spiderman sheets, the pillow covers matching. A spinning décor of UFOs and spacecrafts hung down from the ceiling near one of the corners. Two white bedside tables were placed on either side of the bed, one of them containing a lamp and the other a clock along with stacked comic books. Drawers and a closet contained Jaegeun’s possible daily wear with a treasure box aligned against the wall overflowing with his toys.

It was a room Namjoo envied. Jaegeun was definitely going to be one cunning boy when he grew up. She could tell by that flare in his eyes. It appeared slightly different from Jongin’s soft glow and she wondered who his father was.

“Is it?” Namjoo asked then rubbed his head. “Wow, you have so many cool stuff.”

“Can you play with me?” the four-year-old excitedly wondered.

“Your Aunt needs to come to my room first, kiddo,” Jongin spoke from behind her.

“Then will you come back? You must!” that hint of plundering exhilaration still remained bound to his tone.

“I will,” she promised before Jongin led her down the hall toward his bedroom.

Namjoo walked in curious about what kind of things he had in there, how it looked like, and how he managed his belongings. He was very organized. Books stacked neatly to a side on his desk, a file management for folders, a cup for pens and pencils, a stapler and a three-hole-puncher all set orderly side by side around the edges of the desk. She could smell clean laundry detergent flowing off the bed sheets after her eyes roved over the two windows behind the desk. There was a large storage closet to the side along with an extra half-closet half-drawer beside it. Beyond that she spotted another door that was closed.

“I cleaned out yesterday,” he proudly shared the fact.

“I can see,” Namjoo replied walking further in. “You have a big room. Mine’s like a peanut compared to yours.”

Jongin laughed amused, “It’s not much different if you remove the windows, the bathroom, and the closet. Actually, I kind of like your hostel compared to my room.”

Namjoo looked at him like he’d just spoken a foreign language to her. It was when she felt him slide his arm around her that she felt reality punch her in the face. Sharing the room with him would mean sharing everything with him. It would mean he would see her clothes, her bras, her underwear – everything. And herself.

Honestly, she hadn’t thought that far out besides the one thing: living with him.

“I’ve cleared some closet space for your things,” he walked her over to the two sliding doors, opened them to show her half the empty space inside. “I’ll get you more things from now on. I don’t think my parents would be all too happy if I let you continue to dress down.”

Namjoo had looked forward to that so much earlier that hearing it made her unbelievably happy, but not as happy if she’d heard it before. She turned to him with a smile then felt him wrap his other arm around her, pulling her closer until their hips brushed. A slight nervousness fluctuated through her.

Was she really ready to get married?

Jongin leaned his head against her shoulder with his eyes on her like a child expecting a reward for working well. The moment was interrupted when a knock rapped at the door and one of the housekeepers poked her head in.

“Lunch is ready. Your mother is waiting.”

~~~~~

Namjoo walked into the dining room – a spacious room just beside the kitchen decorated with flowery things and happy, vibrant paintings on the wall. The long table with five chairs tucked in was topped with a variety of dishes fresh from the oven and the stove. Namjoo could still see steam flowing off them, amazingly.

Jaegeun was in his seat happily waiting for her with a tiny grin, his blinding white teeth peeking through his lips. He looked like a handsome copy of his dead father because she didn’t think he looked anything like Jongin or his sister now that she looked closely at him.   

Namjoo turned to look at Jongin wondering where to sit and he smiled at her with a nod, allowing her to sit beside the young child. Jongin sat across from her and his mother appeared from the entryway with a dish of hot soup, cautiously shuffling before making it to the table. Namjoo felt her eyes dart down to the table, unable to bring herself to look at her own mother.

“Mom, you made too much,” Jongin commented when the woman took the seat beside him.

“Oh…is it? I wasn’t sure what to make, so I did everything I could. I wasn’t sure what your – our daughter-in-law would like.” she breathed, her nervousness obvious to the ears.

Namjoo slightly bit onto her tongue and gripped her hands under the table. It was insanely awkward. This was such a weird position to be in.

Then the vibration of a machine made her look up to see Jongin’s father entering the room in his mechanical wheelchair. His eyes first landed on her, eyeing her for a few seconds before averting them. He probably really despised her, she thought. It was really a wonder why they were letting her walk into this home as Jongin’s wife-to-be.

“He…hello,” Namjoo anxiously greeted. “It’s nice to see you again.”

Kim Kwanhoon glanced at her with glassy eyes before lightly nodding and picked up his utensils. “You made a lot today, Hunmi. You shouldn’t wear yourself out.”

Namjoo’s grip tightened on her spoon. For over 10 years her mother had lived her with this man, married to him. The thought burned inside with as much distaste as she held for the delicious food in . Her dead father…how would he feel about this? Because it made her…so angry.

She barely said a word throughout lunch while the rest hummed light conversation around her. A few times Jongin placed food onto her plate when she seemed in a daze, urging her to try them – his and her mother’s cooking. She would love it, he told her, because his mother was a great cook; that he never tired of her food. But he didn’t know how much it pained her inside to be eating her mother’s food again – how sad it made her, how it made her blood hot with anger for being deprived from it for so long. And it made her think of Joohwan.

The younger brother would never be able to keep his heart whole if ever he saw their mother. It would break again and again until the pieces couldn't be put back together, because he would hurt twice as much as she.

When spoons were put down and the table was starting to be cleared her mother leaned over to take her plate after everyone else seemed to have dispersed somewhere else, maybe into another universe.

“Did you like the food?” her voice was quiet, a little shaky. “I wasn’t sure if it was to your liking. You didn’t touch my fried rice…it was your favorite.”

One look at her and Namjoo found herself glaring before a voice made her turn away. Another housekeeper walked up to her, a middle aged one.

“The President would like to have a word with you.”

Glad for the call, Namjoo turned to walk away.

~~~~~

Jongin’s dad was now in his bed, one too large for him alone. He remained on one side instead of hugging up the entire space like she would have. As her eyes drifted over the empty space on the other side she wondered if her mother laid there with him at night. A knot formed in her heart tightening four-folds.

Stepping into the glamorous room she slowly stepped forth and sat down on the chair beside the bed, where she naturally guessed anyone sat to converse with him. This room was cool with vintage yellow wallpapers, a white desk to match and a chair with a red cushion that made it appear somewhat…royal.

“You were asking for me?” she asked with hands clutched on her lap.

The man seemed to observe her as if to catch any flaw in appearance, maybe her attitude or persona. Did one often go through a trial and error like one did with magazine products when confronted by a parent of high society?

The man’s expression said nothing of relevance to Namjoo, so she remained there quiet.

“You call me father.”

“Excuse me?” she asked, wondering if she heard right.

“And Jongin’s mother, mother.”

Namjoo looked aside before nodding awkwardly. “Uh…yes…fa…father.”

Strange to be calling someone that after such a long time. The word felt almost like a bug to her tongue.

“Jongin, my foolish son, loves you a lot,” he started, now looking away from her. “To only want you over anyone else, I really had no choice but to admit defeat to him. You haven’t known each other long, but I will trust him with his decision. I suppose you’re clear with the fact that I’m ill and don’t have much time left.”

He looked at her to see her nod.

“When my time passes, Jongin will have no one to look after him. His mother,” he paused as if deep in thought about how he should lace his words then went on, “is getting old and exhausted by the day. She’s had a hard time here in this home. After me, there’s no one else but Jongin. I would like it if he had a family to help look after him. He’s a sensitive child, not very headstrong. If you can provide him with support and encourage him when I’m gone, that’s all I really ask of you.”

The old man glanced at her and in one of the gentlest tones she’d ever heard, “Thank you, for marrying Jongin; for coming here. This house has long been in gloom without real laughter. I will have faith that you will help restore this home’s happiness. You are a vital part of this home.”

His words…were strange to Namjoo’s ears, as if they held double meaning but she had no reason to be suspicious. How would he know that? How did he know that she was an important piece of the family? Why did he believe that she would be the person to return happiness to this home when he barely knew her?

Namjoo was filleld with the urge to ask but didn’t want to mess up her position, so she remained quiet.

“Welcome home, my daughter.”