SAERA

It’s midnight and here I am alone on our bed. I woke up feeling an empty space beside me and I didn’t have to know why. I don’t even want to imagine how long I have been alone in here. With a heavy heart, I get off the bed and left the room. I went to check the baby room and Jongyul’s peacefully asleep. The next place I went to was Baekhyun’s studio. Not caring to knock, I hesitantly turned the knob and pushed the door open. He was there; I knew it. He was busy on his PC. I heave a sigh. I know he felt my presence but he didn’t even budge and just kept on clicking on his mouse.

I walk towards him and once I was standing right behind him, I bend down to wrap my arms around his neck. That made him finally stop but he didn’t speak. It was pretty dark in the room and the PC’s our only source of light. “Are you still mad at me?” I ask my voice barely clear. I didn’t get any response. He just grabbed his mug of coffee and took a small sip. I feel my tears forming being ignored by him.

“Baekhyun, don’t be mad anymore.” My voice came out shaky this time and a tear finally escaped my eye. He had his head lowered while holding his mug near his lap. “Your mom’s just too much sometimes.” He finally speaks and I start sobbing. “You know she doesn’t mean to offend you. S-she just really speaks her mind and. . .” I try to defend my mom but I couldn’t find any more words to say. “Let’s admit it, if I didn’t get you pregnant she would have never approved of me.” He answers for me but I shake my head in disagreement.

“It’s not true.” I cry out, my arms clutch more on his neck. “You think I don’t know. . . that she once tried convincing you to divorce me when you had a miscarriage. Saera, I don’t want to talk about this topic because we agreed not to but I just can’t keep it anymore.” He utters, his voice turns soft.

It’s been a while since it was mentioned.

It is true.

My mom told me before that since the main reason why we got married was gone, I didn’t have any reasons to stay with him.

But of course, I said no.

There are millions of other reasons of why I want to stay.

And would we have Jongyul now if I didn’t?

“Baekhyun. . . let’s just be patient about her. We don’t have a choice.” I answer back. “I know but I just can’t understand why she’s having a hard time on trusting me until now. Is it because I ruined your supposedly profession? Worse. . . your life?” He asks. I vigorously shook my head. Letting go of his neck, I twirl his chair to face me. “Didn’t I tell you it was never like that?” I said and cupped his face. The way his eyebrows curve, I could see how bad he’s feeling about the money thingy. Mainly, about my family.

I can’t blame him.

Eomma was a bit too much on that one and of course, she has influenced other relatives of mine. The only one who doesn’t actually look so lowly of Baekhyun was Saeho Oppa, my brother.

“Saera, I don’t blame you for respecting your mom. It’s just right but. . . at least try to stand up for me sometimes.” He tells and turns his head away while pushing my hands down from his cheeks. “I-I’ve tried it so many times, Baekhyun. Believe me, I did.” I explain. My legs already bent down into a kneeling position in front of him while holding onto his knees.

He looks back down to me. “You don’t understand what I feel about your mom because my parents are so nice to you. You don’t feel like you’re the cheapest person for them, they treat you like a real daughter.” He speaks. That made me silent, feeling offended by it this time. “You talk like my mom’s the worst person.” I said, my hands sliding off from his knees.

Whatever she does, she’s still my mom and I would feel bad if I hear something like this.

Especially from my husband’s mouth.

Does he even know how hard it is for me to be in between them?

He gently pushed me from the way so he could stand up. He grabbed his mug and walked out. I stood and followed him out. “You didn’t answer. So she is indeed the worst person for you, isn’t she? She’s still my mom, Baekhyun. Don’t forget that.” I say with my firm tone. My knuckles were already white as I have been clutching them for a while now.

The tension was a real struggle.

“Answer me.” I said. We arrived at the kitchen and he was getting another dose of coffee. “You’re the one who said that. I didn’t.” He answers and walked to the dining table and sat. “What does that suppose to mean?” I scoff and roll my eyes. “Just go back to sleep. I’m not done with my music.” He said, obviously avoiding the conversation. “No, I’m not going to sleep until your mind’s straightened out.” I insist and dart my eyes down to him.

He sneers back. “So my mind’s the one with problem, is it?” He looked back at me with those flaring eyes. “Okay—so what do you want me to do? Fight with my mother because you don’t like her?” I ask with a s