The Arabian Peninsula, 1558

Magic, Sadiya believed, was something ever present. She did not mean powers of demons or angels, nor did she refer to the hand of God, but magic like oasis’ and feelings. Magic found in things that are beautiful, magic found in things that made her smile, even though she had very little to smile about in that life. She clung to those wisps of magic and collected them, revisiting them through memories when she felt like she was losing grip.

She visited them now, in the back of the carriage where the wheels dug softly into the sand below, the only sounds to be heard are the huffs of the camel and the night of the desert. Sweat had settled on her brow and the back of her neck was drenched, her coarse hair damp and frizzy. It was hot that night, hotter than usual, and it made sleeping difficult.

Not that Sadiya was very fond of sleeping these days. Nightmares and crows had been following her, to which she’d more than gladly reduce to superstition, but things were odd in the deserts. She’d overheard the conversations Hakim had with fellow travellers and traders, talks of demons rising to the surface.

Rumours across the trade route were unreliable, especially since a majority of them network through entertainment rings, the truth eventually manifesting into stories. However, Sadiya hadn’t been able to brush it off as she once would have, it’s a creeping feeling like a scorpion burrowing itself from under the sand. Hakim pretended he was unbothered by it, but Sadiya sensed the tightness in his smile. He’d also been travelling longer into the night than he should be, both him and the camel in need of rest.

Sadiya slipped off her silk cover and sat up. Her bed was a large, wooden chest containing a clutter of items that were either unsold and had lost their value, or simple keepsakes. The inside of the carriage was rather identical; the ceiling and walls were crowded with ornaments and decorations, pieces of art and culture filling every space of this wooden box. Items that belonged to the peninsula and items that did not belong surrounded Sadiya. There were things she was familiar with but mostly, they were all foreign to her. Even the wagon itself did not belong to the desert.

A sudden bump slightly jolts the carriage to the side, the sound of metal hitting metal and jingling erupted all around. The pillow Sadiya had been settled on slipped and fell to the ground by her bare feet. She went to pick it up, the silk of it smooth and comforting in her hand. Placing it on her lap, she traced the stitches embedded into a picture. When Sadiya first started travelling with Hakim she had to stay hidden inside the carriage during the day, and as much of the world you could find in this small secluded place, there weren’t many things to do. Knowing this, during one of their stops at a night market, Hakim had bought Sadiya needles, silk, and a box of thread that contained so much colour she’d almost cried. He’d remembered her small stories about when she’d spend most her pass time helping her mother stitch and mend clothes for her brothers.

The first thing she had stitched was that pillow. Starting off with a layer of gold silk, the first image that came to mind was her in the desert, her body curled into the sand as if she were simply sleeping. In the distance is a camel pulling a carriage, being led by a man covered up with only his eyes exposed. She looks down at the pillow, a small smile on her face, her fingers tracing the small stitches that made up Hakim.

There’s another bump then, this time harder and followed by the low groan of the camel. “Come on, big guy.” She heard Hakim murmur softly.

Sadiya gathered up the bottom of her tunic and hiked it up just above her knees so she could squeeze through the tight spaces of the carriage freely. She made her way to the front where there was a small open window curtained with a single red cloth. She climbed and kneeled onto some piled crates so her head just met the opening and then brushed the fabric aside.

The desert was colder at night and what was once a land so blindingly bright had settled into the dark, the sand now looking pale against the night sky. Sadiya looked over Hakim’s shoulder where the camel was hunched over in fatigue, or thirst, most likely both. She grimaced at the sight of the two of them, “Hakim, he’s tired.”

Hakim turned his head slightly to the right, “You’re awake?”

“You should be asleep and he needs to rest.” She demanded, her voice scolding.

“Just a little while longer, Sadiya.” He replied weakly. Sadiya’s grimace fell deeper, she could hear the hint of worry that laced itself with the exhaustion in his voice.

“What has you like this?”

“I’m simply tired. I’ve had trouble sleeping.” He said, a lie so transparent she could barely push any further.

“Well, we can have trouble sleeping together so why don’t you let the poor boy rest already.” Sadiya said, and they both knew her words were final.

She watched Hakim as he pulled at the reigns, the camel coming to an immediate stop, more than ready to give into exhaustion and settle down into the ground. Sadiya let the curtain flow shut and moved off the crates. She heard Hakim shuffle outside, whispering apologies to the animal before dropping into the sand.

She tapped away at her tunic, quickly ironing out the crumpled mess and shuffled her way back to her bed. The door to the back of the wagon was stiff when Hakim yanked at it, the hinges stubborn and sore. With one rough pull, it swung open to reveal Hakim, his own veil rumpled around his neck and showing his angular face. His jaw was wide but was complementary to his shoulders. His skin, naturally brown, had grown darker as he said it would during this time of year, to which he looked as if he’d simply meld into the night. Sadiya watched him as he went to grab at the frame of the wagon and jolted himself up into the opening, hopping inside with ease.

“What did I say about travelling in the night, Hakim?” Sadiya started, her hands crossed across her chest.

Hakim gave her a tired smile, and made his way to the small gap in the floor he’d call his bed. “It hasn’t been long since the moon has risen. You worry too much.” He said carefully, as he picked up his bedding made up of thick blankets and a cushion much like Sadiya’s.

“I’m clearly not the one worrying.” Sadiya said softly. “Do you not wish to talk about it?”

“There’s simply nothing to talk about, my dear.” He replied as he settled the blankets onto the floor, snuggling up tight between crates and several decorative ornaments, two vases dangerously close to his face.

“Then why can you not sleep?” She pushed, stubborn to get him to talk. It frustrated her, this part of him that hid behind a constant smile. He was a man that cared too much and felt too much. It was what she loved most about him, but it was also what put him on guard. Being vulnerable meant taking more precautions. Sadiya just wished he didn’t have to take precautions with her.

Hakim looked at her, his eyes wide and bright in the darkness of the wagon. They fluttered in thought before he finally decided to reply. “I’m having nightmares, is all. They’re nothing serious, but not pleasant either.”

“So am I.” She admitted, shuffling her knees up so she can prop her chin on them.

Hakim flickered his eyes between her and the ceiling. “What are they of?”

“My family…” Sadiya said as she wrapped her hands around her legs. That creeping feeling was making it’s way back under her skin, the kind of feeling that made her want to fold into a ball and cry. “They’re always screaming… dying…” She mumbled into the silk of her clothes, her words muffled.

Silence followed as Sadiya balled up into herself. The darkness had begun to scare her, every time she closed her eyes the images would burst behind her eyelids. Her nightmares followed her out of her slumber and stalked her alongside the whispers and the crows.

She flinched slightly as something grabbed her hand, looking up between her knees to find Hakim kneeling before her. He unwinded her fingers from her legs and slipped his hand between hers in comfort. “They are just dreams, Sadiya.”

“I know, but I can’t help but feel like there is more to them.” She whispered, her lip curled in a sob that fought its way up .

“You’ve been listening to the stories of the travellers,” He noted, his dark eyebrows knitting together in the middle. He took his hand to her face and her cheek. “There’s no such thing as demons.”

“How can you be so sure?” Sadiya mumbled.

Something flickered in Hakim’s eyes and his lack of response said enough. They sat still in the silence for a moment, their hands interlocked. Hakim drawing circles to the back of Sadiya’s hand whilst she traced the lines of his face. There was a darkness to him these days, his eyes heavy and his lips unnaturally turned down. It made the pits of her stomach swirl with fear.

“What have you been dreaming about?” She asked quietly, silently hoping he won’t evade her question.

Hakim didn’t look up at her, his eyes still looking down to their hands. She thought he wasn’t going to reply. Then he breathed in through his nose and let out a big sigh, looking up at her with his eyebrows drooping at the ends. “Fire… so much fire.” He muttered. “The crackle of flames so loud I would think they were screams.”

Sadiya took her free hand and settled it above his head, his hair short and tight in curls that were so soft under her palm. There were no words that could cure them of the torture that haunted their minds, but there was a comfort in the fact they were not alone. Settled together between crates of priceless items that seem like nothing in comparison to each other, they stayed like that, intertwined for a long time. Nothing but their breaths could be heard in the vastness of the desert, alongside the distant echo of a crow squawking.

Seoul, 2016

Mark has been in and out of sleep. Sometimes he wakes up screaming, sometimes he’s in pain but he’s always crying. He’d seen Jinyoung only once, his face rigid with a frown. One time he simply awoke to the ceiling, all alone and in pain. Most of the time there’d be Insook, her face still and wrinkly, simply comforting him with her presence. He thinks he’d heard Mihyun’s voice at some point, worried and frantic. Consciousness was a frayed rope. Every time he grabbed it, it’d undo itself in his hand.

Barrick, help me. Mark would beg but the voices in his head were tangled, echoes lost in echoes, all morphed and twisted . He couldn’t tell the difference between his own cries, the ghosts in his mind, and the people around him.

Images swarmed him in fragments, broken memories piecing themselves into his mind, bumping and scratching against his own along the way. Sadiya had said not to fight it but it seems his body was rejecting it on its own.

He’s glad at least the pain means he isn’t dead. Jinyoung is still safe.

When Mark finally wakes up, he finds himself in the comforts of his own bed. When he moves, his body is stiff and his muscles ache. The inside of his mouth is dry and sticky, his eyelids heavy. He wonders just how long he’s been asleep for.

Three days. A voice responds. Mark jumps upright, his head spinning across the room until they land on Sadiya, settled upon his desk, her feet up on his chair. The gold silk of her tunics sprawl across the piece of furniture, and the veil that was once covering the majority of her face is now settled around her neck.

“Sadiya?” Mark gasps, he blinks furiously and even tries to rub his eyes but every time he looks over to his desk she’s still there. “This is weird.”

She raises a thick eyebrow at him, a thin smirk carving into her cheeks. She has a slim face and her eyes arch upwards at the ends. From this distance her eyes almost look hazel. Honestly, I was kind of worried. Thought I lost you on day two.

“What?” He squeaks. Mark sits uncomfortable in his bed, his eyes scanning the rest of the room-

He’s not here.

“Huh?”

Sadiya sighs and moves herself off the desk, settling on bare feet and leaning back with her hands crossed over her chest. Barrick agreed to give us some space.

“You didn’t swallow him up or something, right?” Mark asks, worried.

Swallowed? I’m not a demon, Mark. He’s just settled back a little. If you’re that worried I can call him back? She offers, the nonchalance in her voice tells Mark that maybe he shouldn’t be too worried.

“What’s going on? How are you here? How is this possible?” Mark mumbles frantically, crawling to sit up on his knees, his hands clutching the covers with anxiety.

She looks up to the side in thought, her jaw sharp at the angle. With a flicker of her wrist, she looks at Mark and shrugs. It was a bit too much effort on my part but after Japan I managed to slip in with Barrick. It’s just taken me some time to gather the strength, since I’ve been floating aimlessly for far too long. She sighs and pushes herself up from the desk, her tunic gliding at the back of her feet, the gold of the fabric bright against the dull grey carpet.

“Why?” Mark breathes.

Sadiya looks over her shoulder, Why what?

“Why did you have to push through?” Mark asks, his lips. He was parched, his throat like sandpaper every time he swallowed.

She looks down to the ground before turning around to face the window. She takes her hand and reaches out to the glass, her tanned, thin arm revealing itself as her tunic rides up. It’s been awhile since I’ve used my voice. She says wistfully and then turns back to look at Mark. Is it so bad to crave life? Crave connection? I simply saw a way out and I pushed.

Mark narrows his eyes at her, trying to grasp at the link between them but she feels distant and faded. She feels like she’ll disappear any second.

It’ll come to you soon. She says, moving her way towards him. She looks like she’s floating, her feet lost in her garments. Mark holds his breath, a mix of fear and awe drowning out his insides. Barrick felt human, a ghost maybe, but very human. Sadiya, on the other hand, felt like a legend come to life. She felt like magic.

“I have questions-” Mark starts but she puts out a palm to stop him.

I know. But I am still not strong enough to show myself like this for too long. She says, looking down at her own hand. I will answer your questions, Mark, but I need you to do something.

“What?”

She looks up from her hands with a hard stare. Do not tell Jinyoung I’m here. Hakim cannot know even though I fear he may have already sensed it.

“W-what why? I thought you’d be happy to see each other?”

Sadness shrouds her in that moment, Mark can taste it on his tongue. There is nothing more I could want right now than to see him but things aren’t so simple. She says in a sigh and then looks up to stare at the door.

She gives Mark a tilt of her head and in the next second the bedroom door swings open. “Ahjumma, I already took the meat out of the freezer ages ago, stop worrying… how can you not trust me after all this time?” Mihyun huffs into the phone that’s tucked between her ear and her shoulder, in her hand is a large bowl with a towel draped over its edge. “Ok… bye… bye… Jesus,” She huffs, completely walking by Mark and settling the bowl onto the desk. With her back to Mark, she takes the phone and drops it onto the desk. “, how do I defrost the meat now?”

Mark sits still, watching Mihyun. “Hairdryer? Boiling water?” She mumbles to herself and then turns around on her heels, making her way to the door before her eyes brush over Mark and she screams. “Oh my god!” She squawks, clattering back onto the desk.

“Hi,” Mark lifts up a palm.

“Professor!?” Mihyun gasps and crumbles to the floor. “Jesus Christ.” She mumbles and crawls her way to the edge of the bed to grab desperately to Mark’s covers. “You’re awake?” She says, her face dug into the mattress.

Mark holds back a laugh and goes to pet her softly to the top of her head. “I’m awake.”

She pokes her head up, revealing her red eyes. “You really, really need to stop passing out on us, Professor. I don’t think my heart can take it.” She mumbles, her shoulders shaking.

“I’m sorry, but I’m okay.” Mark says but it doesn’t sound very convincing. “Where’s-”

“Mihyun?” Jinyoung’s voice bursts from down the hall. Mihyun pops up and rubs at her face quickly before pushing herself to her feet. The both of them stare at the door until Jinyoung appears. “What’s going on-” His eyes immediately fall on Mark. “Professor?”

“Morning?” Mark grins sheepishly.

Jinyoung’s face drops into a scowl, “You look like you got a good rest.”

“I feel a bit to be honest.” Mark says, rubbing at his stomach. “And hungry.”

Mihyun looks between the two, clearly not understand the exchange that they were having. “I-I’ll get you some water and food- I need to defrost the meat before Ahjumma kills me too.” Mihyun says hurriedly. “Tell me if you need anything, okay, Professor? I still think we should call a doctor.” Mihyun says pointedly to Jinyoung as she passes him.

Jinyoung doesn’t respond to her, his eyes firmly glued onto Mark. When Mihyun leaves the room, Jinyoung finally moves and goes to sit on the bed. He sits at the far corner, possibly the furthest he could be from Mark. “What was that about a doctor?” Mark asks out of discomfort, he wasn’t sure what mood Jinyoung was in. To be honest, Mark’s a little disappointed, he expected Jinyoung to practically fly to him the moment he saw him awake.

“Ah… Mihyun insisted on sending you to a hospital but I told her not to.” Jinyoung vaguely responds, his voice flat. He has his back to Mark, and this whole situation is making him itch.

“I see,” Mark mutters, unsure of what to say next. “Jinyoung?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you alright?” Mark asks.

Jinyoung shifts to look at Mark, his jaw set hard, the back of his teeth grinding against each other. “‘Am I alright?’” He forces the words through his teeth. “You’ve been screaming and crying for three days straight, Professor. But you’re asking if I’m alright?”

Mark is slightly taken back, “I’m fine, Jinyoung.”

“I can see that.” Jinyoung retorts sharply. “When I found you on the ground I wanted to send you to a hospital straight away, or at least bring a doctor but… they all told me to calm down.”

“They?”

Jinyoung taps at his temple, “They said you would be fine, and that’d you wake up soon. Although soon isn’t exactly three days but at least they were right.” He sighs and shifts off the bed, rubbing his hands together.

Mark watches him carefully. The dark circles under his eyes were more apparent than ever and if Mark’s memories serve him right, Jinyoung is in the same clothes he was wearing three days ago. Mark takes in a deep breath. “Jinyoung… come sit.” He says, tapping at the space beside him.

Jinyoung stares down at him with narrowed eyes, and he really looks like he’s about to reject Mark’s request but he eventually moves and places himself where Mark’s hand was. “What?” He punches out the word.

Mark shuffles up close to Jinyoung and puts his hand over his, Jinyoung’s hand is limp against Mark but that doesn’t stop him from lacing their fingers together. “I’m sorry.” He says quietly, his thumb tracing circles to the back of Jinyoung’s hand.

There’s no response for a while, but eventually the tension in Jinyoung slips out with a sigh and he tilts his head to give Mark a sad expression. “Why are you apologising?”

“I worried you.” Mark says. “I don’t know how I’d react if it was you.”

“What happened, Mark?” Jinyoung mutters, his eyes low. “I thought you were going to die again.”

Don’t tell him, Mark. Sadiya’s voice is a faint whisper in the back of Mark’s head.

“It was Barrick,” Mark lies, and internally apologies to both Barrick and Jinyoung.

Confusion veils Jinyoung’s face, “What? Is he still trying to push through?”

“No, no, it seems he’s still… having a hard time adjusting. You know, he’s been fighting his way through for so many years now for a fruitless revenge. He isn’t taking it well.” Mark explains, the words coming out of his mouth with ease.

“He should stop being a about it-” Jinyoung slaps his hand to his mouth. “Sorry, that was a bit of Henrikka there.”

Mark chuckles and takes a hand to wrap around Jinyoung’s neck, half hugging him. “Sorry.” He murmurs into Jinyoung’s hair and then stiffens. He takes a sniff and then inches back. “I didn’t want to mention it but… have you showered at all these last few days?”

Jinyoung blinks up at him and then flies backwards, “I-I completely forgot. I was...just constantly thinking-” Jinyoung looks down and tugs on his shirt. “How long have I been in these?” He mumbles to himself.

“We’re both in need of a shower, I feel sticky.” Mark says, itching to just rip his clothes off.

Jinyoung grins wide, “Wanna go in together?”

Mark gives him a deadpan look just as Mihyun returns with one eye shut and a cup of water. “Why are you looking like you’re about to get slapped?” Jinyoung asks from his corner of the bed.

Mihyun turns to face them and creaks her eye open, “Oh.” She simply says before relaxing. “Thought I was going to be interrupting something.”

Mark stiffens and Jinyoung raises an eyebrow, “What could you possibly be interrupting?”

Mihyun locks into place, her hand clasped around the cup. hangs open, “Uh…” There’s the sudden sound of the front door opening downstairs then, and Mihyun quickly goes to push the cup into Mark’s hand. “Oh, Ahjumma’s here. Pray for me, I haven’t defrosted the meat.” She says quickly before dashing back out the room.

The two of them watch her until the last wisp of hair disappears behind the door frame. “Think she knows?” Mark asks, even though he already knew the answer.

Jinyoung snorts hard, “She definitely knows.”

Marks gives Jinyoung a flat look.

Jinyoung’s smile slightly drops. “What? Did you want to keep it a secret or something?”

“That’s not it…” Mark trails off. “It’s just… to us we have context, a lot of context, but to others we’re just professor and student.”

“Maybe,” Jinyoung says and shuffles closer to Mark. “But I don’t care what other people think. Besides, these days they can’t do much but talk. Also, Mihyun isn’t much of a problem.”

“I know she isn’t,” Mark says and tilts his head to Jinyoung. “She’s a special one.”

“She is.” Jinyoung mumbles, a hand pinching at the bridge of his nose.

“What’s wrong?” Mark asks settling a comforting hand to the back of Jinyoung’s exposed neck.

“Nothing,” Jinyoung mumbles. “My head just hurts a little.”

This doesn’t sit well with Mark at all. “What? Your head still hurts? It’s been over four days now.”

Jinyoung lifts his head up and slides Mark’s hand away. “Don’t worry about me, I’m just coming down with a cold or something. You, on the other hand, I’m going to have eyes on you, 24/7.” Jinyoung says finally, getting up to his feet.

“Jinyoung, I’m fine. This won’t happen again but-”

“How can you be so sure?” Jinyoung interjects, a disapproving look on his face. “Barrick clearly hasn’t settled and I don’t want to risk anything.”

Mark can’t say anything back to that, the promise to Sadiya already restricting him. He’d finally decided to be honest with Jinyoung, so Sadiya better have a good explanation for why he’s got to keep secrets all over again.

“Mark. You’re awake?” Insook’s voice is small when it comes from the open door.

Mark turns to look over his shoulder and finds Insook in a short sleeved button up top tucked neatly into a long pair of wide legged bottoms. A plastic carrier bag hangs off her wrist and she has a pair of sunglasses tucked upon her head, brushing back the fine grey hairs.

“Ahjumma.” Mark calls out warmly. “I’m awake.”

“How are you, boy?” She asks. She makes her way into the room, holding the small of her back.

“I’m fine, but what’s wrong with your back?” Mark asks, shuffling up on the bed so she could sit beside him.

“Nothing, just stretched it whilst I was in the garden the other day.” She brushes it off as she sits onto the bed eagerly.

“Ahjumma, it’s good you’re here. I need to go shower so keep an eye on him.” Jinyoung instructs, and it earns him a fine glare from both Mark and Insook.

“Is he a dog?” Insook retorts.

“Yeah? I told you I was fine.” Mark insists.

Jinyoung gives Mark a look of disbelief and then quickly washes it away with a smile as he looks back to Insook, “Please, Ahjumma? You’ve been looking after him the last few days now, it’s nothing much, right?” He say cheekily before skidding his way out of the room, leaving no space for either of the two to make another comment.

Insook goes to the carrier bag now settled beside her on the bed and digs out two brown bags. She hands one to Mark, and from the heat radiating from it, Mark instantly knows what is in it. He gleefully dives into the bag and pulls out a steaming bun, the white dough soft and warm in his hands.

“I don’t know if it’s a coincidence, or if I’m just lucky that I woke up in time for these.” Mark says happily and doesn’t waste another second before he digs his teeth into it.

“I had walked past a stall on the way home,” Insook says, picking at the dough with her fingers and putting it into . “I’d thought of you, I had a feeling you were going to wake up soon.”

Mark swallows down a quick bite and nudges the old woman from the side, “Thank you for looking after me, I saw your face a lot of the time.”

“I did nothing,” She says, staring down at the bun. “I do not ask questions often Mark, I’m not that curious but I have to ask, are you alright?” She asks this softly, a careful tone to her voice. It’s something Mark has never heard come from her before, but it’s not entirely surprising either. Whether it’d be Jinyoung’s drama, the earthquakes, or the vague and confusing conversations, Insook had always simply settled into the background. She spoke when she knew she was needed, and acted silently, but most importantly, she was always there.

“I’m alright, Ahjumma,” Mark says wholeheartedly. “I’m sorry I can’t explain everything to you, but it’s all alright. Everything is alright.”

“That’s all I needed to hear.” She nods, giving Mark’s knee a soft tap. “But it’s that boy, Jinyoung, that worries me sometimes.”

“What do you mean?”

“He keeps a lot of things to himself.” Insook says notedly. “I haven’t said anything since it isn’t my business, but he’s been taking a lot of medication, painkillers I suppose.”

“He has been complaining about headaches…” Mark mumbles. “How has he been while I was out?”

“He’s been sleeping a lot often and for longer,” She explains, shuffling her bun back into the brown bag. She wraps the top up and places it back into the carrier bag. “But he sleeps in silence.” In hindsight, what she said shouldn’t have worried Mark to that extent. He hadn’t thought about it but it makes sense that she could hear Jinyoung in the night too, when his nightmares and memories ran rampant. He wonders now that the memories have settled for good, it’d mean less of a torture for him. If Mark had felt just a fraction of what Jinyoung was feeling for the last year then maybe he’s just finally calmed down. The reasoning however doesn’t seem to ease Mark’s worries.

“Thanks for telling me Ahjumma, seriously, thank you for everything.” Mark says, his lips. Even though the hunger is excruciating as he stares down at the pathetic first bite he took of his bun, he couldn’t find the will to continue eating.

“Eat, Mark. I’m going to go make dinner so at least that’ll help ‘til I’m done.” She pushes with a rub of his shoulder and gets up to her feet. “I bet that girl hadn’t taken the meat out of the freezer.” She murmurs under her breath as she heads for the door.

Mark chuckles, “Don’t nag at her too much.”

Insook looks over her shoulder and gives Mark a tut. Her face changes quickly then, “You laugh more these days.”

“What?” Mark blinks.

Insook scratches at her neck, her fingers pinching at the loose skin as she wonders whether she should continue talking. “There are things stressing you, I’m aware, but I have not seen you smile or laugh as often as you have these last few weeks. It’s a pleasant sight.”

Mark rubs at his face consciously, “I didn’t realise.”

There’s a small smile on Insook’s face, hidden in the wrinkles. “My husband used to say this all the time; that sadness comes in like a flood, it makes you feel numb and suffocated, some days you can’t move and other days you want to destroy everything. But happiness and being content is harder to notice, because you simply feel... right.”

Mark tugs on his earlobe and gives out a little laugh, “I used to think happiness was just the absence of sadness.”

Insook gives him a look of understanding before finally turning to leave the room. Mark sits on the edge of his bed, his hands clutched together. He realises then that that was the first time Insook has ever spoke about her husband. Mark was once okay with the very shallow relationship they used to have, more inclined to keeping to himself, as he assumed Insook did as well. He supposes, however, that that wasn’t the case at all for either them.

There’s a breeze then, it tastes of heat and gravel. It’s peculiar and unnatural because the only window in the room is shut and the humidity in the room is thick. It comes with that same grainy sound, the sound of sand flowing in the wind. This time, however, fear doesn’t swell up in Mark’s lungs and his body doesn’t give into itself as if his muscles had turned to lead. Familiarity and nostalgia washes up on him like sea foam on beaches and the morning sun slipping between curtains.

Mark stares down at the orange tunic, snuggled around her ankles, her bare feet tickling the carpet. Mark’s eyes trace up her body, lost in the layers of silk. She’s taller than he expected, possibly just a few inches shorter than Mark himself. When she turns her face to stare at him, her big brown eyes meeting with his own, a feeling surges through his body. An overwhelming feeling stuck between love and respect, the kind of feeling Mark had for his father.

It’s that smile however, that thin but bright smile that encompasses her face and presses into the ends of her eyes that has his heart sinking. He watches her as she glides back to the desk, settling back into the wood with ease. So, where were we? She says, her voice deep and rough, and so vivid as if she’d spoken the words into the air but Mark knows it’s just in his head.