author's prenote: This is a sequel to the previous chapter. 

Half a year later.

I sleep all day. Noises flit around the house - garbage collector emptying the trash outside households, torrential rain, tree rapping against the bedroom window. I still sleep. I inhabit sleep firmly, willing it, wielding it, hoping that I can put myself into dreams, wishing that I could dream about her, getting some solace and happiness from the mirage. The phone continues to ring, my handphone, the house phone. I can hear the machine going to voice mail, the one that answers with her voice.

Sleep is my lover now, my refuge, my , my oblivion.

Be it morning, afternoon or night, the cycle repeats - everything is reduced to this bed, to this endless slumber. Sometimes, when sleep abandons me, I will pretend. I will breathe slowly and deeply, making my eyes still under eyelids and eventually, sleep will return. Other times, I will wake up and reach for her. Sleep erases all differences; then and now. I am past hunger, past vanity, past caring. 

I caught sight of my face in the mirror this morning and realised that I am paper-skinned, gaunt, stubbles on my chin, dark-eyed, hair matted. I look dead. I want nothing.

Umma sits at the foot of the bed. She says, "Ji? I know you're awake. The hospital called. Yoonjae is fighting well, don't you want to... see him?" 

I pretend to sleep. Seconds later, I felt droplets of water on my feet. I sigh and open my eyes, realising that tears are leaking from her eyes. She crawls into bed with me and wraps her arms around me and kiss the top of my head. 

"My son, please stop this..." 

Her voice cracks and I crack too. 

♂♂♂♂♂

I get up, take a shower and end up going to the hospital. When I reach the Neonatal ICU, I see a familiar face. She is in disraught but when she looks up and sees me, she musters a smile, walking towards me and envelops me in a hug. 

"You're finally here..."

I return the hug half-heartedly but force a smile nonetheless. We break apart after awhile and I look into the window, seeing a tiny baby, around the size of a melon, lying in the incubator, with tubes and wires plucked in him. 

"He's fighting really well, isn't he?" she smiles as she looks into the window as well. 

Indeed, he's fighting well... I should be proud, should be elated, but... 

I just can't feel anything.

"Soobin," I turn and look at her. "How... How did you even make it...?" 

I croak, realising that I am in the brink of tears again at the very mention and thought about the love of my life. 

She is startled for a moment before giving a weak smile, "I have to. It's what I promised her..." 

I simply can't deal with this. It's insane. 

Six months ago, when Yoona gave me the ultimatum to continue trying or to divorce, I didn't make a decision. I simply walked out of the house and stayed in Dolce Vita. I didn't receive any lawyer's letter and neither did I arrange for a divorcement agreement. I wasn't planning on divorcing and just wanted time to cool things down between us. I loved her so much and I was hoping she could see from my point of view. We did exchange phone calls and texts, but never once met up. Simply because... I couldn't let down my pride and she couldn't let down her stubborness either.

However, just a week ago, I received a phone call from her decades old friend, telling me that Yoona was rushed to the hospital. I was shocked for a good few minutes and had to be dragged away by my parents to the hospital. That woman... When she announced the divorcement, she was already pregnant with our fourth child. She had kept mum about it because I wasn't