Bewildered, Namjoo turned to see Seojun continue lying. “I’m sorry, mom. I know you didn’t raise me to be like this. It’s a mistake. I was trying to fix it before you ever found out. Please, forgive us. We’ll still get married on time, just let me persuade Namjoo some more.”

That was it.

Out of patience, Namjoo jerked out of Seojun’s grasp and dashed out of the house. Running as fast as she could before he could trap her. Blood boiling dangerously. She was a volcano about to erupt. Refusing to be oppressed by Seojun any longer.

She would protect her baby.

“Namjoo!” He called after her. Namoo quickened her pace but didn’t make it as far as her car before he snatched her arm forcing her to face him.

“Let go! Let go!” Namjoo screamed struggling.

“How dare you…” he breathed. “How could you!”

“Let go!” Continuing to fight Namjoo punched him. What he was doing was beyond reasoning. She needed to get away from him. They needed to be far from each other.

Angrily releasing her in the midst of her struggle Namjoo ended up falling. Seojun didn’t even wait for her to get up but fiercely hauled her to her feet disregarding the fact that she could be hurt.

“You brought this on yourself,” Seojun warned her. Outraged. Unforgiving. His eyes glazed with intense ferocity. “I gave you a chance. You have the guts to blow it up in my face.”

He squeezed her lower arm. Namjoo refused to cry out. Shoving her away violently Seojun hissed.

“Get rid of the baby this week. As soon as you do we’ll start trying for mine. We can still make it in time for the wedding. A few months after the wedding you’ll have the baby. No one will know.”

“No!” Namjoo objected mortified.

Stepping toward her menacingly he grasped her lower arm again, “You’ll have a baby who looks like me. You can only give birth to my child.”

Pushing him away Namjoo raised her voice, “You can’t do this to me!”

“Look at what you did to me!” He yelled in her face. His hot breath seared her skin. Burning her with his wrath.

Shakily breathing, Namjoo tried to speak more calmly in hopes of reaching a tiny part of his heart. “Forget me, Seojun. I’m sorry. Just move on, ok?”

“No,” he stubbornly refused, “the only person I will have is you Namjoo.”

A helpless cry seethed through . Afraid and remorseful about her situation. Never witnessing Seojun at the height of his anger before. Lost for the first time about how to coax him. Incapable of soothing his pain. Unable to take back the night that had twisted everything for them. Telling him how sorry she was couldn’t bandage even a penny-size of his heart.

Sliding an arm around her waist he led her toward her car. Pulling the door open for her he pressed himself against her and kissed her forehead. Biting her lower lip, she fought not to whimper.

“I’ll take care of everything,” Seojun promised. “It’ll be ok.” Running a hand down the back of her head he affectionately said, “Get home safe.”

Gritting her teeth, Namjoo slipped into the car, started the engine and pulled away from the house. Tears threatening to push their way out as she sped down the road. Out of anger, worry, and panic.

Namjoo almost rear ended a car when her stomach cramped. Braking so hard that she knocked into the steering wheel. Gasping, Namjoo clutched onto the steering wheel and traced a hand over her belly. Her legs tensed at the oncoming wave of pain forcing her knees together.

Biting down on her tongue to endure the ache she pulled up to the apartment and staggered into her place. Sweaty, breathing hard. Bending at an awkward angle she clutched onto her stomach as the pain sizzled down her body. The muscles in her legs spasmed drawing out every last strength she possessed. Spikes shot through her abdomen. Groaning, Namjoo’s fingers dug into the material of her dress. Feeling as if the flesh was tearing out of her flesh. Namjoo moaned suddenly light headed. Collapsing onto her knees she finally cried out of anguish.

Clawing at the tiled floor she cried watching the tears land by her hands.

This wasn’t fair. Why was this happening to her?

֎֎֎֎֎

Hopefully he had everything right. Jongin had gone online going from page to page looking for recipes, jotting everything down carefully. Then he had gone shopping grabbing more than he needed. It was mid-afternoon by the time he returned. He recognized Namjoo’s car in the parking lot. Assuming she’d be over soon he headed up to his place to sort everything out.

Proudly gazing over his notes, he imagined Namjoo making corrections. He’d let her take over his kitchen because she could. When everything was finished they would eat together. He glanced at his fridge glad that he’d bought what he had. He would surprise her with it.

Jongin waited thirty minutes then glanced at his door. Namjoo hadn’t come. He’d wait five more minutes. Going about his kitchen wiping and re-wiping his countertops. Thinking maybe he should have asked for her number.

Staring at the time he waited for several more minutes to pass. It would be strange if he went up to her place so hastily. Holding himself back he tapped his fingers against the tabletop counting down the seconds. When time was up he wiped his hands on his pants and stepped out. Rehearsing what he would say when she opened the door for him.

She couldn’t have forgotten their plan for today? He’d feel silly if she did. At the back of his head he could hear Taesong cackling about how desperate he looked. It wasn’t he denied.

Shaking the thought away as he approached Namjoo’s door he cleared his throat. They could do this civilly with no strings attached. Raising his hand to press the doorbell but paused when he saw that her door was open a crack. Suddenly at a loss he wondered if she may have been in too much of a hurry to lock it. Hoping she was in he knocked.

“Excuse me,” he called out. “Namjoo?”

Knocking again he slowly opened the door.

Silence.

Everything was calm. Nothing disturbed. Jongin glanced into the empty living room then to the kitchen to the left of the entrance. His eyes moving slowly before looking down. Terror flashed through him when he saw blood and an unconscious Namjoo lying on the floor.

֎֎֎֎֎

Machines beeped hauntingly around him as he paced back and forth. Waiting, waiting, and waiting some more as the doctor and nurses examined Namjoo. Taking too long. He didn’t understand why.

His heart raced uncontrollably. Unable to help but imagine the worse possible outcome.

Scenario one, the baby was gone.

He would no longer be a father.

Scenario two, Namjoo would disappear.

They would never be able to make up for what they’d done.

And it was his fault. For subjecting Namjoo to so much useless stress. If he had been more careful that night… If it hadn’t happened at all.

What was he supposed to do after Namjoo woke up? What should he tell her?

Fear pumped through him as the hours waned and no one reported back to him. Continuing to pace he brushed his hands up through his hair because it seemed like that was all he was able to do.

Let the baby live he prayed. Both mother and child would have to be ok.

They had to be ok.

“The guardian of Miss Kim Namjoo?” A male voice called out as he stepped out from the curtains.

“Me! That’s me!” Jongin hurried over feeling like he might lose it any second. “Is my baby ok? It’s still alive?”

Maintaining a composed expression Jongin couldn’t read the doctor explained, “Both mother and child are under distress. She has experienced some shock, but it is not a miscarriage. I’d suggest that she take a few days of rest to regain her health before going back to work.”

“Thank you!” Grabbing the doctor’s arms, Jongin thanked again, “Thank you!”

After the doctor dismissed himself Jongin secured the curtains around Namjoo’s bed. Pretending for a second it was a shield that could protect her from the outside.

Stress…he’d known it was the culprit. It always did so much damage, but he was more relieved that the baby was still alive. He stared down at Namjoo feeling apologetic. At least for a moment she looked in peace as she slept.

Gently sitting down at the edge of the bed he adjusted the blanket over her. He would wait for her to wake up. There were a few things he wanted to talk to her about. Some things he wanted to propose for her well-being.

Jongin continued to listen to the monitors beep around him. Unaware of how much time passed before Namjoo finally stirred.

Leaning forward he touched her arm, “If you’re tired, sleep some more.”

Namjoo pushed herself up anyway. Holding onto her he helped her sit up.

“Take it easy,” he said. Dropping his hand, he watched her look at him then breathe out a cry. Wiping her tears, she let out another miserable cry.

“I’m sorry I lied,” Namjoo whimpered. “The baby is yours.”

Squeezing her eyes shut she sobbed a little harder.

To finally hear it made him feel something he couldn’t describe. Not a flurry of excitement or a fervor of passion. Nothing he expected.

She looked so sad his heart went out to her. It must have been hard he wanted to say. Pulling her into his arms he hugged her and waited for her to cry every one of her troubles into his shoulder.

֎֎֎֎֎

It was nighttime when they arrived back at the apartment – his place. The nurses had wiped the blood off her legs but he thought Namjoo probably wanted to wash herself. It was late and he didn’t want her to employ any more energy by going upstairs.

“Stay here for the night,” Jongin said. “The doctor said you need rest and I don’t think you should be alone.”

“It’s fine,” Namjoo said. “I thought we were just going to eat.”

“I’ll cook while you shower,” Jongin told. “I have some clothes you can change into. And you can sleep in the bed. I’ll take the couch.”

Namjoo frowned uncertainly.

“Come on,” he urged. Walking into his bedroom he went through his dresser pulling out a t-shirt and sweats. Handing them to her he assured, “There are some extra sets of towels in the bathroom. Feel free to use them.”

“Then…thanks,” she quietly squeaked taking the clothes from him.

“Take your time.”

He watched her close the door to the bathroom before taking a gulp of fresh air and wheeled around into the kitchen. Jongin was halfway through cooking when he heard the bathroom door open. Namjoo entered the kitchen a few minutes later appearing embarrassed.

“You’re done?” He smiled. “I’m almost done here, too.”

She looked cozy and cute in his clothes that more than likely drooped around her, but he wouldn’t tell her that. He noticed she had even folded his sweats up to her ankles because they were too long. It greatly amused him impelling him to chuckle.

“Do you need help?” Namjoo asked.

“Just sit down,” Jongin told.

“I can get the plates,” Namjoo offered.

“Just sit down,” he repeated. Namjoo fiddled with her hands before sliding down to sit at the kitchen table. Turning the stove off he poured the long green beans with chicken onto a plate.

“Sorry,” Namjoo apologized looking at him, “about your shirt.”

He glanced at the damp area on his shoulder she had wept on earlier. “It’s all right.” Setting the plate down in the center of the table he grabbed two plates from the dish rack. “I whipped everything up real quick, so I hope it tastes fine.”

He handed her a fork and a spoon and sat down waiting for her to take the first bite. As she lifted up her arm he noticed a wound he didn’t know was there earlier. The scratch marks on her face hadn’t even healed yet and she was already injured again.

“What’s that?” Jongin wondered.

Namjoo looked at him puzzled then glanced at her arm. Touching the flesh wound as if she could hide it from him she said, “I fell.”

“Again?” He asked.

“It was a small fall,” Namjoo looked away from his eyes.

“Still…” he pressed, “it’s dangerous.”

“I’ll be careful next time,” Namjoo promised. “Lets just eat. I’d like to rest soon.”

Leaving her be he decided not to pester her with any more questions. He let her help him wash the dishes before turning in for the night.

Awkwardly standing by the foot of the door while he went through the closet for a pillow and a blanket Namjoo apologized, “Sorry, for making you sleep on the couch again.”

Finally discovering a spare blanket, he assured, “You should be somewhere comfortable. I’m fine sleeping anywhere.” Closing the closet, he turned around with blanket and pillow tucked against his chest. “Do you need anything?”

“I’m ok.”

“Wake me up if you need anything.” Jongin said passing her on his way out.

“Thanks…” Namjoo shyly said, “Jongin.”

Hearing his name for the first time brought a smile to his lips. “You’re welcome. Good night.”

With nothing more to say between them Namjoo closed the door. Jongin went onto spreading out the blanket on the couch and waited as the night turned darker. Sitting, staring at the dark blue curtain they had put up not too long ago. The first thing they’d done together.

Breathing a smile, Jongin tapped his fingers against his thigh. He had almost kissed her that day. It needn’t be a big deal, but then it also was. Namjoo was the mother of his child.

The weeks were passing. The baby was developing. In soon time he would need to explain to his mother that she was going to be a grandma. He and Namjoo would have to talk about the future at one point. That wasn’t something they could avoid forever.

What would happen. Would they get married just because it was an obligation? Because he needed to fulfill his duty of being a father? Because he had insinuated that they should have unprotected as revenge without thinking about what could happen?

If they got married, would they be happy or would they break apart? Considering the unhappy circumstances around them Jongin couldn’t see either. A happy union should consist of a happy couple who had gone through stormy terrains and crossed mountains together. A couple who had seen the ugly sides of each other but was still devoted enough to open arms for each other. A couple who could argue from the car to home, sleep untouching but wake up and cry and apologize. Without breaking plates and throwing pots and pans they would hug and dance. A couple who could have a relationship swelling with as much misery as there was joy and still swear in the church that in sickness and in health they would forever continue learning about the souls inhabiting their bodies.

But he and Namjoo were strangers. Having never shared a word before. Only a night of drunken passion that had brought them this far. Yet if she could never be happy with him, what kind of a relationship could they ever have?

If this was some kind of chance that had drifted down in front of him, did he need to try harder or should he let go after they talked?

Turning all the lights off he paced through the apartment opening the bedroom door and peeking inside. From the moonlight weakly trying to break in through the window curtain he recognized Namjoo curled up under his blanket. Breathing evenly, unmoving. Carefully caking the door open he took a step in and another.

Discovering Namjoo’s bag on the bedside table he dug inside for her set of keys. Keeping his eyes glued on her in case she woke up and he needed to make an excuse. Gripping the keys into his palm to keep them from jingling he tip-toed out of the apartment. First, heading to the convenience store to buy gloves, bleach, and a bunch of disposable rags. The clock ticked one in the morning when he walked into Namjoo’s quiet home.

When the medics had come they’d only lifted Namjoo onto the stretcher and carried her out. A small puddle of blood marked where she had lain earlier. When they returned in the morning for her belongings he didn’t want her to see it. He didn’t want her to do the cleaning. To remember that this was where she almost lost their baby.

Kneeling onto the floor Jongin carefully mopped the blood up. Scrubbing, soaping up the floor, wiping and wiping. Tossing the used products and garbage into a separate bag which he took outside to the dumpster. Returning, he mopped until he was sure the blood could no longer be seen. That when Namjoo walked here she wouldn’t be able to remember where she had fallen.

Once he finished up he went around her apartment picking up anything he saw on the ground. Dusting her shelves and the TV. Cleaning so that Namjoo wouldn’t have to worry about it when she came to stay with him. Catching sight of the papers sprawled out on her coffee table Jongin started straightening them up. Stopping when he noticed they were information about orphanages.

Slowly dropping them he sunk down onto her couch. Picking one up he opened the pamphlet and skimmed through it.

What was going on? Was Namjoo going to give birth to his baby only to give it up?

***UH-OH