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Jongin listened to the phone ring and ring and ring. Mina didn’t pick up. Hanging up he sat on the floor and leaned against the bed they sometimes shared if she was up to sharing a blanket with him.

He was worried for their relationship. He was worried about himself. His mother was right and then she wasn’t right. She didn’t know everything about him and Mina. How much he cared for her, why he believed in her, always staying behind her. Then again, he would wonder, who stayed at his back?

Brushing his fingers through his hair he sighed for the nth time. This battle was his battle. Without asking he already knew Mina wouldn’t fight with him. Yet he stubbornly wanted to believe in her.

Raising the phone up to his ear he listened to the phone ring again. Begging, pleading for her to answer.

She didn’t.

Jongin tried three more times before crawling up onto the bed to bury his face into the pillows. Saying I love you was starting to tire him out. Hearing it so often from Mina made him constantly wonder if she was telling him the truth. If she loved him the meaning of future would have an option in their relationship, but it didn’t.

If he decided to wait another year for her, where would they go? Would Mina want to settle down with him or would she still want to chase her unfulfilled dreams? Would he wait another year?

He wanted a family, too. His mother should be able to hold his child in her arms before she got older and weaker. For himself. For her. To fill up that gap in their lives.

By the time he turned 30, would anyone still want to have a steady relationship with him? A new relationship would mean five more years of his time. How much older would he be by then? Time was flowing too fast.

Flipping onto his back he stared up at the ceiling lit aglow by the lamp beside him. Anyhow, he thought, he and Mina had a lot to talk about. Their relationship probably wouldn’t make it till the end of the year.

Closing his eyes, he slept. In the morning he called Mina again. Once more he was sent to her voicemail.

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“Hey, what’s wrong with you?” Sinbi, a co-worker tapped her on the shoulder. Namjoo jolted awake surprised she was nodding off in the elevator.

“Nothing,” Namjoo shook herself awake. She had stayed up quite late yesterday unable to fall asleep. In the wee hour of the night she had gone through her bookshelf on impulse. Discovering her high school year book, she’d flipped through it urgently until Jongin’s portrait stared back at her. This morning she’d woken up at the table right next to that book.

It was becoming more ironic the more she thought about it. The popular boy Jongin had never given her a glance in high school, but all of a sudden, she was carrying his child when she no longer cared. Damn the funny ways of life.

“Are you sure?” Sinbi worried. “I mean, not to upset you, but I noticed you’ve gained a bit of weight recently. If you’re stressed and need someone to talk to, you can talk with me.”

The comment had Namjoo glancing down fearing that her stomach had already grown. She internally screamed for a second until she realized it was still flat and behind her belt.

“I’m fine,” Namjoo said behind gritted teeth. Once the elevator doors opened Namjoo hurried out suddenly needing to pee.

Relieved, Namjoo washed her hands and left the bathroom. She nearly wheeled back around when she spotted Seojun in front of her office.

“Namjoo!” He called out. Freezing, Namjoo clenched her hands into fists before forcing herself to turn around. His grin could literally sweep her off her feet and she wished she hadn’t been unfaithful to him.

“I brought you lunch,” he held up the paper bag he was carrying. “And I have news to share with you.”

“You shouldn’t have,” she fiddled with her fingers nervously. Would he notice she had gained weight?

Touching her shoulder, he wheeled her around leading her down the hallway. “Lets eat outside. It’s really nice today. We could probably go for an evening stroll and have dinner at our favorite restaurant. What do you think?”

“We could, but I don’t know,” Namjoo muttered.

He would break up with her if he knew she’d slept with someone else. How could she hurt him in such an awful way?! Never had she dreamt that a pregnancy could be such a nightmare!

Discovering their table at the back courtyard, Seojun handed her a sandwich and passed over her drink. Urging her to have her first bite because it was her favorite.

“The invitations are completed,” Seojun announced happily. “I couldn’t bring a copy, but my mom sent me a picture.” Pulling out his phone he leaned over so closely that their shoulders touched and his cheek grazed her face. “It’s pretty isn’t it. Can you believe it’s really happening?”

She should be smiling or at least shedding tears of excitement, but Namjoo’s heart just pounded loudly inside her ears.

“It’s…it’s pretty,” Namjoo managed to comment.

“Isn’t it?” he peered at her overjoyed and ran his fingers through her hair affectionately. Namjoo’s heart sunk unable to share his joy, because there was this thing inside her. Even worse, she couldn’t forget the fact that she had slept with someone else behind his back.

She was a horrible person for feigning innocence like this.

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“Mina?” Jongin called out when he walked in through the door. Taking his shoes off he called out again, “Mina?”

No one answered. Shoes off he walked further into the house going from room to room calling out, “Mina?”

Emptiness. Silence.

The stilettos Mina had taken with her yesterday were no where to be seen. Her suitcase was not in the closet.

Mina hadn’t returned from where she’d gone.

Jongin called once and twice then one more time. She didn’t answer. He hung up when he heard her cheery voicemail answer him. “Hi, this is Mina, I can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can…”

Waiting it out he started on dinner, cooking for two. Running over the speech in his head, combing over the topics he needed to talk with her. Jongin would be straight out with her. If she didn’t plan on a future with him that would be that, because he wanted something she didn’t. In time they would find other people that best suited their needs. More than not, he wanted to split on good terms.

Then he sat down with the food in front of him waiting and waiting. Time waned. The sun disappeared and the moon came up. Jongin ate by himself and then he called Mina one last time, because this wasn’t the first time she hadn’t kept her word.

Cleaning up he went through the kitchen quietly. So calmly he felt as if he was a stranger intruding on private space. As if the table he’d ate many meals with Mina meant nothing. As if it was just a four-legged table topped with a napkin holder she’d specifically chosen from the mall for its design, like the memories here weren’t his.

Opening the cupboard to put the dry dishes away he scanned the China plates she had ordered online with his card because they were pretty. They’d been sitting there for over two years untouched. Now ancient ceramics probably worth a few hundreds online. Then there was his set of utensils he’d bought when he first moved in just before Mina joined him and squeezed her belongings aside his. Jongin pulled down his set of utensils leaving the China where they were. He dragged out his pots and pans, spatulas, and knives.

Walking into the living room he peered at the canvases on the wall. Arts and paintings Mina wanted to sophisticate his apartment with so that when her friends came over they could marvel at his taste of living. No friends ever showed up. His eyes landed on the furniture he’d bought at affordable prices from the store when they went on clearance. Comfortable material he could sink in, but Mina had thought the deep brown cushions were disdainful. To cover up the ugliness she’d stashed pretty pillows across the couch.

His space but not really his space. Poring through his belongings, separating his from Mina’s Jongin worked quietly into the deep night. Thinking to himself he had to move on. Knowing he might regret this. But Mina…would never wake up. She may never need him in the end.

He had to move on.

She could come find him when she wanted to, but he had decided he wanted to move on.

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Waking up with a jolt, Namjoo stared at her empty bedside before rousing from bed. It was five in the morning and she felt sick. Not in the way that she needed to vomit, but just nauseous…and sick. A thickness in her chest made it hard to breathe and she was uncomfortable in a way hard to explain.

Retreating to the couch she hugged a pillow and sat down allowing herself to sink back. She’d lived alone since coming up to study on a scholarship. Born from 40-year-old parents, Namjoo was always considered a miracle. She was the star in their sky and when she told them she would be getting married her mom had literally cried.

What a great disappointment she was proving to be. Their only hope and dreams and she had gone off to be with some man no one knew about. Rubbing her face Namjoo slid to lay down. The doctor appointment was tomorrow, but Namjoo wished it was today. The sooner it was done with the better. So she would no longer worry about it. So that it would no longer weigh her mind.

Dressed for the day, Namjoo left her house unable to swallow her breakfast. Coffee had smelt horrible so she had ended up pouring that down the kitchen sink. Grumpy from lack of sleep, Namjoo merely wanted to get the day over with.

As the elevator doors hissed open to the lobby Namjoo nearly stepped into a load of boxes a man was wheeling in. She nearly swore aloud.

“Oh, gee, I’m sorry,” the man wearing a blue hat apologized poking his head to the side to look at her. “Come on thru first.”

Squeezing her way through the side Namjoo stared at the man before walking off grumbling to herself.

She spent half the entire morning in the meeting room discussing ideas for a makeup cushion they could release next. Her head was pounding by the time she made it back to her office, but not before she made a stop to the bathroom. When she finally made it to her office she decided at last that she was ready for something to eat. Namjoo drove for five minutes before pulling up to the side of the road when her phone chirped.

It was a message from Seojun. He’d sent her an audio file of the song she’d chosen to walk the aisle with. Yiruma’s Kiss the Rain. Hoping she would have a good day and he would call her later if he missed her for lunch.

A half minute into the song and Namjoo was plagued by the entire world’s guilt. And she hated this thing growing inside of her. She wanted to get rid of it as soon as possible. Blaming it. Putting all her fault on it, because it was the very source of her misery.

Frustrated because it was unfair Namjoo turned the music off and flung her phone onto the passenger’s seat.

She ended up not getting anything to eat in the end.

Done in by stress, Namjoo drove home after ending her shift feeling as if she needed two days of sleep. Rubbing her eye while waiting for the elevator she mumbled realizing she’d chosen to wear mascara that morning. Swearing underneath her breath when she saw the black smudge on her fingers she glanced up when the doors opened.

And then it felt like God was playing some kind of huge trick on her again.

Staring at the face she hadn’t seen in over 6 years Namjoo’s eyes widened a fraction. The stress whirling around her all day slowly ceased. Her own breathing didn’t sound familiar. In that point-second Namjoo was thrown off her feet. Mind shooting back to when she was in high school and watching the crowd become rowdy as Kim Jongin made the last shot that ended the game for his team. Her memory spun and she was standing in the hallway, heart pumping, hearts in her eyes as she stole a peek at Jongin walking by with his friends. And then she was watching him at lunch, intentionally walking by so she could see what he kept in his locker, looking for him each and every day. Because seeing him once was gratifying. When he said “Hi” to her one day she had nearly fainted. It had felt like she’d been graced by the presence of a God.

When Namjoo had been younger she had been like that.

Her heart was drumming again. Not because she thought he could see through her, but what if he remembered that night, too?

The shame washed over her. Embarrassed, Namjoo wanted to stagger back but her feet were frozen and wouldn’t respond to her.

Her fingers twitched by her thighs. She could hear Sinbi telling her she’d gained weight. Panic swallowed her whole. Namjoo wanted the ground to open up and swallow her, because this could not be happening!

Her breath hitched when the elevator doors began closing. She still couldn’t get her brain to function. Turn! Run!

Her heart crashed into her ribs so hard she almost couldn’t breathe when Jongin reached out to open the doors.

“Are you getting in?” he asked. His voice…so smooth. Hitting just the right note.

Namjoo wondered if her lips were quivering, if her hands were shaking. If it was obvious that she was nervous, because she didn’t want this to be happening.

Get a grip, she chided herself.

Clenching her jaw in hopes of steeling herself, Namjoo stepped forward and punched the number six for her floor. Squeezing her eyes shut as the doors closed Namjoo prayed they wouldn’t have to have any kind of conversation. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard him speaking behind her and then realized a second too late that it wasn’t with her. His eyes hurled her direction when she glanced back at him.

“I forgot my keys,” he spoke into his phone, “so I’m coming back for it.”

Now her heart was hammering. Turning away embarrassed, Namjoo stared at the numbers on the screen screaming for the elevator to move faster. And then finally it stopped on the fifth floor.

“Excuse me,” Jongin said.

“Oh…sorry,” Namjoo apologized realizing she’d been blocking his path. Their eyes caught as he brushed past. Quickly averting her gaze Namjoo watched the doors close and sighed relieved.

Throwing her purse onto the kitchen table when she walked in Namjoo flung herself onto the couch groaning as loud as she could. Unable to sink in what she’d just seen.

It didn’t make sense. Jongin…here?!

Covering her eyes Namjoo suddenly wanted to cry. She couldn’t understand where the emotion had just come from, but she just wanted to cry. Upset with herself, she forced herself up and into the bathroom figuring a shower might be able to fix everything.

Changed into comfortable sweats and a shirt, Namjoo prowled through her kitchen for something to suit her appetite. Tossing this and that onto her kitchen table she went over her available choice of ingredients. Greens and a quarter of ground beef. It didn’t look like she’d be able to make the soup she so much wanted.

Her stomach growled. Swallowing, Namjoo the stove and pulled out a pan. Unlike her chef father, Namjoo wasn’t very fond of cooking but she could make do with whatever food. Her father always gave her classes after school, so that when they were too busy to be home she could look after herself. “Don’t be lazy,” he would chide, “everybody needs to be in the kitchen if they want to eat. To find a good man, you need to make sure he knows how to use a knife. If he doesn’t, you have to teach him.”

She had taught Seojun how to cook. Had watched him cut himself. It had been fun and personal and she thought about how their relationship had grown in depth through her lessons. Their love was like learning how to season food just right, going through trials and errors.

That was right. This was just a mistake right now. This was an error she could fix before their wedding.

Everything would be all right once it was done with.

Feeling brighter, Namjoo began humming to herself as she prepped for dinner. Surprisingly, she managed to eat her entire meal without a problem. Once she washed her dishes she called Seojun and they went through their usual ritual of how was your day, what did you eat, and saying good night.

Tonight, she would dream about lying beside him. The thought made her giddy as she left her apartment to throw her garbage out. If their building wasn’t so strict about sorting recyclables Namjoo wouldn’t have to make so many trips down to the garbage courtyard to throw her trash away.

She sighed annoyed at the sight of glass and plastic moving around noisily in her basket. Pushing the back door open she headed toward the labeled garbage bins. There was a tiny woman folding storage boxes into small squares so there would be more space for other recycled boxes. Namjoo was keen to keep an eye on her struggle as she sorted plastic into its specified bin and glass into its bin.

“Would you like help?” Namjoo offered walking over after completing her task.

Taking notice of her at last, the elder woman smiled happily. It enlightened a part of Namjoo. Her mother was taller but she thought their eyes held a very similar flare. She suddenly thought she should have called her parents earlier to see how they were doing. She hadn’t seen them in over five months.

“That would be so nice, thank you,” the woman said.

Breaking a box apart, Namjoo wondered, “Did you just move in?”

“It’s my son,” she explained.

The box flattened in her hand and Namjoo observed the older lady more closely. Surely, it couldn’t be what she was suddenly thinking?

“Mom, I told you to wait for me,” a voice called out.

Namjoo’s hand curled around the box she was holding as if she needed to protect it. Her heart thumped and she prayed with all her might it wasn’t Jongin who had just spoken.

“I can handle it,” the woman retorted, “and there’s this very nice lady who is helping me.”

The cool breeze was suddenly no longer cooler. Namjoo felt her hands go clammy with sweat. Her breathing shortened, stretching abnormally. Suddenly all eyes were on her waiting, watching. Namjoo no longer wanted to be in the center of attention.

“Are you going to come help?” Jongin’s mother called out.

“O…oh…” Jongin mumbled then slowly walked over. Setting the boxes in his hand down he peered at her. Namjoo’s heart rammed even harder into her ribs. She wondered if her bones might break at this rate. Gulping, she glanced out the corner of her eyes then up at him.