The sound of their laughter faded when the courtyard door opened. Seojun’s eyes traveled in Namjoo’s direction. Never coming his way.

That morning Namjoo had told him about Seojun dropping off lunch. The more his visits became regular, the more uneasy she became. After all, their relationship had progressed and Seojun was quickly drifting into the background. Good, but Namjoo was worried about his well-being. Saying he looked sad and lost and she couldn’t turn a blind eye if he couldn’t accept that they were over.

Jongin ok’d it. They could talk ex-lover to ex-lover, but he had to stay within sight. He still didn’t like Seojun. Couldn’t forget how cruel he had been to Namjoo.

“I’ll go inside,” Jongin squeezed her hand. Rising to his feet he glanced at Seojun, eyeing him as he walked by. Pulling the doors open he disappeared inside giving the two a last glance.

֎֎֎֎֎

Namjoo watched Jongin disappear down the corridor. Fully aware he wasn’t really gone, but probably somewhere nearby with his back to them. Looking at Seojun with a smile, she invited, “Come sit.”

“It was the first time you called in a while,” Seojun remarked stepping toward her. “I thought you’d want to see me.” his eyes veered in the direction Jongin had gone, “Guess I was wrong.” Eyes back on her, he wondered, “Did you have to get his permission? Is he controlling you?”

Namjoo’s mouth opened to quickly defend Jongin but decided that would only emit tension between them. “At first, I didn’t know if we could be friends. I still felt raw from our breakup, but now I really want to be friends Seojun.”

“Aren’t we?” he asked with a kiddish smile.

“Do you think that way?”

“We are.” He calmly stated.

“Then, Seojun, you have to stop coming every day,” Namjoo gently told. “You come almost every day. Do you know that? You did that when were still dating.”

“Does he have a problem with it?” Seojun asked.

“No, it’s not him…” Namjoo began flustered.

“Then what?” he probed impatiently. “It’s a habit hard to break, Namjoo. For years I saw you every day. We ate here every day. I wanted to see you, spend time with you because it meant to me just as much as it meant to you. And I can’t stop. Even if I turn the switch off I think about sitting here with you every afternoon!”

Memories swarmed in on her like four walls closing in, trapping her into a cube of the past. Seojun squeezed his eyes shut, hands around his head as he struggled to calm down from the onslaught of their could have beens. It still felt as painful as yesterday when she’d told him for the first time that the baby inside her wasn’t his. Suddenly emotional, Namjoo wanted to cry.

“I have to see you,” Seojun rasped. “Just to feel like I’m breathing.”

Looking at his wounded form, Namjoo admitted, “I think I’ve moved on, Seojun.”

“But I can’t,” Seojun looked at her. “Think I’m your friend, Namjoo, even if it’s a guise. I’ve said before that it has to be no one else but you.”

“Then you lied.”

“Maybe I did,” Seojun shook his head. “I’ll still act like it until you remember that I’ve loved you a lifetime more than he has.”

“Lets not do this,” Namjoo tried as he stood. “Please? Just forget me.”

“No,” Seojun stubbornly refused. “Not until he dies or I do. I can’t give up.”

As he walked away Namjoo quickly chased after him. Grabbing onto his arm to stop him. “What are you talking about? What do you mean!”

Gently touching her hand to lower it he shot one glance at her belly then to her face. “I’ll call you in a few days. Take care of yourself until then.”

Namjoo heaved a shaky breath suddenly dizzy when Seojun left her. A tiny but familiar cramp started easing up into her body from her abdomen. Gasping, she leaned forward with hands on her knees. Praying that she wasn’t about to have another bleeding episode again. Not now, she begged, not when she was so far along in her pregnancy.

Gritting her teeth just as Jongin bolted through the doors. Grabbing his hand, she felt an odd shiver race through her. “It hurts.”

“Ok. Ok, hold on.” He panicked. “You’ll be ok.”

֎֎֎֎֎

Hospital monitors beeped crazily around her as she lay on the hospital bed waiting for the doctor to return to them. Gripping tightly onto Jongin’s hand seemed to be all she could do, because she couldn’t look at him. Knowing for a fact that she could have lost the baby. How could she ever face him and his mother if she miscarried? Hadn’t the doctor warned her that miscarriages were common for women with her condition?

Afraid, Namjoo stared at the patterns on the ceiling that seemed to be making faces at her. Dots creating a yawning mouth taunting her, screaming voicelessly into the void. Turmoil quavered through her so intensely. All she could think about were the horrible things that could happen.

That Jongin would no longer want her. She would never have a baby again. She would grow old without having become a mother. She would be alone. Experiencing the true depths of what a cold lonely world was like. Letting everyone around her down. Disappointing her parents.

Namjoo quickly sat up when a doctor in a white jacket walked toward them. Eyes glued to his clipboard.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Shim, how are you feeling?” he kindly greeted.

Namjoo’s throat clogged up. Expecting the worst kind of news. She couldn’t speak out of fear she would start bawling uncontrollably.

“I hear you were experiencing horrible stomach pain on your way in,” he noted.

“Yes, yes,” Jongin chipped in because she didn’t speak. “Is she ok?”

His eyes traveled from Jongin then to her. Namjoo held her breath. Dr. Shim softly smiled, “There was a sudden spike in blood pressure which is abnormal for a mother to experience in her second trimester. She’s not overweight, so it could have been caused by stress or shock. The expanding of the uterus may also cause some cramping as all the organs are being shifted to make room for the baby.” Nodding now to comfort them, “No miscarriage. Mother and baby are just fine.”

Squeezing her hand with a deep sigh, Jongin nearly collapsed into his chair. Thanking the doctor profusely before he finally letting him leave. Turning back to her, Jongin breathed a relieved smile.

“Did you hear that?” he asked tucking a strand of sweat soaked hair behind her ear. “You’re ok. Bubble’s is ok.”

Gnashing her teeth, Namjoo finally allowed herself to cry. Her heavy shoulders relaxed as she hugged him. She had never ever been so scared out of her mind. Never realizing how alleviating it was to hear that the baby she never wanted was still here.

Burying her face into Jongin’s broad shoulder she held him tighter. Absorbing all the comfort he could give her. Smelling the familiar scent that made her heart race. Assuring herself that Jongin was right here by her side.

She didn’t return to work. Neither did Jongin. He took her out to eat and they returned home early. Deciding to take a walk to the nearby convenience store to buy banana chips. They spent the rest of the evening enjoying their regular ritual of cooking, eating, and sitting in front of the blaring television.

֎֎֎֎֎

“Are you comfortable?” Jongin asked walking into the bedroom after showering.

Stacking up pillows behind her back, Namjoo was sitting in bed looking through a magazine. “I’m good.”

Climbing onto the bed, Jongin lay down settling his head onto her lap. “What are you reading?”

“About food.” Namjoo snarkily grinned.

Low laughter rumbled from within his stomach. “Anything good?”

“Spicy noodles,” she answered flipping the magazine around for him to see.

“It does look good,” Jongin agreed. “Want to eat that Saturday?”

“Should we?” she asked.

“Yea. We can take long walks at the park and eat out all day,” Jongin eagerly planned. “Spend all the money we have.”

Smugly smiling, Namjoo affectionately touched his damp hair. Jongin gave her belly a peck then looked up at her. Softly touching the baby bump, he told, “I’m going to call her Bubbles. Bubble-vicious in full, but Bubbles for short.”

Namjoo laughed. “What?”

“You know, from the Powerpuff Girls,” Jongin explained. “I want our daughter to be sweet and sensitive, but independent and aggressive when she needs to. She’ll be our joy and laughter. Bubbles.”

“Ok,” Namjoo simply said. “But I’m most shocked you watched the Powerpuff Girls.”

“What?” he looked up at her incredulous. “It was a good show.”

Running her fingers through his hair, she agreed, “Ok, we’ll call her Bubbles.”

Touching her hand to play with her fingers, he broadly grinned. “So you agree we’re having a girl?”

“We’re going to find out this week, aren’t we?” Namjoo asked.

“It’ll be a girl,” Jongin confidently declared. “Let me name her.”

“If you want,” Namjoo agreed.

“Really?” he doubted.

“You’re her father. Why not?”

“Ok, mom.”

Lacing her fingers through his she leaned forward to kiss his forehead. If Heaven existed on earth, he thought, this was it. Heaven.

“This side, too,” he turned his face. When she kissed his cheek, he turned the other way. “Here, too.” After pecking his cheek, he looked up at her. “Here, too.”

This was the kind of home he wanted to return to. To someone who made up his laughter, his smiles. The most talented person who could enlighten his world was her.

Bubble’s mom.

After Namjoo withdrew from pecking his lips he gazed up at her dreamily. Holding her hand against his racing heart, he gazed into her soulful eyes. “I love you.”

֎֎֎֎֎

“You said you wanted to find out the of the baby,” Dr. Woo grinned moving the monitor over Namjoo’s bulging belly. “She’s right here. her thumb.”

Jongin gleefully laughed as they walked out of the hospital. Clutching onto the ultrasound, peering at it nonstop as if verifying that he’d won the lottery.

“Told you it’s a girl!” he exclaimed loudly causing a few stares.

Slapping his arm to tell him to pipe down, Namjoo told, “Ok. We get it.”

Putting his arm around her shoulders he squeezed her. “Lets have dinner with mom tonight. She should know.”

“Whatever. Fine.” Namjoo replied snatching the picture. “But I hold onto it.”

He flatly stared at her. “But I wanted to.”

“I hold onto it,” she repeated.

He scoffed. “You don’t have to be so adamant. In the end, I’ll be her favorite.” Touching her belly, he asked, “Right, Bubbles?”

Swatting his hand away, Namjoo said, “We’ll see about that.”

Kissing her cheek, he said, “I’ll drop you off at work. Take it easy, ok?”

“Ok.”

She and Jongin kissed each other farewell one more time when he dropped her off. Since the hospital incident they were more affectionate lately. It put her up in the clouds these days. They were so happy together none of it felt real.

The other night she had gushed so hard in Jongin’s arms. She had woken up to him combing his fingers through her hair then they’d had breakfast, as if they’d done it for years.

They were really having a baby.

They were really making this work out. She and Jongin were really falling into each other.

She had learned his favorite color was blue. His shirt size was medium. He preferred black shoes over any other color. He enjoyed cooking, having learned early skills from his mother. Would do it for her without complaining. He twisted and turned in his sleep, often sleeping crookedly beside her. Documentaries heavily interested him. He could watch the Discovery channel for hours. He hated doing laundry, but if something needed to be done he’d advocate for it. Other than the fact that he got jealous easily she liked everything about him. Even if he constantly pent up his anger and blew up in the process she welcomed his ugly side.

She could spend the rest of her life with him. Namjoo could see beyond the horizon that it was very possible.

Jongin’s mother was waiting for her at the front of the building when she pulled into the parking lot. Once more the woman had two bags of things she’d bought from the market with her. Namjoo sighed wondering if she should also chide the woman for always getting them unnecessary food.

“You’re early,” Namjoo greeted walking up to her.

“Jongin called, so of course I have to be early,” she said. Looking at her excitedly, “He hinted there was good news.”

“Yes,” Namjoo beamed.

“Oh my…” his mother gasped when a car screeched up toward them. Following her gaze, Namjoo watched a silver sports car drive up speedily to the curb. Braking hard as it stopped. Her heart pounded warily as the door opened and Seojun stepped out.

“Namjoo,” he started walking toward her with uneven steps.

“Do you know him?” Jongin’s mother looked at her.

Namjoo glanced at her not sure how to explain the situation. She turned back to Seojun. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I thought we could have a chat,” Seojun said dismissing Jongin’s mother, “over dinner.”

“It’s not a good time,” Namjoo told. “You should go.”

“Come on,” he prodded. “I won’t do anything. I promise.”

He held out his hand for her to take, but Namjoo didn’t. “I’m a little busy right now.”

Finally sparing Jongin’s mother a glance, he excused, “I’ll bring her back in an hour. Sorry if I interrupted anything.”

That quickly he grabbed her hand to lead her to his car. Namjoo let out a surprised yelp, but Jongin’s mom was quicker. Hurriedly following alongside her she pounded her fragile hands against Seojun’s wrist.

“Let go of my daughter-in-law! You let go of her right now!” she demanded.

“I said I’ll bring her back, old woman!” Seojun yelled disgruntled.

“Seojun! Stop! Seojun!” Namjoo raised her voice through the chaos. Seojun tugged her forward a few steps. She recognized a familiar stench from him. Noticed his disoriented tie knotted the wrong way. Saw the stain of liquor on his white button down. Could feel Jongin’s mother holding onto her with all her might while struggling to pry Seojun’s fingers away.

Petrified, Namjoo’s concerned veered from Jongin’s mom to her innocent baby. Realizing Seojun was drunk.

She wanted to scream but her voice box wouldn’t function. Realizing that Seojun was acting on pure impulse. Knowing he wasn’t in his clear state of mind.

A loud boom startled all of them to a stop. Namjoo panted turning to see that a car had crashed into Seojun’s beloved sports car. From the windshield she recognized Jongin’s heated glare as he unbuckled his seatbelt and stormed out of his car. Her eyes widened as he stomped toward them hotly; his face strained, brows tight, lips firm.

She shrieked when Jongin slammed his fist into Seojun’s face. Hearing the deep grunt as Seojun flopped onto the concrete. She fell back into Jongin’s mother watching as Jongin gave another blow.

Quickly regaining her senses, she hurled forward to grab Jongin’s arm to stop him from causing any more damage. She didn’t want him getting in trouble. He’d already caused a fender bender. She didn’t want him brought into the police station for assault.

“Jongin! Jongin!” she screamed. “Stop! Stop!” wrapping her arms around him she pressed her face into his back, begging, “Stop. Don’t hurt him.”

Huffing, Jongin stared down at the bleeding Seojun before shaking her off. “You bastard,” Jongin spat. “Try it one more time and I won’t stop here.”

Snatching her hand, he turned around, picked up the bags his mother had dropped, and pulled her inside after him. Namjoo glanced back to see Seojun wheezing. Feeling sick to the stomach when she saw the blood splattered around his face.

Looking up at Jongin as they stepped into the elevator she clutched onto his arm.

֎֎֎֎֎

“You shouldn’t have been so hotheaded,” his mother chided bandaging his hand. His knuckles were sore, bruised, and bleeding. “What if he reports you to the police?”

“Then I’ll get a restraining order against him,” Jongin muttered glancing at Namjoo who was twiddling with her fingers by the stove. Still pissed off but more concerned about her. “Should we go to the hospital?”

“No,” she shook her head. “I’m ok.”

“He didn’t hurt you?” Jongin asked.

“Luckily your mom was there,” Namjoo said.

“Who is that man anyway?” his mother asked. “The nerve he had to come here like that!”

A moment of silence traveled between them. Jongin peered at Namjoo again. She looked uneasy.

“He’s my…was my fiancé,” Namjoo explained.

His mother’s hands paused then she turned to look at Namjoo. “That man in your picture? You’re still seeing him?”

Namjoo looked at his mother then away.

“What about my son?” Jongin’s mom asked. Looking at her son accusingly, “How can there still be another man?” Shaking her head disapprovingly, she muttered, “No, no. This isn’t right. You can’t do this to my son.”

“Mom…”

“I warned you,” his mother him. “That if you don’t do it now there is no guarantee she will marry you. There is another man in her life, how can you be so sure she will marry you? Yet you keep dilly-dallying claiming you have everything figured out, but today there is another man! Women are fickle, she’ll change her mind, Jongin.”