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“Namjoo?” Jongin shook her awake the following morning. “Why are you sleeping out here?”

“Hmm?” Namjoo turned sleepily. Staring up into Jongin’s face she tried sitting up but couldn’t. Jongin had to help her.

“I didn’t hear you wake up last night,” he said.

She thought back to the gunshot she’d heard in her dream. Maybe she really was starting to have nightmares because she’d been reading that murder mystery. Jongin had jinxed her.

“It’s nothing,” Namjoo told.

“You sure?” he pressed.

“Yea. I’m fine.” Namjoo assured.

“Ok.” Jongin looked at her doubtfully. “Wash up. I’ll make breakfast.”

And then a month went by. Namjoo quietly waited to hear from Seojun. She had even texted him. Called him without telling Jongin. She wanted to know how he was. If he was still drinking. If he might come after her in his drunken stupor as he last had. She was drained from worrying about his welfare and her own.

Yet nothing.

Namjoo had debated contacting his friends she’d met but that was going too far, so she didn’t. He had stopped updating his social media. It was really was as if he had disappeared from earth. Namjoo worried even harder as she passed her 30^th week mark. Her nightmares were on a roll. Countless nights waking up to make sure Jongin was breathing, still alive next to her.

She was so far into her pregnancy she couldn’t even get up from bed without Jongin now. Weighing so heavily that the simplest tasks required his aid. He had to help her put on her shoes in the morning. She was constantly going to the bathroom. Always hungry. Her mood shifted from innocent princess to hardcore at times. She stopped wearing her own clothes at home. Taking to stealing from Jongin’s drawers instead. He didn’t complain but she had noticed he’d started buying more of his own clothes after she started taking his. Then she picked a fight with him about it.

These days he looked as exhausted as she. One time in the middle of the night she had called her mother crying for no particular reason. Then she’d fallen asleep halfway through tears with the phone still glued to her ear.

“You’re sure you’re really ok?” Jongin had asked her a million times throughout the month.

“I’m fine,” she had snapped more times than she could count with two hands.

Most of the time, he learned to leave her alone. Namjoo couldn’t wait for the baby to come, so she could feel normal again. Eat sugary foods, wear pretty clothes, put on high heels again. Sleep in on weekends. Drink her beloved coffee. Have a night out, chug a few drinks. Be the enjoyable woman she used to be.

“You should stop going to work,” Jongin nagged one morning. “There’s literally ten weeks to go before the baby comes.”

“Don’t you think I should be the one making that decision?” Namjoo grumbled over her plate of food.

“I’m just worried you won’t be getting enough rest by the time she gets here,” Jongin voiced. “I hear moms and dads don’t get much sleep.”

“Are you an expert now?” Namjoo barked. “Did you spend all night reading Wikipedia?”

“Namjoo!” he shot.

Catching herself, she rubbed her face remorsefully. “Sorry, that was crude of me.”

She heard him sigh which ticked her off. Thinking what did he have to complain about? He wasn’t carrying a five-pound bar bell inside his body waiting for it to blast through his body. Wanting to tell him off for getting her pregnant. For even sleeping with her in the first place. Namjoo held herself back. She was being uncontrollable, the most unreasonable. Saying that to him was going too low. Here she was losing her temper every day and he still loved her.

Deeply exhaling to calm herself she breathed out as he stepped over. Touching her head lovingly the way he always did, he gave her forehead a peck. Namjoo wanted to cry and sink into him. The heavier she got the harder this was becoming for her. She was stressed. She hated the nightmares. Her hormones were everywhere.

“Never mind,” he forgave her. “It’s all right. The baby will be here soon. Just a few more weeks.”

“Yea,” she breathed leaning into him.

“I’m sorry it’s hard,” he apologized. in a breath Namjoo hugged him.

That was that for a while.

At the mark of her 36^th week, Seojun finally showed up at her work.

As if he had planned for it. As if he had waited for it. Namjoo’s first memory from that apparent moment was the pen in her hand landing on the floor with a click.

Seojun had grown a stubble. Bags hung under his eyes in dark colors. Yet he smiled cheerily like God was shining a light on him. Her first thought was to yell at him. For not answering her texts. Not picking up her calls. Worrying her nonstop.

She didn’t.

His eyes were dilated. Glazed. He had been drinking again. She knew.

“You wanted to talk,” Seojun shattered the glassy silence. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“I was worried about you,” Namjoo found her voice.

“I’m fine,” Seojun waved her off.

Namjoo eyed his appearance. He was wearing his suit and pants. There were obvious signs of wrinkles he hadn’t ironed. The man she knew always stepped out in prim and proper clothing. Tie adding to the last of it. There was no tie. The top two buttons were left undone. He never did that. The Seojun here had made half the effort looking after himself.

It was very clear. This was not the Seojun who loved her.

“I think you’re drunk,” Namjoo calmly said.

“No, I’m not,” he grinned contradictorily. A playboy smile splayed his lips. “You’re imagining things, Namjoo.”

“How often do you drink?” she continued, concerned.

“I said I’m not drunk!” he raised his voice. His eyes turned menacing, his expression tightening. Remaining calm, Namjoo stared at him without obvious movement. Below the desk her hand gripped her dress, nervous.

“Ok,” she soothed. “I’m wrong. Sorry.”

Seojun heaved a breath. His entire face calmed. Sounding like the regular person he was, he worried, “Isn’t your due date near? You’re still working.”

“I actually plan to continue working,” Namjoo replied. “I read as long as you feel fine, there’s nothing wrong with it. The doctor ok’d it.”

He scoffed. “Do they really know what they’re talking about? You should be in bed rest, Namjoo.”

Namjoo focused on her breathing. If she panicked and her breath hitched he’d see she was scared. She didn’t want him to do anything foolish. Jongin had threatened a restraining order. That would put a negative mark on Seojun’s record. Namjoo wanted to try to avoid that.

Seojun was just hurt. He didn’t deserve that from her. Like being broken hearted made Mina a . In the end, she had let go.

Seojun could, too.

She believed he could.

“Why are you here, Seojun?” Namjoo wondered.

“But you called me first. You wanted to meet.” He reminded.

That was true. She had asked to meet. She hadn’t told Jongin that.

Now that he had come so unexpectedly, Namjoo felt like she’d lost hold of the script she had so carefully created in her head. They were supposed to meet on a certain date at a certain time. That was the plan. When it happened, she’d rattle everything off the top of her head. They’d cry, maybe. Out of regret. Sadness. Seojun would walk away forever. She’d never see him again.

Nothing was going as planned. Namjoo felt flustered. Put on the spot. Forced to improvise. She had been having bad dreams of him going after Jongin. The more she told herself it wouldn’t happen the more scared she suddenly was. Seojun drunk was Seojun unpredictable.

Seojun gentle and kind couldn’t become a wild beast just like that. She wanted to believe that. Really wanted to. Just now she wasn’t sure anymore.

He had been drinking because of her. Everything was her, her, her. Her fault. She was his downfall.

She had buried the happy man he was.

Namjoo didn’t want to be it. She didn’t want to carry the weight of his world on her shoulders.

“I just…” Namjoo’s voice faded then picked up. “You know I just… There was a brief moment when I wondered why I tried so hard to marry you. I just…I wondered if I tried too hard to impress your parents. Maybe I did it more for me than you.”

“We love each other, Namjoo. What are you talking about?” His brow twitched.

“You know just, never mind,” Namjoo absentmindedly touched her face. Trying to rub away the hesitation sparking through her. Perhaps they could do this another day.

“Is that all you wanted to say?” Seojun asked.

Namjoo’s eyes trailed elsewhere. Questioning herself. Was this it? Was she really going to wait until after the baby came? For the mess to fall back in? When she should be focusing on her little family? That would destroy everything she wanted with Jongin. Seojun could come between them again. Could become more aggressive because she was no longer pregnant.

The phone on her desk came to life. She nearly jumped out of her skin. Instantly reaching for it she lifted her eyes up to Seojun who seemed to be watching her a little too hard. Chills burst through her.

“Sorry, I have to get this,” Namjoo squeaked.

“Ok,” Seojun nodded with a crooked smile. “Get back to work. I should be leaving, too. It was good seeing you, Namjoo.”

She watched him walk away from her door. A part of her wondered if he’d really be going back to work. Dismantling her feelings, she answered the phone cheerily.

Namjoo took a late lunch break. Chatted briefly with Jongin over the phone. He promised fried chicken for dinner. At the mention of it she nearly drooled. Back at work she picked up the phone again to talk to a vendor. Meagerly watched the clock before grabbing her bag to leave for the day. Anticipating chicken. Anticipating an evening with Jongin.

Namjoo gasped the moment she stepped out and heard her name. Halting so fast her heart threatened to pop out. She turned to find Seojun standing at the side of the building. Tucked into the corner like a long, thin tree. Quietly wondering if he’d been standing under the shadows the entire day because his stubble seemed to have grown darker.

“You always go home at this time, huh?” he asked looking at his watch. “Four o’ clock. You might do some shopping afterward then you go home. You arrive back at work diligently at eight o’ clock sharp and you do the same thing again. On the weekends, you stay home more than you go out on a date. Or you visit an apartment on the west side. It must be a pretty standard routine now.”

Namjoo blinked quickly. “What?”

“You called me three times the last month and left a total of five text messages,” Seojun went on, “but from what I’ve seen lately, you don’t look very sad about me being gone.”

Namjoo felt her heart start to pound louder. Had he been stalking her?

She thought about the few times Seojun had lunged at her. Yanking her after him.

“I still care about you, Seojun.” Her voice came out weaker than intended.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Seojun, I’m worried about you,” Namjoo started with more courage. Hoping if she begged he would hear her. “Please. I think you need help.”

“You should have thought about that before you decided to leave me, Namjoo!” Seojun blasted, voice rising at the top of his lungs. “You don’t look very worried about me when you skitter off every day after work to go to him!”

Seojun in a breath. His chest trembled. Turned his side to her and exhaled. His hand fisted at his side. Calmer now he turned back to her with sudden shame. Apologizing, “I’m sorry, Namjoo. I’m not sure what overcame me. I didn’t mean to raise my voice.”

Her eyes darted to the side. Edgy now. She hiccupped surprising herself because her breath was starting to catch on too fast.

“Namjoo.” He reached out. His fingers brushed her lower arm just slightly but Namjoo flinched too hard. Jerked her arm away hastily. He looked at her hurt. Arousing guilt in her.

“You should go,” Namjoo quietly told.

Seojun appeared contrite. Namjoo didn’t know what to say anymore. She lowered her eyes only briefly so that she wouldn’t be able to witness him turning away.

He didn’t.

The following instant Namjoo knocked back into the glass door as his arm s out like a monstrous black shadow to snatch her sleeve. Fingers sliding up her arm to grasp her bicep. Holding her so tightly she could only writhe. Namjoo didn’t remember screaming as she struggled with him. Forcibly skittering forward jerkily on the cement. Fighting to stay up, root herself, pull away. Because if she fell…if she fell that might be the end for her baby.

And then Seojun was shouting. She couldn’t hear a thing. She was screaming too hard. Panicking. Her blood was racing. Churning. Filling her head with panic. She saw the demons in her dreams. All sorts of scenarios soared through her head. She was scared. She was frightened.

Her naivety to Seojun’s drunkenness had led to this moment.

It wasn’t her fault he hurt but it was also her fault.  

Then the pain crashed through her so hard so fast all she remembered was the pen falling from her hand that morning before she was on the ground crying in her own blood.

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Chicken. Was what Jongin expected when his phone rang. The chicken place where he’d placed his order thirty minutes ago was finally calling to say it was ready to be picked up. He’d go home and have a fruitful dinner with Namjoo. Hopefully she’d be in a jolly mood tonight and they’d be able to go to sleep peacefully.

But it wasn’t the chicken place.

Jongin debated letting the call go to voicemail. There were too many spam callers these days, but the ringing sounded eerier by the second. Picking up he held the phone to his ear. The world gaped open under him when the nurse on the other end told him his wife was having an emergency c-section.

“Sir? Hello? Sir?” the female voice repeated as he shot up from his chair and bolted out of the building.

There was four weeks left he told himself as he sped toward the hospital. Four weeks then Namjoo would give birth at the hospital. They had talked everything through. She had decided she would give birth lly but of course, she told him, with epidural. The pain might be too unbearable, and she was nervous. He would be there with her in the room. Offered to let her pull his hair out if became too painful.

Bubbles would finally arrive. He would give her a name. He had already decided. A pretty name that would make their daughter outshine all other little girls. It was a secret he had whispered to Namjoo on one of those nights she couldn’t sleep.

Jongin didn’t even remember where he parked his car as he raced into the hospital. Wanting to cry as he dashed through the winding corridors. Panicked because Namjoo was alone and he wasn’t there like he promised to be. He turned this and that way. His sanity leaving him behind faster than the wind as he searched for the emergency pediatric ward. A place he’d been to a million times already.

He finally found it when he spotted a policeman nearby.

The police…

Breathing hard he scanned the pastel room. There on a waiting room chair. Seojun with his face in his hands. Blood on his shirt.

And then Jongin lost it.

Charging toward the ex, Jongin yanked him up shoving him as hard as he could into the wall. Seojun’s head knocked steadfast into the wall creating a thick echo. The policeman shot into action but before he reached Jongin flung Seojun onto the carpet. Straddling him, cussing and cursing the most venomous words he could think off as he swung one hand and another into his face.

Blood boiling. The deep, dark voice inside him chanting kill, kill, kill. He should have done this a long time ago when Seojun attacked Namjoo.

When he was finally taken away he couldn’t tell whether the blood on his hand was his or Seojun’s. He was numb to the stinging of his split knuckles. Huffing, Jongin stumbled back. His innards encouraging him to go for one more round.

“I want a restraining order against him,” Jongin hissed. “And put him in jail!” He shot the policeman a glare. Finally backing away, he went in search of the men’s restroom to wash up.

Panicking when he turned the faucet on. Would the baby survive? What about Namjoo? How hurt was she? What if she bled too much and he lost her?

His hands first started shaking before it traveled up to his shoulders. Unraveling like a piece of paper. He hung his head, wiped his face. Forgetting about the blood on his hands and accidentally smearing his face. Breathing shakily, because he was so scared. Pulling himself together he cleaned up. Calling his mother the moment he stepped outside. Crying into the phone, “Mom. Mom, there’s been an accident.”

Jongin waited out front for her because staying inside was too much for him. Watching the small woman scurry up the hospital stairs on nimble feet. Her face as haggard as his. Hugging her as soon as she reached the top because he had no one else. He needed someone to be with him. Tell him it would be ok. Namjoo would live, their baby would survive.

“Where is she?” she worriedly interrogated as they sped through the hallway. “Is she in labor?”

“They’re giving her an emergency c-section,” he breathed. “Do you think she’ll be ok? Will Namjoo be ok, mom?”

“Yes, yes,” his mom erratically nodded. Firmly clutching his hand. “It’ll be ok.”

As soon as they turned the corner his mom halted when she spotted Seojun. ing her hand at him she demanded loudly, “Why is he here?! What is he doing here?!”

“Ma’am, you have to lower your voice. This is the pediatric ward,” the police officer hushed.

“Take him out of here!” his mother screamed. “How dare you let him here!” She turned to look up at him. When Jongin said nothing, she twisted back to the officer. Then eyed Seojun. Screaming from the top of her lungs, “Leave! Leave!”

One nurse. Two nurses rushed in at the commotion. When explained what was going on the nurse spoke to the officer in a hushed tone who then turned to Seojun speaking under his breath. Finally rising the pair started their way. His mother crossed her arms defiantly when they passed.

“I just wanted to talk to her,” Seojun said as he walked by. “I didn’t know she was scared of me. I’m sorry.”

Jongin gritted his jaw. Ever angrier because he needed to turn around to spit the most distasteful words flooding his mouth. As their footsteps faded the ER doors burst open drawing his attention. Jongin turned when a doctor in scrubs walked out and held his breath.