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Jongin glanced at himself in the bathroom mirror and couldn’t help but laugh gleefully. Throughout the day he had received a few curious stares. Though Namjoo had tried blending the makeup over his face it was still relevant how mismatched her makeup was to his skin. Touching his face, he observed her work feeling, for some reason, like he didn’t want to wash it off.

He went to sleep thinking about what to cook for her and woke up the following morning with a shopping list. A bag rattled against his door when he walked out. Peering inside he saw neatly packed food in colorful containers. Taking one out to observe he realized it was still warm to the touch.

The corner of his lip instantly flew up and he hurried toward the elevator. To his disappointment Namjoo wasn’t in the lift. By the time he walked outside he spotted her car driving off into traffic and watched her disappear with a light heart.

Holding the bag tightly against his body he crossed the street toward his car. Not even Mina had packed him lunch before. This feeling he was experiencing for the first time made his heart flutter. He was grateful, really grateful.

He couldn’t wait until lunchtime. He would have a good meal for sure.

The plan when he returned from work was to go shopping for fresh grocery. As soon as he got in he’d cook right away and send something up so Namjoo would have something good for dinner. While strolling through the store he literally felt like dancing to the song playing over the radio. Jongin paused when he spotted a small family of four toddling through the store, enjoying the sight. One day, he thought, he would be like them.

As planned, he went straight to dinner preparation when he arrived home. It all would have gone as he imagined until his bell rang and he found his mother standing on the other side.

“What are you doing?” she walked in with a bag of her own. Looking at the mess on the kitchen table she went on, “What is this mess?”

Unable to say he was cooking for someone he barely knew he hesitated while concocting a lie. “I’m cooking, can’t you see?”

“This early?” She frowned at him then glanced at the clock on the wall. True he had sped to the store and back home. It was barely even five.

Foolishly smiling, he shrugged.

“Clean up, I’m going to make you dinner,” she ordered.

“What?” he started. “No, I’m fine. Don’t, mom.”

Without waiting for him she began bagging up the washed food on the table leaving him to watch speechless.

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Tossing her purse onto the couch Namjoo yawned as she sat down. Catching sight of the unfinished chips on the side table she snatched it and gobbled the rest. She had had a hard time stomaching lunch. Had ran to the bathroom twice to throw up before successfully finishing a bottle of juice and a breakfast bar she had hidden in her drawer.

Crumpling the finished bag up she stood to wash her hand in the kitchen. Wondering what to have for dinner because there was no bag hanging on her door when she returned. A part of her had been openly looking forward to it. The other part of her refused to grovel in looking forward to Jongin’s meal.

Honestly, she shouldn’t be worrying about him, but then the better part of her agreed that if he was being kind to her she should at least do the same. Compassion was what it was called.

Catching sight of his containers sitting on her counter she debated whether she should return them tonight or wait for some other day. It was better to get this over with she decided. Snatching the containers, she stepped out and started on her way down to the fifth floor.

On the way down the hallway, Namjoo’s determined steps faltered. Suddenly she wasn’t sure about this. Maybe she should just drop it off in the morning when she knew he was gone. A door opened surprising her, but it wasn’t Jongin. A neighbor of his scurried down toward the elevator. Nervously biting her lower lip Namjoo forced herself to continue. Since she was already here it was stupid to head back upstairs.

Five-thirteen she remembered his mother nosily telling her. She scanned the silver-plated numbers beside each doorway. Finally arriving she felt go dry. It was now or never. her lips anxiously she reached for the doorbell.

Namjoo listened to the tone and then the door unlocked from the other side. Her heart skipped two beats. This was even worse than walking beside him the other night.

She was prepared to blurt the sudden excuse she’d come with on the spot but it died in when Jongin’s mother looked back at her. Now Namjoo wished she hadn’t come.

A smile popped onto her face, “Why, hello. Come in, come in.”

“No…I…” But the woman further opened the door for her.

“Come in,” she invited.

Firmly pressing her lips together Namjoo took a step in immediately smelling the fresh aroma of boiling food. Her stomach rumbled, the baby requesting attention. And Namjoo remembered she should have gone shopping. Recently it was hard even buttoning her pants.

Her eyes keenly observed the clean kitchen, stealing over to the food cooking on the stove. She mentally drooled at the sight of food.

“Mom, did you touch my…” Jongin’s voice started but stopped when he realized there was a visitor. His gaze shot past her to his mom then back to her.

Edgy, Namjoo gripped onto the containers she was holding. What should she say?

“You didn’t tell me you were friends,” his mother delightfully said. Then a lightbulb switched on over her head and she said while smiling coyly in her son’s direction, “So that was why you were making dinner earlier.”

Namjoo heated up neck down. She glanced at Jongin, wondering what his mother may mean.

Flabbergasted, his face flashed pink, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, mom.”

Namjoo blinked somewhat uncomfortable. She needed to leave as soon as possible. Holding out the container she told, “I just came to drop these off.”

Jongin tried not to look at his mom as he walked toward her to take back his food containers. As soon as he took them his mother interrupted, “Why don’t you stay for dinner?”

Namjoo would have dropped the containers if Jongin hadn’t already grabbed them. “Uh…I…”

“Stay,” Jongin said. She looked at him only to feel her heart skip skittishly.

Interlocking her fingers, tense, she asked, “Then uh…do you need help with anything?”

“No, dear, just sit down,” Jongin’s mother walked over to touch her arm leading her toward the table to sit. “Would you like a cup of water?” Then she scolded, “Jongin, get her something to drink.”

Namjoo gulped and realized she was starting to feel a little queasy. Though it was a little late to be experiencing morning sickness she thought she wanted to puke anyway. Her insides felt tight like a firmly woven ball about to burst.

“Here,” Jongin placed a fresh glass of water in front her. Namjoo noticed the slice of lemon in the glass and looked at him. She missed the sight of his mother raising her brow.

For the first time he appeared shy, first looking away. It made Namjoo feel a heap ton hotter than she already was. Why was he being like this?

“I…I heard it’s good when you’re feeling nauseous,” Jongin explained.

“What are you up to?” His mother’s tone was slightly teasing. “I drank that every day when I was pregnant with Jongin. He gave me terrible morning sickness I had to go on bedrest.”

Sweating even harder Namjoo couldn’t bring herself to thank him or take even a sip. What the hell…did his mother know?

“Are you carrying by any chance?” His mother wondered.

“No…no!” Namjoo shook her head a little too fast, sounding a little too panicky. “It’s just…I was sick lately and I wasn’t feeling well.” Curling her hands into tiny fists on her lap she added, “That’s all. It’s nothing.”

“Is that so? Then it’s a good thing I chose to cook chicken tonight. It’s the best food to have when you’re not feeling well,” his mother said, but Namjoo couldn’t stop her heart from beating so fast.

She looked at Jongin a little accusingly before grabbing her glass of water to drink.

Dinner processed smoothly at least. The table was set and his mother moved on to talking about an economic topic Namjoo could care less about.

“By the way, Namjoo, where do you work?” His mother inquired. “Jongin works at the finance department for KM Global.”

She noticed him glance at her. “I work at Amorepacific.”

“Isn’t that a cosmetic company?” His mother’s eyes became round. “That must be so interesting.”

“A little,” Namjoo felt like shrinking thinking so here it begins, the talk about her work.

“Mom,” Jongin interjected, “just let her eat. Why are you so nosy?”

“I am not nosy,” she refuted. “It’s normal to get to know each other when you’re neighbors. Don’t chide me. You should have told me you made a new friend. I would have invited her earlier.”

Turning back to Namjoo she went on, “Jongin has become so spiritless since his father passed away. Sometimes I just can’t get through to him.”

Caught off guard by the news, Namjoo shot Jongin a glance. Looking away she rubbed her fingers against the length of her spoon. “Well,” she spoke up, “he doesn’t seem so spiritless to me.”

She tried not to meet his eyes when he glanced at her. On second thought, maybe she should have then she wouldn’t have seen the flare in his mother’s eyes.

“Is that so?” She leaned forward. “He must be quite the charmer.”

Namjoo blushed heavily wishing she would have never spoken at all. Darn her and .

“Why don’t you stay for some tea?” His mother suggested when she began clearing up the table. “I’ll get started right now, so don’t worry about the dishes and go sit.” Holding a rag, she suggested, “I saw his yearbook sitting around. Jongin, why don’t you both look through it? It would be something nice to do.”

Namjoo wanted to leave, but their eyes caught and she felt the strain of his mother’s watch.

“Well, go on,” his mother urged.

Namjoo could have choked while swallowing because was so dry. Somehow, she followed Jongin into the living room and sat down with him. She noticed he had added a TV stand but not a TV to the room yet. There was also a solid wooden coffee table with nothing on it.

“Sorry,” he quietly apologized digging through his pile of books for the year book, “I didn’t mean for my mom to drag you into staying.”

“Well, I guess some tea would be nice,” Namjoo said touching the hem of her shirt. She still needed to shower. She wondered if she smelled of sweat, if her perfume would have worn off by now.

“I haven’t touched it in a while,” Jongin confessed sitting back down with the book on his lap. He was right. The book looked totally brand new whereas hers had been looked through a dozen times. Smacked between all her college textbooks and used many times randomly. Sometimes she even set her coffee cup on it. Other times she ate off it. Having left it lying around her home after whenever she poured through it nostalgically.

Laughter vibrated through Jongin’s body as he flipped the pages reminiscing the days they had been young and free. Talking about the class clown in class 4-2. Remembering his challenge of drinking a 3-day expired milk carton only to have extreme diarrhea that stank the boy’s bathroom for days. Then he told her about their class’s most popular couple breaking up by the end of the school year. She hadn’t known about that.

“That’s Taesong,” Jongin pointed to a blurred face she couldn’t make out from one of his soccer matches. “He’s a fashion designer now. He just flown back home, so I’m meeting him this weekend. Do you know him?”

“No…” Namjoo replied feeling small. She hadn’t known his crowd. Back in high school he was the only thing she had paid attention to, but it wasn’t like he knew that.

They flipped through some more and he seemed embarrassed when they landed on his class photo. When they landed on the page with her photo he quickly unfolded the corner he had dog-eared. He couldn’t look at her, she realized, having gone quiet now. Namjoo felt her heart thud growing uncomfortable with the fact that he had gone through the year book to find her.

She wanted to crawl away and hide. Make the excuse now that she should leave, but his mother appeared from around the couch with a tray of steaming cups.

“What are you two looking at?” Setting the tray down she leaned over. “Oh,” doing a double take she asked, “why, isn’t that you?” Sitting on the other side of Jongin, she leaned forward to ask, “You went to Chungdam High?”

If she was an inflated balloon she would have popped by now.

“Yes,” she replied so quietly she didn’t even hear herself.

Suddenly beaming, Jongin’s mother exclaimed, “You two are classmates?! Oh, how nice is that? This is such a coincidence!”

Too much that Namjoo didn’t want to believe it at all. She shouldn’t have come to drop off the food containers.

“Your parents will be so glad to know you’ve become friends with an old classmate.”

She wasn’t sure she ever wanted to tell her parents about Jongin. Ever.

“By the way, if you live alone, where are your parents?”

“Huh? Oh…After I graduated, they moved to Jeonju,” Namjoo told.

“Why so far away?”

“My father was born there,” Namjoo said. “They have a restaurant there now.”

“A restaurant,” she repeated, “how nice is that. He must be an excellent cook.” Nudging her son, she teased, “I suppose, he could give Jongin a lesson or two.”

Namjoo felt her face heat up.

“Mom, stop,” Jongin frowned at her.

“What?” His mother asked. “Look at him getting upset,” his mother grinned at her. Beckoning, she said, “Drink up. The tea is really good.”

Namjoo finished the tea rather quickly and refused seconds when his mother offered to refill her cup. Forgetting the year book, his mother went on to talk about a market lady’s son whose wife cheated on him. Telling them how bad it looked for the family now that they were finally divorcing and how sad for the children. Namjoo listened awkwardly wondering if she really needed to sit through the story.

Once the story came to an end Namjoo quickly made her escape. “It’s getting kind of late. I should go.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I lost track of time,” his mother apologized. “It is late. You must be tired.” She more than shoved Jongin, “You should walk her out.”

“No, no. I live just upstairs. It’s fine,” Namjoo shook her hands. She wanted to go alone, be alone now.

“Still, it’s manners.” His mother shot him an eye that had him standing.

“I’ll…walk you,” Jongin said.

“Thank you for the meal,” Namjoo bid her farewell.

“Yes, you’re welcome. Get some rest now,” his mother smiled as she walked out with Jongin on her tail.

When the door closed she said, “You really don’t have to.”

“It’s fine. I won’t hear the end of it if I don’t listen to her,” Jongin said starting down the hall. “Sorry. She talks a lot, doesn’t she?”

“It’s…a mother thing, I guess,” Namjoo commented and heard him breath a laugh.

“About that lemon water, I’ll make you another glass when you come again.”

“It was refreshing,” Namjoo honestly told. “Thanks.”

He opened the door to the stairwell and they headed up. “But uh…thanks, for tolerating her. She lets it all out when she meets new people.”

“I don’t mind. It must get lonely for her every now and then,” Namjoo sympathized. Accidentally looking up their eyes locked. Namjoo was quick to turn away relishing in the fuzziness growing inside her belly.

“Can I ask you, though,” he started when they reached the door leading to the sixth floor. Turning to him she waited for him to go on. “Is it mine?”

Unable to hold his eyes any longer, Namjoo averted her gaze. “No.” Pressing her lips together she forced herself to look at him again and said with a smile just to throw it off, “So you don’t have to worry about it.”

She couldn’t read his gaze. “Can I ask you something else?”

Her heart beat a little faster. What more was he curious about?

“What food do you like? I’ll cook for you tomorrow.”

Namjoo could feel her heart melting, because he was being so nice. Guilt flushed through her imminently.

“I eat anything.”

He smiled and pulled the door open for her. “And thanks for food. No one’s packed me lunch before. It was really delicious.”

As she lay in bed that night Jongin dispelled all other thoughts from her mind.  

***Wow they had a decent conversation at last, but Namjoo didn't tell him the truth ;;