"I would've never expected you to be so enthusiastic to leave me in the barracks and go home," Sehun said with with a bitter smile as he stirred the sweet liquid in the cup. Sarang shortly glanced up at him before looking away without another response. "You're that worried about Omma? Or are you trying to..." he trailed away looking down at his boots as he leaned against his enormous desk.

"Trying to?" She looked at him and finally kept that gaze on hi. Sehun felt a shuddering breath leave his nose as he stared into the hazel of her eyes. 

"I don't know," his voice was soft, "Perhaps trying to get away from me." Sarang watched as he sighed, the hurt expression on his face stirring the insides of her stomach. "No matter how many times you say you're happy, Sarang, I can't seem to believe you," He added, darting his eyes from hers to the cup of tea he had been stirring for so long.

Sarang wondered if the uneasy feeling in the pits of her stomach was guilt. The more she looked at him, the stronger the feeling became and she desperately wanted to get rid of that. Just like every time, she was at loss of words; perhaps that was why Sehun couldn't believe her. She never expressed exactly what she felt; too shy to even pronounce a word of admiration for him.

"I'm actually very worried about your mother, Sehun," she said, going back to folding her belongings scattered on the bed. "She's not only your mother, you know," Sarang had made it a point to fix his bed that morning and had requested him to do so every morning. She could only hope he'd actually listen.

"Perhaps she's your mother too but that doesn't really give you an excuse to run away from your husband," He pointed out, his eyes appearing vulnerable. Sarang couldn't really fathom how much her leaving in such a manner affected him.

"I"m not running away from you," She raised her voice, snapping her head towards him. "You're getting the wrong idea. Again." A sigh escaped her lips as she fully turned to the man already in his uniform.

"Well, maybe I am," he continued, "That only means you're giving me the wrong impression." Sehun huffed a little in annoyance, "It is so clear you don't seem to be fine with me. Ask Jaewook, he'd say the same." He raised his brows at her when she brushed his words off and went back to zipping her bag. His shoulders fell. "You're not fine with me. Don't lie to me."

Meanwhile, Sarang was reminded of what her friend had said just a night ago. Her fingers stopped halfway as she pulled the zipper, the cold surface of it soaking the warmth from the tips of her fingers. "I..." she tried to speak, "...I am ...insecure. You understand, right?"

Sehun gulped at the answer. He was literally expecting that reply from her. But it hit hard because somehow he didn't want her to say it. He knew none of those made sense but those were the last words he wanted to hear from her. Sarang's glazed eyes met his; he found it hard to look back. "I can never be sure,"  Sarang continued, "Moreover, you yourself can't ever be sure if you'll be coming back home to Omoni, to me." 

Sehun looked at the wooden floor with no such reply for her. Sarang watched him, taking a seat on his bed. His troubled face made him look different. In his regular attire, he looked absolutely worthy of the rank he was placed in, of the respect he was given. But even that uniform couldn't guarantee his life. After a painfully long silence, he parted his lips to speak. She held her breath for no reason at all. "It's my job. I'm sorry," he mumbled. His tone spoke of finality and Sarang didn't say anything more.

Sehun walked towards her with the cup of tea in his hand. He blew on the liquid before handing it to her with an unreadable gaze. Sarang took the warm cup from his surprisingly trembling hand. She motioned him to sit beside her and he did. "It's okay," she said, slowly, in a calming manner. "I'll try not to feel insecure because you'll always come back home. Just like Jinhye Unnie, like Omoni..." She continued, looking at the cup in her hands, "I'll wait."

Sehun sighed, "But you're right. You can never be sure." With another little sigh, he faced her, "I never had the chance to talk to you before we got married. Perhaps if I did, we wouldn't have to have such a discussion so early in the morning." Sarang traced the rim of the cup with her finger, looking down at it with a little sigh.

"I don't think that would've changed anything," Sarang responded, "Appa had been very adamant; I wouldn't have been able to change his mind in any way."

"I could've talked to him." With a little turn of her head, Sarang looked at him. Sehun looked away with that guilt in his eyes. "I have nothing to do now. It's all done."

"I'm only asking you to return," she said.

"I can make no promises, Sarang," he reminded her, "This is the life I've chosen for myself. The unpredictability comes along with this uniform."

"Can you not," the girl sighed heavily.

"Can I not what?"

"Put those words in that way," She replied, "Don't do that."

"But you need to know the reality, Sa—"

"Stop," Sarang said in a louder tone, pressing her finger to his lips. Sehun kept his unwavering gaze on her. The frown that decorated her face reflected the expression on his. "Stop reminding me. I don't want to hear any of these, why don't you understand?"

Sehun kept quiet like he was asked to, taking in the way her lips jutted into a pout. Sarang placed her eyes on her finger that was held against his thin lips before she looked away, flushing. "You will go home this Christmas, and the next Christmas, and hundred more Christmases," she heard his little chuckle and felt the ends of her lips straighten, "You have to come home because..."

"Because?"

"Because I cannot imagine me with someone else other than you."

Sehun's shoulders relaxed even though that wasn't what he had expected her to say. He gulped down the urge to hold her in his arms. Sarang was very oblivious to how her words made it so difficult for him to continue with the job he had dutifully handled since joining the military. Sehun looked back into her expecting eyes with a surge of guilt. He would never become the one to take care of her when his job was here, with his brothers to serve the country they were taught to love everyday. He couldn't give her any such affirmation either. So far, pledging his life for the country hadn't really mattered to him, he was ready to do so in a blink of his eyes. But now, it made a difference. Sarang made a difference in his routine life.

Sehun sighed, reaching out for her hand. "I'll always come back."

 "I can't find Mimi," she released an exasperated sigh. "Omoni, Mimi got lost again," Sarang almost sounded like she was about to cry, her forehead had a thin layer of sweat forming even in the chilly afternoon.

"Oh, dear," The old lady let out a sigh, "It's better to just sell her, right?"

"No way," Sarang muttered, making her way towards the door to her room. With an annoyed expression she pushed the doors open.

"You."

Startled, Sehun dropped the book in his hand. He looked at his wife with question in his eyes. "Hey," he nervously smiled. "What's wrong?"

"Help me find Mimi," she stated firmly, "You're not supposed to be this lazy if you're in the military. Seokjin Oppa is by the stream washing his own clothes and look at what you are doing." She pointed at the book on the wooden floor. "I want to see you out in two seconds, Oh Sehun." She stomped out of the room with her face literally burning with rage.

Sehun, a little taken aback by her little outburst, cracked a smile on his face. His wife was just full of surprises all the time. He knew she would notice him lazing around in the house, doing zero things, eating and sleeping. But never did he think she would lash out at him for doing those. Carefully placing the book on the little nightstand on the side of his bed, Sehun made his way out into the cold.

"Who is Mimi again?" He asked, climbing the three little stairs down to the little yard.

"Mimi," Sarang paused, "Mimi is my favorite chicken."

Sehun laughed at her angry face. "I'll search for a chicken now? You want me to look for a chicken?"

"You do literally nothing at home," She exclaimed, making him bite his lips to stifle a chuckle. "Searching for a chicken wouldn't kill you. She's my favorite chicken, Sehun"

"Fine. Lead the way," he said, fixing the knitted sweater on him. "Are we going far?" Sarang shrugged as an answer to his question. "Fine then, stick with me. I'll find Mimi for you," Sehun smiled at her, reaching out for her hand. Expecting her to hold it, he looked away, pushing his other hand in the pocket of his trousers.

"We don't have time for this," she grumbled under her breath, walking ahead of him.

"Hey," Sehun frowned at the response, "It's just a chicken for God's sake." He easily caught up with her with his long legs. "Who even names a chicken?" he mumbled but his wife heard him. She let out a little 'hmph' before quickening her pace. Sehun sighed, forcefully holding her hand to keep her by his side.

"You know what?" she started again, "I know every nook and cranny of this village better than you do. We don't need to hold hands." They walked into the market place and Sehun instinctively pulled her closer to him. She let out an annoyed huff.

"I want to hold your hand," he stated, putting her freezing hand inside his pocket. He smiled satisfactorily while Sarang closed her eyes, knowing he wouldn't listen to her no matter what.

"We'll never find Mimi this way," she said.

"Why do you sound as if you like that chicken more than you like me?"

"Maybe I do," Sarang shrugged, "Mimi is always with me, everyday."

Sehun shook his head lightly as he realized her point. He smiled at the Christmas decorations hung on either of their sides. The shopkeepers greeted him as he passed by in the search of Mimi the chicken. He wanted to stop by and look through the colorful articles that the market had to offer. "Let's buy a Christmas tree this year," he mumbled, looking at his wife. Sarang didn't respond to him, her hawk eyes searching every corner for the chicken. Sehun sighed, "Sarang," he called out to her loudly.

"Huh?" her voice came out in a whisper, "Mimi—"

"Let's buy a Christmas tree this year?" He asked again, slowing their pace. "It'll be fun to decorate it together." He watched as her eyes brightened a little, only a little. Before she went back to her search-for-Mimi mode. She shrugged once again, not giving him a proper reply. "Ever since my sister left," He started, and this time round, successfully attracting all of her attention. Sehun looked at her curious wide eyes as a smile formed on his lips, "we never had a proper Christmas. Appa threw away the Christmas tree, I don't know why. Perhaps because Sooyoung used to love decorating that little tree we had every Christmas. It reminded Appa of her."

Sarang stayed silent, processing the information in her mind. "Where did she go?"

"I wish I knew," he replies with a sad smile. "She once sent me a letter when I joined the military. But, strange thing, she didn't put her address on the envelope. I couldn't write back to her."

"But Omoni said she never really studied. How come she wrote you a letter?"

"Exactly," He nodded, "Maybe, someone else wrote it for her. That's possible too."

"I hope she's doing fine. Does she know that you're married now?" Sarang asked with a little smile dancing on her lips.

"I don't know," he said quietly. "I wish I could tell her Omma got another daughter who is, unfortunately and hopelessly, in love with her chicken," Sehun smirked. "Sad, Sarang, your love will never be returned. Why would the one you love run away from you then?"

Sarang rolled her eyes, "I don't know. Mimi's cute, you know."

"You should look at me sometimes," he sounded a little upset. "C-Can we...search somewhere else?" Sarang observed the way he tensed up, stopping in his tracks. She raised her brows at his wide eyes. "Let's get out of here," He tugged onto her wrist but she stayed at her spot.

"But Mimi usually goes this way," Sarang mumbled. She looked ahead in search for what Sehun was trying to avoid, or rather whom he was trying to run away from. "Oh," that was her o