◊◊◊◊◊

Namjoo hesitated to open the door.

This wasn’t insecurity. Namjoo was sad. For Sehun. Disappointed in herself that she had been dismissing everything because she was infatuated with him.

Sehun’s life mattered. His feelings were relevant.

And most of all, she wanted all of his heart if he wanted to be with her, but she knew it wasn’t all there.

She wasn’t stupid.

After Gunta called her mom, he hadn’t said anything to her. A known fact that it had made them both uncomfortable.

Plundered by a sense of hurt because there was one thing special to him he didn’t want to talk about with her. It would always stand between them.

Should she just go back? Let him rest. Go and pick Moowon up.

Her head shot up from the handle when the door opened and Sehun looked at her. He coughed once then asked, “Why aren’t you coming in? You’re making a sick person come to the door.”

Namjoo stared into his face. Her heart raced because she was surprised.

“Uh…I…” she stammered for an excuse, but he grabbed her arm to pull her in.

“You made something?” he glanced at the container in her hands. “I’m hungry.”

He was covered in a blanket but otherwise up and about. Still bothered by everything she’d heard she decided she would ponder over it later. Right now, she would feed Sehun and get him into bed.

“Where’s Gunta?” Namjoo wondered placing the food on the table and unpacking it.

“My father came to get him,” Sehun explained. “They miss him, so they’re spending some time together.”

“That’s good. He should have his grandparents in his life,” Namjoo commented. Opening the microwave, she reheated the cold chicken soup. Listened to the machine hum and feeling like she shouldn’t be here.

Maybe what he needed most wasn’t her.

Her attention veered back when Sehun pressed his front to her back enveloping her into his snuggly blanket.

“I missed you.” He said.

And it hurt a bit. Unresponsive, Namjoo stood there hearing only the microwave churn as Sehun’s heart beat against her back. She felt lost in a strange world of sadness and happiness. Where the gray line was so thick she didn’t know where to go. On the other side a fence of spikes grew so high she’d prick her skin and bleed if she climbed. On the opposite side the gorge was so deep that it would take all her will power to jump across.

Namjoo pulled the food out and sat with Sehun as he ate. Telling her it was his first meal of the day. She smiled at him like a mother proud of her child finally learning to hold his spoon correctly. Unsure if she should cry for him because he was alone. Sick and by himself. No one here for him, because his wife had died. He was like an abandoned cub forced to fend for himself.

How lonely was he? Did the despair plunge its knife into his heart each night he was alone?

Her heart went out to him.

She hadn’t thought about how deep his grief could be. Not wanting a thing to do with him or Gunta, but now they were together, and it was unavoidable. They were in her life. This was a burden she couldn’t forgo.

Namjoo’s fingers grazed his hair and tried a small smile. He looked at her questionably. She didn’t want him to know what she was thinking. What kinds of things she was wondering.

“You’re not eating?” he asked.

“I ate before I came,” she said. It was a lie, but she didn’t think she could eat anymore after this. “Did you take some medicine?”

“I was sleeping it off,” Sehun grinned knowing he was in trouble.

“Goodness,” Namjoo mumbled getting up to search his cabinets.

Sehun took his medicine when she started cleaning up, thinking she would make her escape after making sure he got in bed.

“Is Moowon with his dad?” Sehun asked.

“I asked Yurim to watch him,” Namjoo told. “My friend, remember?”

“Then, you’re free?” he pressed.

“Well…”

“Come lay in bed with me,” he said. She looked at him from the sink pondering if it was the right thing to do.

In his heart, what was he thinking?

That he was lonely and he needed someone to drive it away?

Did he wish she was his wife? Unintentionally driving the wedge deeper Namjoo looked away. Why was she thinking this? Why was she thinking of Sehun like this?

“Just until I fall asleep,” Sehun persuaded.

Then the thought of Sehun all by himself in the dark made her heart ache.

“Ok.”

She let him take her hand. He happily lay down on her lap when they crept into his bed and snuggled up against her belly. He clutched her hand on his chest as he closed his eyes.

“Leave me a note when you go,” Sehun said. “It’ll make me feel better when I wake up.”

“Ok.” Running her fingers through his hair she asked, “Is Gunta coming back?”

“Later in the evening.”

“That’s good.”

“That’s why I need all the rest I can right now,” he said which made her smile. A moment of silence passed and she thought he’d drifted off. Then he said, “I’m not on speaking terms with my mom.”

She didn’t know.

“Why?”

“I didn’t date Saemi like she wanted,” he explained tracing his thumb over the back of her hand. “Because I like someone else.”

Tenderness fluctuated through her chest. Reminding her of all the little fluttery moments they’d had before she decided to go after him. Before she knew what she was getting into.

“You’re silly.” She quietly commented.

Opening his eyes, he peered up at her. “But silly brought you here.”

Namjoo laughed and heard him join her. Entwining his fingers through hers he closed his eyes. “I’m going to sleep now, so stop talking.”

his hair gently Namjoo waited for him to fall asleep. Letting his rhythmic breathing override the silence. The door wasn’t closed all the way. A small streak of light caked into the room offering her enough light to look around.

Sehun didn’t leave his clothes lying around. There was his mirror. A dresser. The closet. His laundry basket half filled. Pictures of Gunta on the dresser. Perhaps memories of when he started crawling. Of when he was first brought home.

Turning, Namjoo glanced at Yanghwa’s portrait. Clearly knowing she’d never truly be able to understand the devastation that tore her and Sehun’s lives apart. Forcing her to leave behind a baby and a husband.

Staring down at Sehun she wondered how many more times it must have killed him inside to watch her so helplessly. Wishing there was something he could have done, but there wasn’t.

And Namjoo wondered, should she be here?

◊◊◊◊◊

“Mommy!” Moowon shouted for her scrambling up from where he was sitting in Yurim’s kitchen. Running over to show her his painting of them he exclaimed, “I draw uncle and Gunta, too.”

Gladly smiling Namjoo touched his head, “So, you did? Good job.”

“This guy, Sehun, are you two getting pretty serious?” Yurim curiously asked.

In Yurim’s golden lit home Namjoo felt like she was on an astral land. If only she were really. She wondered if these kinds of feelings she was experiencing would exist there, too.

“I’m not thinking of marrying him at least,” Namjoo replied.

“Huh,” her friend breathed unamused. Partially glancing at Moowon, “Looks like there’s no chance of a baby on the way, kiddo.”

Namjoo frowned and rolled her eyes. “Don’t talk to him like that.”

Yurim grinned proud of herself. Bending down she said, “Give me a hug before you go home.”

Moowon happily obliged before holding her hand as they left. Opening the back door, she helped him up into his booster seat. The paper he’d painted on crinkled noisily. He looked very satisfied with his work.

“Mommy,” Moowon called. “You go see uncle?”

Finally paying attention now, she repeated, “Uncle?”

“Gunta daddy,” Moowon laughed. “Silly mommy.”

“Gunta’s daddy is sick,” Namjoo explained.

“Sick is bad,” Moowon sympathized.

“Yes,” she his hair, “so mommy went to bring him food.”

“Because mommy and uncle love each other?” he asked curiously.

That weird pang she’d been experiencing since meeting Joomi shook her heart a little harder. Leaning against the door she traced her thumb across his earlobe affectionately. Thinking about how hard she had fought hard for Moowon, and if that was how hard Sehun had fought to make Gunta possible.

“Love,” Namjoo said more to herself than her son, “is many things.”

◊◊◊◊◊

“You’re not eating your food?” Sehun asked the next morning. His cold was still persisting, but he felt more energetic now thanks to all that sleep and the chicken soup Namjoo had made.

Feel better. Don’t forget to reheat the food and don’t take too hot a shower, so your temperature goes down. I’ll see you tomorrow. That had been Namjoo’s note, but it had delighted him when he’d woken up without her.

Gunta had returned late in the evening. Dropped off by his father because his mother wanted to hold out her strike with him. That was all right with Sehun. He was still upset with her, too. Eventually, they would forget and move on, but that would be somewhere in the future.

Now, Gunta was twirling his noodles up with his fork. His rice was eaten a quarter of the way. His cup of juice drained. Sehun felt frustrated because they had to leave in 20 minutes and Gunta was nowhere near ready.

“Gunta,” he deepened his tone.

“But I not hunger daddy,” Gunta whined.

“Moowon is going to school soon,” Sehun told. “If you want to be a big boy, too, you have to eat.”

“Shchool?” Gunta repeated. “Why?”

“Moowon won’t have to go to the daycare anymore. If you want to be like Moowon, eat,” Sehun said.

“No!” Gunta shook his head. “Don’t want Moowon go! Moowon play with me!”

Pouting, Gunta started crying upset. Groaning from within his throat, Sehun lifted his crying son out of his chair. Abandoning breakfast he hurried to Gunta’s bedroom to get him out of his pajamas.

When they reached daycare Gunta, still sobbing angrily, ran up to Namjoo in the parking lot. Bawling his eyes out. Sehun sighed. His ears were still ringing from listening to his son cry all morning.

“Gunta? What’s wrong?” Namjoo asked.

“Daddy,” he accused flinging his arm back to point at him, as if to tell everyone who was at fault.

Namjoo glanced at him then replaced her attention on his son. Crouching down she dug into her purse for a tissue.

“It’s ok,” she crooned wiping his nose. “Did daddy upset you?”

“I did not,” Sehun flatly stated and received the eye in turn telling him not to interrupt. He wanted to sigh loudly. In order not to be the poor sport of their circle he kept his mouth shut. Smiling when he caught Moowon looking up at him. Namjoo’s son averted his gaze and he wondered if he was making himself look bad.

“Moowon go shchool?” Gunta sniffed.

“Hmm?” Namjoo asked unable to understand at first. Then finally comprehending Gunta’s language, she gently said, “Moowon is going to school soon. He’ll be going to learning lessons, but you will still see him.”

“No,” Gunta pleaded crying his big tears again. “No go. Moowonie no go!”

He stamped his foot upset and Sehun about pulled him away, but Namjoo lightheartedly smiled and pulled him into her arms. Patting his back soothingly. The sight made his heart weak. He was ever grateful for Namjoo. That she cared about Gunta, too.

Quietening now, Gunta sniffed into her shoulder.

“That’s a good boy,” Namjoo praised. She let go, but Gunta didn’t release her. She looked flustered before managing to grab onto the car and lift him up.

“Mommy.” Jealous, Moowon grabbed onto her shirt. Refusing to notice, Gunta buried his wet face into her neck. Hiccupping and whining when Sehun tried to take him away.

“Never mind,” Namjoo said. “It’s ok. It’s not that long of a walk.”

Wondering if Moowon felt left out he looked down to see the boy still holding onto his mother’s shirt, as if afraid he’d lose her any second.

“You ok, Moowon?” Sehun asked.

The little boy looked up at him with his big, innocent eyes. He looked kind of sad. Feeling sorry for him Sehun held out his hand. “I can carry you.”

Moowon took a hurried step forward to keep up with Namjoo’s pace. Then letting go he turned extending his arms out. Immediately lifting him up Sehun wrapped an arm around him. Catching up to Namjoo he said, “Gunta, look. I’m carrying Moowon.”

Gunta looked at him once then turned his face away.

“Really?” Namjoo asked.

“I didn’t steal someone else’s son,” Sehun teased.

Namjoo scoffed.

“Look at you all,” Mrs. Lee exclaimed when they reached the front doors.

Lowering Gunta, Namjoo touched the back of his head, explaining, “His father upset him.”

“Wow, really?” Sehun looked at her after letting Moowon down.

Side-glancing at him, Namjoo turned back to Mrs. Lee and smiled. “I’m going to change Moowon’s full time schedule here. He’ll be starting lessons soon.”

“It’s that time, isn’t it?” she asked. “Come whenever you’re free and we can talk about it. Gunta will be sad.”

Sehun glanced down at Gunta who was still hiccupping. After squeezing Moowon into her arms one of the staff members came to take the boys inside.

“He didn’t even say goodbye to me,” Sehun mumbled when they headed out.

“You made him cry,” Namjoo reminded.

“He’s going to have to learn to forgive me,” Sehun said. Changing the topic, he asked, “I look better today, don’t I?” shifting so she could check him out he broadly grinned.

“Your eyes aren’t drooping, so you’re fine,” Namjoo commented.

“That hurts,” Sehun playfully pouted. Bursting with happiness when she smiled.

“Sehun,” Namjoo said when they reached her car.

“Yes?” he asked eager for what she might say. Ask him out for lunch? Suggest something for dinner? He was all for it.

“Your friend Joomi.”

His heart dropped. “What about Joomi?” he steely asked, mood turning sour.

“Can I have her phone number?” Namjoo asked.

“Why?” he interrogated.

“There’s just…something I want to thank her for.” It was an obvious lie. Sehun could tell, but the clock was ticking and they had to go to work.

“What do you want to thank her for?” he pressed. He’d keep her here even if they were late for work.

Ignoring him, Namjoo held her hand out, “Your phone?”

“Namjoo. Did she say something…”

“No,” Namjoo assured then smiled which made him even more suspicious. “We’re not fighting over you, so don’t feel too special.”

“Seriously,” he grumbled reaching into his pocket for the device. “I swear…” but he couldn’t finish because Namjoo took his phone and leaned up to give him a kiss. Sehun bit his lower lip when she started going through his list of contacts.

“You owe me more than that,” he said.

“Like another kiss?” Namjoo teased.

“More than that,” he bargained. “I want more than that.”