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Closing the door Sehun’s hand hovered over the lock. He’d woken with a fright only to find Namjoo on the other side of the door. Uncertainty rushed through him like a 10-foot wave. Unprecedented by the event that had just unfolded. Namjoo inviting herself into his bed.

He glanced at her from where he stood. Lying so still. Eyes open as if searching for the monster in her dream. Putting the lock into place Sehun returned to bed. Cautiously back into his space. Namjoo neither moved nor said anything.

Sehun slightly glanced back before shifting onto his side and closed his eyes. When he got up the following morning Namjoo was dead asleep. Curled up on her side with arms angled near her face. Her long hair fanned out behind her head. The outline of her legs tangled together. They had slept a breadth apart, but he’d been conscious of her the entire night. Just in case she woke up from another dream.

Buttoning the cuffs of his shirt he wondered what kind of dream would have her running all the way down the hall to his room.

Despite her frantic demeanor yesterday she appeared warm under the security of his blanket, so he decided he wouldn’t say anything about last night to her. Moving quietly not to wake her he grabbed his blazer and walked out.

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Namjoo really didn’t hear Sehun get up, get dressed, or leave for work. Yesterday she’d laid beside him staring at the moon as exhaustion crept in, but her eyes stayed unyielding. Finally falling asleep when who knows when.

Blinking, Namjoo stared at the sun pressing down on the trees. Alone in Sehun’s room. Kind of feeling like a loser for waking him in the middle of the night. Kind of thankful he hadn’t questioned her abnormal behavior.

Almost an entire year had gone by without that dream. Anticipation thrummed in her. She was closer to finding out how her mother died. She would find out the secrets her father kept buried. And she would confront him when she found the truth.

Determination crashed in on her. Unable to lie helplessly in Sehun’s bed she pushed herself up, headed back to her room to put on her suit of armor for the day.

She drove her car to the Oh estate. The manor stood long and low under the sun. A blinding white building that had been in the family for nine generations. Something like that if she remembered her father saying once when she was half-listening. Parking her car by the staircase Namjoo slammed the door. Peering up at the magnificent building with her neck craned back.

Their families were similar in an aspect. Hardworking. Flushed with money. Ruled by the men. The Oh’s had two sons. The Kim’s overruled with two daughters. The only difference was Namjoo refused to be ruled by their egotistical ways. She may have been forced to obey orders, but beneath it all no one really controlled her.

The biggest decision she had made for herself was to refuse to follow her father’s footsteps into the business world. He couldn’t fight her on her decision, because regardless if he died his inheritance would come flooding her way. This set Kim Jiyoo off, always. Was her biggest opposition since she married into the family.

Namjoo lowered her gaze when Sangki walked out of the doors brandishing a handsome white outfit. His blazer hung limply in his hands. A smile spreading across his lips when he spotted her.

Greeting at once, “Namjoo!”

Returning the smile, Namjoo asked, “Heading somewhere?”

“I’m in no hurry,” he said. “Come in.”

Taking his invitation she walked up the stairs toward him. “You look dressed up.”

“No big plans,” he shrugged her off. “I just have to make a phone call.” He left her by the kitchen and disappeared down the corridor. Namjoo followed on light footsteps hiding a distance away. He was speaking into his phone with a hushed tone, “Just go ahead. No! Don’t wait for me and don’t you come back.”

Narrowing her eyes Namjoo observed his frigid form. Dressed up for a date with his wife? Another woman? Back in the kitchen she continued waiting for him.

“Sorry about that.” Walking back toward her he leaned against the counter on her right. “What brings you here today?”

“Nothing. Thought we could hang out,” Namjoo said.

“Oh? With Sehun’s permission?” he raised a brow.

“It’s the first I’ve heard you mention him.”

The corner of his lip inched up. “What pleasure do I owe you today?”

“There’s something that I don’t think Sehun can give me,” Namjoo inherently teased, “that you can.”

His eyes brimmed. He literally breathed, “What’s that?”

Namjoo watched his fingers do a little dance across the tabletop. Looking up at him, “It’s about a woman.”

His brow inched up even further. “A woman.” His smile turned conniving, more interested. “What about a woman?”

“I’m wondering about my mother,” Namjoo placidly stated.

Sangki’s eyes narrowed. He almost looked exactly like Sehun but older. Then he breathed a smile. Standing closer, “I want something in return if I fish that info out for you.”

“Anything,” Namjoo bargained.

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Namjoo was at the dinner table when he arrived from work. Dinner was just being brought in as he sat down. He thanked the kitchen lady when she brought the last dish in and picked up his spoon. Hesitating, scooping food, hesitating again. Glancing up at Namjoo then at his steaming plate of food.

“What’d you do today?” he asked.

“Not much,” Namjoo answered. She looked at him then down at her plate.

An air of uncertainty lingered above them. To mention anything about last night or not.

“Your father wants to see us this weekend.”

“I know.” She mumbled.

“We’ll go for a bit,” Sehun told. He glanced up when she didn’t say anything.

As if sensing his eyes she muttered, “I know.”

That night he wondered whether to lock his door or not. Tired of feeling like an idiot hovering before the doorway he walked away. Leaving it unlocked he climbed into bed. Staring at the ceiling for a long portion of the night.

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The week eventually passed. He heard Namjoo went out a few times, but he didn’t inquire to where or with whom she was meeting. Sehun understood that Namjoo didn’t have to work. He didn’t expect her to join hands with him in the business place. After all, his father meant for her to become a simple housewife, which of all qualities Namjoo also lacked.

Sehun didn’t want her to look after him. He didn’t want her to become anything his father wanted. He didn’t want to trap her into the life of a mother. Maybe Seoyun was meant for it, but that was her will. Namjoo didn’t have to follow him like a shadow.

He didn’t expect anything from her.

There were no nightmares the rest of the week. Sehun began locking his door again. Hadn’t asked Namjoo about her dream. Didn’t seem like she wanted to talk about it with him, so he left the topic be.

Finally hooking the last button of his shirt through its loop he snatched a blazer off a hanger. Headed down the hallway to knock on Namjoo’s door. Since breakfast that morning she was taking her sweet time dressing up for her step-mother’s party. He knocked again. Music pounded off the walls, vibrating erratically on the other side. Honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised if Namjoo had decided to paint ten coats of nail polish on her nails.

“Namjoo!” he yelled. Knocked harder. Huffing when the door cracked open and Namjoo peered up at him. Half of her face was caked in makeup.

Dancing to the tempo of the song like she had no care in the world, she asked, “What?”

“I’ll be outside,” he said irritated with her. Did she still think she was a teenager? She could at least have the decency to act like an adult once in a while. It wasn’t like he wanted to go to this party either.

Sighing, he slammed the door as he got into the car. A good 25 minutes passed before Namjoo hopped down the steps in a flashy dress that hung low over her shoulders. She had pinned her hair up so tightly that not a tendril was loose.

Sliding into the passenger’s seat she looked at him with wide b eyes. Some kind of fiery excitement glowed in her irises. “Lets go.”

Surprisingly, they arrived at the Kim manor in a timely manner even if Namjoo had tried delaying time. Friends, relatives, and many other colored heads flushed the expansive courtyard. Long tables in long white tablecloths flanked the party, offering wine, non-alcoholic juice, and bite sized snacks.

Passing a familiar group of elderlies that had attended the wedding they were instantly pulled over for conversation. Of family building, work, marriage life. Wise advice of no charge. Through it all Sehun faked his good smile, agreeing, nodding his head, and seeing too late that Namjoo had slipped off from his side. That, too, made a good excuse to leave the group chat in search of her.

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Namjoo welcomed the stares she received for dressing so imprudently at her step-mother’s party. How insolent of her. The disprespect. Where’s her modesty? Did she intentionally want to embarrass her family? Why had she bothered to show up like this?  But Namjoo was known for that. This was her signature, standing out when her family refused to leave their conservative acts.

Striding along the trimmed grass in what she’d like to call her hooker heels, Namjoo intently kept her gaze glued to the pair in front of her. Father. A woman she refused to acknowledge as family. Kim Jiyoo’s long sparkling dress could no more outmatch Namjoo’s wear than her own youth.

“Father,” Namjoo greeted upon her approach. The grinning pair suddenly thinned their lips. Had been speaking actively with their same aged friends. Namjoo pushed their faces out of view, zoning in on the pair that had and was continuing to ruin her life. Purposely calling, “Jiyoo.”

Her step-mother’s expression tightened sternly. Self-conscious in front of her friends, she hesitated, “N…Namjoo. You’re here.”

“Shin Jiyoo?” Namjoo frowned. Opening in correction, “I mean, Assistant Jiyoo. You sat at the lower floor of father’s building, right? Your father fixed toilets, your mother was a kindergarten teacher. We call that a blue collar family.”

Kim Bonhwa’s lower jaw trembled. Seeing it continued to fuel the flame burning in Namjoo’s chest. Yanking her arm with great strength he hauled her toward the glowing house. Namjoo felt her ankle snap as he twisted her around. Her heels clattered against the stairs on their way up. A long way down the empty corridor he let go of her with a vehement shove. Underneath the clear luminescent lights his face was bloating with red rage.

“How dare you?” he hissed in a low voice.

Biting down on her teeth. “How dare I?” Namjoo repeated. “Oh yes, how dare I, father. I am the snake you birthed! I am the darkest existence in your life! I am the daughter who comes after your work, your mistress, your illegitimate daughter! I am the one you cast aside! So yes, how dare I, father. How dare I?!”

Her head was churning. The floor was opening up. Everything was spinning around her. Then she felt the rapid sting across her face. One pin in her hair slipped letting a curl of hair fall past her ear.

Namjoo’s lips trembled. Lifting her head up she glared at her father. Tears ran hot through her eyes, burning. “You cheated on my mother.”

The old man’s face faltered with shock. Namjoo felt more enraged. At the injustice. The secret.

“Did she jump off the boat? Or did you kill her, so you could bring a woman home?” Namjoo asked.

He raised his hand again. Namjoo’s eyes sternly grew wide prepared for the next swing. The hand shook then the fingers curled inwards and he dropped his hand. “Who told you?”

“You think after ten years you can hide the truth from me?” Namjoo angrily asked. Raising her voice, “I deserve the truth!”

She skidded forward when he grasped her arm tightly again. Leaning closely into her face, he said, “I never cheated on your mother.”

Namjoo’s lips prodded open. Taken aback. Confused for a second. He pushed her away, “Shut your mouth and go back outside.”

The angry walls around her crumbled like building blocks. Questioning herself, her source of information. In her head she saw the flash of Sangki’s smile as he told her a story.

Could he have lied?

“Leave.” her father ordered. “You’ve embarrassed me enough for the night.”

Her eyes remained hard on him as she turned to walk away.

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Perhaps it was the very first time Sehun felt his eyes go absolutely wide. Of course, he knew Namjoo didn’t come from a perfect family. Forced into a marriage with him he wouldn’t have expected any less. It was obvious the way Hea talked about her down to the very way Namjoo stubbornly kept a grip on her anger.

She had argued with her step-mother after she had been forced to drink the tonic. Resented the visit of her family. She was fearless. She didn’t hide her feelings.

But also he didn’t think she could be treated so badly.

The image of Namjoo in front of his doorway appearing wounded flashed in his head.

If there was one thing about a marriage he at least understood a wife needed to be protected. She was the bearer of the family. She was the one who sacrificed the most. Suffered the most.

He thought of Seoyun, of Sangki. A lovely marriage becoming less than dirt. His pitiful sister-in-law who had no one’s backing.

Sehun didn’t want to bury the could be’s in his future. It wasn’t his nature to pack up and go to war. His mother hadn’t raised him to become violent. She had honed the soft, quiet side of him.

“You’re like me,” she once told him. his hair as a little boy when he had returned home with a dirt streaked face. He’d been mugged after giving money to a homeless bystander at the side of the intersection. “You have a big, big heart in that small body, but sometimes that big, big heart has to be mean. You understand what I’m saying?”

Unlike Sangki, he was always the best at remaining cool. Losing his temper always came as a last resort, and he didn’t like losing it often. Once in a while he had no choice.

“Do you often hit her?” Sehun asked when Namjoo’s father turned to head outside.

The hallway somehow seemed longer when his heavy feet halted. Peering over his shoulder before fully shifting around to look at him. They were a good distance from each other, but from the countless times they’d stood together Sehun knew he was taller. Namjoo’s father was a man with rough edges. A strong square jaw and big hands. His eyes could laugh even with a cold sheen.

“Sehun,” he lightheartedly called out. Smiling, “I didn’t see you.”

Coolly blinking, Sehun took a few steps closer until they were a good two feet from each other. At the head of a huge conglomerate Sehun had seen the old man’s ferocious side when he competed for bigger projects. His words could wield the sharpest edge of a knife.

“I just want to remind you that Namjoo’s my person now, so,” Sehun coldly informed, “if you touch her again, I won’t hesitate to report you.”

He didn’t give his father-in-law a chance to react. Brushing by he walked out of the house back into the courtyard flowing with too many heads to count. Walking past tables and ignoring the call of Namjoo’s step-mother.

He stepped into the swarm of perfume past the wine table. A young group of gals – Hea’s friends maybe – were giggling at the corner of a refreshment table. He heard them snickering, but paid no heed to what they were saying.

“Would you like a drink, sir?” a waiter with a tray of wine glasses asked. Sehun held up a hand to pass and took a turn before he spotted Namjoo. In the familiar dress that hung low over her shoulders. Her hair was a shrewd mess, slowly coming apart at the back of her head. Still with no decency to correct herself, as if asking for the entire world to look her way and gossip.

He sighed. Did she want to become front page news?

Shrugging off his blazer he walked up to her. Slipped the material around her shoulders. Namjoo was nibbling on crackers. Her eyes were blank and unfocused. The side of her left cheek was entirely a shade of pink.

“Lets go home.” Putting his arm around her shoulders he turned her around and led her toward his car.

“What are you doing?” She struggled with him, but not enough to wiggle out of his hold.

Unlocking the door he pulled the passenger’s side open for her. Waited for her get in. The blank eyes now full of heat. Maybe she needed to direct the anger with her father somewhere and he was the unlucky component. Sehun waited for her to get in anyway, because their destination was the same place. Gritting her jaw Namjoo slid into the passenger’s chair staring straight ahead.

Namjoo spoke nothing on the drive home. She sat there in her own little box, fuming. It was just like her. He didn’t ask.

When they arrived home he kept a short distance behind her as they walked toward the doors. Let the silence hang. The anger draw out with every step. His blazer hung loosely around her shoulders. He thought it’d somehow fall off, but it didn’t. Then Namjoo stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Neither taking a step forward to leave him behind nor look at him.

Another step forward and he was close enough to see the sorry state of her hair. Without asking he reached up to remove a hanging hair clip. There was a light scent of hair spray that touched his nose. Night hadn’t completely fallen, but overhead the stars littered the sky. The moon a faint circle as the world transitioned to darkness, like the rough laden air of anger becoming a tad gentle.

Sehun plucked out another hairpin loosening her hair. Watched the curls fall over the back of his blazer. It still hadn’t come off. He realized when she took it off that she’d been clutching the front together. Shoving it into his arms she turned to head up the stairs finally leaving him behind.

***HE HAS HER BACK i'm saying he has her back 

***Namjoo just signed herself up for trouble with Sangki oops

***anyways, my covers and i hate them, so if anybody would be so kind to help me make one :')))