Embarrassed, Namjoo wanted to edge back out. Gathering her courage, she stepped inside his room, for the first time, of her own accord. Sinking into the spot on his left. Arms brushing just lightly.

“It’s the first time,” Namjoo confessed, “that anyone has stood up for me.” A plethora of bashfulness wallowed through her. Forcing the word out at last, “Thank you.”

Sincere surprise flickered across his irises. Hearing her say that for the first time.

“My mother died when I was eight,” Namjoo told. “I thought I had my father, but he got married a year later and Hea came along. It’s a pathetic excuse for always being angry, but the past is stained in me. I’m sorry that I’m not always easy to deal with.”

“It’s not,” he said, “pathetic.”

He turned to look at her. The honesty in his eyes were like the clouds constantly keeping the sun company. So visibly there, loud and clear. Namjoo’s heart made a loud thud, and she couldn’t look away. It was he who first shifted, lowering his head to look at the pair of hands hanging between his legs.

“I’ve never hit Sangki before,” Sehun said.

Namjoo’s gaze shifted toward the ground. Should she feel guilty?

“From now on,” he continued, “don’t fight with him. I don’t always know what he’ll do.”

“Ok.” She promised.

Again, he looked at her with surprise as if he hadn’t expected her to agree.

“I’ll be nicer,” Namjoo stood. Facing him she held her hand out, “So, lets try to get along. Promise.”

ꜛꜛꜛꜛꜛ

Promise.

He hadn’t exactly sworn out loud, but he had taken her hand upon it. Namjoo’s touch still lingered even after they’d turned in for the night. Laying in bed he held his hand up. Twisting and turning it as if she’d left some mark behind.

He had recognized Sangki’s car as he drove up. Walking in in time to witness what still made his blood boil. Sangki touching Namjoo in a way he hadn’t imagined yet. The bewildered rage that controlled him in that moment was something he’d never experienced before.

Curling his fingers inwards his hand turned into a rock-hard fist. He had really wanted to hurt his brother.

He knew Namjoo was fearless. Doing whatever she pleased as she liked as if she owned the world, but against a person like Sangki she wouldn’t win. So…so that scared him.

If he hadn’t come in time, what could have happened?

Sehun didn’t want to think about it.

Lowering his hand, he turned to face his empty bedside.

“It’s the first time that anyone has stood up for me.”

He could see it. The truth in her words. The anger at the world’s injustice spreading through her veins. Creating the woman she was today. Out to hurt others to protect the soft shell of her heart. The ache that roared across mountains unheard.

ersely, Sehun smiled anyway. They were improving. Telling him something was a step forward. A small step, but a good step.

The following morning Namjoo beat him to the breakfast table. For once. Seated properly like a student arriving early for class. The aroma of food was overpowering from the kitchen. If his stomach wasn’t already growling hers was.

“What is it?” he asked when she slid a sheet of paper over.

“I ordered some things for the third floor,” she explained. She had printed a copy of the receipt. The rest half of the paper was a blank. “Do you want anything particular up there?”

“I haven’t thought about it,” he answered, which was kind of the truth. He rarely went to the third-floor deck. Too occupied with other things he hadn’t gotten to the thought of it. He did remember the thought of a gym.

“I wrote down some more things I want,” Namjoo said, “you can add to the list.”

“Ok,” he replied.

After he got in his car he unfolded the sheet. Browsing through the bulleted list. Almost smiling when he saw that they wanted the same thing, a television set installed in the wall or something. In parenthesis beside it Namjoo had scribbled screen projector with a question mark. The rest consisted of a love seat and a shelf for CDs. Minimal things for an entire third floor, and things he didn’t think they’d have to order.

Folding the piece of paper he tucked it in his pocket, started the car, and drove off.

ꜛꜛꜛꜛꜛ

Namjoo’s mother had raised her freely. To appreciate her interests. Pour her energy and heart into things that could enlighten her. Such as planting flowers in the yard and getting dirt up her knees. Taking on the chore of looking after what she grew, watering, removing weeds to help the small life thrive. Namjoo had fed her own animals. Laid in the grass with them. Hugged and embraced them. Her mother had even helped her make homemade meals for a dog.

Namjoo had been an outside adventurer. Enjoying walks through the woods with her mother and musing over little bunnies dashing past. Sharing the same glee with her mother. And her mother wasn’t a person to just sit around. She chatted with the housekeepers though people of her status weren’t known to be friendly with laborers under them, but her mother...her mother was different.

Namjoo had heard her laughing with the kitchen ladies. Sometimes her mother invited her over to watch them work. That was when her mother first taught her how to use the knife. The big, warm and very soft hand firmly holding her as they sliced a cucumber together. A big adult task Namjoo had taken pride in.

When she was young, when her mother was alive she had always been encouraged, taught to love every day of her life. There’s always something to learn her mother would gleam. Be gentle to the earth because we’re not the only ones who need it her mother would tell her. Show love and you will get it back. That’s how kindness works.

Staring out the window Namjoo watched Sehun’s car drive away. Leaving nothing but dust in its trail. Once more accepting that this was her fate. Thrown into a marriage.

“I don’t want to go,” Namjoo confessed for the first time.

“Namjoo…” Leah patted her back because they hadn’t breached the topic since she got engaged.

“I’m scared.”

“No. It’ll be ok.”

“What if I can never be happy?”

But…she wanted to be happy…somehow, even if love didn’t factor in. Wasn’t she free here? No step-mother. No Hea. No father who didn’t give a damn.

She was free here.

And she wanted at least to be happy.

Turning around she walked back into the kitchen. Approaching slowly, timidly. She didn’t know how many kitchen ladies there were or how many guys tended to the yard or cars. So coldly walking into this house and strutting around as the superior landowner, Namjoo hadn’t considered anyone. Who kept the house in shape? Who cleaned their rooms? Looked after her laundry? Made the food she ate each day?

As long as this marriage lasted they would all be sharing the same space.

Twining her fingers together, Namjoo stopped at the foot of the kitchen entrance. A round lady with salt and pepper hair was doing the dishes. Wearing a very casual dress with a loose white apron around her pear-shaped body.

“Yes? Are you looking for something?” A voice made her turn. A younger woman skittishly walked up to her. There was a damp rag in her hand. Around the beam she’d been drying dishes. Namjoo looked at her creamy skin deducting she was a few years older than Leah.

Now the round woman had turned her direction. “Maybe she’s thirsty. Get her some water.”

“That’s not necessary,” Namjoo said. “I’m fine.”

The two ladies blinked.

“Um…are you going to buy food later?”

The women looked at each other confused as if Namjoo had spoken an alien language.

The younger woman turned to look at her, flummoxed. “Well…” she sounded unsure, “I guess…yes.”

“I’ll go with you.” Namjoo offered. The two women looked at each other again.

“Yes,” the younger one turned to her again. Namjoo tried smiling to help the awkward atmosphere. Weirded by her behavior the round lady nodded.

Before lunch, Namjoo changed and waited outside. Standing at the bottom of the steps she glanced up at the sky. She could be doing things wrong. Poking her nose where it needn’t be, but when she thought about her mother the confidence kicked in.

“Madam,” an elder man hurried toward her, “I’m sorry I didn’t see you. Are you heading out? I’ll pull up the car for you.”

“No need.” Namjoo held her hand up to wave him away. “I’m driving.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Namjoo turned when the earlier housekeeper jogged down the stairs toward her. The awkwardness was so obvious it was painful. A mile away from home the silence still reeked like dead fish. The young woman sat so rigidly in the passenger’s seat like there was a ruler tucked against her spine. Almost felt like Namjoo was punishing her, because it even seemed like she was holding her breath.

“What’s your name?” Namjoo wondered.

“Huh? Uh…it’s Park Hyesoo, ma’am.” She even added a curt nod to be polite.

“Ma’am?” Namjoo chuckled. “That makes me feel old.”

“Sorry.” She anxiously apologized.

Waving her off, Namjoo assured, “It’s ok. Was that your mother back there?”

“Yes.”

“Your dad, too?”

“Yes. We’re all here. Just the three of us.”

“I see.” Nostalgic, Namjoo thought about Leah and her parents grounded forever under her family. So she and Sehun were bound to repeat history. At that moment Namjoo wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

Managing a small smile, Namjoo said, “Teach me how to buy food.”

Hyesoo’s eyes widened, “What?”

“I’ve never bought food on my own before,” Namjoo openly admitted. “Would it be all right to teach me?”

There was one thing Namjoo knew about herself. Even if she could wear a thousand-pound armor of steel, she didn’t want to become her father. Or Hea or her mother. Demand to be serviced from head to toe day in and day out. Despite her father’s disappapproval she had learned to drive. The yearning to achieve a sense of freedom born into her blood made her want to be her own person.

It was always reason that they clashed. Finally springing free from their web of control Namjoo felt she finally wanted to try again now. To become the person her mother raised her to be.

And she thought, Hea was wrong. Sehun wasn’t so second-class. He was just a person, undefined.

Heading into the mart, Hyesoo grabbed a cart. They strolled through the fruits and vegetables department. There she explained unripe fruits from ripe fruits. About food discoloration, that some food needed to be kept in dry areas, others in cool areas. Learning that they only bought organic food for the household, and to buy food from only there. Meat could be organic, too. Namjoo was mind blown.

This was just the beginning.

Hyesoo’s mother, Sooah, already had lunch out by the time they returned. Scolding her daughter, “Why were you out so long? Do you know what time it is?” Seeing the bags in Namjoo’s hands she continued to lecture, “Are you out of your mind? Why didn’t you tell your dad to help bring the food in?”

“It’s ok,” Namjoo said setting the bags down onto the counter. “Don’t yell at her.”

Frowning the elder woman glanced from her to her daughter, who was quickly unpacking the goods.

“I was wondering uh…um…aunt,” Namjoo stammered unsure how to refer to the woman, “I was wondering if you could help me make dinner.”

“Excuse me?” Her eyes widened. Hyesoo looked as shocked.

Namjoo managed an impish smile, aware how foolish she was making herself sound.

Girls of the dominant class never had to lift a finger in her life. Especially if all she had to do was make a baby or two with her husband. Otherwise, she was pretty much free to look at the world with her narrow lens. Strap on those heels, put on a dress as pricey as an estate, and strut to the mall to throw money away all day.

Very little was expected of her. Understanding the truth pricked her pride. Unless she let it bury her she wouldn’t find the light of day. So, Namjoo thought, she would forge on. She would continue to break codes at the same time doing what she felt free to.

“No, no, no,” Hyesoo’s mother shook her head disapprovingly. Taking her hand, she demonstrated, “Angle the knife. Look at how uneven your cuts are.”

“Oh…does it matter?” Namjoo asked. They were 45 minutes into dinner preparation and Namjoo was still on her first batch of ingredients.

Sighing heavily, the woman explained, “If you don’t want to choke.”

“Oh…” Namjoo nervously laughed. “Yes, that would be bad.”

“Why are you even bothering?” the woman walked away to the sink. the water to rinse some vegetables, “Who are you even trying for? Your husband?”

Her wrist dove down as the blade made a landing on the cutting board. The slice of red meat flopped over. It was too thin.

A blank canvas spread across Namjoo’s mind. Fading to a film roll of flashbacks. Sehun holding her on the dance floor, taking the pins out of her hair, putting his blazer around her, and fighting with Sangki because of her.

“You don’t even sleep together,” the woman scoffed.

“Then,” Namjoo leaned against the counter to look at the woman, “how did you and your husband fall in love?”

Eyes softening she released another soulful sigh, “Ours is a very boring story.”

“But,” Namjoo said, “we all start from somewhere, right?”

“Ok,” she nodded then shook her head, “you rich girls are so hard to understand.”

ꜛꜛꜛꜛꜛ

“Sehun!” Elder Lim one of the board members walked up to him. Patting his back, “I heard you got married. I missed your wedding. I was in Venice with my family. Sorry we didn’t make it.”

“It’s ok,” Sehun said.

“I heard your father saying there will be a baby soon,” he blurted.

“Well…”

“Chairman!” the old guy cut him off. Loudly greeting Namjoo’s father who was walking in their direction. He was alone. Guess his father decided he didn’t need to be his tail today.

Sehun’s eyes drifted over the walls. The last conversation they’d had was when Sehun had told him off at his wife’s party. Since then they’d always somehow missed each other at work.

Warmly greeting Elder Lim with a handshake, Kim Bonhwa patted his back. “You’re back at work. It’s good to see you again.”

“Of course. I was just talking to your son-in-law,” he gladly told. “I heard your daughter will be sharing good news with us soon.”

The Chairman’s parched lips stretched very thinly. “We are hoping for news.”

Laughing gleefully, Elder Lim nodded, “Every family needs a little one. Keeps the family fortune out of greedy hands.”

“Yes, you’re right.”

“Well then, I must be on my way now. I’ll let you two talk.” Elder Lim patted his arm then turned to Sehun. “Let me know of the good news soon. I will have gifts prepared.”

Forced to nod, Sehun bid farewell. Watched the old guy disappear into the elevator. Eyes finally on Namjoo’s father Sehun offered a curt nod. The narrow slits of his gaze ran down to the jacket hanging over his arm. Then up to his face. Searching for any fault to use against him.

“You’re leaving?”

“Yes.”

Quietly glaring. “How is Namjoo?”

Sehun glanced at the man taken aback that he would ask. Strangely also feeling as if he should be guilty, that he had somehow taken Namjoo from her family.

“She’s fine.”

“No,” her father shook his head, “I’m asking if she’s pregnant.”

He shouldn’t have doubted himself. “No, sir.”

Namjoo’s father let out an impatient sigh shaking his head as he brushed past. Sehun turned to watch him leave. Namjoo’s father didn’t look back even once.

ꜛꜛꜛꜛꜛ

Before returning home, Sehun made a quick detour to the store. Browsing the aisles for a good quality projector. Deducting that would be easier to install. And if he couldn’t figure it out he’d call a handyman.

Dinner was being served when he finally arrived. Strangely Namjoo wasn’t at the table. The plates were in place. Utensils organized on a napkin next to it. The glasses were filled with fresh water. Sehun looked at the organized dinner table then up when Namjoo walked in with a large steaming bowl of soup. Most bizarre of all she was wearing an apron. Oven mitts that he was 100% confident belonged to the kitchen staff covered her hands.

The epiphany of surprise spread through him like the fluidity of water. His stare landing solely on her. His brows rose when the usual kitchen lady touched Namjoo’s shoulder. Smiling at him, “The madam made dinner tonight. I helped too, so it should be edible.”

“What?” He didn’t mean to, but the word passed through his lips.

This was a wonder to him. Maybe he had fallen asleep at work and had somehow stepped into a parallel dimension where Namjoo interacted with the house employees. An astonishing universe where she had magically lifted her hands to make a meal.

In front of him Namjoo fiddled with her fingers embarrassed. Even more obvious his heart was fluttering.

For him.

Namjoo had cooked.

For him?