When he came out after his shower Namjoo had finished the entire bowl. It sat on the bedside table next to the tablets she hadn’t taken. Fair enough he decided. As long as she had eaten he was happy. Turning the lights off he crept into bed beside her. Adjusting the blanket over her as he laid down. Hoping tomorrow she would feel better.

He jolted awake early morning when he heard Namjoo vomiting in the bathroom. Immediately getting up he found her bent over the toilet. He patted her back as they both waited it out. Sehun withdrew his hand when she flushed the toilet and moved over to wash her hands. She looked tired. He didn’t know what to say. What kind of words would make her feel better than asking the obvious: are you sick?

Knowing it would irritate her he said nothing. Namjoo brushed by and crept back into bed. Curling up on her side. He turned the bathroom lights off and climbed in beside her. The sun was starting to rise. Not yet above the tree lines. Not yet dark or bright.

From where he lay he couldn’t see if Namjoo had fallen back asleep. Unable to sleep he watched her.

By the time he woke up Namjoo was still asleep. Without waking her he grabbed the bowl and headed downstairs. The kitchen lady and her daughter were in the middle of cooking.

“Where’s the wife?” the elder lady wondered taking the bowl from him.

“Let her sleep,” Sehun told. “Just set the table for one this morning.”

She gave him a sympathetic look. Promising, “I’ll make sure she eats later, so don’t worry.”

It didn’t happen often, but he went to work without seeing her.

ꜛꜛꜛꜛꜛ

Namjoo had woken up, but she sat in bed. She didn’t want to face the world. This eerie feeling in her chest made her emotionally withdrawn. Even worse, she was nostalgic for home.

Home.

A place that felt far away. Some place she hadn’t thought about. At all. In forever.

Home.

Where her mother had raised her. Where as a little girl she had laughed and smiled once.

Burying her face into her knees she hugged her legs. Wanting her mother to give her the guidance she needed the most right now. Because for what was about to happen, she wasn’t ready.

Namjoo felt her eyes burn and she became irritated when she felt the incoming presence sit down on the bed. She wanted to be left alone. She didn’t want sympathetic eyes. Didn’t need anyone to feel sorry for her.

“If you’re up, why don’t you come down to eat?” It was Auntie Park. “Your husband already left. He seemed very sad that he had to eat alone.”

Refusing to respond Namjoo clenched her eyes shut.

Giving her a motherly pat on the back, she said, “Wash up. I’ll set the table for you.”

Namjoo didn’t move from where she was even minutes after the woman left. Then finally, tossing the cover aside she strut toward the bathroom. Brushed her teeth with a kind of vehemence, went down the hall, searched through her closet, changed, and headed downstairs. Indeed there was warm food on the table waiting for her.

in a breath Namjoo pulled a chair out and sat down. Snatching her spoon as a sort of determination washed over her she stuffed herself. After a day and a quarter of feeling like the food finally settled in her darn stomach.

Bringing the dishes to the sink she washed them, dried her hands, and slipped into her shoes. Auntie Park’s husband was outside pulling weeds from the lawn when she walked out.

“Madam,” he called out with a greeting. Noticing the keys in her hand, he asked, “Where are you going?”

“I’ll be back,” Namjoo replied turning toward her car. Pressing the remote to unlock her vehicle she slipped behind the wheel. Put the phone to her ear as she drove down the road.

ꜛꜛꜛꜛꜛ

Closing the door Namjoo placed herself in the solo chair. In front of her father’s monstrous dark desk. All files organized in one stack off to the side. A standard mail organizer in the corner. The pile of papers was thin meaning he’d recently gone through it diligently. Just as expected of him.

The man of the household who ran his business like it was his lifeline. The room still felt like an ice cage. With the large window behind the desk. Did her father feel powerful in here? Did he think God was shining a light on him whenever he sat down as the light streamed down his back. Think it was God’s will he was receiving. Believe it was he and only he who could run the world.

Barred from this room since it became an office. Once, Namjoo wondered if he kept his secrets hidden here. No, not since the only time she’d been called in. Where the secrets lie were deepest in her father’s heart. Shame she couldn’t dissect him for what she’d always wanted to know.

Today was her greatest defiance. Walking into the office with her own two feet. Resolute to wait for her father to come at her beck and call. To the daughter who always held the least importance. Would sacrifice her in place of Hea if the younger daughter shed crocodile tears.

Whom in her life did she hate most?

Namjoo still couldn’t decide. Too many people topped the list. She could cry like a little girl. Sit and kick her legs because it was unfair, but she had better ways. To make them listen to her.

Her cool glazed eyes darted toward the side when the door cracked open. The man entered with a huff. The door clicked shut. Kim Bonhwa passed her in a black blur.

“What do you want? Having the nerve to call me all the way back home,” he said with a gruff.

“I want to know how mom died,” Namjoo looked at him.

An irritated scoff from him. “She drowned.”

“Why?” Namjoo asked.

He shot her a stern stare. “You were too young. It’s pointless now.”

“I want to know.” Namjoo was unyielding. “I think I deserve to know now.”

“I am not going to open the past,” he spat. “As you grow up, it is something you learn to leave behind, Namjoo.”

“I’m not foolish, father,” Namjoo argued. “There is no reason for you to try so hard to hide something from me.”

“Go home. What is your husband doing, letting you on the loose all the time.” He grumbled.

“I miss my mom,” Namjoo confessed. Then looking at him angrily, “It’s not right, father, for you to do this to me.”

His eyes landed on her unkindly. Walking past her he grabbed the door to leave.

“If I have your grandchild, will you tell me then?” Namjoo bargained.

“Your mother drowned. That is it.” He yanked the door open.

“Every time I get pregnant,” Namjoo threatened, “I’m going to get rid of it. Until you tell me. I’ll be just as cruel.”

“We’re done here.” The door slammed. Locking her alone in the ice cage with the merry sun casting a deep shade onto the floor. Namjoo’s breath shook and she wiped the tear that had escaped down her face.

ꜛꜛꜛꜛꜛ

The table was set for one when Sehun returned home that evening. He first gave the kitchen lady an inquiring look. When he had stared long enough she finally dropped what she was doing, “Your wife said she wasn’t feeling well.”

“Again?” he asked. “Did she eat?”

“Somewhat,” she replied. “Maybe you should take her to the doctor instead of going to work tomorrow. Just a thought.”

He ended up eating by himself. Stuffing each spoonful into his mouth without giving regard to the taste. Then he left the dishes on the table, walked out, hesitated, and returned. Gathering the plates like Namjoo always did he dropped them off into the sink. Heading upstairs worrying, curious how Namjoo was doing. Kind of hoping she was up so they could talk. He’d ask this time if she was sick, how bad, he could take her to the doctor right now. But Namjoo was curled up on her side like yesterday. Sleeping. Didn’t budge or look over her shoulder when he walked in, leaned over the bed to peek into her face.

Sighing he straightened wondering what was going on with her. Gathering his clothes he walked into the bathroom, took a quick shower. Then he turned the lights off and crept into bed. Peeking in Namjoo’s direction.

What did she do today? Had she kept busy with her usual cleaning? He hadn’t heard from the housekeeper. He wanted to see her in the kitchen again. Helping the cooks with their meals. Appearing comfortable like it was always where she belonged. Doing as she liked, being free and content. And sometimes, he thought she looked like she was having fun.

The moon glazed a bright spot over Namjoo. So still she was. Not waking for him.

What was bothering her lately?

Shifting onto his side he caught view of her dark hair wildly splayed around her head. Moving closer he brushed his fingers through her fine hair. Drawing his arm around her body hugging her. To keep the cold at bay. To keep her warm. That if she was going to get sicker that it’d be him instead.

Namjoo didn’t wake even when he gently pressed his head against the back of her thin shoulder. His heart raced. Recognizing the warmth of her body. The steady beating of her heart.

He may have been upset with her many times, but those times were a kind of distant picture now. Namjoo was not what he expected. Not uncontrollable like Sangki described. She was a wild flower with many petals still to blossom. He’d like to know more. They were married. Eventually the rest of their lives was still a long path to walk.

Sehun could only anticipate the best for them.

ꜛꜛꜛꜛꜛ

When it strangely got too warm Namjoo woke up. She was sweating through her shirt. It was bothersome and annoying. At first she tried moving, but something was blocking her, keeping her bound to the edge of the bed.

Summoning her strength she managed to move slightly. Stopping when she heard a tired moan at her back. The arm readjusted around her waist then felt Sehun press into her back. Surprised, Namjoo lay there staring through the glass door. All while the heat of his body burned her.

Sinking into his embrace Namjoo listened to the steady rate of her heart pick up. Skipping a beat as it hammered into her ribs. Feeling his heart kick against her back until their hearts seemed to be beating in unison.

Relaxing, Namjoo remained unmoving. Listening to his quiet breathing. Wondering how he had gotten so close in the middle of the night and she hadn’t realized it. Closing her eyes she sighed.

She hardly slept. When the sun hit the sky with a bright streak of orange she touched Sehun’s hand, cautiously removing it from around her. She wanted a shower. She wanted time alone to think. Needed a moment longer to sort out her thoughts and decide what would be best for her, because there wasn’t anyone to show her the way.

Sehun budged. Then moved away from her onto his back. Stretched a bit. Released from his stronghold Namjoo sat up.

“You’re awake?” he asked. Moving over he peered into her face, “Are you feeling ok? I can take you to see the doctor.”

Namjoo inched back when he reached his hand up to feel her forehead. “I’m not sick.”

Sehun blinked, as if he didn’t understand. Namjoo let her eyes fly over the wall, the floor, her hands.

She felt like . She was sad. She missed her mother. She just wanted her mother to tell her it was ok. She would be fine. Even without her.

“I’m pregnant.”

If his expression transitioned she didn’t see because she was staring too hard elsewhere. Into blank space. Wishing she wasn’t here. That somehow she could cross into a parallel dimension where she could wind time back to the cabin. To her childhood. Tell her mother not to go on that couple’s trip, so that today she would still have her. To run to when she didn’t know what to do.

Her eyes burned. She looked at Sehun. Could tell now that he was a good person. A side to him he kept quietly tucked away for only the ones close by. That perhaps he would be a good father. That perhaps this would be good news to him.

But it was very different for her.

“I don’t want the baby,” Namjoo told. The tears dangled. She cried, repeating, “I don’t want the baby.”

Then it poured. Falling down her face she gasped for breath.

This marriage. The entire downfall of her life.

Who did she hate the most?

Her family.

Angry that Hea hadn’t taken responsibility for what she could’ve been. Instead, Namjoo had been shoved forward, treated like nothing. The entire rest of her life taken from her because she had to have a child.

This monotonous, bleak life that she struggled to enjoy, what could it do for her?

“My mom died,” Namjoo sobbed. “She died and I don’t know how to be a mom.” Weeping into her hands, “I don’t want to live like this.”

Gentle hands touched her head. Pulling her into arms of security. The other went around her back. Until she was crying into his shoulder, drenching his shirt with painstaking sobs. Of things she would never have. Of a fate bestowed onto her by the hands of others.

And this was supposed to be her happy ending.

Something she had never asked for.

ꜛꜛꜛꜛꜛ

Namjoo had laid back down. Was still hiccupping as the spell wore off. Sehun pulled the blanket over her. It didn’t seem to offer her the comfort she most needed. A mother’s hug. He tenderly wiped her wet face with his thumb. She didn’t fight him off.

His heart shattered for her.

He didn’t know what to do. What to say.

Of all the things he thought was ok was not ok. Namjoo was not fine. Namjoo was not happy.

He thought it should have been obvious.

After leaving her he hung his head in front of the bathroom mirror. Condemning himself. It was his fault. He was the biggest denominal of everything gone wrong.

What now?

What now?

Stepping out of the bathroom he looked at Namjoo. Lying helpless in bed. All alone.

The sight was too sorrowful for him. Hurrying past he walked out. Meeting the kitchen lady halfway down the stairs.

“I was wondering if you were ever coming down,” she said startled. Looking behind him, “Where’s your wife?”

“Let her sleep some more,” Sehun told. He went down the rest of the stairs, paused, and then turned. “Can you check on her every now and then?”

“Yes…” she sounded uncertain. Observing his expression, she worried, “Is everything all right?”

Turning away, he said, “It’s fine.”

Rushing into the kitchen he sat down to gulf down his plate then drove off. With a bogged mind. Zigzagging around the city before eventually pulling up to his workplace, Namjoo’s father’s company. Sehun didn’t get out.

Two minutes before clocking in he finally pushed the door open. His father was standing in front of the elevator with some gentlemen of the same age group. Graying heads and all.

“Son!” the old man called out. “Come say hello.”

With no choice but to join them, Sehun greeted his father, the older men. Laughing haughtily, his father went on, “This is the one that got married recently.”

“The younger son?”

“Yes,” his father answered.

Someone teased playfully, “The newlywed life must be nice.”

Almost giggling, his father added in his stead, “They’re working on a child right now. We expect one very soon.”

Sehun looked away from their scouring eyes. The elevator finally opened, and he followed them in. Listening to the topic of conversation switch to global news. The elevator opened up onto the third floor, the men exited, and he met with Kim Bonhwa’s stare on the other side. He didn’t look happy. He stepped into the elevator, punched the button for floor 10.

The silence was stifling.

“Is Namjoo behaving at home?” her father asked. He stood at the forefront forcing Sehun to stare at his expanding back. The dark blazer fitted him just right. Accentuated his wide brimmed shoulders, tough arms. Sehun was taller but the man’s aura was brutish. His father didn’t come to his defense. Quiet as a mouse.

Three men trapped in an elevator together.

“She’s fine.” Sehun stiffly answered.

“Keep her at home,” he scolded. “To have your wife going around demanding nonsense is shameful as it is. Is she still mingling with the staff at home?”

His father shot him a stern eyeful when he didn’t answer. Warning him to say only the expected.

“No, sir.” Sehun said.

“Is there news yet? Of a grandchild?”

The elevator shifted underneath their feet, finally coming to a landing on the 10^th floor.

“No,” Sehun replied as the doors hissed open. He listened to her father let out a dissatisfied grunt, entwine his hands behind him as he stepped out without looking back.

A baby…

They wanted him to bring a baby into this kind of world…