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“You’re up?” Auntie Park greeted. “Come sit. I’ll heat up food for you.”

Making herself comfortable at the dining table Namjoo waited for the food. Imagining Sehun sitting here earlier and eating by himself.

“Here you go.” She put a plate down.

“Did…did he say anything before he left?” Namjoo asked as she began walking away.

“No, not really,” Auntie Park shook her head.

“Oh…ok.” Namjoo said then lifted a spoonful up to .

“He seemed worried about you,” Auntie Park grinned. “He’s been very worried about you lately. It’d be nice not to be sick too long, huh?”

Namjoo pulled on a small smile as the woman walked away. Reminiscing Sehun hugging her earlier. Now wondering how he had felt, what he was feeling at all. And if…if she should feel guilty.

Chewing faster on her food she ate another spoonful.

Instead of cleaning around the house, Namjoo went up to the third-floor deck. Spent the following hours watching movies. Then she ate lunch, went back upstairs, and finally came back down when Auntie Park called her for dinner. As she took the last step off the staircase Sehun walked through the front door.

At first they looked at each other. This time he first looked away. Honestly, it didn’t make her feel so good.

Holding her hands together she forced herself forward.

“I boiled some chicken,” Auntie Park exclaimed setting down a big pot of a whole chicken mixed with herbs and other greens. “It’ll help invigorate your body, so you feel more energetic. Lets hope that illness of yours doesn’t hinder you too long.”

“Yes,” Namjoo quietly said. “Thanks.”

Her eyes drifted toward the table. Guilt flashing through her whenever she thought of Sehun comforting her that morning despite telling him she didn’t want to birth his child. Regardless whether it was something they were supposed to bring to fruition or if he wanted his baby.

Just…it all felt foreign to her.

Having a baby.

Becoming a mother.

How was she supposed to raise a child without someone to show her? Guide her? What if she didn’t love right? What if she wasn’t good enough? She didn’t know anything about kids. About milk, bottles, the difference in diapers, or how to hold a baby.

She didn’t have the skill of loving someone…

In the entirety of her life, Kim Namjoo had never loved anyone before.

She was just a .

“Eat up.” Sehun placed a bowl he’d filled of the chicken soup beside her plate. “It’ll be good for you.”

Namjoo glanced at the bowl. Apologetic. Her heart softened ten times.

“You don’t have to be nice to me.” Namjoo told.

Focusing on his plate he said, “I’m not angry with you.”

She glanced at him, scooped up some broth, and took a sip. Feeling her heart quaver. The atmosphere became fragile. If she tapped the glass too hard it would shatter and the moment would disappear.

After dinner Sehun let her shower first. When she finished he quietly passed her, closing the door without looking at her or saying anything.

He didn’t have to say it. Namjoo was confident she had upset him. This thing with the baby…

Turning away she walked toward the bed and laid down. Closing her eyes when Sehun walked out of the bathroom, switched off the lights, and crept in beside her. He made no movement and then she listened to him shift his back to her. Experiencing a weird ache when she thought about the way he’d embraced her last night.

Oh Sehun. The different one. The tolerant one.  There was no one else but he.

What would her mother say if she saw her like this?

Namjoo peered in his direction. Sorry that he had to deal with the likes of her. That she had to complicate things for him. His life would be a smooth laid out road if he hadn’t been forced to marry her. Sehun could have met a nice girl, lived a quiet life, and with a woman who wouldn’t tell him she didn’t want his baby.

How hearing that must destroy a person inside.

Touching his waist Namjoo slipped her hand over his belly. Absorbing the warmth of his being as her insides broke for him. That every day of their lives had to involve some sort of disappointment. That their lives were never what they wished for. That their situation could be so different, but it wasn’t. So they were stuck in a bubble forever loathing the next moment, the next hour, the following second.

Namjoo wished she could have the courage to tell him she was sorry. All she did was hold him and hide her face in his shirt. Hoping he could heal a part of her, and that tomorrow would be a better day.

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It’s not you he wanted to say. It’s me. The lights were out in her eyes. The fire that always burned in her pupils had been doused. When he came home that was what he saw.

A woman with no meaning.

If he could set her free he would, but Namjoo’s wings had been clipped. She was trapped down here with him. In a world with four walls and no door to freedom. And now she would be tied down even more, because that was his child growing in her.

If there was a solution to this puzzle he would cheat for it. You can go he would say to her. Don’t look back. Forget about me.

But this thing called marriage wasn’t very easy.

So as he lay there he could only think of one thing. Only…he couldn’t think now with Namjoo pressed into his back. Every thought he’d just had flew out the window.

Unlike his mother, he didn’t often pray to God, but right now he hoped if there was a God listening, that he was on their side. He didn’t want his wife to be hurt. He wanted to see her wielding the energy that brought out so much life in her words. That if possible, she would win every one of her battles and be who she always wanted to be. To make her mother proud. That was all he asked for.

It was very simple, wasn’t it?

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Namjoo awoke when her head slid off her pillow. Discovering that Sehun was gone she pushed herself up. Possibly gone to work she assumed and had let her sleep in. She was wrong. She spotted his broad back at the foot of the bed. Turning when he felt her move.

“You’re awake?” he asked. “Wash up. I’ll wait for you downstairs.”

She blinked, confused. Eyeing him as he left the room closing the door after him. Curious about what was up she climbed out of bed. Brushed her teeth, washed her face, used the toilet, and went down the hallway to change in her old room. Sehun was waiting for her at the bottom of the staircase. In his usual button-down and black pants, but he hadn’t gone to work. It perked her.

“What’s going on?” she wondered slowly heading toward him.

“Lets go.” He said. She watched him walk toward the front door, slip out of his slippers into his shoes. Slightly frowning she followed. He got into his car, so she did, too. Then they were on the road.

This morning Sehun was ever more secretive than he’d ever been with her. Assuming he wouldn’t answer her questions she didn’t bother wasting her energy asking. Time would tell. Eventually, they would arrive at their destination.

They drove around the bends, through the winding roads, looping through the highway. Entering the city of overpopulated workers. Through the districts of too bright cafés overflowing with caffeine addicted customers. High-rise buildings where rents continued increasing yearly. Passing noisy intersections of blaring car horns and too many pedestrians.

Sehun continued speeding until they reached a gaping driveway that led them toward a larger public parking lot. Driving through the lanes until he found an open spot. Braking and parking the car at last. The car gently jolted them, and he turned the engine off. Namjoo copied when he unbuckled his seatbelt.

As she stepped out she stared across the stretching parking lot toward the glassy building with yawning doors. An ambulance was parked off to the side, but it didn’t look like anyone was in it. Namjoo stared at the hospital name in big silver letters. On instinct she walked up to Sehun who had stopped a few feet away and looking back for her to follow.

“What are we doing?” she asked experiencing a strange emotion she couldn’t explain. Nothing about excitement. She was nervous.

“They have a clinic,” he told her. “About the baby, no one knows yet…and I won’t force you to have it.”

Dread made her heart drop. Her eyes veered toward the hospital sign. Her pulse raced as guilt rushed through her. Making her sick with unease. Also thinking, she knew better. At the same time thinking about the things that had recently passed through her mind.

Always now, she didn’t know what to think. What was right?

Was this for her? For Sehun?

On impulse, Namjoo turned to walk back to the car. With her heart pitter pattering. Grabbing the locked door she said, “I want to go home.”

The turmoil was a high flooding wave that chased her on the way home. Both remorse and regret hung over her like a thick cumulus cloud. She wanted her mother she thought. That she was empty, and she was sorry. For not growing up well. For not living as a better person. Thinking maybe this was some kind of retribution.

Too many emotions of back and forth battling in her head. She wanted to beg, enough now. She was sorry for every horrible thing she’d done. So someone, she prayed, reach a hand out because she needed it.

When they arrived back home, Namjoo stayed in the car for a minute. Staring into space. Still struggling with her bearings. To come up with a reason why she didn’t take Sehun’s offer.

Still, nothing.

Leaning over to release the seatbelt she pushed the door open. Sehun was waiting for her in the yard.

Now what?

She was feeling like again. Like she’d just woken up and realized she hadn’t had her period yet. And she didn’t know what to do.

She was scared.

She wanted answers.

She needed someone to help her.

She missed her mom, the only person who would know it all.

But she wasn’t here today.

And no one loved her enough to pick her up.

Her heart was heavy, and she didn’t know what to do about this pregnancy. She had tried to be happy she wanted to cry to whoever would listen, so why, why wasn’t she overflowing with joy?

Namjoo stared at the looming house that had become her home. The life she had been into.

Not hers she wanted to whine. None of this was supposed to be hers, but suddenly it was, and she didn’t want it.

She abruptly hugged Sehun. Perhaps more out of desperation for some form of comfort, because she was alone, and no one was on her side. Because today he had tried to help her again, and she was grateful.

She felt the broadness of his secure body. She clutched onto his shirt. Buried her face into his sturdy shoulder. Breathing in the warmth of his body. The smell of him. Then she let go.

“I want to be alone.” Was all she said before walking inside. Locking herself in her room to cry one last time as she hugged her mother’s picture.

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When he first heard of Kim Namjoo Sehun thought she might be like Hea. Super feminine, stuck up, daddy’s little girl. The more he got to know her he felt a little more for her. Not because she was the only one he’d have for the rest of his life, but because she had a story he didn’t think a person like her would have.

This was the first time Namjoo hugged him. It wound up a part of him very strongly.

He probably couldn’t understand the depth of her misery. Probably would never. All he did was stand outside her door, waiting it out with her. Hoping she knew she wasn’t as alone as she felt. And he was so sorry that it had to be this way. That these things had to happen. That if it was any different he wouldn’t wish this fate upon her.

Sehun ended up eating alone, but he had the housekeeper bring up breakfast to Namjoo. She’s eating he was told when the housekeeper came back downstairs. Hearing that was relieving. Deciding Namjoo would want to spend the day gathering her thoughts he left for work.

Albeit the busy day he couldn’t shake off the feeling that he should have stayed home. That perhaps Namjoo needed a better support system in this time.

Avoiding his father he discreetly left work early. Instead of heading straight home, Sehun cruised through the winding roads. From one intersection to another. Troubled and lost.

He should be more confident he knew. He should be more headstrong, more vocal. About what was right, what was wrong.

He should be, he should be, he should be…but he wasn’t.

And Namjoo was hurting. She was having a hard time by herself and he didn’t know any better. Only once he had heard her laugh. How ridiculous was that?

Then he arrived at the golden building wielding the cross at the top. Under the darkening sky the hospital glowed luminously. Looking like a giant star on land. So magnificent, so exquisitely. Sehun sat in his car staring at the building as the sky slowly dimmed by the hour. Until the dimmest star made its appearance. A wink in the sky before disappearing.

Pushing the door open he walked inside, past the reception desk, toward the elevators. Then down the hallway to the door where on the other side his mother slept. Once again sinking into the chair beside her bed. Accompanied by the beeping machines that yet announced her life. Letting his eyes rove over her paper white skin. Of the woman who would never be able to hold her only grandchild or meet his wife.

“Mom,” he called out, “what should I do?”

The oxygen machine hissed. His mother lay unmoving.

Sehun let his head hang low. Sat there for another ten minutes then got up to leave. The roads got darker on his way home, as if shadows were chasing him to the end of the earth. Through the gaps of the trees he spotted the lights flashing from his house. Gravel crunched underneath his tires as he pulled up and walked past the area where Namjoo had hugged him earlier, and most likely would not do it again.

Quietly entering the house he stared into the empty kitchen. It was nearly 9PM. Way past dinner. He hoped Namjoo had chosen to wisely eat without waiting for him. Maintaining his pace he crept up the stairs and slowly trudged down the hallway. First staring into Namjoo’s old bedroom. Realizing how big of a step it must have been for her to come stay with him in the master bedroom. How much of her stubborn feelings she must have set aside for him, and he had taken it for granted.

He had been naïve then. Expecting that only things could get better. That maybe a life here with Namjoo could start with smiles and laughter.

Here, he was just another oppressor like her father.

Finally reaching the master bedroom he paused in the doorway to find Namjoo sitting at the edge of his side of the bed. Looking up when she saw him. The gleam in her eyes were low and sad. Her downturned lips didn’t look like they could ever stretch up to give him a smile.

But…he didn’t want to be like her father.

Hope seemed to constantly hang on thin wires around them. Sehun thought about his mother always sleeping her days away, but somehow remaining alive. If she could hang on to that tiny percentage of life he could hang in there, too.

Pushing himself forward he sat next to her. Fragility swallowed them inside its bubble. The silence flittered in just like it always did. Namjoo didn’t speak. Sehun felt like he could sense what lay in her heart anyway.

“I know you don’t like me, so it must have been hard,” he turned to face her, “I’m sorry. That you had to be pulled into this. That you have to go through these kinds of things for our families. I’m sorry, Namjoo, that things happened like this. I really am.”

He saw her eyes start to water and wanted to hold her hand, but he didn’t dare to. The diamond on her ring glinted under the light prettily like the tears about to fall.

“Lets have the baby. If you change your mind tomorrow or in a week, I’ll forgive you. I don’t know any better, so I’m sorry for that. But I promise you that whatever happens, I won’t abandon you. I’ll be good to you.” His heart went out to her as she started shedding tears. He could feel his own eyes watering. For her. For them. “So, if you ever want anything; if anyone hurts you, I’ll fight for you. I promise.”

The emotions hit full force as she started sobbing. Clamping her eyes shut. Clutching her hands into fists. And nodding her head to tell him she was hearing him out.

He had never met Namjoo’s mother. Didn’t know what kind of person she was. He could only hope that if she was watching them that she was giving them her blessing. And that she was proud of her daughter.

Wrapping his arms around her he pulled her into a comforting hug, hoping it would give her some sort of peace. Because he could not be who she wanted most.

Her mother.