No answer.

Oh Haeran’s eyes remained closed as if by glue.

In her days she was the prettiest of her class she told him one time. Yes, his father agreed, she was and had looked at her smitten. Long black hair, heart shaped face with girlish eyes that turned into crescents when she smiled. A dainty woman but witty. Oh Haeran was a girl popular with love notes and boyish confessions from all over. She’d grown up in a refined family. Her father owned a brewing company that grew larger over the years as alcohol consumption increased.

“One day,” she had told him, when her skin still glowed with life, as she his small head, “you will marry a beautiful girl. And you’ll love her like your father loves me. She’ll be so lucky she has you, my sweet boy.”

Her skin was flat. She had no color. No more life zapped through her veins to bring her arms up to hug him. Just some lifeless doll who would not look at him. Someone he didn’t know anymore.

He sat down on the nearby chair with the pale beige walls closing in. Suffocating the air he breathed. Increasing his discomfort.

You’re wrong he wanted to say, about everything.

“I’m getting married,” he said. “If you can hear me, tell me you’re happy.”

He waited. The heart monitor calmly beeped. Her heart rate didn’t spike. It was what he had expected.

“You’re happy,” he solemnly stated in a soft voice, “because I’m doing it for you.”

ꜛꜛꜛꜛꜛ

Tickling the grass as it passed the wind whistled. A rush swept left with a deep, taunting whisper. Goosebumps rose over her forearms. Another fast rush of wind rustling the tree leaves while the yellow orb stayed warm over her face. Light shone through the dark of her closed lids. Imagining she was floating away into an ethereal universe.

“Namjoo!” Her eyes opened. Flinching when she stared straight into the sun. Twisting away Namjoo pushed herself up. The clear blue sky loomed above her beautifully. For an instant she felt like a small existence.

“The car is ready. You have to go,” Leah called from the back-porch steps.

Blinking once then twice Namjoo tilted her head back to sky gaze. An empty sky. Pretty, but void. No one would be stopping her today.

Pushing herself up slowly she brushed remnants of grass off her clothes. Staring at the mansion. Imagined her mother walking through the rooms. Watching her from one window to another. Smiling in one room, dancing with her in another, helping her into her wedding dress in another. Old and wrinkly in another and calmly in a rocking chair, only her mother would never grow old because she had died young.

Her mother Mihee had given birth to her here. Raised her on this land. So many countless memories born here. Now, Namjoo was leaving her ghost behind. Pressing her lips together, Namjoo tried to unwind her tense frown.

“Namjoo!” Leah called again.

Blinking again, Namjoo finally found the strength to step forward. When she reached her friend touched her arm affectionately. “Take care of yourself.”

Lips firmly together Namjoo nodded. Squeezed her hand, “Don’t watch me go.” before turning to walk out.

Two days before the wedding.

Sehun picked her up every time. Dinner, breakfast, whatever. Mainly they just sat at a table unspeaking. Listening to their forks and spoons chatter as they clinked against plates. Both of them focused on eating and looking in different directions.

Nothing remained changed between them, but today she was moving in with him. Into whatever house it was.

Her car was running when she stepped outside. Packed with her luggage. Whatever couldn’t fit in her car her father would send over. No one was going with her. There would be different housemaids, chauffeurs, gardeners, and again, whoever and whatever waiting for them at the new home.

“Smile, sister,” Hea chirped from the side. Arms crossed like always. “You’re married now. Have babies and don’t come back.”

Namjoo shot her a glance but her mother quickly blocked her view, coming up to put an arm around her. Leading her toward the car, “Behave now.” She reeked of high-end perfume and it made Namjoo’s head dizzy. “Don’t worry about us. Look after your husband. He’s your future now. Be good to him and don’t ever look back.”

“Namjoo,” her father opened the car door for her. Namjoo glanced at Jiyoo once before sliding into the driver’s seat. “The chauffeur put the address into the GPS system. Don’t go anywhere else and get there on time. They will be waiting for you.”

“They?” Namjoo asked disliking the word as soon as she heard it.

“Sehun’s family,” her father explained. “They will be welcoming you.”

“Great,” she muttered underneath her breath.

“Know your manners. Don’t you dare disrespect them and embarrass me,” he chided. Namjoo turned to glare out the front window. Need he say more? “You’re getting married now. It relieves me to see you settling down.”

For a moment, Namjoo’s heart almost softened.

“Your mother would be happy.”

Then she snapped the next second.

This was for his benefit. Because of his stupid friendship. And she thought of all the ty things that had led to this.

Shifting the gear into drive Namjoo waited no more before stepping on the accelerator and left her family in the dust.

ꜛꜛꜛꜛꜛ

The cooks were occupied in the kitchen. Seoyun was busy helping them prepare. His father and Sangki were who knows where. Talking sports over wine or touring the home. Sehun was in the master bedroom. Pacing. Staring at the Queen bed draped in white sheets that reminded him of the hospital. Turning he stared out the balcony. It stretched out with enough room for a patio table and plenty of chairs. Wood and sturdy with iron railings.

Sliding the glass door open he stepped out. The breeze was a brisk slap to the face. Blew against his clothes when he stopped by the rails. The green yard below stretched for miles. He saw the woods and round mountains in the distance. A simple, serene scenery. On a snowy day he deemed it might be prettier. Sparkling white, the world frigid.

Noticing the roar of an engine he turned.

Namjoo had arrived.

There were voices when he reached the first floor. The front door was wide open. His father was haughtily laughing, arm out to take his new daughter-in-law’s arm and lead her in. Sangki stood by. On his best manners today. They hadn’t really spoken ever since he had punched him. Sehun expected that in soon time Sangki would act as if the event never happened.

“There he is!” his father called out noticing him.

With no choice, Sehun took the last few steps down. When he reached them he and Namjoo merely glanced at each other. Knowing that under the deep layers of their thick smiles they would later spend the night apart.

“You’re here?” he asked.

“Take her, show her around,” his father suggested. Patting Namjoo’s back to urge her toward him. “The food is not yet ready. We’ll call you down when it is.”

“I’ll take you up,” Sehun offered putting an arm around her and led her toward the wooden stairs. Out of sight at the top he released her. The corridor was huge with glowing bulbs. Branching here and there and straight ahead. There was a sitting room with a television set already installed.

“Exquisite,” Namjoo mumbled nonchalantly. “I can look around right?”

Sehun extended his hand in reply. Without waiting she left him. The voices below became quiet murmurs. In case someone might come up he followed Namjoo down the hall. She was opening one room and then another. Shutting the door and looking into the next.

“Which room is yours?” Namjoo turned, leaned against the threshold, and crossed her arms.

“The master bedroom.”

She scoffed in disbelief. “I want the room farthest away.”

He pointed back down the hallway. “First room on the left.”

Namjoo narrowed her eyes at him unpleasantly as she brushed by. Sehun stared after her with the same narrowed eyes but picked up his pace when he heard footsteps.

Flinging the door open he pretentiously asked, “You want to make this your sewing room?”

“What?” Namjoo frowned at him surprised then glanced behind him to see one of the chauffeurs carrying her suitcase. Smiling sweetly, “Yes”

“Uh…it’s your luggage, ma’am.” The burly man spoke up. “Where should I place it?”

“The master bedroom,” Sehun quickly interjected. “It’s this way.”

Swiveling he led the chauffeur down the hall. Namjoo was fast on his trail, perhaps to keep an eye on her belongings.

“Right there is fine,” Namjoo said when the chauffeur placed the suitcase at the foot of the bed nearest the closet. “Thanks.”

He gave them a curt nod before retreating out of the room. Namjoo waited a heartbeat before dragging her suitcase near the bedside table. He watched without helping.

“Don’t you touch it,” she glared at him.

“Not interested,” Sehun said before walking out.

ꜛꜛꜛꜛꜛ

For a late breakfast the table was loaded with all kinds of entrees. The entire table dressed like a buffet.

“What do you think of the house, Namjoo?” Oh Shiwoo asked.

“It’s lovely,” Namjoo said.

“It was my mother's,” Sangki perked up from where he sat across from Sehun. The atmosphere shifted with discomfort for a slight second. Sehun glanced at his brother wondering what discontent he was trying to brew.

“Sehun give her some of the stir-fried oyster, they’re a delicacy,” his father told.

“It’s father’s favorite,” Seoyun added. “You’ll enjoy it.”

Namjoo glanced at her then at him as he leaned over to put some on her platter. “Eat up,” he said for effect.

He didn’t miss the smile on his father’s face. “The house is yours now. I hope you two live here happily and for a long time. Your mother would be very happy.”

Namjoo glanced at him from out of the corner of her eye before replying chirpily, “Yes, of course.”

“After the wedding,” his father said, “Sehun, you should take Namjoo to see her.”

Once they finished breakfast they walked his family to the door. He didn’t miss Seoyun telling Namjoo she was glad to have her here.

“Congratulations,” Sangki said with contempt, his eyes a flash of darkness.

His father had the last word. Patting his back, “Proud of you, son. Love each other a lot.” Then patting Namjoo’s back, “Welcome to the family.”

When the door finally closed Namjoo turned to him, saying, “Lovely.”

That evening he watched from down the hallway as Namjoo dragged her belongings out of the master suite into the first door on the left.

This was the kind of life his father wanted him to have?

ꜛꜛꜛꜛꜛ

“Did you see how freaking happy he was?” Sangki muttered slamming the door to their bedroom.

Seoyun glanced at him from where she was sitting in front of the vanity. “He should be happy. They moved in together. He’s getting married soon.”

“He has the damn house! The house! My house!” Sangki raised his voice. He hissed through his gritted teeth. “And he has a wife, who will give him a child.”

Seoyun’s eyes drifted toward the floor then toward her husband timidly. “Sehun would be a good father.”

“That is not the point!” Sangki yelled. “Do you want to rub it in my face?! You think he’s better than me!”

“No,” Seoyun rose to her feet. “That’s not what I meant…”

“It is! It is exactly what you meant!” his eyes went bloodshot red. “Why don’t you just leave me right now.”

He stared her down before twisting around to walk out, slamming the door in his wake.

ꜛꜛꜛꜛꜛ

It was everything Namjoo dreaded. The day of the wedding. Everything was fabulous. The day prior she and Sehun had done a sweep through of the wedding hall. Curtains winding around the room. At each drop and curve was a cute bow. Pink for her favorite color. The back of the platform was heavily decorated with various flowers, sprouting, climbing up the back curtains like grapevines. Every table draped with velvety navy blue, Sehun’s favorite color. Triangular white sheets on top where a cute crate would be filled with sweets for the guests.

Tables closest to the stage were specially taken care of and reserved for immediate family members. The chairs covered in white chair covers and knotted at the back with a blue bow. On the tables were extravagant vases filled with rosy flowers and a mix of baby breaths.

A four-tier cake had taken 14 days to create. Embellished in gold and decorated with white beads. Each tier wrapped in silk, the bow gently knotted at the bottom. At the top was a molded decoration of a groom and bride kissing.

Indeed, Namjoo had changed her wedding dress. She’d gone with an opulent and fiery gown with a y fit that flared her silhouette. Because brides tended to dress more moderately Namjoo changed her style. Mostly to enrage her father. The off shoulder deep v-neckline made her s bulge. The entire dress accentuating her cleavage that most woman wanted to hide in the name of shame and respect.

The dress was richly embedded with lightly beaded lace mixed with lace material for a seductive shine. The sheer lace hem of the dress spiraled around her feet like a trumpet.

“No,” Leah had begged when she first tried it on at the store, “your father will kill you.”

On her wedding day? Namjoo dared him. He wouldn’t have the galls to raise his voice at her in fear of ruining his daughter’s marriage to his best friend’s son.

After excusing the makeup artist and hair stylist, Namjoo stood alone in the large dressing room. Staring at the full body wall mirror. Detesting herself. Wishing there was another form of herself to grant a warm hug.

Pressing her lips together she stared at the soft red lipstick the artist had carefully rubbed across . In a short moment of defiance she grabbed the nearby Kleenex to rub it off, but crumbled it into her palm. So hard that her nails dug into her skin.

A knock on the door before it opened and one of the ladies poked her head in, “The music is starting. Come out.”

ꜛꜛꜛꜛꜛ

They had gone to the wedding venue separately. Would return with the chauffeur. That was the plan.

Sehun had gone into his dress room with the dress bag of his tux. Rich black. Classic. The cliché color many grooms wore on their wedding day and because he found no point in spicing up his wear.

What was the wedding to him anyway?

Setting his clothes aside he dressed. Buttoned up his shirt, put his tie on like he did every morning. He spent a good 45 minutes with the stylist to freshen up his looks. Fixed his hair down to every strand and sprayed cologne on him.

“Anything else?” the male stylist asked lifting up his black bag of tools.

“No.”

The door opened and closed. Sighing, Sehun turned to look at the man in the mirror. Hair slicked back freeing his forehead. Suavely dressed in a fitted tux. Looking uncommonly spectacular today. Except the barren expression in his eyes gave away everything he felt inside. Dead. Unwanting.

The molecules of his thoughts dispersed when the door opened and Sangki entered. Closing the door behind him and coolly smiling.

“Isn’t my younger brother so dashing today?” he started.

“What are you doing in here?” Sehun asked.

Leaning against the vanity just inches from him, Sangki gripped onto the table. Stretching his legs out he glanced up at his younger brother. “I remember when I got married. Best day of my life, must I say.”

Sehun flatly eyed him disinterested. “What do you want? You should be out there.”

“Have you had with her yet?” Sangki asked so straightforwardly Sehun nearly choked on his spit.

Keeping his calm, Sehun asked, “Why do you want to know?”

“Just saying,” Sangki said, “you have a lot of when you get married. And sometimes, it doesn’t matter who it’s with.”

Sehun’s brows twitched.

“Lets switch,” Sangki suggested standing straighter now, “our wives.”

***damn Sangki!