“Mom!”

Rubbing his arm to comfort him, she explained, “Your aunt is devastated. If she becomes unstable, she’ll have another breakdown. She may never get better.”

“How is she any better?!” he argued. “Her daughter is dead! Namjoo…is Namjoo. What can she do for her?”

“I know, I know,” his mother agreed soothingly. “But she may be able to help her move on. We’re not telling Namjoo to go recklessly. They’re a good family.”

“You can’t use her like this!” He couldn’t stop raising his voice. Upset.

“We’ll talk with her. I won’t force her if she doesn’t want to go.” His mother promised. Her conflicted eyes sympathetically stared up into his. Embracing him into her arms. Gently patting his back. “I know how you feel. I’m sorry.”

ϞϞϞϞϞ

“Mom, please.” The man she had been left alone with touched the elder woman’s shoulder tenderly. “Let her go.”

Still crying sorrowfully into her shoulder, she refused to release her. The tears were soaking through her dress. The perfume was overpowering, tingling her senses. No longer able to smell the fresh hint of flower wafting through the home. Namjoo didn’t know what to do. It seemed even rude trying to pull away from this broken woman’s arms. Yet she was becoming uncomfortable. Her lower legs were tensing from kneeling.

Where had everyone gone?

Voices erupted behind her. Someone leaned over to touch the woman’s shoulder. “All right. All right. We’re going to talk to Chunhei for a second, honey.”

Leaning away the sobbing aunt looked up at her husband. “Where are you taking her?”

“Just to talk,” her husband explained. Meeting her eyes, he nodded as a signal for her to get up.

Namjoo was yanked back down by the woman when she tried. “No! Don’t go, Chunhei! Where are you going? Please stay.”

“We’re going to get some water,” Sehun’s father came over to say gently. Touching her other arm to help pull her up. “Just in the next room.”

“Honey, why are you letting them take our daughter?” she cried to her husband.

“No, no. She’s going with me. We’re going to talk,” her husband repeated patiently. Looking at his son, he gestured for him to sit down. “Stay with your mother.”

“Chunhei. Chunhei!” Sehun’s aunt cried out when his father led her out of the living room.

“Are you ok?” his father worried as she limped.

“It’s ok.” Namjoo said then looked at them curiously.

“In here.” Opening a closed door to a homey office furnished with more bookshelves and a single table loaded up with a desktop computer. “Sit down.”

Taking a seat in one of the brandished chairs, Namjoo put her hands on her lap. Awkward.

“This is Sehun’s uncle,” his father introduced. “He’s been around the country as a foreign service officer.”

Park Jaejin. Early 50’s. His head was full of thinning gray hair. Was nowhere as tall as Sehun and his father. The wide forehead of his was filled with creases but his eyes were a soft brown color. Giving off the vibe of a father who went to ball games on the weekend with his son. Also, Park Hyunjae who held a doctorate degree in biology had stayed behind to start his career. Taller than his father. On the skinny side like his mother.

Namjoo gave him a curt nod as a late greeting.

“That’s my daughter.” He slid out a family photo from his wallet. Father, mother, son, daughter.

Daughter…

Namjoo blinked twice. At the face of her own. Instantly feeling her heart drop. Lifting her head up to stare at the man twice over. Feeling her eyes grow wider by the second. Hearing in her head Hyejoo’s friend calling them crying about an accident.

Kim Hyejoo. Her older twin sister by three minutes. Her sister who had disappeared from their lives. Vanishing into thin air.

Hyejoo…

Her eyes slid back down to the family photo. The silence thudded against her ear drums.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Her heartbeat booming louder, louder, louder.

Chunhei had died from a blood clot in her brain six years ago. It had been a horrible incident Lee Youngja never got over. Never healing from the trauma of discovering the dead daughter sleeping on the couch. Having left her there after assuming she had been drinking again only to find out the next morning, she was dead all along.

Her chest tingled with unease. Everything storming like a tornado inside her. As she sat on the bed several minutes later. Questions pounded her brain.

That this couldn’t be.

It didn’t make sense.

It wasn’t possible.

Hyejoo…was not Chunhei.

It could be!

It could be!

A voice screamed inside her head.

No…

The voices warred. All the wonders stemming from so many possibilities that it felt like the cloud would combust.

Namjoo couldn’t think!

This wasn’t right!

The emotions were lost to her. Clawing the bedsheet into her fist. Reality dropping on her like a bomb. Like a rattle snake flying at her with its jaws opened wide. Stinging her with its bite because she had run away too late. Everything went silent. The room disappeared, stretching away. Becoming wider, longer.

The single fact catching her off guard.

Realizing at last her sister was dead.

Covering her face, Namjoo wept an empty sound. Feeling so weirdly hollow that at last, she had confirmed the truth.

ϞϞϞϞϞ

Sehun lingered outside of the room next door. Unable to make himself knock. Ask Namjoo if she was really going. Yet needing to hear it from . About her decision. So, he paced back and forth uneasily. Hoping he was wrong. That she was still going to stay in his home. Tomorrow they would find other things to do. He hadn’t even taken her to see the popular tourist attractions yet or to the cheap eateries she would cry over.

His heart raced when the door opened and Namjoo stepped out with her backpack, a shopping bag. His clothes in her arms.

Then his heart dropped.

“Are you going?” he asked. Still hoping he was wrong.

“Yea,” she replied quietly.

He pressed his lips together. Couldn’t tell her not to go.

“Here,” she handed his clothes over. “Thanks, for letting me use them.”

Lifting his hands up in slow motion he took his clothes back. Pressing his thumb into the shirt she had carefully folded. Then raising his eyes up to meet hers. For a second standing silently.

“I’m kind of nervous,” Namjoo confessed. “I don’t know them. How will it be staying with them.”

Why must they say goodbye again?

Didn’t you come for me he wanted to ask.

“I’ll come see you,” he promised. “And you can call me. Any time.”

Smiling, she quietly said, “Yea.”

Their eyes lingered. Sehun watched her press her lips together.

He should say something more, but he didn’t know what.

“I’m going,” Namjoo said. “I’ll see you?”

Sehun nodded. “See you.”

Her eyes crossed his one more time then she finally turned and slowly disappeared down the stairs. From the top he listened to the voices below. Impulsively, he took a step forward. About to go after her, tell her to stay longer. Halting himself. What kind of reason could a person like him give? And he really…didn’t want to see her leaving.

The door opened and closed. The murmurs hushing. Total silence caved in. His heart lurched when someone appeared at the bottom steps. Sehun leaned forward to see only his mother. Upset with them, too. Turning around he retreated to his room. Closing the door. Succumbing to the quiet closing around him.

Touching the soft of his clothes. Thinking about Namjoo in them. Looking snuggly. Holding the cloth up to his nose. Smelling a faint hint of her shampoo. And feeling like a failure, because he hadn’t taken good care of her in the city. Now she was gone and he couldn’t get his chance back.

Suffocating, he changed. Grabbed his jacket and walked out of the house. Jumping into his car he cruised around the city. Driving through the busy interstates. Toward the noisy districts. Past the bustling cafes. Looping down the highway cutting through scenic apartment buildings. Pulling up to the mall and trotted from store to store. Handing over his card for random purchases. Grabbing a bite at the fancy restaurant. A seat for one. A glass of wine.

Waiting it out until night fell and made his way through the dancing crowd. The tight bodies glued together. Shoving his way to a seat by the bar counter. Drinking a few glasses until he felt good enough for his head to be spinning. Joining the entertainment on the floor. As the music boomed along to each pulse of his heart.

Blacking out. Coming to and finding himself in the back booth with a busty woman. Making out with her. Groping her . Feeling her thigh rub across his middle. Gasping as his blood churned. While his subconscious struggled between the music pounding a nail into his skull and the alcohol wearing off.

Beginning to sober when he thought about that morning when he had carried Namjoo into the kitchen. The past few days running through his memory like a movie on replay. Standing together in the backyard watching the sunrise. Racing along the river. Sitting at the bank’s edge and hearing her talk about the world. Of when he had gone after her on the train. And then…Namjoo saying goodbye again.

“What?” the heated voice breathed into his ear.

Shoving the busty woman away he slid out from the booth. Pushing through the throng of drunkards. Increasing his pace until he ran out of the club and the cool air splashed into his face. it into his lungs. Hearing a bell ring in his head. Breathing loudly when he tilted his head up. Coincidentally staring up at the open black sky diluted by the district lights. Unable to spot a star within a mile’s radius. Namjoo, again, talking about the stars. The moon. The night. Sitting in the barn with her.

Stumbling to his car he slammed the door as he slid in. First clutching onto the wheel then punching it. Because…just because.

Revving the engine, he reversed out of the parking lot and sped down the road.

ϞϞϞϞϞ

“This is your room,” Youngja opened a dark wooden door. Revealing a polished room as it caked open. A plush cat sat atop the dresser in the room. Pictures of Hyejoo on the vanity. There, a jewelry box and facial lotion and makeup.

“Isn’t it still pretty?” hands on her shoulders she led her into the room.

A four-poster bed was covered in girly pink sheets. Two sets of large puffy pillows covered in white.

“Over here,” Youngja opened the walk-in closet for her. Namjoo’s eyes traced the many fashionable clothing hanging off the pole. A city girl’s perfect taste for a pretty woman. “We will go shopping soon.” Smiling from ear to ear, “We will have so much fun, like always.”

Left with no choice, Namjoo smiled and nodded. Now that she was here, she had to fake it. She was curious about her sister’s life. Why she had been here at all instead of coming home or going back to their mother. Why hadn’t she contacted them?

“I should go make your favorite snack. Stay right here,” her eyes stayed glued on her. “Mom will be right back.”

Namjoo nodded. “Ok.”

Appearing more relieved the woman turned to scurry out of the room finally leaving her. Putting down her backpack Namjoo walked around the spacious room. Pretty with a window seat. Even the oval carpet on the ground was pink and furry.

More interested, Namjoo walked over to the vanity. Lifting up the face moisturizer. Opening the jewelry box to discover an assortment of rings, necklaces, bracelets. Lowering her eyes to the picture. Staring at the familiar face. Tracing the corner of the gold frame Namjoo looked on with wonder.

“So you were here all along,” Namjoo quietly spoke aloud.

The knock on the door made her swivel around. Park Hyunjae stood in the doorway. His figure so slender he hardly filled up the space.

“Coming along ok?” he wondered.

“Oh…yes…of course.” She said watching him walk in to peer at the picture she’d been observing.

“I used to hear that everyone has a twin out there somewhere,” he began. “I never believed it until now.” Looking at her, “I had no clue two people could look so alike.”

Namjoo opened then hesitated. Should she tell him the truth? What would happen following?

“My mom was never the same when Chunhei passed away,” he pitifully explained. “She should have gotten better, and then we saw you.”

Namjoo’s eyes trailed off. Unsure how to feel about being the fault of Youngja’s demise.

“I think if you can make her happy, she’ll also realize there’s hope for better days,” Hyunjae encouraged. “Chunhei was always her favorite, so I believe you can strengthen her resolve to live for the future.” He appeared kind of handsome when he smiled, “I won’t make you stay forever.” Shifting to face her, “I heard your father is in Gimje.”

“We own a sanctuary for farm animals,” Namjoo explained.

“I see,” he said. “A non-profit type of organization, right?”

“We work along those lines,” Namjoo told. “What do you do?”

“I’m finding the cure for cancer.”

“Wow!” she exclaimed. “Then you must be really smart.”

He waved her off, “It’s nothing.” Warmly adding, “Make yourself at home while you’re here. Look around as you like. It’s not that big of a home, but I hope you feel relaxed while you’re here.”

“I will,” she promised. “And it’s a really nice place.”

Raising his head, he looked up at the high ceiling. “My parents bought it after we buried Chunhei. Then they went abroad.”

Namjoo nodded. Building a timeline in her head to understand the structure of their life better. The afternoon waned. Hyejoo’s mother cooked up a sumptuous meal. Watching with pleased eyes as she chowed down the food to the last bite. Hyunjae and his father joined in happily chatting to keep the woman in high spirits.

Namjoo explored the home. Opening every door. Going through every room. Circling the backyard. Their land was also in another private neighborhood with high walls, a steep staircase that led up to the house from the iron gates at the front. Then dinnertime came around. Son and father catered to frail Youngja again. Namjoo playing along with their game of pretension that all was fair and well. Understanding from the very beginning that this façade must be treated carefully, because suddenly her dead daughter was alive.

She had to be careful. It was her fault anyway for causing a breakdown when Youngja had returned home strongly prepared for the next chapter in her life. Namjoo couldn’t reveal her identity too recklessly and risk killing Youngja’s state of mind. Before that, Namjoo would have to show her she could move on even if Chunhei wasn’t around. Build her up so she could function like a mother should to her son, like a wife should to her husband; so that her family could have her back.

If her father lost his senses to a mental illness battle her heart would break. And also, she wanted to know more about her twin. So many years lost, and she would never be able to know her.

Namjoo turned when her phone started ringing. Discovered that it was Sehun calling. Her heart did a flip as she answered.

“You asleep?” he asked.

“No.”

“Then,” he said, “do you want to come out?”

Whirling around she stared at the window. Hurrying down the stairs a second later. Flying out the door. Down the steep staircase. Flinging open the iron door to find Sehun leaning against his car. Craning his head back to stare up at the sky. When the door screeched to a close he turned around.

***wow, that is much more than I bargained for lol Talk about circumstances