The phone was ringing again. Internally sighing she skillfully slid her finger over the ‘end call’ button. Glad she had earlier put the thing on silence before walking into the conference room. Debriefing an important trip consisting of a 12-men crew that would be sent to Europe for artifacts from the Roman ages.

The thing rang again. Irritating a millimeter more. Ignoring the caller, Namjoo flipped the screen upside down. Crossing her arms atop the U-shaped table as peace washed over her.

The conference ended a half hour later. Namjoo joined the audience swelling with joy when she stood next to her father. To be sitting in a room filled majorly of men made her feel prideful. It felt like her head was more in the clouds these days than on a human occupied earth.

Greed some would call it.

Her phone went off again. The screen bursting into an array of light in her hand.

“Who is that?” her father wondered. “Why don’t you just answer? It’s been going off since the conference started. It would do you some smart not to bring that thing with you everywhere.”

“It’s not important,” Namjoo insisted. Doing her best not to let her flustered emotions come to the fore.

“Chairman!” an elder man called out walking up to them on his stout legs. “It must be quite a feat going all the way to Europe…”

Politely interlocking her hands in front of her Namjoo grinned the entire conversation until she boarded her car. Driving past flickering orange headlights as she sped down the long road home. Braking at the upcoming red light. As if on signal, her phone errantly went off again like she had set it on some type of alarm.

Sighing more physically than internally, she answered with a snap, “What?”

“Where are you?” he scolded. “I called a hundred times!”

They were going to argue again. It was just one of those things she could sense from a thousand miles away. From the rise in his voice. The tone of his words. She imagined him pacing around his one room complex. Brows dipped down his face. Lips tight. Brushing his fingers through his hair even though she nagged him not to do it. She wouldn’t marry a bald man.

“If you weren’t aware, I was in a conference,” she stoically shot at him. “You should have gotten the sign when I didn’t answer.”

“If I was dying you wouldn’t even pick up your phone!” he argued.

She spat, “Seeing the way you have so much energy, I’m afraid you live till a hundred years old!”

Namjoo could imagine his blood burning through his skin. Hell, he was so frustrating!

“Do you know what today is?” he angrily asked.

Namjoo took a moment’s breather. Flipped through the files in her memory. “June 20^th, 2019.”

“I knew it!” he yelled. “You don’t remember! You don’t even care!”

“What in the world is up with you? You’ve been so pissed off lately.” Switching the phone to the other ear she ranted, “I already apologized a million times! I am sorry I forgot your birthday. It slipped my mind! Do you have to hold the grudge for so long?! Jesus Christ, Yeol. I already promised we could have dinner at the end of the month. I wrote it down in my book. I promise! Don’t you have other things to do instead of calling me all the time?”

“Today’s our third-year anniversary.”

opened in automatic response. She met with the dial tone.

He had hung up on her.

She looked up in time to see the yellow light turn to red. Braking just before the traffic line.

“,” she murmured. Then exactly the way she hated; she brushed her fingers up through her hair.

ꞜꞜꞜꞜꞜ

“I’m sorry,” Namjoo said aloud. Pacing in her refined bedroom. Dropping her arm out from where it was crossed by her chest, “I love you.”

Heaving a sigh, she scratched her head. Whatever way she said it made her sound so awful.

“You know I’ve been busy with the expansion of the museum. We’re halfway through the fourth floor and the new installments. Plus, the artifacts,” Namjoo rehearsed. “You understand, right?”

Rubbing her chin, she wondered if that sounded better. Reiterating herself, so he remembered that she had a career, too.

Greed.

Giving up, she flopped down on her queen bed. Stretching her arms over her head. Turning she glanced at the 4x6 photo of them on their first anniversary trip. Taken below the Alps, because she had wanted to do something magnificent. Days when she had less to worry about. Just three years ago, but so many things change in the matter of a moment.

Time doesn’t wait for anyone.

Staring up at the ceiling she heaved another sigh. Thinking whatever. Tomorrow would have to deal with itself. Switching the bedside lamp off she climbed under the blanket and curled up to sleep.

Waking up early she washed up before going through her closet. A knock on the door interrupted her morning’s schedule.

“Yes?” she called out buttoning the last button of her blouse. Tugging it down and swiveling around to check herself out in the mirror.

The door opened a crack. The morning housekeeper poked her head in, “Chanyeol is downstairs.”

Rolling her eyes with a tiresome sigh, Namjoo waved her off. When the door closed, she mumbled, “Gosh, I have a meeting in an hour.” Brushing her hair over her shoulder she swiped her bag off the desk. Wondering what the heck he wanted now.

Kiss up to her? Apologize for being so rash on the phone yesterday? There was a bigger chance he’d chide her ear off.

Should she say sorry again?

These days he made her so exhausted.

Climbing down the wide marble staircase she entered the short corridor leading to the open kitchen. On the other side of the wide-open doors at the end was the 12-foot pool that belonged to her family. She was a swimmer. Used to swim.

That was how they’d met. At the poolside at some water park. A long time ago before they started dating.

Namjoo had often used the pool on many afternoons. Yeol had joined her when her parents weren’t home. Time really did go by. She had been so young.

Crossing the kitchen to the door she joined him. Not bothering to slide the door close in case they raised their voices and started going at each other. Standing six steps away from him she crossed her arms. “What are you doing here? I have a meeting in what is forty-five minutes now.”

Chanyeol turned around to shoot her his burning stare. The ferocity of his glare spoke heights of his anger. “Meeting this, meeting that. Are those the only things you’re capable of saying?”

Her lips stretched into a thin line. “What do you want? I don’t have time to spare. You better be quick.”

He scoffed, turned to hiss a breath. “You always do this!”

“Do what?”

“This!” he flung out his arms, distressed. “You barely care about me. You barely make time for us! What are you so obsessed with?! Aren’t you successful already?! Your dad hardly condemns you anymore, Namjoo!”

She stared him on resentfully. “Is this all you came for? To pick at my past because you’re pissed off? I don’t have time for your bull.”

“Bull!” he yelled when she spun around to head inside. “Namjoo! Namjoo!”

Mumbling underneath her breath she cursed at him. For bringing up all her wounds, using it against her. She didn’t care. She didn’t need him. Who was he to her that she would let him hold her back? If he couldn’t see how high she wanted to go, he didn’t deserve her.

“Yesterday I wanted to ask you to marry me. Namjoo!” he continued screaming. “Are you…”

Anger stewed through her but she turned at the sound of him awkwardly cut off. Catching the sight of him midway through his fall. Eyes widening when the back of his head hit the linoleum and he landed awkwardly toward the side of the pool. The clear blue water suddenly an ominous sight like the lurking blue sea ready to swallow.

The sound of the splash was so eerie Namjoo started screaming for the housekeeper.

ꞜꞜꞜꞜꞜ

“He’s not responding,” one of the EMTs looked up at another.

“Load him into the ambulance. We need to hurry.” Another ordered. The group hefted the unconscious Chanyeol onto the stretcher with a heave. Looking at her inquiringly, the woman asked, “Are you riding with us?”

“No,” Namjoo replied. “Notify his family.”

The woman’s eyes lingered before finally turning to follow her team out.

“Crap, I’m late,” Namjoo muttered turning away from the pool. Rushing into the kitchen she swiped her purse off the table and hurried toward her car. Shoving the fact that she hadn’t gone after Chanyeol the moment he slipped under water to the back of her head, depriving him of oxygen the seven minutes it took the ambulance crew to arrive.

Rubbing the back of her head promising she think it over later, she sped to work. Bursting through the closed doors a quarter of the way through the meeting. The scrutinizing gaze her father silently shot her from the head of the table was hard to miss. Quietly pushing her chair in she rigidly sat the entire hour and a half.

“There’s no reason for you to be late,” her father quietly scorned at the foot of the doorway when everyone filed out.

Politely lowering her voice, she told, “Sorry, father. There was an accident.”

He frowned at her. “What accident?”

“Chanyeol fell into the pool.”

He scoffed in disbelief like she’d said a dog just ate her homework. “How unbelievable.” Warning in an even lower tone, “Watch yourself. Don’t make the same mistake.”

Lowering her head, she nodded. Refusing to sigh when she swerved around to head to her office where her phone was buzzing noisily. Thank God she had left the machine behind on her way in.

Seeing that it was Chanyeol’s mother, she supposed his family had received the news. Were probably at the hospital with him right this moment. Holding his hand and praying.

“Hello?” Namjoo sighed. Slumped down into her cushy desk chair and slid down.

Her ears met with the woman’s sobbing. “What am I going to do, Namjoo? Oh God…what is going to happen?”

“Mother, please,” Namjoo started, “it was an accident.”

Sniffing fervently, “He’s not…he’s not…my child isn’t waking up.” Crying more hoarsely, a sound that came deep from within her guts, “My child isn’t waking up.”

Namjoo blinked. Inherently confused. “What?”

in a watery breath, she repeated, “He’s not waking up.” Bursting out with a loud heartbreaking cry, “My son won’t wake up!”

It was right then that Namjoo didn’t know what to say. Sitting up, she excused, “I’m sorry, mother, but I have to return to work. I’ll talk to you later.”

Removing the phone from her ear she hung up. The desk phone buzzed this time. Namjoo picked up.

“You wanted me to remind you there’s a meeting with the shareholders in the afternoon.”

“Yes, thanks.” Namjoo hung up, gathered her folders, and left.

So caught up with visiting the fourth floor of their museum and arranging flight tickets for the 12-men crew that she forgot to think about anything else. Until a day later when her father asked at lunch, “How is Chanyeol doing?”

Glancing up from her bowl of soup it finally hit her. Her eyes darted to the side urged to huff a sigh. He was out in the hospital and still weighing her priorities.

“He’ll be fine,” Namjoo bluntly replied taking another sip of her soup.

She packed in another meeting and went through revisions with the construction team. Arranged for a hotel stay after driving out to send off the 12-men crew with her father. There they would meetup with her father’s friends for the evening for a networking banquet. This left no time for Namjoo to settle back and relax. Right now, she was carving out a gold paved future. A place people would come at her beck and call not because she was a man but she was powerful.

It was Sunday when she returned home from out of town. Dropping her duffel bag into her bedroom before heading downstairs for a glass of water. Instead of returning to his quarters her father had decided to go out and meet an acquaintance. At this time of night, the housekeepers were already off duty leaving her alone in their vast manor that spanned 12 acres.

All the lights were off but Namjoo skillfully found her way to the kitchen courtesy of the glowing pole lights outside. Opening the two-door silver fridge she poured herself a glass of water. Lifting the glass up to her dry lips. As the door caked in, she peered out the glass doors that led to the pool. A gleam of moonlight bounced off the still pool water. The silence was deafening. Something like an echo in a faraway land.

Curious, Namjoo set the glass down on the island and slowly walked toward the doors. Sliding it open she stepped out. Welcomed by a brisk night breeze. No stars twinkled overhead. The moon was swollen from all sides. Hanging above her so clearly. Lowering her gaze, she glanced at the pool. The tiles at the bottom a blurry mirage from where she stood.

Experiencing a strange lull, she stepped toward the edge. Wondering how clumsy Chanyeol was that he could have slipped. Shaking her head, she turned to head back inside. It had suddenly gotten chilly and she wanted the warmth of her bed. The wind howled in her ears. A split second passed and Namjoo felt herself falling backwards as her heels slid across the slippery linoleum bordering the pool. Arms and legs flailing to grab onto air. A helpless antic. The loud splash of her body meeting water burst through her ears.

Then…silence.

Namjoo struggled as her body became heavier and heavier. Arms flowing in front of her in slow motion. Sinking deeper and deeper. Her long hair becoming loose around her head. The long strands resembling black vines pulling her down, down, down. Until she could no longer breathe and her eyes closed.

She was dead…or so she thought…

A loud thud on the other side jolted her awake. Eyes bursting open as she sat up to the drumming of her heart. It was just a dream. A dumb dream. Namjoo reached up to touch the sweat dampening around her hairline. Paused. Unable to recognize the white sleeve hanging off her wrist. Her eyes landed on the gemstone pink blanket. A thick sheet with embroidered flowers popping with exquisite colors.

Not her bed.

Tossing the blanket off with a fright she hurdled out of bed. Lost. Dazed. Clumsily bumping into a table causing it to tip over. The fragile tea set sitting on it crashed loudly. Landing on her her eyes widened. Soaking in the bedroom that was not hers.

A wooden poster bed femininely surrounded by silk curtains. The bed so plush and pretty. A poster of a woman in painting hung on one wall. Against the wall was a wooden vanity consisting of various Chinese jars, a strange round strange circular cloth tool bound by some tight string. Hearing a gasp drop from as she to her side. Unable to spot her beloved closet with the long mirror.

Whimpering in fear. She couldn’t set her thoughts straight. Couldn’t understand what was happening.

The door burst open causing her to scream. Twisting around and falling on her again she stared wide-eyed at a man dressed in ancient clothing. His clothes a dank blue. Cheap cloth.

“Young Miss!” he called out before his eyes landed on the toppled table. “Oh no! What happened!”

Namjoo crawled back when he hurriedly stepped in. Huffing. Panic causing her breathing to deepen uncontrollably. Pushing herself to her feet she flew out of the room. Down the winding corridor. Bumping into a young woman carrying a tray of foods she did not recognize. She screamed as the tray dropped. Namjoo didn’t pause to help. Ending up at a fork in the hallway she randomly took a right. Flinging open whatever paneled doors, she came across.

Listening to herself whimper in a weird tone she never heard before when her eyes landed on papered windows, wooden doors without proper locks, men and women dressed in clothing that men and women didn’t normally wear in the 21^st century.

This didn’t make sense. What was going on?

Finally approaching what appeared like the front doors Namjoo’s legs nearly buckled underneath her. Her eyes landed on robed men and women noisily weaving their way down the dirt roads. The oriental smell of foods, the chatter of a language spoken in historical movies rebounded through the air. She saw men with pointy hats and in black robes riding horses through the streets. Wagons being pulled through, the huge round wheels churning and churning rowdily, and children eating taffy no longer made in her time.

Another weird gasp escaped .

What was this?!

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***I did say this was just an experiment. the end :D

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