The conversations were mute. Traffic blared all around him. He heard none of it. Trapped behind a pickup truck that wouldn’t budge Sehun punched the car horn continuously, screaming from the top of his lungs. And then his feet were thudding and thudding loudly against tiled flooring. His panting grew noisier. He started inhaling through his nose. Until he saw them.

His mom and dad in front of the surgery doors.

Sehun’s ears popped. Noise flooded into his ears. Of hushed voices. Wheels rolling behind him. Bright yellow lights flooded above him splashing on the floor in spots of circular whites.

His legs were suddenly jelly. Sehun couldn’t move toward his parents. He wanted to wake up from this horrible nightmare. It was the painkillers Namjoo had given him that was creating this crazy delusion.

Then the two gray doors automatically opened and a doctor in white stepped out. On instinct, his legs abruptly recovered propelling him forth. Removing his mask, the doctor sullenly bowed his head.

“The situation isn’t improving,” he quietly explained, “please prepare for the worst.”

Some animal cry flew out of his mother’s mouth. Like some carnage her legs lost strength and she collapsed to the floor. His father quickly knelt down to hug her, help pull her to her feet. When his old man straightened Sehun saw his face was streaked with tears. His mother first lashed. Beating his chest with hardened fists, screaming animosity at him. Words Sehun couldn’t convey to heart or to some kind of understanding in his brain, but he knew she was blaming him.

Sehun stood unmoved. Even if his entire body hurt. The healing cuts reopened and bled again, but none of it hurt as much as facing the fact he never made it for his sister.

He stayed passing the time. Watching as they wheeled Hayoung out. They’d covered her with a white blanket. Pausing a moment outside the surgery room. Allowing his parents to remove the blanket to see the daughter they had put six feet under.

Sehun lost it when he saw her bruised face. Welling with tears and nonstop pain. It ravaged him like the claws of a tiger tearing his meat apart. Savoring each bite with its powerful jaw. Breaking him into pieces until he finished bleeding.

Crying grief and anguish. Everything rushed through him at infinite speed cruelly. Sobbing loudly, he covered his tear streaked face. He couldn’t stop. Put the tap back on the faucet. Turn it off.

A hand landed on his shoulder. He saw his father. For the first time comforting him. “Go home.” He gently said. “Go get some rest. Your mother and I have to figure out the rest from here on.”

“I’ll stay.” Sehun offered. “I can stay and help.”

“Go home first.” He told. “Then you can come back.”

His father nodded his head. A quiet promise that the old man would not bar him from involving himself in this final parting.

Steeling himself Sehun stopped by the bathroom. Washing his hands for no reason. Splashed water on his face. Catching sight of his pale face in the mirror as he turned to leave. Without thinking he drove right over to Namjoo’s. He’d stay home until she returned from the restaurant.

But…Namjoo was already home. He saw her scrubbing the table pointlessly with a damp rag. Kihoon was in the living room glued in front of the television.

His lips quivered and the well inside him broke when she looked at him. Tearing up he dashed toward her. Namjoo put her arms around him as he hugged her. Sobbing violently into her hair, drenching her shoulder. Shaking against her.

“She didn’t make it,” he cried. “She didn’t make it.”

Palming a hand against his back she held him quietly. He didn’t need her to say it was ok.

It wasn’t ok.

Sehun had tried, he had really tried and it still made no difference.

It didn’t make sense.

He didn’t understand.

Why couldn’t he do anything right?

⸎⸎⸎⸎⸎

Sehun didn’t sleep a wink. He paced. He cried some more. He asked for a drink. She bought him some beer. He didn’t finish the can.

He didn’t talk much. Reminiscing to her all night his childhood. Telling her stories of happier times and then he’d cry again. It broke her over and over to see him like this. To hear him say he was a failure.

He hadn’t been able to help his younger sister.

“The day I watched my dad give her hand away to him,” he wept, “I should have stopped him. I didn’t even know who Doyoon was. I didn’t even know him. I should have stopped dad that day.”

Tiredly slumping over he rubbed his face with a hand.

Should have’s…

If’s…

The cruel possibilities were an endless list.

Could it have been better this way?

Would it have ended up less bad if that happened instead?

The never knowings hurt more each time.

Sehun wouldn’t eat dinner. She sat with him, watched him disappear from one room to another. Find him sitting at the table, on the couch, on the bed, with Kihoon. He rambled nonstop. She fell asleep and woke up to him gone, like he’d never been there.

She would close the restaurant for the day.

It was dawn. She could no longer sleep. Finding a cold spot by the sliding door that led to the balcony, she sat down, peering outside the quiet city coming to life. The sky was still a hazy dark blue. Smoky clouds slowly floated west. Street lights were yet aglow.

Alone now, Namjoo sobbed by herself. Pulling her knees up to her chest and hugged herself. Combing a hand up her hair.

She hurt everywhere.

For everyone.

For herself.

This was so tiring. Riding this roller coaster again. Sending her uphill and then back down.

Namjoo didn’t want to do it anymore.

Couldn’t everything just shut up and leave her alone? She just wanted to live quietly.

Namjoo in a breath and quickly dried her tears when the door creaked open. Soft footsteps traveled her direction.

“Mommy.” Kihoon called stumbling toward her rubbing his eyes.

“Why? Did you have a bad dream?” Namjoo turned.

Making himself comfy on her lap he leaned into her. Needing to be close to her. Namjoo’s eyes watered up, but she held them at bay and continued to stare at the city lights.

Kihoon rose when the sun finally streaked the sky in a gold color. She watched him run around her living room. Dance with the characters on screen as she prepared breakfast. Where Sehun had gone he wasn’t back yet.

Late morning the front door opened. Sehun appeared haggardly. “You didn’t go to work?”

“I decided to close today.” Namjoo instinctively began setting the table she just cleaned up. “Have you eaten?”

“A bit.” He explained walking over. Pulling a chair out he sunk down. “I went to mom and dad’s. They’re preparing the funeral and casket. I thought I should help them.” he lowered his head. “Mom…she’s really shaken up.”

He was about to tear up again. She hated seeing him so sad.

Sehun was going to need time to heal. Cope. Continue with his life.

Namjoo passed over a glass of water. “Drink something.”

She caught sight of the bruises when he tilted his head back. Shattering inside. Who would put bandages on his wounds if she wasn’t around? Who would he have to rub ointment so he wouldn’t scar?

Yet Sehun couldn’t focus on himself. He wouldn’t be able to properly tend to his family’s needs and grieve if she shared her issues with him.

Relying on him would just complicate everything, and she didn’t need him worrying about why they divorced. His parents needed him more than she did right now. How selfish it’d be for her to hold him back. As if she hadn’t survived six months without him.

“Go home, Sehun.” Namjoo told.

The glass tipped over when he put it back on the table. Having drained its contents, the object rattled before it stopped.

“You should stay with your parents right now,” Namjoo said. “They really need you.”

“I can also stay here.” He weakly tried. There was a slight tremor in his voice.

The sight of his teary eyes made her so sad she couldn’t help but shed several of her own. “I’m telling you; you can’t stay here anymore.”

Namjoo wiped her tears but more splashed down.

“Why?” Sehun cried. “Don’t do this to me.”

“For a bit, Sehun.” Namjoo persuaded. “You just lost your sister. Your parents need you. Until you finish everything, and when you do, come back.”

His heartbroken eyes held hers for her promise. Holding herself together, Namjoo nodded.

She watched Sehun pack up for the second time in her life. Quietly thinking about the short period of time they’d spent together happily. Courageously making the decision to give their relationship another shot.

“I’m going to leave my shirts here,” he gestured to the closet. Using it as an excuse to return someday.

Lingering, he really took his time zipping his duffel bag. Remained standing by the foot of the bed. Not wanting to budge a step away.

Standing in front of the doorway Namjoo watched him stall. Feeling in her heart there was no other choice.

Right now wasn’t a good time for them. Sehun needed to close his own doors and she needed to finally open her own.

His woeful eyes found hers when he turned. Could see he didn’t want to leave. He’d go as far as to break his own leg to stay.

Between them, it was only normal to have regrets blooming. This far and they’d probably planted a full garden.

Finally picking up his bag he walked toward her. Giving her a quick, sturdy hug of silent promises. Without a word he found Kihoon in the living room. Kneeling on the ground with him and hugged him. Saying he’d come back but not specifying when.

Namjoo refused to turn and see him leave, but it took a while for the door to finally open and close. When it did, she covered and cried quietly.

The rest of the day she lounged around. Sitting and when she tired laid down. Switching into jolly mood Namjoo, she playfully teased and ran around with Kihoon. Sinking into bed alongside him that night and spent the rest of the evening listening to how quiet it was.

She reopened the restaurant the following day. Dark panda eyes made her unapproachable. She didn’t speak much to her staffers, but resumed her daily tasks mindfully. Not only was she grouchy, but she snapped back whenever she was talked to. Eunkyung kept her distance. Junhee minded his business and didn’t ask for his smoke breaks. She yelled at Kihoon in front of her customers when he asked for another cake.

“I hate you!” he screamed at her before running into the kitchen to be consoled by the cook, who secretly gave him a cookie.

Huffing, Namjoo scrubbed the table she was cleaning so hard she accidently slammed the back of her hand into the chair as she stumbled. Clutching the injury, she hissed. Shutting up when she recalled seeing Hayoung’s discolored wrist here.

Clamping her eyes shut she sighed.

She was getting too sensitive, because she was stressed. She shouldn’t be venting her anger like this.

Browsing around her restaurant she saw the daily goers. The customers chatting at their tables. Eating the food she had taught Junhee to make. At Eunkyung working behind the counter. Loyally coming in whenever Namjoo needed her.

Life was still constant amid chaos. Who was she to blow up like this when everyone else was trying their best?

When the last customer walked out, Namjoo announced, “I’m closing shop tomorrow, so don’t come in.”

“Again?” Eunkyung asked.

“Take the day off,” Namjoo tried smiling. “Think of it as a one-day vacation.”

“You look tired, boss,” Junhee pointed out. “Has something happened?”

Dividing personal life and work life was important to her, but if she constantly held back her employees would no longer have any relationship with her than people she just paid on a regular basis. She didn’t want to be strangers with the good people who continued to stay around her.

“Sehun’s sister passed away,” Namjoo told.

Eunkyung gasped. “I’m so sorry.”

“I hope everything is ok.” Junhee sympathized.

“Me, too.” Namjoo sullenly added.

The sun hadn’t yet set when Namjoo headed down the road with Kihoon. Driving straight through the green lights she didn’t go home. Heading to a place she’d been trying to avoid ever since she saw Hayoung in the hospital.

Her parents'.

“We no go home?” Kihoon asked when she helped him down from the backseat.

“I have to see grammy first,” Namjoo explained taking his hand.

“And guppy,” he happily said.

“And guppy,” Namjoo smiled. The name of grandpa’s fish Kihoon thought looked like him. So that had become his name.

They road the elevator up together. Her mother answered the door. Cheerily greeting Kihoon. Running pass her he went straight into her father’s arms.

“Why, what are you doing here?” she closed the door. Eyes bright, “Are you hungry? I just put dinner away.”

“No. I’m not hungry.” Namjoo walked into the living room where the television was set onto the news channel.

“Didn’t know you were coming, so we didn’t leave anything for you,” her father greeted. “Honey, put some food out for her.”

“No, dad. I’m not here to eat,” Namjoo took a seat at the edge of the couch.

Straightening in his soft rocking chair, her father pulled his glasses up his face. “Is there something going on?”

Namjoo clung onto her hands between her lap. She turned to her mother sitting in the middle of the couch with her. Focusing solely on her. “You took me to the courthouse to get the divorce papers. Mom,” Namjoo called, “I just want to ask a few questions. Can you please answer me honestly?”

“Namjoo, what are you doing?” Letting go of Kihoon, who was now jumping around by himself, her father tersely stared at her.

“Did you do it for me or you?” Namjoo pushed on.

“What…” her mother gasped, pressing a hand to her chest, “what are you asking? Why are you doing this to me?”

Namjoo released an offended breath. Nodding, saying, “You did it for you.” The dead cauldron started boiling inside her chest. Repeating, “You did it for you.”

“Namjoo!” her father scolded.

“Did you ever see Sehun behind my back?” Namjoo’s brows drew together. Injured, because subconsciously she knew if Sehun’s mother called her out why wouldn’t her mother do the same?

“What has gotten into you?” her father demanded, upset.

Namjoo laughed, but not really. “I thought you never hated him; that it was his parents that were the problem.” She released another laugh, leaned forward and touched a hand to her forehead. Transitioning into a sudden loud cry. Straightening, she stared at her mother, “Why?! What did he do wrong?”

Slapping her thigh, her mother flew to her feet angry. “I did everything for you! How dare you come here and accuse me of nonsense! I looked out for you, because I am your mother! I carried you for nine months. I love you so much that every time I see you cry it rips my heart up. I give and give you all I have, and this is what you do? Think of what I did to raise you, Namjoo! I gave my youth, my life to you. I am your mother! If it’s not me, who will love you the way I do?! Tell me!” She huffed angrily. Shaking her head, she softened her tone. “Sehun? No, Namjoo. He can’t love you. If his family doesn’t respect you, he won’t. To a man, his family is his first. His children. Then his wife. You’ll always be his last.”

Namjoo actually wept.

She thought of his grieving parents. Of his sister. And felt her mother’s words hit home.

Every one of her mother’s factual words hit her through and through.

Then she thought of Hayoung. Holding her hand one last time. To tell her what she’d always wanted. Figuring Namjoo would realize soon enough she’d made the wrong decision and ask Sehun back.

But she hadn’t done it, so in the worst possible of time she was alone again.

her hand on her lap, she looked at her mom. “I know, mom. That you and Sehun’s mom conspired for my divorce. But mom, you’re wrong. I was happier then than I am now.”

Noticing the shift in mood, Kihoon ran over to her. Tearing up. Touching her face to wipe her tears. “Mommy,” he whimpered, “no cry.”

Wrapping her arms around him, Namjoo took a shaky breath. “I can forgive you for everything, but not for what you did to him.”

Taking Kihoon with her she left. Kihoon was crying when she buckled him into his chair. Upset that she was hurt and crying again.

“Shh…don’t cry. Don’t cry,” Namjoo dried his tears with her thumb.

“Mommy cry,” he wailed.

“Don’t cry,” she shushed. “We’ll go home soon.”

Her phone rang but she didn’t pick up. Speeding home with eyes blurred by tears forced her to wipe her vision clear in order to see. Never crying like this before. She’d never felt so broken. Not even when she split from Sehun.

Now it was just all wrong.

She didn’t have the dignity to ask for Sehun back. Because she had been foolish. Because her mother was cruel. Her mother wasn’t who she thought she was. This entire time believing it was Sehun’s mother, but in truth Namjoo had been blinded.

Her phone was still ringing when she reached home.

It was Sehun.

She didn’t answer.

***I hate this chapter....I kept shedding tears every other paragraph. Did I plan to go this hard when I started the story? No.