⸎⸎⸎⸎⸎

“No, that’s unacceptable. Just bring her home,” Sehun’s mother had argued at the meeting.

“That’s right,” his father backed her up, “what will the elders think? It is humiliating for her to live on her own when that child is our son’s. That child belongs to our family. Since it’s happened this way, there’s no other choice but to let her under our roof. Sehun will marry her. The two will take responsibility for what they have done.”

Was Sehun’s parents’ persistent case when their families met for the first time. Not at some special VIP restaurant in a private reserved room paid for specially by his family. No special course meal but they had met at his parents’ place. They refused to meet in public. It was probably embarrassing for them and under their roof perhaps granted them more power to speak volume.

Sehun’s parents would have no other way. It was shameful and damning to their family name if she lived apart from Sehun during her pregnancy until marriage. Regardless whether they accepted her or not, she was already carrying his baby. Her fate was sealed. She belonged to him. His family. The child would make it so.

“It shouldn’t be this way, but it has to be this way,” her mother comforted her hair as they both tried not to shed tears the day she emptied her room to leave.

“I’m sorry.” Namjoo squeaked remorsefully.

“Now that you’re finally going, you have to take care of yourself,” her mother cried. “Always remember to eat and don’t sleep too late. I won’t be the one looking after you anymore. You have to take care of yourself.”

“Be patient,” her father had advised gently squeezing her shoulder before she walked out of her home, “it’ll only be hard now, but it’ll get better.”

Sniffing Namjoo wiped her tears nodding.

“Your mom and dad will always be here for you.” Her father promised. “Don’t forget that.”

Namjoo never forgot their tears the day she left home. The distinct way her heart had shattered as she left her family to walk into another’s.

It had never been comfortable living with Sehun. Namjoo was just a month along when she packed up to live with him. His sister had moved out after getting married, so majority of the second-floor space belonged to them. She moved into Sehun’s room cramming her clothes with his in the drawers and the closet. She had to share his bed and the same view of the stop sign outside his window.

They had been mere strangers. Despite having shared many nights in random motel rooms, that first night they just sat at the foot of his bed. Soaking in reality. The mistake they’d made. Struggling to come to terms with their shame and embarrassment. Figuring who it was harder for.

A good son whose parents blamed him for this. A random girl who wasn’t welcomed, but had to be there.

One day Namjoo heard his parents gossiping, wondering if she was really having Sehun’s child. How hearing that had punched her in the guts, literally.

Until she gave birth to Kihoon and he looked exactly like Sehun. She only cried when her water broke and Sehun drove her to the hospital. She had wanted her mother, but Sehun’s parents didn’t like a daughter-in-law associating with her family because she was already their person. So he had stayed with her in the delivery room holding her hand.

Namjoo remembered these exact things.

Many of it why she would never dare to go back.

High heels, sneakers, or whatnot Namjoo didn’t even know what type of woman Sehun liked. He’d just married her to take responsibility. Namjoo had dealt with that hand life handed her because she had no other choice. For them it had always been one and the same reason.

Their marriage had never meant anything else than taking responsibility.

That’s what her entire life was made up of. Responsibilities. When Namjoo woke up that next morning she realized she hadn’t done her laundry. Left with a limited number of clean clothes she dug through her drawers frustrated. Rummaging through worn t-shirts she still kept just in case. Hands pausing when she recognized a floral pattern she hadn’t seen in a while. Folded and tucked all the way at the bottom.

Dropping from knees onto her bottom Namjoo pulled the maternity dress out. The cloth was creased but otherwise in good condition. Pretty the first time she’d seen it.

The first time she saw it was when she’d been folding laundry – hers and Sehun’s. The responsibility of it hers on days she didn’t go to her part-time jobs. His mother wanted her to do his clothes. Sehun, a career man, so busy at work that she should take care of him. It was her responsibility his mother had chided to make sure he had clean clothes to wear for work. If he didn’t look like a decent man in public she was scolded. Iron his shirts, hang up his pants, always pair up his black socks and if she lost a pair in the washer buy him new ones; don’t you have a lot of money?

“If you’re going to open a restaurant, you should at least do this much,” his mother chanted daily.

Sehun did have a paycheck which he saved monthly. She knew about that, because she’d seen his bankbook by accident once while cleaning.

If whenever she craved for something, she’d get it herself. Sehun was at work. She wouldn’t concern him with her matters. Once in a few weeks he bought her sweets from the store. When her belly got rounder, he came home with a blue shopping bag.

“Why are you doing that?” he had sighed. Grabbing the pile of fresh shirts from her arms and tucking them into the open side drawer.

Noticing the bag hanging off his arm, she asked, “What is that?”

She had expected it to be donuts or maybe angel bread.

“Want to see?” he asked shaking the bag.

Eyeing the bag Namjoo nodded. The inside of salivated. Sehun held out the bag. Taking the offering Namjoo peered inside. Lost. Confused. Reaching inside she pulled out the material that didn’t seem to end.

“It’s a maternity dress,” he shyly said. Awkwardly smiling. “Don’t always wear my clothes. You should wear pretty stuff.”

She had been grateful. Staring at the dress awestricken. Her first gift from him.

“Try it on.” He wheeled her toward the bathroom. Once the door closed and she was alone she had hugged the dress tightly. Giggling happily. Spinning around one too many times when she changed into it.

The memory still tasted sweet to her tongue.

A smile perked her lips upon discovering the fond remnant in her heart.

Putting it back into the drawer Namjoo concealed it with the old t-shirts.

⸎⸎⸎⸎⸎

“Hi,” it was Seol. “I was on an assignment nearby and was hungry. I thought I’d get something on my way back to the office.”

Eunkyung was not in yet. Her shift didn’t start till late noon, so Namjoo was manning the counter. Stuck yet again with Sehun’s coworker.

“Sure,” putting on her most polite face, Namjoo asked, “what’d you like?”

“I’ll try your creamy shrimp alfredo this time.” Seol decided. “I looked online and a lot of people recommended that dish.”

“It seems to be a favorite,” Namjoo said pushing a button. “Do you want something to drink with that?”

“If you have water.”

Namjoo rang up her order, accepted her card, and returned it. She stepped aside to let the next customer make his order. While remaining busy Namjoo tried not to study the woman. Through the corner of her eye Seol clicked through her phone busily. Never minding the curious stares of the male customers stealing glances of her.

How was it, Namjoo wondered, to be admired like that all the time?

“Thanks, Namjoo! I’ll come again.” Seol called out after receiving her order. Waving like they were friends as she turned to leave.

Short skirts, high heels, sneakers.

Did it matter?

It looked like Seol didn’t have to try at all.

She wasn’t even wearing a skirt today, but she was pretty and well dressed. Sophisticated trench coat. Professional chiffon blouse and elegant dark pants to match.

Namjoo didn’t dress up particularly because whatever she wore to work would end up smelling like food by the end of the day. She didn’t go out. Her job didn’t require her to constantly leave the building. She had a child to take care of.

It was pathetic comparing herself to someone very different from her. But Namjoo innately pondered over it.

The thought like an annoying bug that wouldn’t leave her alone the rest of the week.

On Sunday the weekend rush quieted by late afternoon. Many gone home to prepare for the rest of the week. School or work. Everyone having eaten their fill. Eunkyung had signed off from her shift leaving her and Junhee.

At this time the sun was starting to descend leaving a soft orange glow outside her window. The lady across from her was closing up shop. The streets starting to empty. Only her and Junhee’s vehicles were left in the parking lot.

“Not here yet?” Junhee stepped out from the kitchen with jacket slung over his arm.

“Done cleaning?” Namjoo asked.

“Shiny and clean, promise.” He grinned.

“I’m closing up soon.” Namjoo said.

“Should I wait with you?” he wondered.

“It’s fine. Go ahead. They’ll be here soon.” Namjoo promised. “You must be tired. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“All right then. Good night, boss.” He waved.

Namjoo watched his car come to life as she slunk down into a window seat. Left alone at last. The quiet of her restaurant vibrated around her. Her entire life was here. She couldn’t imagine it being anywhere else. Doing something different.

This was her life. She belonged here. She loved it.

Running her hand over the clean table she reminisced the first time she flipped through home style magazines. Imagining this table and that kind of window in her little shop. Creating a perfect style that resonated with her personality. What kind of vibrance she wanted to share. How she wanted to treat the people coming into her space for her foods. Menus crafted uniquely by her.

And she had ended up here.

A rush of wind made her turn. Rising to her feet when she saw Sehun and Kihoon finally.

“You’re a little late,” Namjoo commented walking toward them meeting with them a quarter of the way from the door. Soothingly rubbing Kihoon’s back she asked, “Why’s he asleep already?”

“We were at the playground at the mall.” Sehun explained. “The outdoor playground is still frozen.”

“Mommy…mommy…” her son whimpered upon hearing her voice.

Namjoo reached over for him lifting him out of Sehun’s arms and tucking him against her body, where Kihoon comfortably rested his head on her shoulder, immediately sinking back into his slumber.

She rocked him gently. “It looks like he had fun then.”

“Are you alone?” Sehun glanced around.

“The cook just left,” Namjoo said. “I was just waiting.”

“Sorry,” he apologized. “I’ll make sure to come early next time.”

“It’s fine.”

As they walked out Sehun held his hand out, “Here, I can do it.”

Namjoo glanced at him before forfeiting her keys. “It’s the gold one.”

“I know.” He murmured locking the door. Jiggled the knob for extra measure and handed it back to her.

Sehun walked with her to the car. Waited for her to tuck Kihoon into his booster seat before handing over his diaper bag.

“I bought him some new clothes,” Sehun told.

“Ok.” That, too, Namjoo tucked into the backseat beside their son.

Closing the door Namjoo moved over to the driver’s side. Grasped onto the door handle, pausing, she turned to find him still standing there.

“You can go.”

“I’ll watch you go first.” Sehun offered.

Saying nothing Namjoo reaffirmed her grip on the handle. Something needless hung over her. Turning his way, she saw, again, him watching. Lingering.

“Sehun,” his name shot out from . A second past and she wished she hadn’t. Forced to proceed, she asked, “Are you seeing her?”

“I’m not.”

“Ok.” Pulling the door open at last she glanced at him one last time before slipping inside. Trying not to meet eyes when she reversed passed him. Only allowing herself to keep him in her rearview mirror until she turned down the street and Sehun disappeared.

⸎⸎⸎⸎⸎

Getting into his car Sehun drove home. In utter silence.

Thinking. Wondering.

Maybe he should have asked.

In the middle of that week several days before the exchange with Kihoon,  he’d heard the loud chatter coming from the lounge next to the snack station. He’d been preparing his cheap instant coffee at the counter when he heard them.

“What smells so good?”

“What did you bring?”

“Seol, are you going to share that?”

A nudge on the shoulder and it was Lee Byungwoo again. “I heard Seol came back with food from somewhere. Are you going to ask for a bite? I’m sure she’ll share her fork. Since you know,” the man winked, “you had dinner with her.”

Sehun tried not to glare.

He hadn’t inquired. He wasn’t interested in whether the guys thought he and Seol had slept with each other, which most likely was what everyone assumed. All the single men were currently trying to win her favor. Deducting if they got her to have dinner, she would end up sleeping with them, too. It was only logical that way.

Grabbing his paper cup, he started turning away when he heard the sound of her heels. “Sehun!”

He cursed his luck and turned. “Hey, Seol.”

From behind her Byungwoo snickered. Egging him to get his game on.

“I didn’t see you,” Seol said reaching into the cupboard for some napkins. “Have you eaten?”

Byungwoo’s sly grin grew wider he almost resembled a hyena up to no good.

“I’m not hungry.” He answered.

“I just came back from Lilac Palace, are you sure?” Seol asked.

Crackhead Byungwoo disappeared in that moment. His face probably grew long as he in the sight of Seol, the several men behind her observing them. Calculating whether to back off because Seol had come to talk to him. He, who had had the privilege to dinner with her.

None of them mattered.

“Ok.”

He got a separate fork. A different plastic bowl. The men now gone. Unable to defeat him and probably elsewhere gossiping, because why him?

“I was nearby the restaurant,” Seol explained, “so I thought, why not? It looked like the part-timer wasn’t there, so she was at the counter again.”

But Sehun didn’t really care what she had to say. He never stopped by to eat anymore. The only time he went to the restaurant was when he had to drop Kihoon off, because Namjoo was too busy.

A while it had been that Namjoo didn’t cook for him anymore.

Though she most likely didn’t make this dish, the menu was hers. This was her recipe. He had taste tested it once when they still lived together. His meals had been warm and fresh then. Prepared just for him at home.

The food melted on his tongue. Bringing nostalgic memories to the fore. White snow melting for the flowers to sprout.

“I want to open a restaurant.” Namjoo declared to him the first night she moved in. The first time they just sat together on his bed in his room. “I’m going to open it no matter what your parents say.”

“You can do what you want. I won’t stop you.” Was what he had said. “Go ahead and do it. You don’t have to listen to them.”

Sometimes he came home to Namjoo cutting out pictures from magazines. Telling him she wanted a table like this in the restaurant, this kind of shade for her walls, the floor to look like this, her front counter to be simplistic and welcoming. He was the first person she shared those things with. Sehun had seen the restaurant come to life. Walked into the barren place listening to Namjoo imagine aloud what she desired for her restaurant to become.

In those days he often came home to Namjoo in the kitchen. Their counters cluttered with ingredients. Day and night she smelled like food. Eagerly asking him to take a bite and tell her if her new dish tasted good.

Sehun walked into his quiet home. Leaning against the door. Weak from the memories that had weighed over him the entire week.

Imagining Namjoo in the kitchen in her snuggly yellow apron. Fumbling over the stove, hair knotted back, and turning as he entered. Holding a spatula and urging him to hurry up, she had a new recipe she needed him to taste.

Sehun had intentionally waited it out with Kihoon at the mall. Until it was late enough that he was confident the cook and the part-timer had left. Debating. Had really wanted to ask if Namjoo would make something for him.

***ungh ;;;;