“Is she unwell?” Namjoo worried.

Following directions, the man pulled out a plate of pancakes and tucked them into the microwave. Pressing the reheat button he explained as the machine hummed, “It’s cancer. First stage.”

“I’m sorry.” Namjoo apologized.

Dropping his head, the man sadly smiled but offered no exchange. He popped the microwave opened when it beeped and slid over the plate as he took the chair across her.

“Please,” he encouraged, “have some.”

Thinking of the ailing woman’s effort, Namjoo took a napkin from the side and helped herself. The pancake was fluffy. Somewhat sugary. The sweetness dissolved quickly on her tongue.

“Now,” the elder man wondered, “what was his name?”

“Sehun.” Namjoo answered albeit timidly. “It’s Sehun.”

Though she did not know what kind of situation she was in, Namjoo promised she would digest the situation slowly. Piece the puzzle once they finished talking and she heard an explanation.

“Ah…” his tone drew. Patting around his pocket he pulled out an aging brown leather wallet. Its crease heavily blackened. Passing over a business card, he started, “I run an acting academy.”

Namjoo noted the name in big bold lettering. The institute logo. Phone numbers and names below.

Son Chae Ha.

“It’s where newbies start out,” he went on. “Film directors come find us if they need backdrop performers.”

Lifting her head up, Namjoo said, “I don’t get it.”

She wouldn’t get it. Everything in her head was a jumbled mess. A crossword puzzle where the letters weren’t aligning. Even with a college degree Namjoo lost the ability to put two and two together.

“Miss…”

“It just…it just doesn’t make sense.” Namjoo shook her head.

Empathizing, the man quietly watched denial trickle through her. Sending her into a wave of hysteria and disbelief.

“Why?” Namjoo gasped. Gripping the pancake, she shot, “What about the woman you were with? She was your wife…Se…Sehun’s mom…a…and she was married before.” Her eyes widened, carrying a profound hope, “You’re divorced?”

“Miss Eunhae?” he asked. Nodding, “She belongs to the academy. Would you like to speak to her?”

“No,” Namjoo instantly spat.

Offering a comforting smile, the man explained, “About why, I apologize I cannot answer that. The best I can give you, is that I don’t have a son.”

That was a jackhammer blow to her. A stab to the chest.

Namjoo couldn’t grapple onto what she was hearing.

The floor endlessly spun underneath her. A mouth opening up to swallow her and everything she thought she’d had.

She heard her mother mocking her. “And you know him so well.”

I do! her insides screamed.

I do!

I do!

I do!

I do!

Subconsciously dropping the pancake as the chair scraped back, Namjoo rose. The words she’d been saying constantly lately, “I’m sorry,” fell from like a waterfall. Whirling around she snatched her bag and ran out of the house.

Her head spun all the way to her apartment. The entire world a blur of colors. Her mother’s voice chasing her the entire way. Leaving behind her grocery she collapsed on her bed. Crying, she didn’t know why, but she was crying.

Because nothing made sense.

She did not know what was going on.

And that marked the beginning of what she already knew deep inside. That it was the end.

This was the gravest punch to her guts.

A noise sliced through her breakdown. Her phone was ringing. Namjoo covered her ears.

It was Sehun.

She didn’t want to talk to him right now.

It continued ringing incessantly. A fume of anger hitched through her out of the blue. Subdued by rage that she’d been duped, lied to, taken too easily.

Leaning over she picked up her bag from the floor where she’d dropped it earlier. Panting heavily as her insides trembled. She dug through all the items in her purse. Growling angrily when she couldn’t find the damn phone! Turning her purse over she dumped all its contents out and picked up the phone, prepared to scream her head off.

You piece of she was prepared to yell and then plead for Sehun to tell her he’d never lied.

“Hello?” an unfamiliar voice asked. “May I speak to Kim Namjoo please?”

Loose tears dropped from her lids, spurred into confusion. “Yes,” her voice shook and she inhaled to speak more solidly, “this is she.”

“Hi,” the voice chirped, “I’m calling from 8Seconds. We’re currently searching for aspiring designers to put together for a new collab. We’re looking at resumes right now and will be conducting interviews soon. Would you be interested?”

⸔⸕⸔⸕⸔⸕⸔⸕⸔⸕

Tuesday.

Sehun was beyond thrilled to be back. Excited to see Namjoo. Tonight, he had reserved a romantic dinner at a high scale restaurant. Candles, wine, menu of her choice.

Tingles raced through him as he impatiently waited for the elevator to bring him up to her. Then into her arms and they could passionately kiss after hugging enough.

His hands danced over his leg when the doors opened and he stepped out. Namjoo’s door was closed shut but unlocked. She was at her desk. Glued to the computer. He waited at the doorway expecting her to come flying at him. Like she always would.

Namjoo just sat there. No movement. No reaction.

“What?” he called out bedazzled. Stepping toward the desk he reached out to teasingly tap the underside of her chin, “Are you sulking because I was gone so long?”

Namjoo moved away. Coldly telling him off, “Stop.”

Sehun blinked. A tad confused by her icy behavior. Deciding not to let it get to him, he leaned down to kiss her. This time, Namjoo slid back in her chair. Fully dodging.

“What’s wrong?” Sehun asked frowning.

“Leave me alone.” Namjoo glared at him.

Moving around the desk he reached out to touch her. Intending to pull her up and into his arms. Console her. She would sink into him. Say she was just having a bad morning and using her anger on him.

Namjoo really flailed away. Jolting out of her chair so fast that it flew into the wall with a thud. Standing away from him she huffed, avoiding his eyes.

“Namjoo,” he coaxed. “What’s wrong?”

She refused to talk. Standing stiffly. Shoulders taut. Her expression stretched back ferociously. He noticed the flex in her jawline. She was really gritting her teeth.

“You didn’t answer my calls.” Sehun pointed out. He waited for her to explain herself.

Namjoo didn’t.

“Namjoo,” he tried again. “Can you at least look at me?”

No answer. All he received was her stubbornness.

“All right then.” He disappointedly gave up. “I missed you. I thought we could talk and catch up.”

He hoped for her to say she missed him, too.

Nothing.

“I’ll wait for you,” he promised, still hopeful. “Come whenever, ok?” he pleaded, “Ok?”

Namjoo didn’t even look at him when he walked out. Not even when he desperately looked over his shoulder hoping she would.

Retreating to his office, Sehun plopped into his desk chair. Staring at the sitting area where they would always resort to. Eating the snacks she brought up for him. Chatting and sitting closely. Touching and letting their legs brush. Where, sometimes, Namjoo scrolled through the channels searching for something valuable to watch while he worked.

Today he was alone.

Namjoo didn’t want him.

That gave him a horrible feeling. Making him feel undeserving, but he tried not to let his emotions exaggerate. Blow the situation out of proportion.

Stress, he blamed. Namjoo was just stressed.

She would come up at the end of the day and they could spend the rest of the evening together. If they didn’t make it to the dinner…oh well. There was next time.

Hopes high, Sehun went to work. But at the end of the day despite his waiting, Namjoo did not show up.

When he tried calling her that evening, Namjoo merely sent a text that said “Don’t call me. I’m going to sleep.”

It was only 7PM.

The next day when he showed up at her office door, Namjoo immediately picked up her desk phone and called a manager indicating his email for her was missing. The conversation lasted a good three minutes. He was still in the doorway. Grabbing a folder off the side Namjoo brushed past, mumbling, “I’m busy. I don’t have time.” then disappeared down the hallway toward the cubicles.

That day she was absent from the cafeteria. The following day, he found her laughing with some co-workers. So glued to them that he merely watched from the entrance, searching for an opening to slip beside her at their table. But she got up with them. A bird flying with its flock to rid of their trays and pass him by. Vanishing into the elevator still chatting erratically.

Time had finally come. Namjoo was taking flight.

On the third day he resorted to calling a manager. Have him send Namjoo up like the first time.

It hurt being apart from her. It was paining him not being able to understand why she was behaving this way with him.

Sehun needed to know.

He just wanted to talk with her.

What did he do wrong? He didn’t remember upsetting her before leaving town on his business trip.

Upon hearing the door click open, Sehun dropped what he was doing. Eagerly stepping from around his desk he approached her. Intending to squeeze her into his arms, but Namjoo took a half step back. Looking away as she touched her arm with a hand. The vibe he got from her was unwelcoming.

Not his girlfriend.

Not his lover.

Relenting, he dropped his hands. Remaining a width away from her.

That hurt even more.

His heart throbbed.

“What’s wrong?” he softly asked. “Talk to me.”

“I don’t want to talk with you right now.” Namjoo was still peering off into space.

“Why?” he pressed. “Namjoo, please. Tell me, what happened?”

She firmly pressed her lips together. He thought he saw them quiver. He nearly moved into her space to hug her, but Namjoo spun around and hurried out the doors.

What was worse, he felt, about not discovering what was wrong but receiving silence from the person who mattered most.

It easily hit a low point in him.

Namjoo, who he most looked forward to, was leaving him in the dust. Without reason.

It was always like that.

Being unwanted and he didn’t know why, so he’d just stare out the window watching light fade into dark. One day after another.

But for once he had come so far, so he wanted to cling on even more.

Namjoo, sunshine and happiness, all he’d never been. He thought if he could touch it, he could have it in his hands. That he could taste the true meaning of it. So for the first time he thought he could have it forever.

But nothing lasts forever.

He left Namjoo alone. When she had settled, she would call him. Because of that he was never without his phone. An hour stretched into withering minutes. And then late Thursday night the office doors opened. He’d stayed behind. Finding no point in leaving early he had no heart to leave work. Not like there was a reason to hurry home, shower, and then call Namjoo as he relaxed for the night.

He was disappointed. He was sad. He was trying not to mull. They weren’t over yet. Get a grip he had chanted to himself.

Then here was Namjoo. Enlightening him the second she appeared. Phenomenally beautiful. Immediately shooting up to the balls of his feet, he excitedly felt like jumping. Namjoo said nothing. She didn’t smile back.

Struggling not to overexaggerate, he just smiled. Before his eyes drifted to the bag hanging over her shoulder. The white envelope she was grasping between her s.

A gift.

Movie tickets.

A certificate to a restaurant of choice.

A card of apology.

Placing the card at the edge of his desk, Namjoo said, “My letter of resignation.”

The bomb dropped over him. Sehun’s world instantly fell apart. The entire world exploded deafening him.

“What?” dropped from his lips.

Namjoo’s expression was somber. She still didn’t look at him. “I’m quitting.”

“Why?” he asked exasperated. Then louder, “Why are you quitting, Namjoo?!”

A calm child under scrutiny, Namjoo remained the ever-quiet person. “I accepted another job.”

“You have a job here!” he blatantly reminded.

There, again. Namjoo’s lips quivered. That fast drops of tears splashed down from her eyes. “Why did you lie to me?”

His head lifted a fraction. Sehun immediately blurted without thinking, “I didn’t.”

Digging into her purse Namjoo tossed a business card onto his desk. Sehun stared at the familiar name.

“There was no reason,” Namjoo said then yelled, “no reason! You let me make a fool out of myself and you sat back and laughed at me! I looked easy in your eyes, didn’t I?! The new intern in an environment she’s not familiar with. It was easy to pick on me, wasn’t it, Sehun?!”

“No!” he shouted. “It’s not like that, Namjoo. Please, trust me. I was always sincere about you.”

“You were, huh?” Namjoo contradicted, hurt. “But you had all that time to come clean. You didn’t even have to let me meet your parents, so what was the reason.” She waited a beat. When he didn’t answer, she continued, “You don’t have brothers, do you? That was a lie, too, wasn’t it? And your life in the countryside, all bull, right? Everything you told me was made up.”

Sehun stared at her mortified.

“Forget it,” Namjoo waved him off. “I’m done with you. I’m the crazy .”

Sniffing, Namjoo started toward the doors. Spinning into action, Sehun chased after her. Grabbing her arm before she reached her destination out of his life.

“No! Namjoo! Please!” he tried hugging her. Namjoo fought him off. Ending up shoving him away.

“We’re over!” she screamed into his face.

Desperation clawed at him like a monster. The well of darkness was opening back up. Already swallowing him halfway. Dragging him away from the light.

“Don’t leave me,” he cried. Weakly collapsing. He shook. Everything inside him shook. “Namjoo. Please. Don’t leave me.”

He received one final glare before the door slammed in his face. Whirling around with a scream of despair Sehun flung everything off his desk. The computer landed onto the floor with a sickening thud. The screen cracked. The monitor powered off. His papers went flying, curving in the air, floating to a soft landing. Binders slammed down beside tangled phone cords. Everything crashed and burned around him.

***it is coming up: His Story Part I

***this is not a breakup to makeup kind of story guys. I'll be leaning toward regrets&mistakes