Slammed with surprising gut-wrenching pain Namjoo clutched her chest. Clenching her teeth to stop the outburst of loud cries but they escaped in waves and waves. Slaughtering her self-control into shreds. Mucus clogged her nose and it ran stupendously. Wiping her nose with an arm she shifted her keys into the engine. Crying frustrated when she couldn’t get the keys in.

Very suddenly it felt like she couldn’t do anything right.

Nothing at all!

Punching the steering wheel upset Namjoo’s chest huffed a shaky inhale. Still wrecked with tears, Namjoo finally started the engine and sped down the road. Her mind a bog as vehicles flashed past in whirls of colors. Beeping, racing ahead of her, and it was like the world continued spinning when hers had abruptly stopped.

It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t right.

Uncontrollable tears blurred her eyes. Hurriedly wiping them away Namjoo sniffed.

At the speed of light, the earth had opened up beneath her feet. The stable ground she thought she’d been standing on had finally caved.

Skipping the rest of work as she retreated home to bandage her heart. She just wanted a safe place to curl up and hide. Pick up the mismanaged pieces of her life and try to sew it back together.

Home was all she could think about.

Not a step in and she saw Sehun everywhere. On her sofa in his t-shirt and sweats.

“You’re home?” A turn of his head, his eyes would land on her, and then ask as he pushed himself up, “Are you hungry?”

Another step in and she could see him in her kitchen rummaging through her fridge. Shuffling over to the cupboards. Pulling out the cutting board, a newly sharpened knife. Neatly laying everything out, so it was handy and easily accessible once he needed it.

“What do you want to eat?” he’d poke his head into the fridge then back out. “Your greens are rotting, Namjoo.”

A guttural cry burst out of . She had taken it for granted. Sehun’s presence in her home. Thinking he had been weak and to let him be, but he had been the one looking after her. It was never the other way around. Namjoo plastered a hand over to keep in the sobs hurling through her helplessly.

Running her eyes over the wiped and empty counters, the dishrack cluttered with dishes after he’d left – her doing. The utensils organized separately into designated drawers that she had messed up when he left. The knives sharpened and put away that were probably dull because she didn’t properly take care of them. The silver sink with a shiny gleam and she could hear Sehun saying, “Clean up after yourself. A clean space is worth spending time in and I know you eat a lot. Bacteria gathers and it can be dangerous if you don’t look after your kitchen.”

To the living room dusted, mopped, swept. The air fresh now spoiled because she’d left a bag of popcorn sitting on her table. The cushions plump and clean because he had flipped them over after using the vacuum’s suction cleaner on them. Every inch of her living space thoroughly managed. “You spend a lot of time here, so look after it. Air the room out and don’t hide garbage under the sofa.”

The bedding had been washed and replaced with another set. The pillow covers a different design than the last. The blanket washed and dried before she even made it home that last cleaning. Meaning Sehun’s scent no longer existed. Her clumps of loose hair on the floor were gone. Several items on her vanity misplaced after cleaning, but as she buried her face desperately into his side of the bed, she could hear him comforting, “Rest well, Namjoo.”

And it felt like he was right there with her.

But he wasn’t.

Curling up, Namjoo hugged the blanket as tears soaked the sheets. Sobbing herself into a desolate state of fitful sleep. Dreaming of that phone call from the hospital again, but this time she hesitated to go. And when Sehun woke up he would be alone. Shedding heartbroken tears behind curtained sheets. Learning for a cruel fact that no one really loved him. She had abandoned him, like the parents who birthed him.

Namjoo woke up groggy headed. Tears burned the back of her eyes. The area next to her face was damp with tears which told her she hadn’t passed out for long. A headache throbbed at the base of her skull, but she didn’t want to get up, look at the time, estimate how long it’d been since Sehun let her go.

The hurt was still fresh. On the verge of breaking down again, Namjoo resigned herself to her pitiful state. Overwhelmingly lethargic Namjoo lay in darkness with just a strip of light sneaking from the hallway into her bedroom. Her chest was sore. The muscles constricting inside delving into the ache like a thumb testing a purple-blue bruise for pain.

Namjoo despised this.

She couldn’t stop thinking of Sehun waking up alone in the middle of the night to go sit and think. Alone. Lock himself in a darkened corner trapped in his own haunting thoughts threatening to pull him under.

So lonely.

Suffering.

How difficult it was for him to battle with the monsters that had never let go of him. She had been here with him and not even her mere presence helped.

Was Sehun alone right now? Was he sad, too?

No, he was sad.

He had always been so sad. Always hidden away from the light he could never find, and to find it on his own he needed a place away from her to heal. This was his self-journey to recovery and she was just a side memory of another arrow in his heart.

She should’ve, would’ve, could’ve. The possibilities rushed through her mind at lightning speed. Of things done differently. Other routes she might have taken that led to other outcomes.

But what was the point?

This was where they had ended up.

This Sehun was also her doing.

Splaying her hand against the bed she wished she wasn’t alone. Dew drops escaped when she squeezed her eyes shut and hugged her knees. When morning rose, she would have to clean up and go to work pretending everything was normal.

That was a measly task compared to Sehun’s years of pretension, and it was her last thought before she shut everything out.

A day passed in a blur. Namjoo couldn’t even remember what she’d done. Who she had spoken to or with. If she had eaten her three meals a day. Then another passed in the blink of an eye. She moved on autopilot. She worked without thinking, but whenever she was alone at home everything hit her like an avalanche without warning.

Standing at the stove with a pan on the stove. Crying incessantly whenever she thought of Sehun in the same spot cooking for her. Sitting at the table by herself with a plate of microwaved food. Nothing she could eat, so she would move to sit in her living room staring at the television. There was no Sehun to lean comfortingly against. Not his strong arm but just a flat couch pillow.

The water would run in the shower as she stood alone. Thinking of the beginning when they had been sweet together. Replaying Jeju in her head. When she first brought him into her home. And laying alone in bed trying not to feel Sehun beside her.

All the memories with him continuously played wherever she went, whatever she did. And every passing day was harder for her to try not calling him. Praying he would pick up and answer.

But it wasn’t she who he needed right now. It was the time alone to pick himself back up; the will he needed to rediscover to continue pressing on. Sehun needed himself more than ever.

On the fifth day, Namjoo gave in to her yearning. Hitting Sehun’s number she anxiously pressed the phone to her ear. The dial tone rang. Rang. Rang. Rang. Rang.

The voicemail answered her. Hanging up, Namjoo tried again in case Sehun was in a meeting and turned his phone off.

Voicemail answered again. Maybe he had taken a trip to the restroom. Namjoo waited half a minute and called again.

Repeatedly calling five minutes later hoping he would pick up. He didn’t.

A wounded soldier Namjoo finally dropped the phone in her fit of desperation. She couldn’t do this. It was too hard. Everything she tried didn’t help.

Staying long hours after work until the sky darkened. Blasting music in her apartment so she couldn’t concentrate on thinking. Plugging in earphones and listening to meditation music as she lay in bed. Binging on fast food to fill in empty spaces of her hours, but she only ended up puking and it made her head spin and feel worse.

In her last plight of desperation, Namjoo nervously visited his workplace. Everything that could go possibly wrong chased itself in her head like a dog his tail. A devil on her shoulder telling her she was just pinning her hopes on nothing. This was going to be a good slap in the face. Visiting an ex who dumped her out of the blue without giving her a head’s up; what kind of man was that? There was never an angel on the other shoulder.

Namjoo forged on. Blending into the crowd in the elevator. Feeling her feet sweat in her ankle socks as she intensely watched the numbers on the elevator screen increase. The box stopped with a gasp on the sixth floor. Swarmed by anxiety Namjoo gripped her fingers tightly in front of her as she stepped out.

Just to talk she repeated mentally to herself. Maybe they could find a solution together; stupid, because Namjoo knew they wouldn’t. At least they could talk. She just wanted to see how he was holding up, that was all. That was it, she promised, she wouldn’t ask for something foolish like for him to take her back.

Namjoo twisted the knob. Locked. She tried again. Again. This time, tugging at the door. It was as good as locked.

Helplessness rushed madly through her. A high-pitched squeal melted in when she realized the door was seriously locked.

Sehun never locked his office! It was always open for her. It was…it was always open…for her. Collapsing against the door, Namjoo heaved a broken cry. Shamelessly sliding down to the ground, she hugged herself. Stubbornly waiting to see if Sehun would open the door.

Minutes stretched thinly into an hour. A sound from down the hallway made her jump up to her feet. Heart racing speedily as she watched for Sehun to appear, fixate his eyes on her. But…it wasn’t Sehun.

“Who are you?” A man donning a cleaning uniform she didn’t recognize approached.

Namjoo’s round eyes settled on the space over his shoulder. Searching for the ex that had given her the let go. She waited quietly as if the air particles would suddenly come together into formation creating an imagery of Sehun.

“Ma’am?”

“The CEO,” Namjoo’s voice dimmed, “where is he?”

“I’m not sure.” The man replied. He gestured toward the door, “Do you mind?”

Skidding aside Namjoo watched him unlock the office door. Taking the opportunity to peek through the slit. She spotted Sehun’s desk. The leather chair empty. She was unable to scan any further space by the time the door closed in her face.

Disappointed, Namjoo took the elevator down. Continuously peering over her shoulder in case Sehun did somehow pop up behind her.

He never did.

Thoroughly damaging herself, Namjoo retreated home.

She missed Sehun.

It was never supposed to be this hard.

Burying herself immediately under the security of the blanket, Namjoo fought against the onslaught of a heartbreak. That this was real.

She and Sehun had ended.

This was really it.

Then like that, a long month trickled past. Life teasing her as the work supervisors began noticing her designs. Praising her when her first product came into the life of a flaring dress. The material eloquently sewn in places to highlight a woman’s curves. Gems delicately shining from the laced sleeves.

Namjoo celebrated the end of the month with wine and chocolate and expensive dinners. Her boss even gifted her a bouquet of roses, which she gladly accepted. But on the long drive home the flowers sitting in the passenger’s seat elicited other unwanted memories of flowers.

As if reaching through the fog in her mind, it came charging at her. The first time she began receiving flowers from a miscellaneous admirer. The sadness that fell on her like the thin drape of a waterfall mangled her joyful evening.

When she arrived home Namjoo sat for a long three minutes in her car. Merely staring out at the awakened nightly universe. The lights spinning around her. Laughter and chatter resonating from down the street near downtown entertainment. Turning Namjoo stared at the alluring and also haunting bouquet of roses.

It was a gift. It should be a good memory, but other memories clogged her head. Snatching the flowers in the end, Namjoo climbed out of her car. Shutting her door, she crossed the length to her apartment building. Near the front doors a trashcan peeked out at her. Chances playing with her. Dump the flowers a voice chanted. Once they were inside her apartment, she would start have to withdrawals again.

Ignoring the urge, Namjoo stepped toward the elevator. She would be mature about this. She wouldn’t let some long-ago emotions claw at her. She waited while the emotions incessantly tugged at her. Sighing with relief when the elevator doors hissed open. Immediately punching the button for her floor, she waited for the doors to envelope her, and then on a moment’s whim she moved driven by panic. Scurrying down the hall she dumped the flowers upside down in the trashcan.

Inside the elevator her heart pounded inside her ears as if she’d done something horrible. Stiffly walking out onto her floor, she promised herself a beer before bed and a really long shower. She was exhausted by the long night of celebration, which may have led to her moment of hysteria.

That was it. She was tired. Namjoo rubbed her forehead, but felt her heart skip dangerously when she lifted her head and spotted a pair of legs in front of her door.

First thought, Sehun.

Fully looking up she heard the noisy call of her brother. “Namjoo! What took you so long! I have to pee!”

Once inside the sanctity of her apartment, Namjoo put the kettle on the stove. Hearing Kiwan flush the toilet when she pulled down a couple of mugs from the cupboard.

“What are you making?” her brother asked.

“Green tea. I need to relax.” Namjoo answered. “What are you doing here?”

Leaning against the counter facing her, Kiwan announced, “I got you a date.”

Namjoo flashed him a look. “What date.”

“Spice it up a little,” Kiwan handed her a note. “He’s a business guy.” A wink, “He’s Minjoon’s coworker’s younger brother. Try him.”

“I’m busy.” Namjoo turned away.

“Stop pretending you’re busy. You just got home.” Kiwan shoved the paper into her hands. “I have to get home. I have a date tonight, but go. Ok?”

“Now?” she asked.

“Now.” He pushed her. “Hurry.”

Sighing, Namjoo turned the stove off. Kiwan pushed her out the door and waved to her from the sidewalk calling out, “Good luck! Get laid!” Rolling her eyes, Namjoo drove toward a high-rise restaurant in the center of the city. Romance bloomed around her when she arrived on the fifth-floor restaurant. The generous view outside the wall-to-ceiling windows gave her chills. Directly on the other side skyscrapers needled into the star littered skies.

It wasn’t hard to place her date of the night. Fresh in a clad black business suit, he was the only solo occupant at a rectangular table. Namjoo sat with him sharing a meal of forty-dollar steak and a glass of wine, but she was already clearly done from her earlier drinks. As his voice rambled without reaching her ears, Namjoo stared at the busy world below. Shadowed bodies filling the colorful streets of some festival. The beautiful lights of orange and yellows lining the darkened roads.

Not before long the date had left and she was alone. Mulling in her own sorrow. Some weird state of self-pity. Why be lonely when she’d just debuted as a designer?

“We’re closing ma’am.” A waiter walked up to her.

Realizing everyone had left, Namjoo grabbed her bag and wandered toward the streets. The noise of life far more attractive than her quiet apartment, where she would be locked in by herself. Thinking about the flowers in the trash. How they made her think of Sehun.

She didn’t want to be sad on a happy night.

Chirpy chatter resonated around her as she mixed in the casually dressed crowds in her business blouse and slacks. The scent of roasted foods touched her nostrils, but it didn’t make her stomach growl. Blindly walking away from the chain of foods Namjoo searched the crowd. A yard ahead of her a roadside musician was screaming into a microphone encouraging the crowd to cheer for him, maybe drop in some change into his guitar case on the ground.

Yellow lanterns burned around her. Namjoo spun a short circle when her eyes passed over the heads of young men and women. Catching a familiar shape from between the gap of their shoulders. Her heart lurched.

“Hey, lady!” a voice scolded when she pushed her way through.

Breath rising, Namjoo increased her pace. Moving backwards through the flowing crowd. Unable to focus on the rising voices Namjoo panted, heart accelerating. Anxiously searching the crowd for the familiar figure. Desperation from six glasses of wine making the world spin.

Namjoo made it all the way back to the way she came from, but nothing. At the festival entrance, Namjoo heaved a gasp damning herself.

She had promised she wouldn’t.

She was supposed to be getting better.

It had been a month without him already.

It still wasn’t supposed to hurt this deeply. She wasn’t supposed to feel so intensely.

Dew threatened to reach the corner of her eyes. It was the wine she’d had since early evening. Leaning against the railing that kept the crowd secure from the street, Namjoo dropped her head. What was wrong with her? She would calm down then find her car and go home.

Easing her breathing, Namjoo stared at the concrete. Counting down from ten. At one she began raising her head. From then on everything seemed to move in slow motion. The restless street noise of night life coming to a cease when she spotted a pair of black shoes.

Her heart thumped into her chest. Lifting her head a bit higher. Spotting dark black business pants. A way up and she saw long legs. Finally, straight up and her façade crumbled when she saw Sehun in front of her. Cupping a hand to , Namjoo burst into tears.

***And she realizes, she cares more than she thought she ever did. 

***She was mature about the breakup, which she never saw coming which serves as reason why she hurts twice more. Namjoo was never prepared for Sehun to pull that move on her. She never saw it coming. Remember, she thought they were normal again, that everything was starting to be good between them. But that's where it gets difficult. Sehun's still depressed. He's still not wholly himself after overdosing. He knows relying on Namjoo was neither healthy for him nor her and being constantly dependent on her would only hurt them in the long run, so he let go for himself and for her.  But sometimes time isn't the problem solver

***A chapter left maybe...