⅏⅏⅏⅏⅏

He wasn’t invited to breakfast the next morning. He drove the tractor around the lawn to mow the grass keeping his eyes on the house the entire half morning. Jineol’s car remained in the garage. The husband never left the house, so Sehun didn’t go in for lunch with Namjoo.

He keenly kept his eyes on the building even during midday. Part of him unable to help but wonder about what had truly happened afterward. He had assumed Namjoo would come report to him be it good or bad news.

She never came.

The following morning, he wasn’t needed at breakfast either, but when he stepped into the yard Jineol’s car was missing. Sehun made a mental note to ask Namjoo during lunch about what had happened.

Had Jineol fallen for her lie? Had they fought about it?

At noon Namjoo finally left the house. A wide smile stuck to her b face. Today unlike other days, Namjoo had taken the effort to wear makeup. The red on her lips made her look almost seductive.

“You’re dressed up.” Sehun commented when she skipped toward him. And she smelled strongly of perfume.

“It’s ok, right?” Namjoo asked touching her fashionable dress, as if she ever needed him to confirm she was.

He nodded. “It’s pretty.”

She glowed. Smiling harder.

What was she so happy for?

Sehun about asked if there would be lunch, but the roar of a car averted their attention. Jineol’s car skirted around the driveway, parked, and Driver Lim stepped out of the car.

Glancing behind her Namjoo turned to him. “I have to go. I have a date.”

She actually waved before running off like a young girl excited to spend the day with her boyfriend. As the rear door opened, Sehun caught sight of Jineol in the backseat. His mouth split open conveying words beyond his hearing. The door closed cutting them off from sight.

Obviously, things were going well.

Good. Good for her.

It was what she deserved.

Spinning around Sehun ran his eyes over the manor, the extensive yard, the untouched woods spread in the backyard. From the very beginning it should have been like this. He should have never gotten sidetracked.

The following weeks he saw little of Namjoo and started making his own meals at the backhouse during breaks. Resting alone, watching television, bird watching. Nothing too exciting. He was invited for breakfast once and sat there the whole time watching Namjoo speak endearingly to Jineol, brushing lint off his shoulder, scooping food onto his plate. When he was invited over again, he declined.

Namjoo hardly stepped into the yard. On weekends she left the house with Jineol to go shopping, take walks at the park, eat out, always accompanying him somewhere. She was always dressed up. Wearing a fancy hat, a pretty dress, or something.

They looked like a normal married couple.

On days Jineol left for work he’d see Namjoo wandering from window to window staring out at the scenery. If she missed being under the sun, he wondered why she didn’t just come out, but she never did. Sehun never inquired.

Soon he learned why.

“Here.” He straightened from his crouching position where he’d been searching through the flowers for beetles. A bag dangled from Namjoo’s hand. “I went out for donuts this morning. I brought you something.”

Sehun glanced at the cutely paper wrapped treats and accepted the bag. “Thanks.” He had to admit she looked different from the madam before. “You look content. Must be going well.”

Sweet joy radiated off her gigantic smile.

“What?” he asked.

“I’m pregnant.” Namjoo broke the news then giggled.

Suddenly hearing it was daunting. More than he thought it would ever be.

Happily darting her eyes to the side, she quietly said, “Jineol doesn’t know. He’s been dealing with a new project at work, so I can’t tell him yet.”

“Congrats.” Was all he could say.

She deserved this.

He went to the backhouse right after Namjoo left him. Throwing the bag onto the counter where it slid several inches away from him, he leaned against it.

Something bothered him.

This voice at the back of his head, sledge hammering his skull for attention.

Rationally, Namjoo should have a kid. She was Jineol’s wife. They were a married couple. After going through all that, Jineol should start appreciating her.

She was such a sad thing. If a happiness graced her prettily like this then she should always be this way.

But…once a cheater, always a cheater.

Jineol had been seeing Yena so long, would he have given it up so easily like this?

Namjoo’s happiness shouldn’t be momentary. She shouldn’t have to come above water only to be held under again.

Stepping away from the counter, Sehun dropped onto the bed. He shouldn’t care. Shouldn’t bother.

But he was so worried.

⅏⅏⅏⅏⅏

“But have you eaten?” Namjoo held the phone to her ear.

“Secretary Ha brought me something,” Jineol said. “What about you?”

“I did.”

“What did you eat?” he sounded so sweet Namjoo’s insides gleefully tingled.

“The housekeepers made fried chicken and spicy side dishes,” Namjoo grinned. “It was delicious. I wish you would have tasted it, too.”

The low of his laugh made her heart race. “Me, too.”

“Will you be there all night?” Namjoo asked regretfully already aware of his answer.

“I have to be. I’m sorry.”

“No. Work is important. You do what you have to.” Namjoo ensured.

“Thanks. Oh, I have to go. I’ll call you in the morning. Sleep tight.”

Namjoo hung up, wishing she could tell him about the pregnancy but it’d be more meaningful face to face. She wanted to see the delight on his face. Lighting with all the world’s happiness that they were finally going to be parents. So many years of trying and it was finally happening.

Jineol would be tearful. She might cry, but they would be happier than ever. And his love for her would be heavier. They would grow close again and nothing and no one would ever come between them again.

Flicking the lights off Namjoo crept under the blanket and curled up facing Jineol’s empty side of the bed. Smiling very deeply as she closed her eyes.

But she woke after what felt like a whole night of deep sleep. A sharp prick of pain like the faint stab of a kitchen knife slicing across her abdomen. She moaned, curling up. The pain throbbed intensely. All the source of agony deriving from her lower middle.

Namjoo wrapped a hand across herself and touched something hot and gooey. Lifting her hand out from under the covers her entire arm trembled at the sight of thick, slick blood.

Rushing to sit up Namjoo tossed over the covers. The entire area between her legs had turned into a sea of red.

Lips trembling, she screamed and shouted.

No one came.

Hurling off the bed Namjoo touched her abdomen. The blood wouldn’t stop. The warm liquid continued sliding down her legs. Panic engulfed her.

Short of breath, Namjoo ran out hiccupping. She needed to go to the hospital. She needed help.

Someone help!

She dashed down the long, winding corridor. Empty. Abandoned.

Where was everyone when she needed them most?!

Namjoo wanted to scream, but she couldn’t find her voice. The fear was so high she was drowning. Running out into the night without thinking she ran crying toward the backhouse. Pounding and banging erratically on the door.

Gushing with tears she pleaded when the door opened, “Sehun, help me!”

The sleep in his eyes blinked away when he frowned then widened at the amount of blood on her.

⅏⅏⅏⅏⅏

The city flashed past in blurs of colorful orbs. Horns honked as Sehun swerved from lane to lane, punching harder on the accelerator. Namjoo wailed from the backseat he’d tucked her into. A blubbering mess, sobbing so hard it didn’t sound like she was breathing.

“What’s happening to me?” she cried.

“It’s ok. It’ll be ok.” He felt like the most useless , because he didn’t know what else to say.

“I can’t lose the baby.” she hiccupped, her voice jumping a pitch higher.

He anxiously peered into the rearview mirror to see her hugging herself. Sweat or maybe it was the liter of tears drenching her hairline. Clamping her eyes shut, her head bobbing from the hard sobbing.

The brakes screeched and jolted to a stop at the curbing entrance of the ER. Nearly tripping over his feet as he climbed out, he bent into the backseat to help Namjoo out. He ended up carrying her out. Her warm blood oozing into his clothes, onto his arms as he raced inside with her.

A wide-eyed nurse ran out from around the circular reception counter.

His heart kicked, rolled, stampeded. “I think she’s having a miscarriage.”

The nurse latched onto his arm and pulled him down a hallway screaming something incoherent to his ears. Then a gurney appeared. Namjoo clung onto his arm desperately when the aids made him lay her on it.

Her face was streaked with tears. “Can’t you go with me?” she pleaded. “I’m scared.”

The nurses crowded around him. His arm became pinned between their bustling bodies. Their voices colliding and bustling around him while they struggled to contain Namjoo who was freaking out. Bawling, screaming, and yelling.

Her nails dug into his arm. His heart burned tremendously. Suddenly he had no idea what to do.

A doctor came running, his white jacket flailing around his body. The rough of his voice ordered something and finally the wheels of the gurney rolled away forcefully removing the clamp of Namjoo’s hand. He was left to watch the uniforms take her away where her loud crying and shrieks vanished further in the hallway, away from him.

Conflict overwhelmed the passing hour. He spent that time scrubbing her blood off his arms and paced back and forth in the lone yellow hallway. Only one nurse manned the counter. The phone rang a few times in the ghostly place. Footsteps sounded and receded. Each time he lifted his head from where he’d retreated to on one of the several pale blue chairs attached to the wall. It was never a doctor or a nurse.

As much as he wanted to stay, he shouldn’t be here.

Pulling out his phone he sought for Jineol’s name and pressed call. Praying the call would go through. Hoping the husband would come through for the wife who needed him, not the driver assigned to her.

The line rang.

Rang.

Rang.

Endlessly.

Sehun hung up and dropped his head, running pale fingers through his bed hair. He tried again and again relentlessly. Never reaching Jineol.

Hot anger coursed through him.

Gripped by a raging flash Sehun stood impulsively flinging the phone to the floor, screaming, “Bastard!”

The nurse behind the counter jumped as the phone clattered into pieces. Sehun panted, blood rushing.

Clicking footsteps ricocheted off the walls. Sehun didn’t turn until the doctor from earlier approached him.

“Are you her guardian?” the forty something-ish man asked.

Not really, but Sehun nodded. “Yea.”

“I’m sorry,” he sincerely apologized softly, “it is a miscarriage, but the mother is doing well. Her body is too frail and weak. It’s best to make sure she eats nutritiously balanced meals. You can take her home after we process the discharge papers.”

Sehun found his way to the ER wing. Heart monitors beeped simultaneously like calling ghosts around him. Majority of the beds were empty and few occupied with ailing patients. Most of them quietly asleep or just laying silently by themselves. Against the far wall he heard sobbing. Namjoo with knees up to her chin.

He paused. He didn’t want to be the one doing this. He shouldn’t be the one here with her. But he was.

She made a whimpering noise when he approached the bed and cried harder, burying her face into her hands. Sehun seriously didn’t know what to say.

“Let’s go home.” He gently said.

Namjoo surprisingly had the strength to swing her legs over the bed and stand. Bawling viciously, the tears never-ending as she walked with him. This time she didn’t cling onto him, but he stayed close, almost shoulder to shoulder with her, in case she needed support.

Finally, in the barren hallway she crumpled, breaking, her wails echoing off the walls. His heart broke for her. Kneeling down with her he wrapped his arms around her and urged her into the crook of his neck. No word would comfort her now. Nothing he said would be right, so he said nothing. Just cupped the back of her head as he let her weep.

When she cried long enough and they received some curious stares from passing patrons, Sehun lifted her up. He felt Namjoo bury her face into his shoulder as she gave up. The sky was starting to brighten a pale blue bursting with few stars yet. Faint streaks of darkness jut out like spikes above the skyline, but it was dawn already.

“I want to sit in the front.” Namjoo said, her voice weak. The weight of her whole head leaned into his shoulder as the doors opened for them.

Gently releasing her by the passenger door Sehun was cautious to make sure she was on her two feet then opened the door for her. By the time he slid behind the wheel Namjoo had sunken into the chair. Blankly, lifelessly stared out the window.

“Can you drive around for a bit?” the question was inaudible.

He said nothing again. Starting the engine, he slowly drove off. Merely cruising through the streets coming to life. They went around the entire city until the sun came up and Namjoo’s eyes closed. Sehun circled back to the manor, slowing when they reached.

Carefully stepping out he lifted Namjoo out of the passenger seat. Her dead weight making his arms cramp. As if sensing where they were, Namjoo touched his shirt halfway down the walkway. “No. Don’t take me home.”

Sehun stared at the front door she’d left askew.

In the end, he brought her to the backhouse. Namjoo gripped his shirt as he put her on the bed hoping she’d rest, get some sleep, heal.

Her breath quivered making him weak.

Why did she have to be so sad?

“Can’t you stay with me?” Namjoo whined. Her eyes welled with tears. “I don’t want to be alone.”

He touched her hand, prying it off. As her head hit his pillow, he really wished he could have bought a better fluffier one for her comfort. He never bothered, because wasn’t this backhouse supposed to his only?

“I won’t go.” He promised. At least he’d been smart enough to start folding the blanket at the foot of the bed. He pulled it over her now dry bloody gown.

Trusting him, Namjoo curled up toward him and closed her eyes. Sehun sat next to her. He didn’t remember how long but when he woke up some time later, he was laying in her spot. He turned experiencing a near heart attack.

Namjoo hadn’t left. She’d just simply rolled over into his part of the bed deep asleep with her hair sprawled around her face.

He stared then turned up toward the ceiling. Great. What had he done? Covering his eyes with a hand he sighed only to end up drifting off. When he woke up again Namjoo was gone.

Aware it was too late in the day he got up, washed up, and pulled on fresh clothes. Someone was at the car when he walked out, the sun brushing over him. The rear door popped open; a figure bent inside. Sehun stared until he noticed the bucket filled with soapy water next to the car.

Realization dawning over him when Namjoo stretched out of the car donning gloves, a sponge in her hands. She was scrubbing off the blood on the backseat. He didn’t know she could put herself to doing something like that.

But he smiled for some reason.

***when she needed help the most her husband wasn't even there for her ;;;