Exactly after a quarter past midnight the knock on the door disrupted his sleep. Foggy headed, Sehun unlocked the door. A punch swayed his shoulder back.

“You jerk! You jerk! You jerk!” Namjoo madly pounded her tightly wounded fists into his chest.

“Stop it!” he grabbed her wrists to stop her tantrum. His chest throbbed. She was wasn’t strong but her hands were bony and they hurt. “Are you crazy?”

A white shine hung above the house. Everyone should be in bed. Including him. Including her.

“You’re the crazy one!” Namjoo yelled at the top of her lungs shoving him away. “Bring them back into the house!”

His eyes turned hard on her. Very defiantly, he stated, “No.”

Namjoo’s gaze rounded crazily. Grabbing his shirt, she shook him, “Miss Han doesn’t even have the guts to touch my collection!” She shrieked deafening his ears, “You bastard!” the collar of his tee, she attempted to drag him after her, “Go. Bring. Them. Back!”

Snatching her wrist, he easily detained her. “If you’re going to talk, ask nicely.”

She was straining. Struggling very hard. Her jaw tightened. The muscles in her face tensed. Though dark, her eyes were bloodshot. He imagined she must have weaned herself off the Oxycontin while waiting to see if she was pregnant. That must have been a painful three or four weeks for her. Now she was suffering a fast withdrawal.

But Sehun would not give her her booze.

He could accept that almost losing her leg in the car accident sunk her into a gravely dangerous depression. Yet she had boosted herself with a will to keep going after learning about Jineol’s cheating. She had suffered again from the lasting affair and hit again with another round of life’s antics.

What other reason would make her feel worthy of living again?

Sehun let go of her remembering she’d had a needle in her wrist recently. He didn’t want her to bruise.

Swallowing to stay level headed with her he tried again. “Your body is weak. You need to take better care of yourself. Sleep. Eat. Relax.”

Her lower jaw quivered. Madness contorted her face. Her posture was so rigid she might explode. Namjoo’s eyes grew even wider.

Sehun expected her to start screaming in his face, but Namjoo just turned around and bolted toward the manor. Caught off guard he froze. Collecting his wits, he flew after her. He’d seen a collection of butcher knives sitting on the marbled counter during the day. The worst flashed through his head, a frenzied slideshow of blood and death.

Sehun’s legs moved so fast he almost toppled over as he halted in the kitchen. Utensils and cooking tools cluttered the floor as if a robber had recently rummaged through the room. All the cupboards and drawers left open. Several seasoning products safely stayed on the shelves. The salt and pepper shakers hadn’t made it as they lay on their side spilling. Namjoo must have woken after lunch, considering he hadn’t been called for dinner and neither had Jineol come home, craving intensely for her fix. What a panic she’d been in.

Resolute grief flowed down Namjoo’s face, a mix of wrath burning blue in her stricken eyes. She resembled a savage starved for food and on the hunt for a kill, threatening to bare her fangs if he came closer.

In her hands was a white bottle of aspirin. Acetaminophen could be just as dangerous as Oxycontin if abused. It could kill, cause an overdose and lead to death and brain damage when not taken as recommended.

Namjoo looked hell bent on putting the world on fire tonight. Much like her he was also dead set on keeping her from another visit to the ER.

The click of the bottle unlocking sent him crossing the length of the kitchen to her, a turbulent storm powerfully surging through both of them as she screamed and he wrapped his arms around her. Long shaped tablets flew out of the bottle as he clamped a hand around hers, fighting to take it from her.

It slipped from her hand and landed with a hollow sound at their feet. Namjoo howled like a feral animal. Spinning around she clawed at him, scratching his neck before he managed to shake the lights out of her.

“Snap out of it!” he screeched into her face, gripping her shoulders so hard he could dislocate her bones. “Get a grip! Don’t you understand what you’re doing?! You’re killing yourself!”

Hot tears flushed down her face. A high-pitched hiccup violently jerked her head. Struggling to breathe she bawled, “I can’t do this anymore. I just want to die.”

His fingers dug into her shirt then eased. “Not for him. Don’t die for him. If you’re going to die, die for a better cause. Don’t you dare die for him.”

Hanging her head, she shook sobbing with all the strength in her body.

He hesitated. Really hesitated before sliding his arms around her, pulling her against him. Sniffing Namjoo’s head settled into his shoulder. Cries continued to ransack her body as he waited it out with her.

Sehun breathed caught off guard when Namjoo held onto him tightly. Muffling sobs into his shirt, arms linked around his, hands clinging to the back of his shoulder. Like she was trying to seek all the solace possible in his hug.

Strangely it was consoling, but he didn’t expect her grip to be so strong. He continued to hug her anyway. Patiently until she calmed. Crying more quietly now. Still leaning into him. His entire right side was soaked yet Namjoo was warm.

It struck him that he was up all night again. Because of her. For her.

The roof of her head brushed his chin when Namjoo lifted her head. Suddenly he realized he hadn’t thought of this. Panic rustled through him. Sehun awkwardly looked away unable to meet Namjoo and her misty eyes.

When she removed her arms the warmth she had gathered in her clinging hug made him feel cold. Standing just a breadth away Sehun could still sense the heat penetrating from her body, the faint touch of her shoulders inside the width of his arms.

His mouth automatically parted when she inched away, slowly shifted, and walked off. This time he weirdly wished she would have said something.

He went through the mess she’d made and put everything where he hoped wouldn’t be too confusing for the kitchen orderlies. The light of day was already striking the night sky when he completed the chore. Famished, Sehun sunk down at the dining table. Tears welled in his eyes upon a yawn that broke upon footsteps.

Miss Han shuffled into the kitchen, keen eyes sitting on him as she passed. He worried how he’d explain himself. Of course, how strange it was that the driver was inside at the break of dawn.

“Coffee?” Miss Han’s voice spooked him.

She was rummaging through the shelves when he turned. “Oh…yes. That would be nice. Thanks.”

An electric kettle clicked on at the flick of her hand. Without uttering anything she brought over a cup of coffee and a croissant served on a café style circular ceramic plate. After having his morning energizer, he left her to peacefully go about her morning work. On his way out he made a detour to the master bedroom.

The door was unlocked. Probably for Jineol if he was coming home. Instead of backing away, Sehun pushed the door open just the slightest. Leaning around the door he found Namjoo sleeping. Yesterday’s depleted bottle of wine sat on her vanity beside the wine glass.

Hopefully that would be her last.

⅏⅏⅏⅏⅏

At the opening of her eyes Namjoo’s tongue dropped from where it had stuck to the roof of . A hand massaged discovering it was dry and itchy. She was dehydrated. Calling for Miss Han felt like a chore, so Namjoo decided to get up.

Staggering out of the bedroom she used the wall as support on her way through the foyer. The scent of warm food drifted up her nostrils. Steam floated from the large bowl at the center of the table. Smaller plates arranged around it in a thoughtful pattern.

“Good morning, Madam.” Miss Han nodded noticing her.

Namjoo cocked her head at the big bowl of seaweed soup. Usually the main meal for a birthday or a replenishment dish for new mother. In this household they didn’t just eat it on regular occasion.

As if hearing her question through telepathy, Miss Han explained, “The driver insisted on a healthy meal.”

Now she saw clearer. The carefully salted and peppered boiled chicken . Seasoned greens. A mix of rolled eggs. Delicately sautéed vegetables. Tofu. More.

Glancing up at her Namjoo asked, “Where is he?”

“I’m not sure. He was here early this morning.” Miss Han said. “I will bring you a plate.”

A peek into the kitchen and it was orderly. A flood of guilt washed through her. When Miss Han returned Namjoo looked behind her beyond the foyer where the front door was.   

After her meal she went around wondering if Sehun was in the yard. He wasn’t. Naturally Namjoo headed toward the backhouse and knocked on the door. It took a good minute for him to answer. Squinting through narrow lids he blinked sleep away. His hair pointed in different directions.

“You were sleeping.” Namjoo said.

He rubbed an eye as if only waking up at her voice. Dismissing his aloof attitude, Namjoo stared at the scratch mark on his neck. Her hand moved, touching it to confirm she’d really done it and not dreamt it. Sehun abruptly inched back as if she’d electrified him.

“What?” Namjoo blinked.

Covering it with his hand, he muttered, “Nothing.”

“Sorry.” Namjoo said. She didn’t know what to say. Last night was kind of a blur. She felt like she had sleep walked or had some absurd lucid dream. “Go to sleep.”

Several footsteps away, Sehun called, “Namjoo.” He asked when she whirled around, “Should we go on a drive?”

She softly smiled after tracing her eyes over his figure. On his way out Sehun dropped the keys into her hand. Then they were speeding their way down the street, blasting past the landscape. On the far side of the cluster of buildings the river glistened.

Namjoo rolled the windows down all the way. Inhaling the bursts of wind and tasting the thrill today offered. Beside her Sehun sleepily grinned. Half hour after the roads spit them onto the freeway, she side glanced at him to find him asleep.

Hitting a button, the windows rolled back up to block out the rush of wind. For the rest of the time Namjoo quietly drove. Decreasing speed and signaling her way down the ramp back into the city streets.

She didn’t take them back home but to a parking lot facing the river. She pulled out the keys shushing the engine. Leaning back into the chair she closed her eyes. Affirming the peace around her. Feeling the soft beating of her heart inside her chest. The blood flowing through her veins.

Hearing a soulful gasp, she opened her eyes to see Sehun waking up with a stretch. Noticing the sunlight dancing over the waves, he asked, “Oh? Where are we?”

“Let’s get some fresh air.” Shoving the door open Namjoo stepped out. The car tipped further down when Sehun sat next to her on the hood of the car. Reaching into her pocket she held out a juice bottle. He accepted it from her with a small grin.

“You stopped somewhere?” he asked punching the straw through the hole.

“Maybe.” Namjoo said. Clouds hovered over the bay slinking past at the speed of a snail. Nostalgia sunk over her. “Do you believe in God?”

“Huh?” Sehun raised a brow.

“I got married in a church,” Namjoo reminisced, “under the eyes of God. Promising I would fulfill my vows till the end of my life. Sometimes we’re just taught that way, so we grow up having faith in this thing. Devotion, believe; you give your entire life to it, but it’s just silly and ridiculous. God is someone you don’t even see.”

The heartache tugged on her heartstrings. Tilting her head back she closed her eyes as the ache crept up traveling to the backs of her eyes. She dry sobbed and tried not to cry.

“But you do the same thing for love. You spend your entire existence believing in it without truly knowing it’s there.” The heat of the tears stubbornly fought to escape the corner of her eyes. “What an idiot. How stupid it is to cling onto something you never know is there.”

Gritting her jaw, she dropped her head feeling her chest spasm with her emotions. Sadness. Loss. Unwillingness. Anger and disappointment. Anguish. Loneliness.

Sehun patiently waited for the phase to pass. Listening to birds caw, the whoosh of the breeze, and distant voices of late afternoon walkers.

This time he drove them back home. Parting with him in the walkway Namjoo went inside to have a solo lunch. There were many things to think over.

At daybreak the following morning, Namjoo cautiously crept out of bed. Moving as quiet as a mouse in order not to wake Jineol up. She had lay the entire night counting the hours till he returned home. He wouldn’t even wonder what she was up to this morning or worry why she was missing. Glad that he wouldn’t have to sit and share breakfast with her.

The cab she had called for was waiting at the front when she stepped out of the house. The lights still glowed from the manor beneath the faint blue sky. It would be a few hours yet till everyone was up.

Directing the cab to the city hall, Namjoo leaned into the seat and stared at the peeping city skyline. She paid the driver when he dropped her off and climbed the steeps step up the doors. The doors were always open early morning. Clerks and public servants arriving first to prepare for the day’s business. Always busy they were. Namjoo would be joining the line today.

In a very modern set of creamy yellow walls desks lined up at the back wall, each with their own cubby window sectioned off with a piece of wood. Wooden stalls and plastic chairs were scattered around the lobby. Every table available with pens and fill-out sheets to simplify services ranging from a request for name change, marriage registration, address change, social security number issues, housing statements, and more.

Arriving first, Namjoo went right up to a window. Behind it a woman with cat-eye glasses and curly gray hair greeted her. “Yes, honey, what can I do for you?”

Clutching the round handles of her purse, Namjoo bravely said in a clear voice, “I’m here for divorce papers.”

The sky was a clear blue when Namjoo stepped out with a yellow envelope. High above not even a cloud rolled past. As expected not even an entity would show himself true to her. She was on her own.

Climbing down the steps Namjoo walked toward the street and waved for an oncoming taxi. Waiting for Jineol to come home would be a pain in the . She didn’t know when he would be coming home. All she’d gotten from him the past few days were some texts, because of that new project at work.

Marrying into his family she’d learned not to involve herself with his work. This was his career, what would build him up from a normal family man to someone greater. Her purpose in his life was not to interrupt his legacy.

Namjoo stared up at the steel building of tinted glass and revolving doors. A fantastic mega-building of offices in different wings. A cafeteria built on the entire first floor solely for visitors and hardworking employees unable to make a run to a cafeteria. She heard there was a cake boutique included. Wide screen TVs hung from the ceilings for the bored. A view inside from outside showed that no one was watching the screens. Each body too busy on his or her phone.

Namjoo passed through the doors and went straight for the elevators. Jineol had bragged to her at the start of their marriage that he was such an important model employee he’d been given his own office on the twelfth floor. Yena’s uncle had furnished it with high end furniture and a grand black desk. His view of the city was magnificent she should see it someday, but he never brought her to see it.

Today she would.

Flowing out with a crowd of business clad suits Namjoo paused to look around. A semi-circular desk with a metallic sheen topped with a company phone had been crammed into the corner. A young woman in a gray pencil skirt and high ponytail was just sliding into the leather chair. Another young woman approached her and they immediately engaged in a hushed gossip.

If the front desk was shoved into the corner the rest of the floor consisted of cubes. Majority of the desks with its own occupant. The clamor of voices made her ears ring. Even far worse somewhere a phone was ringing nonstop.

It wasn’t difficult to find Jineol’s office. Right past a printer room his name was watermarked on a door. Namjoo didn’t bother knocking. Grabbing the silver door handle, she twisted it open. The sound of a female giggle reached her ears. Not surprisingly. The joy in Jineol’s voice died down when he caught the creeping door.

Pushing the door in all the way, Namjoo lightly pressed her weight into it. Smiling coyly. Jineol leaning against the corner of his desk, a long leg cross over the other forming an “A”. On a visitor chair adjacent was Yena in a dress that ran up her thigh when sitting.

The glossy lips that had been gleefully laughing stretched down. Their wistful eyes landed on her interrogatively. Neither said anything.

Of course, she had stepped into their space. Deviously interrupting them. Jineol’s wife wasn’t supposed to be here, but at home subserviently.

“Namjoo.” Jineol breathed, caught off guard. Worry etched his face as well as his voice.

Yena stood ready to leak an excuse, but Namjoo held her hand palm up to stop her.  “Leave, I want to talk to my husband.”

The other woman had to wait for Jineol to meet her eyes briefly signaling for her to do so. Namjoo’s gaze cut to the corner catching a good whiff of Yena’s expensive perfume. Then the door closed.

Changing his posture, Jineol crossed his arms. “What are you doing here?”

Namjoo held the envelope against his chest when he intimately stepped into her space. Hardening her eyes despite the sweetness in his own.

“What is it?” He had the nerve to smirk, as if she had brought a gift. Taking the envelope, Jineol pulled out the paper inside. His expression flattened quickly. Swinging attention onto her he stuttered, “You can’t…”

“I want a divorce.” Namjoo steadfastly held his eyes.

“Yena and I aren’t…”

“Sign the paper.” Namjoo motionlessly stared him on.

Her husband scoffed disbelief. She had fallen in love with him. Trusting him with the rest of her life. Believing they would share a future together no matter the arguments, the tears, the pain, but they would always twine and return to each other. Like lovers. Like the fate that brought them together.

Their lives connected forever, was supposed to be never ending.

“I don’t want anything from you. I don’t care about your money. What my father owes you, I have some money in my accounts. I will recover the money for you. What little is left, I’ll spend the rest of my life recovering that amount.” Namjoo said. “Sign the paper, Jineol.”