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Namjoo wasn’t outside. The window to the bedroom was closed. Where he always saw her, she wasn’t. This morning he had watched Jineol leave for work like routine. A gallant man glad to spend more than half his day away from home.

Sehun stared at the rose bushes recalling the last time he had stood there, watching her work. Awed that she was preening her garden. In her pretty straw hat, focused and uncaring.

Today he was working alone like he’d continuously been doing since he recorded Yena. How would things have turned out if he’d never committed such an atrocious act?

Namjoo wouldn’t have been meaninglessly pregnant only to lose it that night. Wreak havoc on herself. Attempt to take her life. Gone haywire.

It was by far some of the most painful things he’d seen in his life.

The sound of an engine made him step away from the rose bushes. A cab swiftly rounded the driveway and stopped. Sehun surprisingly watched Namjoo step out. He didn’t know she’d gone out. For air? She should have asked him.

His view jot down to her purse. Thoughts skittered through his head. He had fought with her to stop drinking. Had she gone to refill her meds?

Instead of waiting for her to come over, Sehun crossed the yard in three long strides. “Where did you go?”

“Nowhere.”

His eyes followed the direction the taxi had gone to verify her lie.

“Are you hungry?” Namjoo changed the topic.

He suspiciously eyed her bag. “Yes, I’m hungry.”

Her arms swung at her sides as she headed inside. Tersely frowning, Sehun went in after her. He intended to find out where she’d really gone.

“Do you have any hobbies?” Namjoo asked. “Reading? Cycling? You look like you exercise.”

“Uh…no…” fluttering his eyes he peered at his tennis shoes. “I weightlifted in prison, but that’s all.”

“But you have a TV at the backhouse.” Namjoo peered at him.

“It’s always been there.” Sehun said. Brightening, he suggested, “Let’s go somewhere after eating.”

Namjoo cocked her head, curiously. He didn’t tell her where he was taking her on their envoy. On the way down the streets he watched her intensely lean toward the window to stare at the passing restaurants. Pleased because she seemed so interested. He couldn’t help but smile, because today she was doing better than previously.

“Oh! Ice cream!” Namjoo pressed a finger against the window. Then mulling quietly, “I don’t remember that place.” Swiveling to him, she asked, “Is it new?”

“I don’t know.” He replied. He still hadn’t explored the entire city. He didn’t even have a favorite restaurant yet.

He pulled up to a video and cd shop. Getting out of the vehicle Namjoo stared up at the store name cluelessly. “Here?”

“I drive by sometimes, I wanted to check it out.” Sehun lied. He’d looked it up on the internet on a whim.

A man in a beanie walked out of the store. Noticing Namjoo he held the door open for her. Hurriedly following her inside Sehun looked around. He was taller than all the shelves combined. Dust swirled in the glow of sunlight from the windows. Waving them away he went with Namjoo down the aisles.

The store smelled of musk and old carpeting. They focused on the movies on display flipping over the covers to read the synopsis as they moved along.

“So?” Namjoo asked looking up at him.

“Huh?”

Gesturing to the movies, she said, “Isn’t there something you want to watch?”

“What about you?”

She looked at him funnily. “You’re the one that wanted to come here and you’re asking me?”

Cheekily grinning, he said, “You can have a pick. I’ll get the popcorn.”

“Pop,” she raised a brow, “corn?”

Nervously sliding his eyes to the side, he asked, “Why? You don’t like popcorn?”

Fully grinning, Namjoo said as she walked away, “I do.”

If she was waiting for him to comment on her change of mood, he wasn’t going to, but he did wonder why she was. Medicine? How many had she eaten? He worried.

Namjoo picked out a movie and he grabbed a box of popcorn at the register. By the time they got to the backhouse Namjoo began playing with the DVD player while he popped the popcorn into the microwave.

“How does this work?” he could hear her mumbling. “Oh! I got it! I think it’s starting!”

“Wait! It’s not ready!” he anxiously called out. The countdown of the seconds on the microwave bar took forever. Pressing the button, he tossed the bag from one hand to another as he raced over to the television set.

Namjoo had taken up the recliner but he had dragged in a badly rusted metal chair from the toolshed. Sitting down he pried the bag open and started snacking. Namjoo bumbled with laughter from time to time. Continuously filling with the snack and for once she looked carefree.

Strange to see her this way. Sehun stole a peek of the ginormous grin on her face. None of the heartache apparent there. Just yesterday she had cried. Was this one of her mood swings before she circled back to the beginning?

He hoped not. She looked so good without the stress, the weight of all the turmoil weighing her down.

Namjoo’s fit of laughter tickled his ears again. He couldn’t resist feeling in touch with her emotions. Smiling he turned back to the screen.

At the end of the movie Namjoo got up to stretch. With a pivot she plopped down on his bed. A thick sound emanated from the stiff bed, but she somehow lay there like it was the most comfortable bed ever.

He watched her straightening shocked when she patted his area, “Come lay down.”

“No. It’s ok.” He darted his eyes away. She was still his boss’ wife. He never intended to let her into his space in the first place.

Namjoo breathed a sort of laugh and closed her eyes forgetting him. Conflict crossed his face. On a whim he got to his feet and dropped onto the bed with a boom. Maybe Namjoo would start to understand how abnormal it was and leave.

Contrary to his intention Namjoo didn’t even move, which disturbed him more. Sehun glanced at her finding her content where she lay. Uncertainty and doubt clashed inside him.

Flipping onto his side he mumbled, “Then turn off the lights.”

What if his conviction made her uncomfortable enough to get up? Again, Namjoo didn’t even budge. Bothered he shifted slightly to look at her.

“Don’t you think this is dangerous?” he asked.

He was surprised when Namjoo glanced at him breathing a kind of laugh that made goosebumps rise over his arms.

This was not right.

Swinging back onto his side, Sehun stared at the counter. He listened to Namjoo’s light giggle fade as if she was enjoying herself. Perturbed he refused to speak to her again. He didn’t want to insinuate anything immoral. He stubbornly balked, laying still, having no clue when he drifted off. When his eyes opened again, he was on his back instinctively aware he was not so alone.

The lights were off, but that was not the sign that made him uneasy. Namjoo’s leg was touching his. A skittish breath made his chest jump slightly. He couldn’t stop himself from looking. It was pitch black enough that hardly even the shape of the recliner stood out. Sehun could hear her breathing. Feel the heat radiating off her body. Namjoo was still yet alive and well, and here.

Staring up at the ceiling he couldn’t understand what had led to this. Just earlier in the day he had been afraid for her. He had hoped to cheer her up, but his effort had seemed meaningless. Namjoo seemed happy herself.

Rubbing a hand over his eyes he sighed, but continue to lay there half afraid he’d wake Namjoo if he moved. The other half savoring the comfort of her with him.

He awoke again at the bright of dawn just when the sun began hitting the skyline. Movement had stirred his senses. His sight was bleary at first then focused on the figure at the edge of the bed. He caught the trail of Namjoo’s dress sliding off the foot of the bed. She stood brushing a hand through her hair.

Sehun quietly watched as regret swallowed some part of him when the door opened and she left.

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“You’re back.” Jineol was already up and buttoning a fresh shirt over his body. Namjoo saw a flash of skin before the shirt closed.

When they were newlyweds, she used slide across the room to kiss him during times like these. The sight of his flesh turning her on. Her fingers used to caress his skin. Sneaking inside his shirt to will him to take it off, and he would. They used to have intense, passionate sessions before he left for work.

Suh Jineol had made up her life.

He used to be so happy with her.

Now, Namjoo couldn’t see him in the same light. The same man stood in his place, but he did not feel the same. All this time she had stubbornly hung onto an illusion. Refusing to let it go. Before long ago Jineol had already stopped holding her hand.

Sadness welted in her like a burning blister about to pop and bleed.

“Awake already?” Namjoo asked closing the door and walking inside the master suite.

“Where’ve you been?” Jineol questioned.

“Somewhere.” Namjoo looked elsewhere. Sitting on the bed she stared at the vanity where her precious used to be hidden. “I lost track of time.”

Sliding the walk-in closet open, Namjoo heard the sound of paper crinkling. An item cut through the air and landed on the bed.

“You wanted it.” Jineol coldly said. His eyes sliced through her.

Namjoo lowered her head to see the yellow envelope consisting of the divorce paper. Averting her eyes ahead Namjoo said nothing.

“What?” Jineol frigidly asked. “That’s it? You asked for it and you’re going to say nothing?”

“Well,” she spoke quietly, “you signed it.”

“You wanted it!” Jineol tensed, his voice a growl. “If it’s not embarrassing enough that you went all the way to city hall to pick it up!” ing a finger into his chest he leaned over to scold, “I have a lawyer! You should have gone through him!”

Namjoo turned to sternly stare at him. “Because I didn’t keep it hush-hush like your mother would have wanted?” Raising her voice, “Yes! Yes! I went all the way there! And I tramped into your office! So?! What did I do wrong?”

Straightening, her husband cursed. “What has gotten into you lately? You’re suddenly so conniving.”

Namjoo ignored him.

“Fine.” Jineol huffed. “Take it and turn it in. Good for you.”

Snatching his blazer off the edge of the bed vehemently he stomped out slamming the door behind him. Namjoo glared at the door unable to understand what his fit of rage was about.

Why the hell was he being so complicated?

This was what he always wanted. Now that she had courageously done it, he was fidgeting? Seizing the envelope without a second thought, Namjoo grabbed her purse and strut out of the house, phone to her ear.

At the foot of the courthouse, she hesitated. Eyeballing the humongous granite structure held up by white pillars. The staircase was a half-dozen less than the ones leading up to the city hall. Early in the day the parking lot off to the side was already crammed with cars. A giant stone walkway empty of pedestrians but certainly inside was a different tale to tell.

Pressing her lower lip, Namjoo tightly gripped the envelope in her hand. She needed the papers to be processed by a judge. Jineol wouldn’t be coming with her. To save face. He was embarrassed, but his family would take care of the rest. His attorneys were paid for dirty things like this.

Confidently, Namjoo was acutely aware Jineol’s parents would come after her if she made their baby turn the paper in with her. Namjoo didn’t care. She had already gone all the way. Why look back now?

Deeply inhaling, Namjoo climbed the steps willing herself to brave out the rest. One day when she looked back, this would be just like the blink of the eyes.

The process didn’t even last an hour. As quickly as she had left the house, she was back inside the master bedroom. Feeling suffocated, she unlatched the windows and pushed them open. A whoosh of wind rushed into the room leaving an echo in her ears.

Namjoo peered into the direction of Sehun’s house. Yesterday she had tried telling him she was divorcing Jineol. Thanks for being my driver and going out of your way for me. But she hadn’t. She just hadn’t.

Actually, she had understood yesterday Sehun was a good man. He had been her caretaker. She was embarrassed that he had seen all the ugly sides of her. He had witnessed her fits of weakness, but never said anything so she was beyond grateful.

Really, Namjoo had no idea what was the right thing to say to him. Sorry I gave you such a hard time?

Spinning away from the window Namjoo pushed the worry away. Most likely Sehun would be glad not to deal with her and her troubles anymore. She would think about him later.

Walking over to the closet she slid it open and pulled out her suitcase. She should pack first. It would be smarter to prepare beforehand. When she left, she wouldn’t leave a part of her behind. What was hers she would take. Jineol definitely wouldn’t say anything if she took more than necessary.

After sweating for an hour, Namjoo hadn’t even gone through half her belongings. She would plan for the rest later, but she was hungry. It was time for breakfast anyway. Leaving the bedroom Namjoo walked out into the dining room glad to see food on the table.

“Madam.” Miss Han greeted. “Should I call for the driver?”

“No.” Namjoo said. “I want to eat alone today. I don’t want to be bothered.”

With a nod, the elder woman shuffled away. Sitting down, Namjoo pulled her empty plate closer. Her stomach tightened painfully. She struggled to pick up her utensils and began to eat despite the clawing ache.

It would take a day for the papers to process. She’d been told the Suh family’s attorney was out of the city. By now, the news would have been passed onto Jineol’s family if he hadn’t already shared it himself. She imagined his grandmother was raising her arms to God in joy.

Namjoo returned to the bedroom to continue cleanup. Taking a break during midday to lay on the bed and close her eyes, feel the warm air penetrate the room. It may be the last time she’d be this comfortable. Life was about to take a major turn for her.

Rousing from a short nap, Namjoo realized there was a knock on the door. Miss Han poked her head in. It was time for lunch.

Delicious food awaited her on the table. Steam rolled off the freshly cooked dishes. Namjoo peered at the healthily selected ingredients.

Miss Han explained, “The driver just bought them.” Namjoo couldn’t say she was surprised. As if anticipating, Miss Han continued, “Should I call him?”

“No.” Namjoo said. She glanced from the woman to the food again. Curiously, she pondered, “Why are you so nice to me?”

It was the first time Miss Han sorrowfully looked at her. “Would anyone else have?” She sincerely reminded, “It takes a great amount of strength to be kind, but I see I’m not the only one now.”

A gentle smile elongated on her face as she left Namjoo to stare at the food Sehun had gone out to buy. Once again using his time to do something for her.

That was right. There were too many things she needed to think over. Not only should she be cleaning up her belongings, she should clean up her relations.

Namjoo waited until after dinner when she’d finished sorting through her clothes, took a shower, and dried up. One glance at the time and Jineol wasn’t back yet. Pissed at her maybe. He’d be outside lashing out. Spending the night with Yena to blow off steam. Sounded like him.

Namjoo took the slow walk toward the backhouse. Staring at her beloved flower garden along the way. Sehun would keep it alive after she left. He’d always done a good job so far. With Jineol’s sumptuous pay he would continue to have a good income.

Knocking on the door she waited. A second later the door opened and she heard voices on the TV.

“Oh…uh…hold on.” Sehun started turning to fetch the remote to turn it off.

“No, sorry.” Namjoo began. She just wanted to say bye because starting tomorrow she’d be busy looking for a new place. “I didn’t mean to bother you. Have a good night.”

“Wait,” he hurriedly called when she turned to leave. “You don’t want to come in?”

“I…”

“It’s a new movie.” He prodded.

Namjoo’s eyes danced past him toward the television screen she couldn’t see. Deciding she would be guilty for just leaving she said, “Ok.”

He let her take the recliner and unfolded the metal chair leaning against the wall. As he sat beside her and Namjoo focused on the movie peace fluttered about her. She was glad. His company was always like an air freshener to her.

From the moment she tackled him and he prompted her to start eating lunch. He had had his share of bad luck, but Miss Han was right. It took great strength to be kind to someone like her. She had never done anything for him in return.

“I should get going.” Namjoo said when the movie came to an end.

Getting to her feet she smoothed out her dress. As he walked her to the door Namjoo sought for the things she should say. Spinning around abruptly she nearly collided into him. Namjoo staggered back surprised.

“Sorry.” He apologized scratching the back of his head.

“It’s ok.” She assured. Her eyes dangled over the dark TV set. The small, small backhouse he had made his home. She had ventured here one time too many. Using it as a hideout from Jineol and the painful experiences that had scorched her.

She should say thank you now and go. In a nanosecond Namjoo’s eyes shut and her head bobbed back. Reopening them she stared at Sehun wide-eyed. His mouth parted, shocked with himself.

Namjoo gulped. Suddenly too aware of the thin slice of space between them. Warmth traipsed down her arms and the sweat started boiling neck down. On a whim Namjoo tiptoed and locked her arms around his neck, crushing against his.

Jineol should have loved her. He shouldn’t have let her be lonely. If only he had loved her the same.

*** ;D & onto the 2nd half next chapter!