Namjoo had a sumptuous dinner than she spent the rest of the night wide awake in bed. Staring up at the ceiling. No thoughts. She should be tired but she wasn’t. Turning she stared at her empty beside.

Should she call Jineol purposely? Just to interrupt him?

On the other hand, Namjoo didn’t even want to waste her energy. So she lay there waiting for the night to wane. Somehow, she fell asleep and when she awoke Jineol was sleeping like a dead log beside her. Namjoo stared at him. Just soaking in the sight of the man that was her husband who’d probably spent the day with his other woman.

Doing the unthinkable Namjoo scooted close to him. Until she could smell the scent of his after wash, feel the warmth of his body. Touching her head to his shoulder as she lay next to him. Next time when she awoke, she was alone in bed.

Aware it was better not to waste time dwelling, Namjoo got up, washed, and pulled out a dress. At the table Jineol had already started eating without her. He was alone today, which was a relief for her. She didn’t want anyone else at her table but her husband.

“You woke up?” Jineol asked when she approached. “Sorry I started without you. Hurry and eat. It’s really good today.”

He smacked his lips and reached for more soup without waiting for her to sit.

“When did you get home?” Namjoo asked.

“I told you I’d be late.” Was all Jineol offered as he hungrily shoved a spoonful into his mouth. “I packed for the trip tomorrow. I won’t be able to eat dinner with you.”

“Where are you going?” Namjoo wondered.

“There’s a conference in Daejeon. It’ll be a long trip, so I’ll be gone during the weekend.” Jineol paused for a sip of water then continued eating without pause. “There’s really a lot to do at the office. A big project is coming up, so I might be spending less time at home.”

Namjoo observed him for lie. She didn’t know about his work but that Jineol worked for his uncle, Yena’s father. The girl was from her mother’s previous marriage and the family’s only successor. Big meaning that anything in the family would be inherited by Miss Yena Park.

Namjoo was just from an upper middle-class aristocrat family, so Yena’s mere presence was a threat to her existence. Namjoo refused to lose the fight.

“You sound busy. Is there anything I can do?” Namjoo asked.

“Don’t worry about me.” Jineol assured. “If you need anything, you have my card. Go to the mall and get some exercise or enjoy yourself. Get a manicure or do some spa treatment.”

“Sure,” Namjoo smiled, “I will.”

Jineol side glanced at her with a firm smile. Saying nothing more he continued shoveling food into his mouth. Like usual he left her to finish.

Namjoo retreated to her room after breakfast. No point being reprieved over Jineol’s perception of her. Go to the mall, get her nails done, get a massage? Like his aunt, his mother, and grandmother and the women who came before? Namjoo didn’t need that. She’d spent her entire youth awning over those luxuries that now she’d aged they no longer held high interest.

Crossing over to the window she unlocked the safety and pushed the frames out. Soft wind collided into her face streaming through her hair. Namjoo stared out at the vast yard then lowered her eyes upon hearing the noise of water. A thick green cord wound around the yard like a snake. Below Sehun gripped the water hose in his hand. A generous spray of water shot out over her flower garden in thousand droplets.

He didn’t notice her watching. It was still a mystery why Jineol hired him. Namjoo didn’t agree that they needed to employ another worker at the house. Maybe her husband wanted to find a substitute to tend the yard since the last one quit. Or maybe, under pressure, Jineol’s father had persuaded him to hire someone to keep an eye on her.

On days Driver Lim left with her husband, Namjoo drove herself around. To the store for liquor. To the doctor for her supplies. Jineol’s old man was prickly and stingy. Namjoo had lost her job at the bank when she married. Unless she worked alongside Jineol to upkeep the family reputation she would have to throw away her degree.

Namjoo was a major in economics. She wasn’t interested in Human Resources and had continued to maintain her stand stubbornly. In the end she was subtracted to a mere housewife while Jineol worked with the mistress.

It should work out perfectly for them, but Namjoo came in line first. If in a fight stubborn Namjoo would never bow down.

Over her dead body.

As if reading her thoughts Sehun suddenly glanced up catching her by the window. The hose continued shooting water straight over her garden, her one place of solace. When she moved here the house was merely surrounded by miles of grass. Not a sight of something to brighten one’s mood. The house just looked sad, sullen, abandoned.

Over the years of her marriage Namjoo had gotten her knees dirty. Digging up the grass. Planting seeds, watering the soil, and constantly waiting for her effort to come to fruition. She had failed on numerous counts and succeeded through many trials. A new beginner she had learned alone, spent the hours while Jineol lived at the office tending and erecting her garden.

That now huge area that weaved around the house was her blood and effort. She had hired a gardener with Jineol’s permission to tend to the garden but that gardener had recently quit.

And now there was a new one.

Their eyes locked. For once Sehun didn’t look apprehensive. Despite that Namjoo couldn’t determine her opinion of him. She only knew Jineol favored him for some unlikely reason, but Namjoo hadn’t hired this gardener. She didn’t know anything about him but that he had come from out of nowhere. And presently he was her driver and gardener.

It irked her.

Namjoo’s gaze transitioned steely before stepping away from the window. Walking out of the room she called out, “Miss Han, I want my wine now.”

One day and the next came. She watched Jineol drag his suitcase out the door after giving her a tiny peck on the cheek. Promising, “I’ll be home soon.”

Namjoo offered her best smile. He probably didn’t know she’d looked up the conference in Daejeon just to confirm there really was a meeting. She’d called the hotel the previous day while he was at work to ensure she hadn’t been fed a lie. Yet it all depended on whether that intern was camping with the group. Hopefully not. Yena was just an intern. Why would she need to attend a conference for the higher ups?

Merely thinking about it brought on a headache. Retreating to her bedroom Namjoo dug out her secret medicated bottle and tossed some pills into . She would rest. She deserved to relax.

Sinking her head into the pillow Namjoo allowed her body to feel light, released of all things toxic, and dozed off.

Come Sunday when she was sleeping midday. Dreaming she was in another dimension. Independent. Proving her worth. “Congratulations. You’ve just been promoted to Planning Manager.”

Then she was bursting through a wall of clouds. The rest of the world inanimated and unimportant around her as she squealed. The fog solidified into a home kitchen with the barest necessities. Bright sunlight drifted in from the side window. A happy home.

This was her home. Jineol stood at the stove, a spatula in hand, a white apron wrapped around his body.

“I just got promoted!!” Namjoo screamed. Running, half jumping into his open arms. Even asleep she could taste the smile on her lips. Then it faded so fast Namjoo’s eyes popped open. Someone was in the room distracting her.

Turning around she glared at the housekeeper, “Madam, your grandmother is here.”

The mean eyes faded astonishingly fast. Namjoo sat up patting her hands over her body. Her clothes shouldn’t be wrinkled. She needed time to fix herself up before she went out to greet Jineol’s grandmother.

“Tell her I was reading and will be out shortly.” Namjoo immediately ordered.

The housekeeper bowed and quickly left the bedroom shutting the door after her. Once she was gone Namjoo climbed off the bed and shuffled through her closet for something pleasant to wear. Her heart stampeded inside her . Her breath quickened, sharpening at each hollow exhale.

Deciding on a modest flowery dress, Namjoo tore off her gown and slipped into it. Grabbing her brush by the vanity she combed her hair in three and shifted toward the door. Pausing first. Giving herself a moment to in a breath and smoothed her hands over her dress. At last grasping the knob she pulled the door open and stepped out.

Jineol’s grandmother was perhaps the most refined woman Namjoo ever met. From head to toe she was always glammed up. Not a strand of hair ever loosened. Those mid-length nails infinitely polished with the clearest shine. Her leather bags always the latest edition. The woman was infinitely modified from late permed hair to straightened to match the trend of times. And the woman never missed a beat on calling Namjoo out for the faintest crease in her clothes.

“Grandmother, hello.” Namjoo gracefully smoothed her steps on the way toward the woman already seated at the dining table. A freshly brewed China tea cup steamed in front of her. Some dark liquid Namjoo never touched.

Releasing an unimpressive snort, the woman muttered, “You should have been at the door the moment I walked in, but, what, you were reading?” At the slightest turn of her head the woman scanned her from head to toe, toe to head. “Dress appropriately next time. Flowers make you look childish. How old are you? You should start wearing solid colors at your age.”

Bowing Namjoo resigned, “Yes, you’re right. I wasn’t thinking, sorry.”

“Are you going to keep standing like you’re one of the housekeepers? Sit down already.” She scolded.

Scurrying by, Namjoo pulled out the chair across from the woman. A housekeeper rushed in to pour her an identical brew.

“What is your father up to these days?” Grandmother Suh asked sipping her tea. She didn’t flinch despite the hot steam flowing up her face.

“I’m not sure. I haven’t talked to them lately.” Namjoo answered.

“Well, call him.” Her tone grew heavy. “He’s your father. You need to make sure he stays in his place. That last scam was embarrassing enough.” The woman turned to the side to spit something out of . Maybe it was just spit to signify her annoyance. She didn’t bother hiding the distaste when she turned to look at her with those crooked, mean eyes. “It cost me over two million dollars right out of my pocket.”

The emphasis of the woman driving the gavel down was harsh and loud, a clear bang in Namjoo’s head.

Grandmother Suh scoffed. Again, without hiding her contempt. “I could hardly say you were still my Jineol’s wife.”

“Grandmother…” Namjoo began startled.

“Have you looked at yourself in the mirror?” Grandmother Suh snapped. “Your hair is limp; your face is gaunt. There is nothing pleasant to look at. Not even makeup will help you now, child. It’s been five years; do I still need to ask about my grandchild? It is detestable that I still have to bring the topic back up!”

Namjoo’s lower jaw trembled. She was really driving the sharp blade into her.

“Your health is nothing now. Nothing can help you.” Grandmother Suh shook her head. The narrow of her eyes full of disappointment, loss of hope.

The echo of anguish ping ponged through Namjoo. “Our times are different, grandmother. It is not always simple for a woman to get pregnant anymore.”

A brow dipped surly, displeased Namjoo had offered an excuse. “It’s a shame, child, that five years was not enough time for you to officially prove the honor of the Suh family. Do you know where my Jineol is?”

Although the woman’s expression entirely showed animosity, Namjoo noticed something coy in her eyes.

She didn’t wait before picking up where she left off, “Well, why would you know anything about your husband?”

“Jineol’s in Daejeon.” Namjoo said.

Grandmother Suh let out a noise in-between a mock and a laugh. Namjoo didn’t know whether to be stunned or bewildered or frightened.

“You are really such a fool,” Grandmother Suh ridiculed. “My Jineol spent his weekend with the Parks. He and Yena are waiting for good news, so when she arrives you will make room for her.”

Namjoo’s gut clenched. A hot flash of tears burned her eyes. Namjoo quickly blinked to keep them back. “W…what?”

“I will send a lawyer and you will sign a paper consolidating your silence about this.” Grandmother Suh laid it out flatly. “The child will be illegitimate, but of true Suh blood. You will be mother in name only. For everything you have failed you will comply.”

Namjoo’s nails dug into her thigh. Drawing up the dress into her fist, she screamed, “Grandmother! You can’t do this!”

The rage shot sky high through her. Droplets splashed down her face. Several more hung off her lower eyelid. Head held high; Grandmother Suh stared her down even from across the table. Those cold, narrow eyes consuming no sympathy. Namjoo gritted her teeth. Biting down so hard her jaws tensed.

As she came unannounced, Grandmother Suh left like a ghost making no noise. Namjoo belted a deafening scream that burned her lungs. Flinging her arms across the table as she stood. The China teacups flew, liquid splashed everywhere before magnificently crashing and shattering on the hardwood floor.

Red streaked her eyes. Phenomenal fury heated through her blinding her sense of control, warping every single rational thought she had. She would trample on everything in her way. She would never lose!

The anger tightened every nerve cell, every inch of her muscles. Her stomach cramped following. Her legs gave out and Namjoo collapsed onto the floor crying, . Gritting her teeth refusing to lose, but her body couldn’t keep up. Pain every emotional sensor. Namjoo hunched up as if becoming tiny would exterminate the extremity of the pain from her stomach.

“Madam!” Miss Han flew into the kitchen. Crouching in front of her, “Madam! Are you all right?”

Namjoo shook incapable of responding. She was pissed. She was in a thousand knots of pain. She wanted to destroy everything!

Rushing away Miss Han’s panicky voice faded. her hands Namjoo struggled against the oncoming wave of her husband’s betrayal mutilating her.

⅏⅏⅏⅏⅏

A weed dangled from his gloved hand when Sehun turned to see a suited driver stepping out of the car to hold the back door open for the approaching woman expensively dressed. Dirt dropped in black-brown grains onto the flower bed unnoticeably. He hadn’t questioned when they arrived. The old woman hadn’t bothered to give him a glance as she marched into the house.

Assuming from the cold vibe Sehun was grateful he had no involvement with their family affairs. He just knelt down to continue his chore when there was another interruption. A voice screaming, “Help! Help! Anybody!”

Lifting his head, he peered in the direction of the house. It was the pear-shaped woman, Miss Han, scrambling out of the house frantically.

What now?

Sehun about leaned toward avoiding the trouble, but he was not a bad person. Heaving a sigh, he pulled his gloves off and stood so he was visible. Immediately spotting him Miss Han ran toward him, pleading, “Please! The Madam! You need to help her! She needs to go to the hospital.”

Sehun frowned. What kind of drastic situation was this? Always the madam creating a ruckus. He was so sick of her.

Because he wasn’t moving fast enough, Miss Han grabbed his arm lugging him into the house. Where on the other side of the dining room table the Madam was crouched; shaking, trembling. Sighing yet again Sehun rounded the furniture toward her. Miss Han hovered behind him anxiously.

“What?” Sehun lowered himself to her level. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”

Tears streaked down Namjoo’s face, but her teeth was so tightly clenched she wasn’t sobbing. Neither was she answering.

“Great,” he mumbled. Slipping his arms around her he pulled her up to her feet. Her legs were so wobbly it was impossible to walk her. Mentally heaving another annoyed sigh, he put his arm underneath her knees and lifted her up. Saying to Miss Han as he rounded the table, “I’ll take her to the hospital.”

Outside, Namjoo’s fist thudded against his chest. “Not the hospital.” She kind of gasped, kind of squeaked. “Anywhere but the hospital.”

She really wasn’t making it easy for him. Damn he didn’t have the keys on him anyway. Sehun headed toward the backhouse.

“I have to grab the keys.” Sehun gently placed her onto the edge of the bed where she could sit while he pulled the keys out of the counter drawer. When he turned around, she had coiled up on the bed. Miserably staining his pillow with her tears.

Just a quick second glance and he had to look away to let her keep some dignity. Keys still in hand he stepped toward the door and closed it. Striding toward the one-man chair by the corner he dropped into it and turned the TV on. Raising the volume to drown out her sobbing.

For two hours he sat bored out of his mind. Flipping through the channels. Thumping his head against the back of the recliner he breathed a heavy sigh. A glance out the window and he saw the sun was starting to dip. Pushing to his feet he shot a look toward the bed where Namjoo had quieted, becoming still. With her back to him he couldn’t tell if she was awake.

Cautiously moving toward the bed, he leaned forward to peek. Her arms were angled up with hands by her face. Her eyes were closed and he heard the soft of her breathing. Sehun eyed the blanket to see her laying on it. No help there. Grabbing the opposite end of the blanket he ended up burrito wrapping her with it then headed toward the wiring device to dim the lights.

It was quiet as hell. He stared at the bed. The figure under the blanket somehow sleeping on the bed that was stiff as a box. Some kind of malice hell the older woman must have given her. Sehun didn’t even want to know what happened.

He jumped upon the knock on the door. Surprised he was getting a visitor. Hurriedly opening the door just slightly, Sehun blocked the view of Namjoo. Certainly, he’d be fired if the madam was discovered in his backhouse. There were so many wrong things about this.

Jineol grinned at him. “Thought you’d be in. I just returned from a weekend trip and was wondering if you’d like to come have dinner?”

Sehun’s eyes dashed to the side. “I’ll skip out. Thanks though.”

“That’s fine.” Jineol easily let him off. “By the way, have you seen my wife? She wasn’t in. Do you know if she may have taken a trip somewhere? You see, my father hates her going out alone.”

“Uh…” Sehun said, “I haven’t seen her.”

“All right then. Rest well. Come have breakfast tomorrow. I’m letting Driver Lim off. I expect you by seven.”

“Yes, sir.” Sehun nodded and waited for Jineol to walk away before closing the door. Glancing over his shoulder his eyes landed on Namjoo.

***I wanted to make this story bam bam bam one thing after another but it is definitely not turning out like that hahahaha