That was not the last of the trip. Namjoo dragged him up the elevator to the hair salon. A show of some membership card and Namjoo was instantly shown a chair despite the long waiting line. Sehun was more phenomenally embarrassed from the condescending stares they received. None of which affected Namjoo.

“It’ll be him today,” Namjoo pointed at him when the stylist stepped aside for her to sit on the black leather chair.

The middle-something-aged woman had her bright red hair simply pinned to the back of her head. Extensive makeup shaded her eyes to match her vivid rose lips. Surprise lit her irises more than her face. Lips rounding into an oval as her eyes swept over him. Overly conscious Sehun tightened his hands on the six or so bags he was carrying.

“Well then,” the stylist breathed. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Leaving him no choice, Sehun set the bags on the floor and sat.

“So, what are we doing today?” the stylist wondered.

Sehun tried not to look at himself in the wide mirror ahead of him. He wasn’t a person to admire himself constantly, so doing it that much today unrattled his nerves.

His eyes landed on the mirror unexpectedly when Namjoo’s hand touched his forehead and brushed up his fringe. Sehun tried to stray from the mirror but the longer he looked the more he saw Namjoo wasn’t really meeting his eyes. She was just looking at his hair, his overall visual.

But he saw her. He felt the warmth of her hand to his forehead.

“Trim his hair. The fringe looks heavy and messy,” Namjoo said. “Use pomade to slick his hair aside. Maybe reveal his forehead? A modest look would be nice.”

“Got it,” the stylist chirped.

The warmth of Namjoo’s hand lingered even after she removed it. Stepping away to sit elsewhere as the stylist hovered around him. Snipping bits and pieces of his hair off. At the end of the extravaganza he looked like one of them Suh people.

It was never what he was going for.

On the drive back, Namjoo never spoke a word. Like the entire trip outside the home exhausted her. A glance into the rearview mirror and he saw Namjoo staring out the window almost sadly. She looked forlorn. The more it registered the harder it became to look.

Veering his attention back to the road he discovered he was incapable of listening to any music in his head.

After parking in the garage Sehun left his seat to open the back door for her. Quietly collecting herself, Namjoo stepped out of the vehicle clutching onto the handle of her bag.

“Thanks,” Sehun said once he closed the door. “The clothes and everything. Even though I don’t really need them.”

“I’m just grateful.” Namjoo said. “I have a cheating husband. His family enjoys bossing me around. My family are s, but I didn’t have to go back home the other night and it felt nice. So I’m just grateful.”

Namjoo held his eyes then turned to head toward the house. Pausing to look over her shoulder, “I spent my money on everything, so make use of them.”

Calling an end to the conversation, Namjoo continued on her way. He was honestly surprised that high-class Namjoo knew how to be thankful. Releasing the trunk, he pulled out the bags and headed home.

Before showering Sehun glanced at himself in the mirror. Angling his head to admire himself. Delicately feeling his hair and admitting he looked pretty suave. Sehun grinned satisfied then started ing his shirt. Briefly stopping when he thought about the way Namjoo had earlier touched him at the outlet.

It had felt strange.

Turning on the shower he hurriedly stripped and washed the pomade out of his hair. Back in his usual garments, jeans and a tee, Sehun made noodles for a late lunch. Then he headed outside for a fresh bout of air and walk off the calories. Crossing the yard, he glanced in the direction of the garage. It was only afternoon, so Jineol’s car was still missing.

He couldn’t imagine living with a cheating spouse. If Namjoo was unhappy why didn’t she just divorce the guy? Were there alimony issues?

Looking at the window above the garden he wondered why didn’t Namjoo just leave?

⅏⅏⅏⅏⅏

Namjoo had been embarrassed when she woke up in the backhouse at the strike of dawn.

Namjoo had been embarrassed when she walked in for breakfast to find Sehun at the table.

Namjoo was even more embarrassed she could feel something for him.

Pity.

That he had to work for their despicable family. And he wore clothes she hadn’t seen…in decades. As if he intentionally wanted to lower himself, stoop to a homeless man’s level. Take away the dirt on his face and the shredded clothes smelling of and piss and Sehun resembled a man who just lost his home a day ago.

But she didn’t totally abhor him.

If Sehun just got released from jail then he was in a worse place than she was. That was kind of comforting.

“Madam,” Miss Han greeted when she spotted her entering.

“Bring me a glass and my bottle of wine.” Namjoo said.

Nodding the woman moved into the kitchen and dug through the cabinets. When she returned as Namjoo settled into a chair, she said, “You left your phone behind, so your father wasn’t able to reach you.”

Helping herself Namjoo generously filled the glass halfway. Gently putting the bottle down Namjoo swirled the purple liquid murmuring, “I left it on purpose.”

“He called the landline to leave a message for you,” Miss Han explained. “He asked you call him back when you return.”

Savoring the wine on her tongue, Namjoo felt her eyes narrow. Ordering, “Bring my phone.”

Nodding Miss Han shuffled away and returned with her mobile. Taking it from her, Namjoo waved her off and began searching for her father’s name. Already the day was taking a darker turn for the worse.

The phone rang before her father picked up in his gruffy voice, “Why, I was waiting hours for you. How have you been?”

“Cut the crap,” Namjoo coldly said. “I told you a hundred times not to pester me nevertheless to call the house.”

“Then you should have picked up!” her father argued agitated.

Rolling her eyes irritated that her point hadn’t gotten across, Namjoo asked, “What this time?”

“The sailing business is going down under. And your mother needs expenses for her new cloth shop. You know how it is.”

A vein in her head throbbed. Namjoo drained the rest of the wine and hurriedly poured herself another. This time, filling the glass to the brim.

“No.” Namjoo refused.

“How can you be so heartless?!” her father scolded. “You rode on my fortune and spent every penny through college. Don’t you forget that.”

Tilting her head back in defiance, Namjoo stared at the empty foyer through pinched eyes. “Dad, I bailed you out when you got scammed by your longtime friend. I did everything to find a lawyer to protect you from a copyright suit. I gave you Jineol’s bank account number and got busted when you took out more than you promised. Don’t you forget that.”

“Well,” he struggled to find footing to retaliate, “of course! I promise I’ll replenish the missing funds. Our son-in-law is so capable I didn’t think it would matter…”

Namjoo’s eyes rolled to the top of her lids. Cutting him off she punched the hang up button and tossed the phone onto the table. It clattered noisily before coming to a complete standstill. Angling her head Namjoo chugged the rest of the wine. Vehemently shoving the chair back, she stomped off to the bedroom as her phone began ringing.

Ignoring it she slammed the door behind her. Immediately walking to the vanity Namjoo yanked the drawer open and pulled the pill bottle out. Shaking out, she didn’t know, how many tablets into her palm and dropped onto the bed.

Her head hurt. The liquid churned in her stomach. Another minute and the room began spinning around her. The creamy white ceiling eroded into fluffy clouds. Namjoo saw laughter before she heard it in her ears. Subconsciously her lips tugged up forming a drunken smile. She giggled, sighing when her eyes closed.

This felt good. The relief that eased everything from her mind. She didn’t have to think. All she had to do was feel the sensations lulling her into rainbows. Somehow feel the sun shining; the path before her glazed prettily. And she was walking into a happier universe. Just walking everything off.

The sky was dark when Namjoo woke up. She’d twisted and turned so much during sleep she had ended up on Jineol’s side of the bed. Face smashed into the sheets belly down. Her neck was sore when she pushed herself up.

The first thing her eyes landed on was the unmoving curtains. Jineol complained every time she opened the windows. Morning, day, night. Spring, summer, fall, winter. Namjoo loved the fresh air. To feel the chill on her skin on wintry days; the sun kissing her cheeks when seasons warmed.

Namjoo loved the earth. Tasting the air on her tongue or with her body was the greatest reminder that she was alive. When the flowers were in full bloom, she could smell the subtle sweetness in the air.

It made her feel free.

Silence swam around her. Not a noise outside, which meant Jineol was not home. Getting up Namjoo unlocked the window lock and pushed the frames out. The first draft hit her full force flinging her hair back. Namjoo blinked as the wind calmed, flowing away from her, and returned sharply.

Breathing the damp air, Namjoo stared out across the yard. Hearing a door open Namjoo walked away from the window. She left the room just in time to see Jineol walking through the door.

“You’re home?” she asked.

“Long day at work,” he tiredly sighed slipping his shoes off. “How was your day?”

Shrugging, she nonchalantly said, “I didn’t do much.”

“Is dinner ready? I’m starving.”

“It’s about time. Let me get your jacket.” Namjoo stepped toward him with arms extended.

When he slipped it to her he said, “Listen, tomorrow I have a board meeting in the next city over, so I’m going to bring Yena over for a quick lunch then be on our way. I’m going to drop her home before I return, so it’ll take me longer to get back.”

“Oh…” Namjoo mustered.

“Will that be ok?” he looked at her after a brief hesitation.

Namjoo’s smile failed before she gathered the strength to pull it back on. “Do whatever you need to.”

But that night as she lay in bed with her husband, she just couldn’t sleep. Flipping onto her side she watched Jineol happily sleep unaware of her.

⅏⅏⅏⅏⅏

Sehun’s knees had been grinding in dirt the entire morning. He was drenched in sweat and sun baked from working the yard. Now tending to the flower garden. Assuring unwanted weeds weren’t regrowing and pests were not eating the flowers. He was in his usual getup. Grimy jeans. Dirt streaked white shirt. It was old and weary, so what would some dirt matter anyway?

He rose his head upon the roar of an engine. Jineol’s car swerved into the curving driveway braking right at the walkway leading to the house. Man stepped out of the car. On the other side a familiar woman climbed out of the passenger’s seat.

Sehun wasn’t aware Jineol had driven himself to work. Considering the fact that Namjoo wasn’t allowed to drive Sehun assumed the same rule applied to the husband. Guess Driver Lim was on vacation today or something.

The couple met at the hood of the car and brushed hands while sharing a mum conversation then Jineol headed first into the house. Maybe to try and clear any misunderstanding that he’d brought the second woman home. Well, not his problem.

Sehun about turned away but it was too late. The other woman had noticed him watching.

Putting on an air of pretension Sehun turned back to the bed of flowers. in a sigh when he sensed the presence nearby. Giving up his almost act, Sehun stood.

The younger woman looked up at him curiously. “You look familiar.”

“I’m the new driver.” Sehun reminded.

“That’s right.” She grinned revealing a pretty row of sparkling white teeth. She could have been a commercial model for toothpaste. “I’m Yena. I work with Jineol, well, you know, your boss.”

If she forgot, Sehun was the one who’d picked them up right out of the hotel. It seemed her memory wasn’t too sharp.

“Nice to meet you.” Sehun offered.

Yena continued smiling prettily. “You have dirt on your arm.” Stepping forward she brushed grains off his arm. “There,” she stepped back, “that’s better.”

“Uh…thanks.”

“So,” Yena began, “how long have you been working here?”

“Over a week.”

“Ah…” she bobbed her head and shyly linked her hands at her back, “I hope you stay long. The previous gardener was older and creepy.”

Sehun offered a smile.

“Are you always busy?” Yena wondered.

“Some.” He remained cad.

“One of these days when I manage to get out of work early,” Yena said, “would you want to meet up with me somewhere?”

“Sorry,” Sehun said, “I don’t babysit.”

Yena’s eyes grew wide surprised then thinned when she realized what he’d just implied. Frowning upset, she pivoted and stomped toward the house.

The sound of a snort swerved him in the opposite direction. Namjoo stepped out from around the corner of the house unable to stifle a laugh.

“You eavesdropped?” Sehun asked. God, couldn’t he just work in peace?

“Trust me, it was unintended.” Namjoo assured though the amusement on her face said otherwise. Sehun tried not to eye roll as he shifted toward the plants. As he began leveling down, Namjoo said, “Come have lunch.”

He froze midway. Unable to help it he glanced at her. For all the times she unwelcomed him at her dining table, today she was inviting him? What was she up to?

“Forget it.” Sehun said.

When his knee touched the grass, Namjoo repeated more adamantly, “I said come.”

Heaving a final sigh, he turned to shoot her a look. “I’m kind of busy here.”

“And change,” Namjoo finished as if he’d given his word. Pivoting to head the way she’d appeared, she said, “Wear the nice clothes I bought you.”

His jaw dropped, speechless. “Dammit!” he hissed when she disappeared around the corner.

Several minutes later Sehun was headed toward the manor. He’d dressed into one of the suits Namjoo bought him, but he felt so foolish he heavily contemplated turning around to not do this. Yet his feet brought him closer to the front door then inside.

The sonata of forks clinking against ceramic immediately rung the air, leading Sehun to the dining room. Today Namjoo and Yena were across from each other. Namjoo was fake smiling so hard Sehun felt he was going to have a heart attack just imagining the raw tension hovering in the air.

Mistress. Husband. Wife.

This was a recipe for chaos.

Why did he have to be here?

Stopping some steps away to announce his presence, Sehun nodded in polite greeting. Noticing, Jineol turned at the unexpected guest. “Oh, Sehun.”

“I invited him.” Namjoo perked up. “Sit.”

Where?

Sighting the coy smile splayed on Namjoo’s lips made his stomach twist and turn. Not next to her or the mistress.

Sehun hated, hated, hated this.

“Why, you look dashing,” Jineol complimented when Sehun resorted to the empty seat beside Yena who eyed him up and down.

“Thank you, sir.” A housekeeper hurried over to give him an empty plate and a set of utensils.

“If I didn’t know, I would have thought he was your brother,” Namjoo added.

Sehun felt sick. She was so full of pretension.

Jineol chuckled. “You hear that? You look so much better dressed like that.”

“Yes.” Sehun nodded. He didn’t think he’d be able to stomach their food.

Yena sat as stiff as a rod beside him.

“How old are you again?” Jineol wondered.

“Twenty-nine.” Sehun answered.

“I thought you’d be closer to Yena’s age,” Jineol said surprised, “but you’re closer to Namjoo’s age.”

He and Namjoo’s gazes flickered toward each other’s. He had assumed she was older considering she was married. Surprise, surprise.

“What a coincidence.” The corner of Namjoo’s mouth drew up. Eyeing Yena coyly, “That makes Yena like a baby and Jineol the oldest at the table.”

The young girl’s gaze flittered up the table to Namjoo.

“Don’t be so crude,” Jineol eased, “being the youngest means she has better opportunities compared to our times. Besides, Yena’s an intelligent woman.”

Sehun didn’t miss the way Namjoo’s smug smile hardened when Jineol grinned at the woman on his left. Yena shyly returned the smile then looked at him discreetly.

He lurched in his seat when Namjoo kicked him under the table. Pain sprang up like wildfire up his leg and he turned to shoot her a glare. Her brow twitched and slightly gestured her head in Yena’s direction.

What the hell did she want?

Annoyed, he kicked back. Startled upon Namjoo’s suddenly cry. Her husband and Yena’s attention shot toward them.

“What’s going on?” Jineol questioned.