Sehun’s eyes dipped to the table in hopes of avoiding his boss’ curiosity. He could sense Namjoo’s sharpened glare as she excused, “Nothing. Just…bit my cheek.”

“Be careful.” Jineol said. Twisting his wrist, he glanced at his watch, “It’s about time. We should leave. Yena, are you ready?”

“Huh? Oh, yes, of course.” Yena tucked her hair behind her ear. Her eyes slid in his direction but never fully looked at him as she got up to leave with Jineol. Like that he was left with the heat of Namjoo’s ice glazed eyes.

⅏⅏⅏⅏⅏

When they entered the freeway, Yena asked, “Do you think she knows?”

“Who?”

“Namjoo.”

“About what?” Jineol asked; one hand on the wheel, the other clutching hers.

The city landscape flushed past in gas stations, fast food restaurant signs, retail signs hanging off the back of their stores. Yena shifted in her seat.

“Isn’t she suspicious at all?” Yena asked. “I feel like she knows.”

“No way,” Jineol denied scoffing. “My father has never managed to hone the stubborn side of her, so if she had an inkling then Namjoo would be straightforward about it. As far as I know,” he led her hand to his lips, “it’s still you and me.”

Yena blinked. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, baby.” Jineol quickly shot his eyes onto the empty lane before giving her a peck on the cheek. “Don’t worry. After the conference, the entire evening is ours.”

Yena smiled more comfortably. “Say.”

“Hmm?” Jineol raised a brow.

“That new driver,” Yena said, “can I borrow him?” Jineol glanced at her. Nervous tension swept up her spine and she hurriedly explained, “You know my father is in the process of background checking our household employees. Several of them got together to steal the family’s funds, so we’re short staffed.”

“That’s unfortunate. I didn’t know.” Jineol said. “Your mother didn’t say anything the past weekend.”

“That’s because there was no need to.” Yena excused. “Mother just wanted to meet you. So, how about it?”

“Sure, why not. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have much to do,” Jineol gave in then chuckled, “he’s probably sick and tired of Namjoo already. I can’t have him quitting so soon.”

⅏⅏⅏⅏⅏

Namjoo hissed when she stood. Her lower leg felt bruised. Glancing in Sehun’s direction she glared at him.

“You out of your mind?!” she screeched.

He bravely frowned in reply. “You started it. Don’t be such a princess.”

“A what?!” Namjoo spat. The air flew out of her in disbelief at what she was hearing. From him.

“Pretty sure you heard me.” Sehun muttered. Louder, “Forget it. I’m going back to work. Enjoy the rest of your meal.”

He swiveled to go, but Namjoo stomped around the table. Every one of her steps thudded loudly. Sehun was brought to an unwilling stop when Namjoo blocked him. She was hardly face to face with him now that she was in her slippers. He could bulldoze her if he wanted.

He might.

Instead, all Sehun did was stare down at her with a deeper frown. What the hell did she want now? He’d come for lunch like she ordered.

“I hardly made a dent on you,” Namjoo argued, “and you retaliate?”

“Wow,” Sehun tilted his head with a gasp of disbelief. Huffing he glanced at her, “You want to see the product of your doing?”

He drew up his pants to reveal a bruise forming on the center of his lower leg. Namjoo glanced down unimpressed.

Letting go of his pants, Sehun icily questioned, “That was fun for you, wasn’t it?”

Namjoo turned away murmuring, “Doesn’t look like it hurts.”

“What?” he asked unable to believe she was acting this way. God, why was he even standing here arguing it out with her like an idiot. But he couldn’t back down. He was irritated, annoyed, and now his leg hurt from a vibrating bruise.

He was not in the mood to play with her. Whatever she’d intended for lunch, it was over now and he wasn’t interested in finding out.

“I barely used a quarter of my strength in that kick,” Sehun argued, “then let’s compare whose looks worse.”

Namjoo’s jaw dropped. “Are you crazy? Do you remember who you’re talking to?”

“The losing party.” Sehun shot.

Namjoo’s eyes enlarged. Sehun moved on a whim taking advantage of her moment of shock. Since his previous chair was still jutting out, he half pushed her; half shoved her down. Didn’t know why his hands moved before he processed the action to his brain. Pulling the hem of her skirt a way up her legs revealing not a bruise, but an ugly pink scar that disappeared vertically up into her dress. It looked plastic, it looked rubber it, it looked fake. The surrounding skin seemed to sink into it the way the outer edges of a comet crater descended toward ground.

He ended up staring. Dumbfounded.

The remaining dishes on the table clattered when Namjoo pushed him and hurriedly stood, bumping into the table because of the thin gap between them. Her chest bobbed up then deflated then repeated.

“I’m…” he didn’t know what to say, “sorry.”

“Move.” Namjoo coldly demanded.

She rashly bumped into him and disappeared down the hall. Sehun shut his eyes and sighed.

He just ed up.

Meals in this house were cursed.

Turning he left the house. Sped past the yard and slammed the door to the backhouse when he got inside. Annoyingly struggling to undo the button of his shirt at the foot of the bed.

He felt like such an . But he hadn’t started that fight. It wasn’t his fault. It couldn’t be his fault.

Highly irritable, Sehun snatched his clothes and stepped into the bathroom. Shutting himself in as he took a long shower in hopes of clearing his head. But even as the water rained down on him, he remembered Jineol talking about a car crash.

The steam floated out of the bathroom and infiltrated his living space when he stepped out, leaving the door wide open. His hair was still damp when he jumped into bed. Though it was still daylight a nap sounded tempting. Sehun thrashed and kicked the blanket to the edge of the bed. Laying flat on his back he loudly exhaled.

He couldn’t control his train of thoughts being stuck here. Getting up he slipped into his shoes and left the backhouse. The sun was a strong force, hitting him point blink in the eye when he entered the outside. He flinched, blinking. Groaning when he closed the door.

He’d just taken a shower, so getting dirty again didn’t sound attractive. He hadn’t cleaned up after pulling the weeds, so he hoped he wouldn’t get chided for the mess. It was such a pain working here.

If he was supposed to be the driver, why wasn’t he driving Jineol out of the city? Why was Jineol allowed to drive when Namjoo wasn’t given fair rights? It didn’t make sense. The accident wasn’t excuse enough. Considering the other day when she’d tried driving herself, she seemed pretty damn comfortable with it.

Sehun couldn’t understand the Suh family.

It wasn’t really a wonder he’d never be like them. Stopping by the flower bed to stare at the chunks of dirt laying outside the garden he sighed. On a whim he looked up to find the window frames angled out. At the center he found Namjoo looking out. Their eyes caught almost immediately.

She hardly looked happy. Her eyes were just flat and baseless. Devoid of anything. Her hair looked damp like she’d just showered too. She’d probably changed into another one of her flowy ankle-length dresses she always wore.

Namjoo didn’t stay long before turning away and then disappeared from view.

⅏⅏⅏⅏⅏

Laying down with her back to the window, Namjoo slid her hands under the pillow and dug the side of her cheek into the cool cover. She’d showered for a long time. Sometimes a steamy shower made her feel better afterward.

She had touched her leg. Lightly skimming fingers over her injured leg. Once, she took great pride in her legs. Showing them off through shorts and skirts. They were the iest part of her. Until the accident.

The muscles were so torn the doctor didn’t think her leg would make it. She had gone through intensive surgery and months of therapy just to walk and be normal again. But she could no longer wear the fashion statements that made her feel the most beautiful. Even the darkest stockings made her uncomfortable.

Jineol had gotten so impatient with her depression and continuous complaints of phantom pains they became distant during her recovery period. She was fine now. It was better, but he was not the same and she stubbornly still loved him.

At the slightest of throbbing, Namjoo surrendered. She couldn’t hold out. She wouldn’t hold out. What did it matter? Jineol wasn’t home anyway. He wouldn’t be till late.

A reach of her arm into the drawer and Namjoo’s hand tightened around her liberator. Removing the lid of the orange capsule, Namjoo dumped a random amount of pills into her palm, and dunked them into . Clutching the bottle to her s she lay still reminiscing better times as her mind began taking flight.

Namjoo didn’t even know she’d fallen asleep till she woke up to the night sky outside her window. She nearly got up before she recognized the sound of the shower running. A sigh drenched her lips when her head hit the pillow again. Jineol was home. Knowing that was a relief for her.

She lay awake, waiting for her husband to finish washing. She listened to the shower shut off. Next the hair dryer roared, blasting through the silence. Then the door clicked and Jineol stepped out of the adjoining bathroom ruffling hands through his dry hair. Sighing a grunt when he slipped into the spot beside her. Namjoo waited a moment for him to settle comfortably before shifting toward him.

“You’re awake?” Jineol asked. “Did I wake you? Sorry if I was loud.”

“No.” Namjoo replied moving closer so her head could touch his shoulder. She curled up beside him and let their legs brush.

“You were sleeping when I arrived, so I tried being quiet.” Jineol explained.

“I know.” Namjoo replied. “How was work?”

“Same old,” he was short with her, but it was no surprise.

“Come home early sometime,” Namjoo said. “I can wait up for you.”

She didn’t want to worry about another party in their marriage right now. She just wanted to dwell in the moment. Sink in the truth that he was here right now with her. Suh Jineol, her husband.

“Don’t force yourself,” Jineol said. His hand gently caressed the side of her face before stilling as his fingers combed into her hair. “Rest Namjoo, it’s late.”

“Ok.” She said. As the silence unfolded around them, she spent the hour inhaling his scent. Familiar with the bulge of his bicep, the strong width of his shoulders, the firm gentleness radiating from him.

It was only at night when he was hers. When the day started again she’d have to share her man with his coworkers, the men he was associated with, and Park Yena. While she did have him, she would cling on as tightly as possible.

They had breakfast like normal the next morning before Jineol departed for work. He would be late he said, don’t wait up and go to sleep without him. Simply agreeing Namjoo let him go albeit knowing what his schedule entailed already.

Later she would have her wine, a nap maybe, and then wake up for dinner. She never worried about lunch unless it was Jineol returning to have it with her.

Returning to the bedroom Namjoo opened the windows to air out the room. Welcoming the enchanting breeze that swept into her room. Her eyes lowered down to the flower bed. Empty today.

Curiosity made her gaze droll over the patch of yard. Sehun wasn’t visible in her angle of view. Was he skipping out on work?

She scowled then lowered her eyes again. Screaming when a dark brown-black beetle began creeping over her window sill. It had a friend with it, the size of a penny. Screeching, Namjoo lost her balance toppling onto the bed. Kicking and flinging Jineol’s pillow at the window. She missed and the first spotted beetle became a dark spot in the air.

Namjoo howled. Yelping at the top of her lungs. Clambering over the speed of light to the other side of the bed frantically. Suddenly unable to coordinate her thoughts. She hated insects. Even a ladybug bit her once.

She groaned when her elbow hit the vanity. Grabbing the corner of the table she slipped down to the floor clumsily landing on her and pulling the blanket with her. The move propelled her onto her back and she flung both arms in the air to fight off the beetle in case it came near. Scrambling to her feet, Namjoo raced out of the room.

“Where’s the gardener?!” she belted down the hallway. “Miss Han! Miss Han!”

Dashing into the living room, Namjoo ran around into the following sun room. Circling her way back down the hall. Stampeding toward the kitchen continuing to scream, “Miss Han!”

“I’m right here, Madam,” Miss Han scurried around the corner. “What do you need?”

“Where is the gardener?” Namjoo huffed.

“He should be outside.” Namjoo didn’t let her finish before stomping past her. Breezing past the housekeepers busy dusting. Kept walking with business until she was outside and rounding the house in search of said person. She found Sehun all the way around the house unwinding the hose that was hooked up to a faucet spout.

“You!” Namjoo shouted.

Sehun turned startled.

“Why aren’t you doing your job? I didn’t hire you to laze to your heart’s content!” Namjoo scolded.

Straightening, Sehun flatly looked at her unaffected. “I believe it was your husband who hired me.”

Namjoo was about to throw hands. Something about him frustrated her so. The urge to snap back was so strong she barely succumbed to it. Why was he able to influence the change of topic so easily?!

“Come here.” She gritted her teeth. She dragged him by the arm lugging him with her into the house. So impatiently she didn’t let him take his shoes off then down the hall toward the master bedroom she’d left wide open.

Shoving him forward with a, “Get in there.”

Sehun didn’t budge a step into the doorway. “Why?”

“I hired you to get rid of the pests in the yard and you let them get inside,” Namjoo scolded. “Now you go kill them.”

Garnering all her strength with one last heave she finally managed to push him inside, speedily slamming the door shut. 

⅏⅏⅏⅏⅏

Turning around too late Sehun came nose to nose with the door. The madam was nuts. Forced into a corner he turned around. Soaking in the spectacular roomy space that was currently in disarray. His eyes first landed on the open window. The breeze was teasing the curtains, swaying them with each lazy draft.

Sehun couldn’t believe he was in here. Namjoo was probably out of her mind. Probably didn’t even know what she was doing. Forcing him to enter the master bedroom she shared with her husband. He could never understand what went on inside her head.

He was so tired of her abnormal ways. If moodiness could not describe her shift of personalities, he was probably a .

Stepping forward, Sehun picked up the pillow miraculously hanging off the edge of the bed. Smacking his hand against it. He drew up the blanket and easily spotted a beetle crawling around the bed. Scooping it with his hand he walked over to the window to shake it off his palm. Back inside he continued picking up the sprawled blanket.

A black dot hovered over him. Muttering to himself Sehun chased it out of the room with the wave of his arms. Thinking to himself Namjoo would go bat insane if she saw a spider in the room. Who dealt with that mess if it happened? He hoped to God it would not be him.

“Sheesh, woman,” he murmured stepping around the bed to head outside. He prayed Namjoo was not standing guard outside the door and that there were not any more beetles in the room. Who knew what she’d do next?

Out of plain curiosity since he was here anyway, Sehun looked around one more time. Trying to envision himself with this kind of huge space. What things he could fill it up with. So many things came to mind.

A turn of the head and he spotted the vanity where atop it was Namjoo’s feminine collectibles. He spotted a heart shaped bottle of perfume, makeup necessities, cleansers and moisturizers. Moving closer he peered at the drawer that had popped out quarter of the way. Drawn magnetically as if by some force.

Peeking inside he recognized something familiar. His hands did that thing again. Acting before his brain could gain control. Pulling the drawer out just a tiny bit more, Sehun watched an orange bottle roll into the side. The tablets inside rattled. Picking up the bottle he read the label and observed its contents which were more than half gone.

OxyContin.

The date read three days ago when he’d driven Namjoo to the hospital.

***that could be inaccurate, 3-4 days ago? I don't remember oh well but he knows now that she's abusing drugs = OxyContin - painkillers, an opoid prescribed by doctors and easily addictive, they create a feeling of euphoria for some people, which in Namjoo's case does that for her in her miserable life. Obviously, after the accident she went through a roller coaster of emotions and was prescribed painkillers which she got hooked on because of varying reasons: Jineol's change of attitude, her father's bankruptcy, her mother's new cloth boutique, her family coming to Jineol constantly for $$ so his family just really hates her, and she hasn't been able to get pregnant etc

***I tried to show affects of Namjoo being addicted to pain killers: Bloodshot or glazed eyes, Constant or recurring illness, sudden weight changes, Poor hygiene or bad skin, hair, teeth, and nails, sweating, body shaking, or vomiting (physical symptoms associated with withdrawal), speech changes like slurred words, rambling, or fast-talking; Mental health issues: Sudden mood swings, Aggressive or violent behavior, Irritable mood, Depression, Memory loss or problems with recalling information, Apathy, or lack of motivation or care, Suicidal thoughts or self-harm. 

***I chose some symptoms of which she shows (not everyone's the same) so I just picked some to go with the storyline fyi