a storm.
PrefaceA bar fight broke out after some unnecessary comments made towards Sehun, who always had a hard time suppressing his anger. By the end of the night, he was released once both parties settled. Coming home to his wife with the cuts and bruises on his face, may not have been the best idea. Haemi responded to his antics by taking a deep breath, she was too speechless to react accordingly at the moment.
“What happened?” her stern voice kept Sehun on his toes. His wife dabbed ointment over the cuts, the harsh application indicated her growing anger and worries.
“I..fell,” he lied, a small pause in his voice. Haemi can always detect his lies, but she reframed from pushing any further. Rather than forcing him to tell her the truth, she wanted to focus on understanding his reasons for lying in the first place. Because deep down, she would also want someone to understand her reasons as well.
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Typhoon season always hit the hardest during mid Spring, as evident by the consecutive showers. Taking this as an opportunity to work on his novel, Sehun managed to get more done in the past two days than he did in a month. For a miraculous reason, Sehun’s creativity flourishes during this type of weather condition. After those dire hours on his laptop and endless amount of energy drinks, Sehun had successfully finished writing the most time-consuming scene in his novel. He just needed his draft to be sent in, but with everything that went down the other day, he felt somewhat disinclined to contact his editor. Eventually, he resorted to calling her boss, since the man does have a soft spot for him.
“I’d like to have my draft reviewed as soon as possible,” he informed the man over a phone call. The other end of the line became quiet for a good minute before he received a reply. The moment when the man started with an apology, an ominous feeling hit him.
“Sir, your editor is currently on sick leave so the drafts may take a bit longer than usual,” he revealed. The unexpected ambush caused Haemi to put in her sick days in order to recover from the injuries inflicted by her mother. She mainly did not want questions to be asked at work about the wounds on her face. Plus, a short break from life sounded tempting from all the craziness she experienced this month.
Without pressing at the subject, Sehun asked for a favor instead. Nearly minutes after the call ended, the writer grabbed his keys to head out for the night. Ignoring the fact that Bohyun had just arrived at his place, the confused manager got kicked out before he could even take off his coat. And knowing Sehun, his whereabouts were always kept secretive at all times.
Sehun pulled into an apartment building with black clouds sprawled across the sky, a sign for the approaching storm ahead. He dismissed the bad weather, checking the address once more before getting out of his car. Making his way up to the second floor on foot, the writer closely scanned each room number to find the exact match sent by Haemi’s boss. Stopping just in front of room 250, Sehun held himself back from ringing the doorbell for multiple reasons. First and foremost, what even went through his head when he decided to ask for his editor’s address. Second, how much trust does her director have in Sehun, for him to easily give out an employee’s personal information. These were just the few cluster of thoughts running through him as the timid writer continued to debate his ethics outside of her home. By the time he was ready to let loose, the door flung open by itself— behind it, his editor in her sleepwear and a bag of trash in her hand.
“Hey,“ he quickly saved the mild shock shown on his face. And as their eyes met again, Sehun immediately took notice of the purple welts, scattered across her face. They looked slightly faded now, but from the amount built up, he wondered how bad they were a few days ago. She caught on to his speedy observation, her feet now retreating on instinct. His narrowed eyes daunted her, causing the girl to react in panic as she tried to slam her door shut. Right before it closes, Sehun stuck his hand in between the crevices to stop it from happening. Haemi gasped out loud when the wooden door jammed his fingers in the process, but he continued to push forward. She stood back, not knowing how to even react when he practically trespassed her home in plain sight. Though the maternal tendency in her went straight for his injured hand.
“Why would you do that!” she raised her voice, the anger not directing towards him specifically.
“What happened to your face?” Sehun cut her off, his eyes still fixed on the bruises her mother left.
“I fell,” Haemi blatantly lied. To be frank, she wasn’t sure what to tell him either. That her abusive mother came back and assaulted her o
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