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Throughout the span of Namjoo’s twenty-two years of life there were plenty of things she’d turned a blind eye to. The raggedly homeless man who sat at the bus stop corner on a piece of cardboard. His dark maroon beanie hung low over his scavenging eyes. A silver soup can at his stinky feet, black socks pulled high over his ankles. Gawking at her every day she walked to school and back home. Whom deemed him innocent, Namjoo sensed the eyes on her school uniform skirt. Only she pretended he wasn’t there.

The teenage boys at school that always hung around the staircase, hoping for a peek up a girl’s skirt. Unless they were shooed away by teachers more than half the student female population had been violated. Namjoo included, but she too, had turned a blind eye to the many other victims.

Or when she got older and graduated from puberty. The whistles and catcalls from drunkards heehawing. On late evenings home she used to hunker down, draw in her shoulders to make her form smaller as if that’d help her disappear into the shadows. Yet they noticed her. Ignore them and they’d leave her alone like all the other times, but it always happened.

As an Namjoo learned the blind eye trick was not always a smart solution. In a career that required the constant company of a man Namjoo had honed her own tricks. A discreet hand on her thigh and she’d shove a shot of liquor up his mouth. A stare too hard and she’d laugh boisterously to revert the attention. Most of the time, Namjoo learned to handle the situation like an adult. Be straight out with her feelings; tell him off, flick him off, walk away.

But not everyone was a ert. Not every guy she encountered wanted to inflict harm on her. Learn to read the situation and handle it maturely.

Namjoo had met too many people that sent different alarms ringing over her head. Draw a line with the joker. Stay away from the giggly one. Remain a distance with the flashy man or the expensive suit. Kiss up to the thinning haired client and a bulging wallet.

Everyone was unique.

But this time, Namjoo did not want to face her current situation. With Sehun she was most inclined to return to her old habit. Turn a blind eye.

Pretend.

She hated the quiver in her hands. The tingling sensation that spread from the tips to the back of her hands all the way to her shaky heart.

Namjoo wasn’t prepared to handle the gravity of the changing affair between them. Read too much into what was different these days.

The food. The car. The freedom to go in or out of his house. The missing long pillow. The letter Sehun wouldn’t let her read. The clothes from the store she’d found sitting in the closet after she’d taken a shower that evening.

Be ignorant. Continue to be herself and hope that came off as unattractive as the beginning when Sehun really disliked her. Because come on.

It didn’t make sense for him to be serious about any of this. The marriage was so fake and planned out Namjoo could laugh.

But she wasn’t laughing.

She was on edge.

On Sunday morning Namjoo gulped down an entire cup of coffee sleep deprived. She’d been thinking the entire night. How to go back home. Perhaps now she was prepared to break his dear father’s heart. Namjoo had written a mental essay asking for forgiveness. Repeated the speech over and over in her mind.

“Why are you up early?” Sehun walked into the kitchen. Noticing the mug he grabbed it from her hands. “You shouldn’t be drinking any of that. What if someone sees?” then resumed to draining the rest of the coffee from her mug.

Darn him!

“We should talk,” Namjoo coolly suggested. “I was thinking all night about this.”

Something in his face ignited anticipation for good news. A small part of her hesitated upon seeing it.

“About?” he asked when she didn’t continue.

“Uh…” dropped from her stupid mouth. Namjoo wanted to smack herself.

The phone rang. “Hold that thought.” Sehun said walking away.

Scorning herself she watched him talk into the phone. His tall handsome form engrossed with whomever was on the other line. Outfitted casually for the day in just t-shirt and slacks. Namjoo quickly averted her eyes when his flickered her way.

Shoot! What was wrong with her?

The phone clicked when he returned the receiver. “That was mom and dad.”

“Something wrong?” she worried realizing a nanosecond too late she should not be concerned about his parents’ welfare. For real! They had no valid relationship! She should always remember this.

“They were just wondering if we’d have breakfast at the manor.” Sehun answered. “What do you think?”

“Why are you asking me?” Namjoo asked.

He shrugged. “Just in case you want to eat at home instead.”

He came off so earnest guilt floundered her. Namjoo despised this so much!

“I guess…I guess we can go.” She answered.

On the walk to the manner the reveal raced through her mind. Did it matter if Sehun agreed to be honest with his parents? Honestly, this entire problem affected her more than it did him. If his parents wanted to call the cops on her so be it. Her bank account was bloated with money now. When she came out from jail, she’d still be rich enough to provide for her mother and Moonbi and the club. The rest of her future would still be bright.

She wanted to shrug Sehun’s hand off her back when they arrived.

Madam Oh first rose from the table. Smiling so big. Coming to greet her like she was a long-lost daughter. Affectionally touching her arms, she asked, “It has been so long since we’ve seen you. Why do you look so tired?” her eyes floated to Sehun for answers. “What happened to your face?”

Sehun touched the fresh bandage over his forehead. “It’s not serious. We just had an accident.”

“What do you mean we?” his father rose from his seat anxiously. To Namjoo, “Are you well? What happened? Have you been to the doctor?”

Namjoo flushed. “We were riding a bike and fell. That’s all.”

“A bike?!” his mother screeched alarmed. Her eyes widened and flashed over her. “Oh no!”

“Are you crazy?!” Elder Oh yelled at Sehun. “Why would you let her ride a bike when she’s pregnant? How irresponsible!”

Namjoo’s mouth gaped surprised. She glanced at Sehun feeling immensely sorry. They’d both fallen, but he’d taken the brunt of the injuries.

“No, father. Please don’t overreact,” she defended. “I didn’t get hurt. Don’t be angry at Sehun.”

The man huffed unhappily. Then he fretted, “You’re sure you’re not hurt?”

She touched Sehun’s arm as if to validate his answer. “Sehun actually got hurt much more than I did.”

“You should have gone to the hospital,” his mother exclaimed less worried.

“Well, then. Come eat. We’ve prepared a lot for you,” his father ushered her toward the table.

His mother took her hand to lead her forward, but she glanced at Sehun apologetically. Impelled to comfort him somehow, she reached for his hand to pull him along. The heat intensified in her chest when he softly smiled at her.

With a load of tangerines his father forced Sehun to carry Namjoo returned to the stucco house failing to complete her mission.

“Headache,” she mumbled by the time she went upstairs to the walk-in closet to sort through the junk Sehun had bought for her the day previous.

All the clothes brand new and expensive even if she’d thrown in a few jeans and regular t-shirts. The simple fact that they were new and in good condition did not help the shabby look she wanted.

To be unattractive Namjoo needed something really worn out. The pretty outfits only enhanced the glamor Sehun and his parents wanted for her, and Namjoo did not want to be pretty. She wanted to be ugly thus she needed really old clothes.

There was none! Sehun wouldn’t let her have any.

“Oh, I hate this,” she uttered.

Namjoo ended up pulling on the tight skinny jeans, skinny top, and faux sweater she’d been wearing the night Sehun kidnapped her. She’d intentionally worn the sweater slung low to ily reveal one shoulder that night to attract her clients, but she wasn’t about to do it today. Namjoo merely aimed to dress really badly to distort any image Sehun might have of her.

Because…he had to dislike her, right?!

Sehun merely gave her a raise of the brow when he saw her. The crooked smile on his face grew humored.

That really annoyed her.

She ended up snapping, “What?”

He shrugged, “Nothing.” then resumed watching his early afternoon show.

The next few days she continued to wear jeans and flaunt t-shirts around the house. Against all expectations, Sehun didn’t comment on her choice of wears. He merely let her be. It seriously aggravated her.

What was up with him? He should be lecturing her about proper attire, pulling her aside to scold her about being seen by one of his housekeepers blah blah blah. Yet nothing.

Everything was wrong.

Wide awake one night, Namjoo curled up on her side. Sehun couldn’t have possibly changed this much around her. Just didn’t make sense. There had to be something about her that put him off. She had to figure it out fast before she had to buy a fake belly to continue this fake marriage.

Something suddenly pricked her instinct. Sensing an oncoming tremor grow up her spine Namjoo nervously gripped her pillow. She discreetly shifted closer to the edge of the bed. Sometimes she woke up dazed to Sehun sleeping closer than she remembered. Few times she had rolled over to his side of the bed, but that was on her. She’d been really particular about keeping their sides of the bed. Sehun had been good about it. So far.

The changes in him these days made her iffy. Nervously biting her lip Namjoo continued shuffling nearer the edge of the bed. Increase the distance between them. Sehun couldn’t be feigning sleep? He just had to be asleep! He seriously had to have some nerve to be moving closer to her!

One inch more and Namjoo rolled over the side of the bed so fast her face hit the floor. Shocked she hurriedly clambered back up to her feet idiotically. She caught Sehun’s silhouette up on his elbows probably jolted awake by her.

“What happened?” he croaked sleepily and of course still on his side of the bed. Far from her.

“N…nothing.” Namjoo lied. “Dreamt I was falling. That’s all.”

Sighing, he laid back down quickly going back to sleep. Unnerved, she was too unnerved. Climbing back into bed Namjoo turned her back to him.

She was going nuts.

Calming the next day, Namjoo set aside her jeans and usual tees. She had to stop underdressing or trying to revert Sehun’s attention. Her efforts were going to naught and she was just making herself more uneasy by the day. What if Cleaner Jin said something to his parents and Sehun had to take her to a psychiatrist?

After Sehun left for work she reverted to flipping through the channels. Landing on a cooking channel Namjoo stayed immersed in it for an hour before the bell rang. The only usual visitors were Sehun’s parents. Getting up Namjoo smoothed out her clothes and readily opened the door to greet with a smile.

Suh Jin was the one who smiled instead. “Hi.”

Namjoo stared. Blank.

Compressing her lips, the ex-girlfriend came off nervous and Namjoo felt bad. “I was just visiting earlier and thought I’d come by to give my greetings.”

“Oh…oh…” Coming to, Namjoo held the door open. “Come in.”

“Thank you.” Politely stepping in Jin peered around the house. Closing the door Namjoo turned to find the ex observing Sehun’s house. More likely, staring at the huge portrait they’d taken before the wedding. The one of Sehun back hugging her.

Laughing awkwardly, Namjoo gestured toward the kitchen, “Do you want a cup of water?”

“Yes, that would be nice.” Jin followed her into the kitchen.

“Please sit down. Make yourself comfortable.” Namjoo went straight to the fridge, poured a glass, and went to the table. Taking the seat across from her she wondered, “So, were you visiting father…I mean, Sehun’s father?”

“I thought I should stop by and see how he’s doing. It’s great to see his condition improving. Sometimes patients have a difficult time recovering, but Sehun’s father is lucky. He’s doing so well.”

Namjoo nodded not sure what to add. How should she entertain Sehun’s ex?

“How far along are you?” Jin wondered.

“The baby?” Namjoo asked. “Uh…about four months.”

Jin smiled too reassuringly it made Namjoo uncomfortable. “Usually, a mother would say my baby’s thirteen or twenty weeks. It’s funny you mentioned month.”

Namjoo tossed out a laugh. “Well, it’s easier for Sehun to understand. You know…”

“So, how’d you two meet?” Jin asked. “If you don’t mind me asking. Sehun’s like a very good friend of mine. At least I’d like to think of him that way. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Ah…yes, of course.” Namjoo nodded in agreement. “It’s ok. I know. Sehun told me about you.”

“He has?” her face lit up a bit.

“Well, he has waited for you two years. I at least know that much,” Namjoo informed. “Although distance creates some obstacles, he hardly looked anywhere else. I can tell you that much.”

Jin smiled a little sadly as her eyes dipped low. “I should be really sorry to him. There’s a few things I’d like to make up to him. Of course, if you don’t mind me pestering you.”

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“Then, if you’re not too busy, come home for lunch.” Namjoo had said over the phone.

The mention of lunch at him had excited him. Plus, the fact that Namjoo had called to say this meant much more. Dropping everything Sehun raced home. He could spare an hour at least with his wife. Curious what the occasion was that Namjoo wanted to have a meal with him that she couldn’t wait for him in the evening.

Heart racing, he pushed open the door, the grin broadening across his face. The chatter of female voices stopped upon hearing him. Sehun caught the sound of a chair scooting across the linoleum floor then footsteps. Namjoo emerged in the kitchen doorway prettily. The plain sight of her lit his heart up like fireworks.

Sehun opened his mouth, but Namjoo spoke first, “You’re here?”

Happily walking up to her he peeked into the kitchen expecting to find a table of homemade food. All of Namjoo’s efforts. She wanted to do something for him. Show him her gratitude. Perhaps today she was going to tell him what he wanted to know. Her feelings.

Instead, everything expectant dropped from his face when he saw Suh Jin sitting at his kitchen table. Where he sat every single day with Namjoo.

Wheeling on Namjoo his eyes hardened betrayed. Except Namjoo beat him again. Patting his arm, “I’ll let you two talk.”

As she walked away anger broiled in him. That she had tossed him a bone only to trick him. That she was throwing him back into a place he had already left. That she was blatantly ignoring him!

Gritting his teeth Sehun stood at the doorway seething. He didn’t want to run around in circles playing games. He shouldn’t have to be wishy washy about everything in his life. Sehun didn’t need to deal with these kinds of ploys.

Swiveling toward Jin he coldly said, “You shouldn’t be here.”

She stood innocently grasping her hands. “Sehun…”

Glancing at the untouched glass of water, he told, “Drink your water and leave. We’re done here.”

“I just wanted to talk to you.”

“There is nothing to talk about.” He emphasized.

“But…”

“Do you not get what I just said?” Sehun steely asked.

Jin bit her lower lip hurt. “I just wanted to tell you my fling is over. I never meant to hurt you.”

Refusing to meet her sorrowful gaze he stared at the corner of the room pissed.

“I’ll wait until you’re calmer. I’ll go.” Gathering her stuff Jin brushed past. He waited for the door to shut before turning around to go fetch Namjoo. As if she’d been eavesdropping, Namjoo hurried down the stairs meeting him halfway.

There was an imminent smile on her face that sent his rage soaring. “So? How’d it go? Why’d she leave so fast?”

Gripping her arm, he yanked her forward, icily reminding, “I told you, not to let anyone into my house.”

Shrugging her arm away she frowned upset, “She’s not just anyone. She’s your girlfriend.”

“You know she’s not.” His voice thickened, heat curling at the pit of his stomach.

“You should at least talk to her or let her talk,” Namjoo excused, “she might have had a thousand things to tell you. At the very least you could have spared her five minutes. What if you misunderstood her? You could get back together! This might be it, Sehun! The very moment you’ve been waiting two years for! If you don’t go after her…”

Shut up was all he could think.

He didn’t know how much longer he had to wait for Namjoo to realize he didn’t need Jin anymore. The day he caught Jin with someone else was also the day he came to understand he yearned to be completed. Namjoo was the unlucky component that filled the blank in his present. Her energy brought everything in him to life; the anger, the sadness, the laughter. And now he just wanted her to stay.

Cupping her face, he crushed his mouth over hers. Quietening her. Tasting her. Feeling the rush of his heart burst.

Hitting his chest Namjoo shoved him away. Breathing hard. Her voice shook as she glared at him. Without a word she turned away and raced up the stairs. The last he heard was the door slamming shut.