Nervously twining her fingers together, Namjoo crossed the hallway to a spacious sun room. Six tall French paned windows lined the walls where dust swirled in the rays of the sunlight. Tufted furniture filled a large expanse of the brightly lit space along with modern wooden tables.

Elder Oh was at the far left of the room at a table. In the center a glass bowl full of mandarin oranges. A stack of clean white napkins off at the side to be used for scraps in addition to hand wipes.

“You’ve come? Come sit.” He invited.

Grabbing a matching padded chair, Namjoo sat on his left. Before arriving, she’d changed into sleek black pants and pulled on a V-neck ruffle trim floral blouse. Fancy as heck but this was Sehun’s style or as he said “his world” and she better get along with it or lose her two-hundred-thousand.

Curse him!

But Namjoo had promised she’d do her best, so here she was over-dressed and sitting alone with his father. Where the hell was he?!

“I heard from your mother you weren’t feeling well yesterday.”

“My mother?” Namjoo’s heart lurched with a mixture of nostalgia and panic. Had her mom come?!

“Yes, of course,” the old man warmly went on further confusing her. Peeling an orange, he glanced at her, “You didn’t know?”

“Huh?” her eyes grew big.

“That’s what you call your husband’s mother. Coming into his family his mother will also become your mother as I will also become your father.”

Namjoo almost choked on her own saliva. She made a noise within . “Oh…” Rapidly blinking, she discerned, “But I’m not married yet.”

Elder Oh laughed joyfully. To Namjoo’s shock he sounded like the next-door grandfather. Overly-bearingly warm. Heart full of gold. Held affection for every child that crossed his path. Despite the callous lines on his face due to strenuous work, every laugh and smile deepened the marks handsomely.

He really looked like Sehun but older and a bit thinner.

“You’re right. We should begin talking about that once my son comes home from work and your mother is here.” He smiled and offered the fully peeled orange. “I hope you like oranges.”

Namjoo stared at the fruit. A list of questions raced through her mind. She had to think this through carefully. What was his father’s objective? To find out more about her? If she was fake or real? Did he wonder why this strange girl was suddenly in his home, brought by his son?

As Hyena said, Sehun had never mentioned anything about a girl before. Would his parents become as suspicious?

“What?” Sehun’s father wondered. “Is it because I touched it? I promise you I washed my hands.”

“No, no!” Namjoo shook her head and snatched the fruit from his hand. Giggling a little anxiously, “In fact, I love fruits. I love oranges so much!”

Prying a piece off she stuck it into , making a show of being so happy. She received a jolly laugh from Sehun’s father and he went right to taking another orange, immediately peeling it for himself.

“How is my son treating you?” Senior Oh wondered. “He isn’t leaving you all by yourself?”

“That guy he –” Namjoo started berating then paused and glanced at his father. Suddenly beaming with a smile, she complained, “He pays sooo much attention to me! Rather than having a hard time, I’m having such a good time! He’s always at my hands and my feet ready to do anything for me.”

“That’s right! That’s how he should be!” his father giddily agreed. Noticing she was almost done eating, he pushed the bowl toward her, “Have some more. Have as much as you want.”

ꞜꞜꞜꞜꞜ

Sehun called home at twelve from the office, receiving news that Namjoo had woken up at nine. He wanted updates from home. See whether Namjoo was behaving herself or if she’d done something mortifyingly stupid again.

It had only been one day since she’d been in his home, but he couldn’t stop over-worrying. So far Namjoo’s antics created much more of a mess than he anticipated. If Namjoo recklessly embarrassed herself in front of his parents and proved herself unworthy, his mother would find a way to push her out and push Hyena back in.

Sehun was going to have none of that.

“Nine?!” he shouted into the phone.

“Yes, sir.”

“I started reheating leftovers by the time she woke.” The housekeeper informed.

“All right then. I’ll call back later.”

A click of the phone signaled the end of the phone call. Back to work he scrolled through his emails. At the side of the duplex monitor was a proud framed picture of him, arm wrapped around Jin. Behind them the sun glowed luminously, shining the brightest light on them as if the world was blessing their romantic relationship.

That day they’d climbed a mountain to a Buddha temple. A place far in the dense mountains surrounded by thickets and firs people visited to relax, enjoy peace and nature, make wishes, and buy templates to tie on a standee pole shelf. There was a saying that the wishes left behind later come true when Buddha deemed it was time.

On his wooden template he had made a wish to marry Jin when she returned from abroad.

It was almost Thursday. She always called every morning before heading into her seminar. A month now her calls had been on and off. Sehun assumed with graduation approaching she’d be busier than normal. He’d forgive her, but when she returned, she was never going out of his sight again.

After putting everything away at the end of the day, Sehun drove home expecting to find Namjoo at the dinner table. Due to a meeting he hadn’t been able to phone home as planned, but he was certain Namjoo wouldn’t be up to anything. With a smart tv and cable there was no reason for her to be bored. She knew about the home phone. If she wanted to make any call she could.

Driving up to the manor Sehun took the straight hallway through the main manor cluelessly, crossed the yard, and opened the door to his stucco home. Surprise. Namjoo wasn’t there on the couch.

Upstairs maybe. Sehun climbed the stairs and knocked on her door. No response. Pushing it open he poked his head inside. Seeing and hearing no one, he flung the door away and stepped inside like he might find her hiding in his blind spot.

Still came up with no body.

Back down the stairs he hurried into the kitchen where he knew the cook was working on dinner.

“Where is she?” he asked.

“Who?” the lady half turned to him.

“The mistress!” he couldn’t help yelling worried out of his mind Namjoo had gone prancing somewhere, ruining everything for them.

“Your father called her earlier. I thought she was back.”

At this he wheeled around and raced back outside, across the lawn, and burst through the back door. Racing down the winding hallway on swift feet, heart pounding, the worst scenarios scattering through his mind. Then he heard it.

Giggling.

The rush of adrenaline was making his blood spike. Sehun skidded into the room sliding a quarter way on the slippery floor. The screech of his shoes surprised his father and Namjoo. The two spun around like deer caught in the headlights.

“You’re here?” the old man called out.

His inquiring eyes met Namjoo’s.

“Now that he’s here, you should go.” The ambience of his father’s tone was too jolly. Looking at him, a smitten smile crawling across his lips, he assured as if Sehun was upset, “You can have her now.”

A brow slightly budged lower when Namjoo scooted her chair back.

“Take the oranges with you. Snack on them when you’re hungry.” His father told her.

“Yes, thank you, father.” Namjoo gladly answered and without a moment’s hesitation, grabbed the bowl right from under the elder man’s nose.

Sehun offered his father a nod as Namjoo shuffled toward him and turned with her to head out.

“What was that?” he asked outside.

“Didn’t you see?” Namjoo cockily looked at him. “We were getting along just fine.”

Sehun gave her a nasty frown then glanced at the bowl of orange. He reached for one, but Namjoo speedily turned moving the bowl away.

“You’re so greedy.” He mumbled. “I just want one.”

“They’re mine!” she claimed before running ahead.

“Fine!” Sehun yelled after her. “Eat all of them by yourself!”

Realizing that she was really running off he scowled before chasing after her. When he got in Namjoo was already in the kitchen, the bowl of oranges right next to her empty plate. She immediately wrapped her arm possessively around it when walked up to the table.

“I already I said I don’t want it anymore.” He said starting to dig in.

“Did you get my phone?” Was the first thing she asked.

“No.”

“Why?!” she whined.

“On second thought, you don’t need it. Just use the home phone.”

“But you can do so much more with a personal phone!” she complained.

“Deal with it.”

Namjoo huffed, pouting. Sehun assumed she’d given up when the silence presumed, but then she slid something across the table.

“I bet you want this.” She said.

His eyes flickered to a baby photo of him heavily drooling and trying to his knuckles. He only had a diaper and bib on.

Sehun flushed embarrassed.

“How’d you get that?” he asked.

“Your father was showing me a baby album. There were so, sooooo many cute pictures of you. I heard everything about you pooping in the tub to being scared of bathing.” Namjoo giggled. “He said I can keep this one.”

His lower lip trembled humiliated. “Give me that!”

Moving faster, Namjoo smacked a hand over the picture, eyes turning coy as she pulled it toward her. Holding it up in the air she studied it like it was a gold trophy. “I think I’ll frame this right by my bed.”

He listened to her laugh evilly. His goddamn innards were shaking.

He was embarrassed.

So embarrassed!

After dinner they immediately separated each to their room. Frustrated Sehun went to shower while strategizing a way to retrieve the baby picture. Namjoo was making a joke out of it he knew. Yet he couldn’t fathom her possessing a baby freaking picture of him!

It was already bad enough his father had gone far enough to share such private moments of his life with her, but to give her a picture of him! Of him!!! A baby picture where he was half !

Sehun just wanted to scream.

Pulling on pajamas he snatched the bag of the prepaid phone he’d painfully purchased early that morning. Since Namjoo always bargained with him, he would take this chance and do the same.

Walking up to her door he knocked. She purposely made him wait until he rapped his knuckles against it a fourth time.

“Yes?” Caking the door open just a bit so her face showed.

“Here.” He held up the paper bag pertaining the phone she so begged for.

Her eyes widened just as expected. The door widened and her arm shot out for it, but he held it back.

“I want the picture.” He said.

Namjoo scowled. Sehun glanced behind her to see the bowl of oranges on the bedside table.

“And an orange.”

Namjoo’s face pinched back. Giving in she turned away, went to the table, pulled a tiny drawer open, and came back with the picture. Sehun double checked in case she was pranking him.

“Phone first.” She said.

“Fine.” He gave it to her. Palm out, he ordered, “Picture.”

Sticking her tongue out she tugged the picture back. “Fool!”

“Why you!” Catching her off guard he took a step in, arm stretched out to snatch the picture out of her hand.

Quick as lightning Namjoo dropped the bag jumping away. Sehun went right after her. Namjoo continued teasing him. Wearing that huge grin of mischievousness on her face. Hopping back and forth, onto her left, onto her right, and back and forth. His hands jot out here, there, here, there, remaining unable to grab that freaking baby picture.

The nerve of her!

Finally nearing the end of the room, Sehun took a step forward accidentally stepping on her foot. Yelping, Namjoo began losing balance knocking her knee into his shin and they both went down.

Namjoo’s head hit the floor with a sickening thud as he fell flat on her, hitting his forehead into the sharp of her shoulder bone. The pain stung him senseless. His ears rang for a split second. The room turned bright white, colors merging before clearing.

Hissing he started pushing himself up as Namjoo moaned, dazed. Then her eyes rolled toward him and held.

Sehun almost thought she needed medical assistance. That she’d cracked her skull or something because for what felt like a minute, she did nothing but stare. Then she proved him wrong. Suddenly in a breath surprised and realizing what position they were in.

“ert!” Her legs started flailing, kicking, knees shooting up and before she might hit his weak spot, he snagged the picture from her hand. Rolling onto the balls of his feet he stood and turned to run out.

Lunging after him, head currently spinning and moving too fast, Namjoo clumsily tripped over her toes and flew forward, arms flung out. Sehun felt something squeeze his sweats and twisted around witnessing a quarter of Namjoo’s fall, her hands clinging tight onto his pants. On the way down so did his sweats.

Then…thump!

Namjoo groaned.

The shame was crushing when Namjoo lifted her head, eyes scanning up the bare of his legs to his very boxers. Eyes inching ever wider when she landed square on him then she shrieked a sound he would always remember.

ꞜꞜꞜꞜꞜ

Throwing a fit, Namjoo drew the blanket up and buried her face into it. Releasing a howl while thumping her back repeated into the pillows behind her.

She was so mortified!

Nothing would ever make it ok again!

Kicking her legs unable to sink in what happened last night. She hadn’t slept. She couldn’t sleep.

The embarrassment was like a deep, dark hole her into his abyss.

Grabbing the baby picture she’d stolen before shoving Sehun into the hallway and slamming the door, Namjoo tossed it to the floor.

“Curse you!” she screeched.

Lying back down she pulled the blanket over her. She had no courage to go downstairs and have breakfast with Sehun. Flipping onto her stomach Namjoo grumbled. She was so, so hungry.

The knock on the door made her head rise.

“Mistress.” A female voice called out.

The blanket slid to her shoulders as she got up on her elbows and peered over her shoulder in the direction of the door.

“Mistress, are you up?”

Brushing the chaotic mess of her hair out of her face, she shouted, “What?!”

“Come down for breakfast.”

“I don’t want to!”

“The young sir says you have to.”

Namjoo chewed her lip then threw the blanket over and stalked to the door. Opening it she came face to face with Miss Jin. “Tell him I’ll eat by myself later.”

“He says he’ll throw the leftovers out so you’ll starve.”

Namjoo grunted irritably. She huffed defeated. “Fine.”

Shoving past the cleaner Namjoo stomped down the stairs. Gait slowing when she approached the kitchen. The nearer she got, the more she wanted to spin around and run back up the stairs. After pulling Sehun’s pants down she didn’t know what to say to him. For sure his ego was damaged.

Slapping a bandage over it wouldn’t immediately erase what happened.

God, she had no clue how to approach him.

Slithering into the kitchen like no one would notice, Namjoo slipped into her seat, but neither of them made eye contact. Her eyes immediately dove off into space though more aware of Sehun on the other side.

He offered nothing, which perhaps made the air swim strangely.

Through the meandering silence nothing and no one moved. Namjoo couldn’t even pick at the food.

Sehun coughed into his fist shattering the glass-like quiet. He slid a piece of torn paper her way, “Here’s the wi-fi password and your phone number.”

Namjoo eyed the paper glancing up when Sehun shoved his chair back and started walking away. “Where are you going?”

He looked over his shoulder but not really. She couldn’t see his face. “I’m going to work.”

“But you didn’t eat.”

“I’ll find something to eat on the way.”

He took several more strides closing in on the entrance to the kitchen. Namjoo’s heart sledgehammered and she felt more of the stinging guilt after yesterday.

“I’m s…sorry about yesterday.” She called out.

She kind of felt like swimming under the table to hide when he fully halted and she imagined the embarrassment of pulling his pants down again.

“Forget it.” He said before leaving. “Mom wants to have dinner later, so don’t go anywhere.”

He didn’t look at her once. Namjoo felt really bad pondering over whether she’d gone too far joking with him.

***(亝艸亝)