Namjoo was unreachable when he left the hospital. Jongin tried again five more times. Could not reach her. Increasing his pace, he jumped into his car and accelerated down the street still trying his phone.

Namjoo never picked up.

She would answer no matter what. Sounded irritated or whatnot, but she would have picked up his call curious what he had found out. Namjoo was always hungry for new discoveries.

Braking at the curb, Jongin flew out of his car breathlessly and knocked on the door that led to her apartment. He tried the knob, too. That was locked, so he was majorly out of luck. Dashing around the building he peeked through the side window hoping Namjoo was in the studio.

The phone in his hand lowered to his side when he saw a disarrayed room. On the floor Namjoo’s phone was energetically buzzing. A melodic tone played loud and clear because he’d yet to hang up.

For a while he stared as if Namjoo might pop up and scare him, open the door.

“To what do I owe a prosecutor’s visit?” He could hear her asking, but of course, the door didn’t open.

Turning away he browsed the dank area. Mounds of decaying snow, puddles forming. On the other side a car flew past the business lined block. Jongin wondered if Uncle Namhee had come and caused a fuss. Had Namjoo run away? What happened?

Scurrying down the sidewalk Jongin went through the nearby eateries. Remembering Namjoo speaking about cheap spots f.y.i. Maybe she was holed up somewhere enjoying a meal. Jongin lunged into steamy hot pot restaurants filled with starving merchants, a dollar store, and the convenience store they’d visited a few days ago.

Namjoo wasn’t down the aisles browsing through grocery, milk, snacks. Neither was she sitting in the lobby area eating instant noodles. Jongin was back on the street out of ideas, so he tried the phone again. It rang and he suddenly recalled it was in the studio. Namjoo was not there.

Backtracking to the tailor shop he jogged up to the store owner, inquired about the renter upstairs. She hadn’t seen Namjoo. On the street again Jongin aimlessly traveled wayward. Passing pedestrians cooped up in their own business. The world passed in blurs. The sounds of chugging engines, horns honking, commuters giggling, chatting.

The report on Chanu had been bad. If Namjoo had gone to the doctor herself, maybe there were things about her brother’s case she didn’t know. The immense weight of a truth might be too heavy a burden shouldered alone. Jongin was unable to fathom how Chanu’s mother blatantly put her son down when he needed help. Or how Namjoo was feeling right now. What she could possibly be going through. What she had gone through the past few years by herself.

The oil fed anger Namjoo possessed possibly held greater heights than he anticipated. Perhaps she had witnessed an unsurmountable amount of pain in that house, with her brother’s death. Leading up to his death.

Scampering past a familiar area, Jongin slid to a halt. Abruptly wheeling toward the other side of the road. Plastered against the concrete walls were random posters. So many next to another until eventually it reached the mouth that led to the underground subway station.

It was where they’d often met. That was exactly where Namjoo had tried to get his attention.

Jongin waited for the red light and cars impatiently stopped to cross the four-lane road. A whoosh of wind savagely whammed into his face causing the opening of his coat to billow wildly around him. An image of him carrying the umbrella emanated in his head. To Namjoo crouched alone in the freezing cold, waiting for him. Understanding a bit what Namjoo had seen in him that day.

Her, “I love you. I waited three lifetimes for you.” was actually, “I waited so long for help.”

His footsteps noisily thudded against the granite stairs as he raced down. Late afternoon now and people were heading home. The ground rumbled signaling a train had just departed. The station area was clearing. Jongin pushed through a crowd threatening to shove him up the stairs, eyes swiftly strolling around. Passing one then two stone pillars.

The tracks smelled of heat and steaming gas. Newspapers littered the floor. Ten more steps and he finally spotted a familiar green coat. Blond hair.

His journey had finally come to a stop. Jongin in several breaths all while strictly keeping Namjoo in his sight. She took no notice of her surroundings. Too absorbed with staring…somewhere he couldn’t pinpoint. Appearing dazed like she was here and also not here in body and mind.

“Namjoo!” he shouted.

Her head slightly lifted. Eyes blinking as she came to. Those brows perking up, then she looked around and glanced at him. His body moved before he actually thought about it. Coming from nowhere the wind seemed to burst as he ran throwing his arms around her.

Namjoo’s head bumped into his shoulder from the force and stiffened. She felt cold like she’d been standing outside a long, long time.

“Um…k…” she uncertainly murmured when he released her.

“Stop making me worry about you!” he scolded so loudly his voice bounced off the walls. His lungs felt inflamed. From all the running, the surge of fear he’d experienced when she was missing.

Namjoo blubbered a breath flabbergasted. “Why are you blaming me for how you’re feeling?”

Jongin bit his lower lip not sure how to retort. Instead, he scolded, “Where have you been? You should have answered your phone.”

“Well…I was…” her eyes skittered to the side. Shrugging a bit, “Here and there.” Frowning at him, she asked, “Why?”

He thought about how he’d been searching frantically for her, worried out of his mind after meeting the doctor. Feeling wholly foolish when Namjoo seemed perfectly fine. Standing here this entire time. Blankly staring at whatever.

In the next second his eyes swam over the train tracks. Suddenly it was an unsightly sight.

“Come on,” he swiveled to leave. Glancing around to find Namjoo frowning unmoved he heaved a sigh. Marching toward her he grabbed her hand, repeating with more depth, “I said let’s go.”

“What?” Namjoo spat as he lugged her up the stairs back into the world outside. Flinging her hand away she tucked it stubbornly into her coat pocket.

Unknowingly frustrated, Jongin wanted to kick the ground. Didn’t actually understand what he was doing. In the end, Namjoo seemed all right. Level headed. She didn’