7 weeks

“You’re going to the doctor’s, and I’m not taking no for an answer.” Narae says firmly. Hyerin would like to point out that she doesn’t want  to go to the doctor’s and there have been many times when she’s managed to change her best friend’s mind, but the tight grip on her wrist stops her from saying either of those things.

Park Narae’s the kind of girl who’s always been scarily…determined when she has a plan in mind.

“Rae, I really don’t think – “ Her words are cut off by a glare.

“I don’t care what you think. You said if the pain and the nausea didn’t stop within a week, you’d go to the doctors. Well, guess what, babe? It hasn’t stopped, and I know it hasn’t, so don’t try to lie to me.” She looks away guiltily, because yes, she was about to say that she was fine now and there really was no need to go to her doctor’s appointment. A little bit of pain surely isn’t that big a deal?

“But you know I hate going to the doctors, please, Rae – “

“Tough luck, Rin.” The glint in her best friend’s eyes is a little frightening, even though she’s pretty sure she has her best interests at heart. “If you’re sick, you need to find out why, so you can fix it.”

“And what if it’s some horrible disease they have to operate on me for or something?” Her bites her lower lip worriedly, because this is the crux of the matter. Okay, so it’s pathetic and stupid, and probably makes her a hypochondriac or something, but what if it’s something incurable? She’s never really experienced anything like this – not the constant nausea, or the strange stomachaches that have her on all fours, trying to breathe out through the pain.

Narae gives an exasperated sigh. “It won’t be, okay? It’ll just be some horrible stomach bug you picked up, and they’ll give you some antibiotics for it. And afterwards, we’ll go get cheesecake and coffee, alright?” She lets go of her wrist to wrap a comforting arm around her friend’s shoulders. “I promise it’ll be okay, Hyerin.”

She swallows down her fear, nods because there’s nothing else to say. She’s being ridiculous, true – but the last time she went to the doctor’s was years ago, and she’s always had an irrational fear they’ll tell her something horrible. “Okay. Okay.” She lets Narae slide an arm in between hers and march her to the doorway of her apartment.

“Now, have I told you about Boah’s new hair?” Narae starts, knowing she needs something inconsequential, gossipy to distract her as she locks her door and they make their way to Narae’s car. “It’s actually pretty nice, although I’d never have chosen that greyish blonde for her. She looks good with it short…”

Somehow, she finds more and more gossip to entertain Hyerin with, right up until they pull up in the driveway of her doctor’s surgery. Hyerin pulls a face. “You know, it says something when my cat’s veterinary surgery is more sophisticated than this.”

Her best friend snorts. “Stop trying to find fault with everything. It’s not going to distract me from taking you to your appointment.”

She responds with a grimace, because her stomach is doing its weird, slightly painful flippy movement and it only adds to her nerves. Narae’s lips press together, eyes narrowing because she can tell that the thing is happening again and it worries her. It’s not like Hyerin’s desperately sick, it’s just not like her to be so off-colour.

And they’re both worriers, so it was the best idea to take her to the doctor’s. At least, she thinks so. Hyerin doesn’t agree, but when has Hyerin ever agreed about something that’s good for her?

Once she’s finally managed to coerce her out of the car, she drags her to the receptionist’s desk, prods her to register her appointment. “Song Hyerin,” she mumbles resentfully. “I’m here for a ten o’clock appointment with Dr Son.”

Not that she wants to be here, but they’ve already established that and it did not move Narae. She’s here for the long haul, forced to sit in a cracked leather chair and wait for her name to be called. There’s a sheath of out-of-date magazines on the table next to her, but none of them hold her interest. She has subscriptions to all the magazines she cares about at home; having an endless supply of money does that for you.

Narae nudges her in the ribs, that pensive look that she gets when she gives her the silent treatment on her face. Let her stew, she thinks resentfully. She was the one who brought her here. It’s her own fault if this causes her to be pissy; she’s never denied that she’s a very childish individual.

“Hyerin…” She sighs, not amused by the grumpy look on her best friend’s face, nor the fact that she has crossed her arms like a toddler. “Seriously, hon. You can’t keep feeling like this – it’s making you miserable! You missed the party for the Japanese ambassador because you spent the entire morning puking, that’s no way to live.”

“It could have just been a bad hangover.” Hyerin says stubbornly. Narae rolls her eyes.

“You don’t drink that much anymore. And besides, you were with me that night – you drank one martini, if that.”

Bugger. It really does to have a friend who remembers everything, as Narae does. But then again, Siwon probably would have said the same, if he hadn’t blanked her all week for some Calvin Klein underwear campaign. Alright, so he didn’t blank her…but he did cancel on their regular lunch date this week, and it just added to her general misery.

She’s saved from replying, however, because the nurse – in ugly blue scrubs, no less – calls out her name, announcing that the doctor is ready to see her. She slumps back in her seat, defeated. It would be incredibly rude not to go now she’s here, and if her mother heard that she’d thrown another one of her pathetic tantrums, as she puts it, there’d be hell to pay.

“D’you want me to wait out here?” Narae asks expectantly, a month-old magazine already in her grasp. She’s never taken an interest in gardening and home management before this, but boredom will make any hobby look interesting. And besides, the outfit Narae is currently wearing is far more cutting edge in terms of fashion than the two old Vogues scattered amongst the literary magazines on the table.

She shakes her head. “I don’t want to go in there alone.” What if it’s scary? Is the unspoken add-on, but Narae hears it.

Nodding, she sets the magazine down and adjusts her bag so that it is slung over her shoulder. The nurse smiles at the both of them – it’s meant to be reassuring, friendly, but Hyerin can only manage a weak quirk of the lips in response.

“You’ve not been waiting long, have you, dear?” She asks, walking down the corridor briskly. Their heels make clacking sounds on the finished wooden floors.

“N-no,” she mutters. Why is she stuttering? It’s not like she’s about to meet her firing squad.

Narae gives her a worried look. Jesus, it’s not like she’s dying, and besides, it’s her fault they’re here anyway.

“Ah, that’s good.” The nurse says cheerfully. “I’ll just knock on the door for you – he might still be busy.” She raps on the door sharply, a man’s deep voice calling out ‘Come in!’ even before her knuckles reach the door a second time.

There’s another smile, and she’s off again, leaving Narae to push the door open for them. She actually stumbles when she walks in, something she hasn’t done in years – not since she was fourteen and decided heels were the only way, anyway. It’s fortunate that Narae catches her by the elbow, and leads them to the two seats in front of the doctor.

He’s youngish, handsome if you like that sort of thing – hair dyed brown, high, sloping cheekbones – and he seems fairly approachable. “So,” he says, looking down at what she presumes is her medical transcript, “Hyerin-sshi, what can I do for you?”

And all of a sudden, she doesn’t want to say anything. She’s flooded with images from her imagination, images of the doctor’s professional smile turning into a sorrowful expression as she tells her something she really, really does not want to know.

“Uh – um,” she doesn’t know where to start, is too afraid to tell him what’s been going on with her body.

“Come on, Hyerin.” Narae urges softly. “Just tell him about the sickness, and the stomach pains, or I will.”

She opens , ready to snap that she’ll give the doctor an unbiased and unexaggerated version of events, thank you very much, but then that now-familiar feeling of bile rising in forces her to close it. She shuts her eyes, praying her stomach will listen to her and she can get through this appointment without having to throw up.

It’s nerves, she tells herself (of course it is – IBS can be brought on by stress, she Googled it, it’s just Narae being overprotective).

She lets out a breath, opening her eyes to start totting up her symptoms. “I’ve been having weird stomach pains for a couple of weeks, and I’ve been feeling nauseous for about the same amount of time.” It’s enough for the doctor to get by on, surely?

“And she’s been really listless, no energy.” Narae interjects, flashing her a distrustful look. She glares in response. How the hell is that a symptom? That’s just called not having enough sleep. Which, actually she does get enough of – all she’s wanted to do is sleep, lately.

Oh well, that doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t.

“Mmhmm,” the doctor nods. “Okay, I’m going to ask you a couple of questions, Hyerin-sshi. Is that okay?” He looks towards Narae questioningly, as if it’s a delicate matter.

She shrugs. There’s really nothing Narae doesn’t know, so why would she be embarrassed to have her here? “That’s fine.” Narae’d find out, anyway, she thinks sullenly.

“Alright then.” The doctor gives her a bright smile. She doesn’t return it, because what’s bright about today? “Where are the pains at, when you get them?” He asks. “At the top of your abdomen, the pit of your stomach, or in the middle?” He says, gesturing to each part.

“Er…” She hadn’t really thought about it. Who keeps track of their pain movements? Not her, for sure. She’s usually just waiting for it to pass. “All over…I guess?”

He scrawls a note on the piece of paper in front of him, nodding once more. “And the pain, is it constant, or infrequent?”

“It happens pretty regularly, but it comes in like, waves, I suppose?” She scrunches her face up, thinking (see, this is why she didn’t want to go to the doctors – she never knows what to say when they ask these stupid questions).

“Okay,” he writes another note underneath the first. “Alright, and Miss Song, are you ually active?”

Oh . The big, embarrassing question – the one she’s supposed to say no to because she’s not married and her mother will kill her for answering yes to. Not that her mother isn’t a herself, but Park Gayoon does not want her only child creating a scandal. She blushes. “Yes, I am.”

The doctor doesn’t seem to be surprised. His expression does not change as he writes it down on the form. “And when was the date of your last period?”

Is it bad that she doesn’t actually know? She’s always been regular, so she doesn’t really…keep track. She just waits for it to come, really. “I don’t know.” She almost feels guilty for saying it, because it’s something every woman’s supposed to know and she just doesn’t care.

“Do you remember the last month?” He asks smoothly, seeming unperturbed by her uncertainty.

Narae decides it’s a good moment for her to jump into the conversation, reminding Hyerin why it probably wasn’t the best idea to invite her in. “I swear, the last time you complained about period pains to me was a couple of months ago, Rin-ah.”

She’s ready to tell her best friend that she’s wrong, that she can’t possibly have missed more than one period, but she catches herself just in time. When was her last period? She can’t remember touching the sanitary towels in her bathroom, or taking painkillers for the pain in, well, at least a month.

“Um,” she suddenly feels ice cold, because she knows what a missed period means. “Uh,” her breathing is coming too fast. “February, I think?” She phrases it like a question, because she honestly cannot remember.

“Mhm…” The doctor looks at her, his gaze steady. “Well, Hyerin-sshi, in that case…I think I’d like to do a pregnancy test, if that’s okay?”

She’s aware of her head bobbing in acquiescence, but all she can feel is the rushing in her ears. How the could she be so stupid?  How the hell could she have let this become a possibility? What the hell is she supposed to do if the test turns out positive? She knows nothing about children! . Double ity--. Oh my god, this is terrible.

“So, if you’d like to step into the bathroom?” The doctor says gently, clearly aware of her distress. He’s holding out one of those little plastic cylinders they use for urine samples, and she takes it in a shaking hand.

Narae clutches her sleeve. “Honey, stay calm, okay?” Her dark eyes search hers for reassurance that’s not going to faint, or something. She can feel the shaking underneath her palm. “It’ll be fine, I promise.”

How can she promise that? It’s so clearly not fine, because she’s about to go pee into some stupid plastic cup so they can tell her if she’s knocked up or not! But she swallows the fear, stretches her lips in a grimace instead. It’s enough to get Narae to let go of her shirt.

There’s a bathroom a little further down the corridor, in view of the waiting patients. She knows they have no idea why she’s collecting this sample, but still. It’s almost like she can feel the judgment that’s about to come. , they’ll whisper. Loose , couldn’t she keep in her pants, they’ll snigger, and she’s shivering as she walks into the cubicle.

It takes a while for the trickle of piss to turn into something that’s reasonable enough to call a sample, mainly because of how stiff and full of fear she is. She walks back to the office on unsteady legs, hands still damp from washing them attentively in lieu of walking back to what she assumes is her doom.

She wants to be sick as she hands over the little plastic pot. Narae wraps an arm around her immediately.

It seems that the doctor found a pregnancy test in the time she was gone – he probably asked the nice nurse who led her in to fetch him one. Bet she’s judging her now, the stupid little who managed to get herself knocked up. She can’t breathe, oh god.

It’s a simple piece of grey plastic, an unassuming strip of what looks like nothing, but carries her future within it. It looks nothing like the flashy ones they advertise in commercials, with their blue ends and digital screens. ClearBlue Digital!, or whatever the they’re called. It’s not like she ever paid attention. She never expected to be in this situation.

The doctor nods, unscrews the cap of the plastic cup and puts the lid down on the table. He rips the package open and holds the test between two fingers. She holds her breathe as he dips it into the cup.

She’s so ed. It repeats in her head over and over for that one excruciating minute in which her future is determined. She barely feels the squeeze of Narae’s hand in hers, can’t see the doctor’s strained smile. All she can see is that little grey pregnancy test, sticking out of the little cup.

Her minute of freedom ends with the doctor checking the watch on his wrist. Her eyes are trained on the test as the doctor pulls it out of the little container, shakes it to remove any further residue. She registers a faint amount of disgust in the back of her mind – that’s her piss, for crying out loud – but her heart is beating too loudly for her to pay any attention.

The doctor looks straight at her. “Congratulations, Hyerin-sshi,” he says, “you’re pregnant.”

***

She is lying face down on her bed, her face shoved into satin sheets and her best friend’s hand rubbing her back in a way that is meant to be comforting, but is really just making her edgy. She hasn’t cried. She hasn’t really said anything, not since she thanked Dr Son for the appointment, and took the pamphlets on pregnancy he offered her and the vitamin prescriptions. She didn’t miss the one that spoke of options; if she’d been able to make a sound, she would have laughed.

What options does she have? Her stomach clenches at the idea of abortion – because even though she’s never wanted children, never even thought of them as a part of her life – she can’t find it within her to get rid of this baby. There are many reasons for this – reasons she does not want to face up to, but for now, abortion is not an option.

She knows that when she mentions this to Narae, she will speak of adoption as the next best thing, but it’s not going to console her. Even if she does carry this baby to term, she’ll still be pregnant. She’ll still have to live with the stigma of being an unmarried mother – still have to tell everyone she knows that she slept with someone and decided to have their baby, without a wedding ring to grace her finger.

Just thinking about what her mother will say makes her want to throw up, but she already emptied her stomach in the surgery bathroom after she left the doctor’s office.

“Rinnie,” Narae calls, her voice taut with worry, the use of the childish nickname unusual. “Please say something. You haven’t spoken for hours, and jeez, you haven’t eaten. I know you don’t want to think about this, but you’ve got to say something.”

Her hand stills on her back, the pause meant to entice Hyerin into saying something. She rolls onto her side, gives her friend a blank look. “What is there to say, Narae? I’m so screwed it’s not even funny.”

She almost wants to blame her for the entire mess – it was her idea to go to the doctor, after all – but she knows it’s not fair. She didn’t tell her to sleep with her boyfriend.

“Hey,” Narae’s tone is admonishing, angry, even. “You are not screwed. You’re pregnant, so what – loads of women find themselves in this position. You’re twenty-six, Hyerin. Not some stupid teenager. You can deal with this.” Tough love has always been Narae’s forte.

“You’ve been watching too many dramas.” She scoffs, because it’s true. Narae has a weakness for those stupid dramas in which the perfect man falls for some annoying woman, and they all live happily ever after. Well, not this time. She doesn’t have a man to fall back on – the person who’s most likely responsible broke up with her weeks ago.

“That’s not the point,” she brushes off the insult. “You have options, Hyerin. There are things you can do, if you don’t want to…have the baby.” The sentence trails off into a whisper, because Narae is most definitely pro-choice, but does not like to speak of such things. She’s a sensitive soul underneath it all (Hyerin would know – she’s the one who mops up the tears every time she watches Titanic).

She buries her face into her pillow, unwilling to think about it. “I don’t have options, Narae – you don’t understand!” The last word becomes a whimpered cry, an admission of some kind of emotion at last.

“Then help me to understand,” Narae says finally. She considers pulling Hyerin away from the pillow, but discards that idea when she remembers just how stubborn the other woman is. “Tell me what’s going on. It’s clearly not just the pregnancy.” Hyerin gives a visible shudder at the word pregnancy.

“You think it’s Hyunjae’s, right?” She says in a small voice, barely audible. Narae makes a noise of assent as she names her last boyfriend. “It might not be.” The whisper is even harder to hear than the last sentence was.

There’s an uneasy silence, as Narae straightens up. “Then…who else could it be? You haven’t been with anyone in months.” She knows she hasn’t, because she’s been over at her apartment more than she’s been in her own home these past few weeks.

When Hyerin refuses to speak, she shakes her friend’s shoulder. “Hyerin,” she says warningly. “You can’t say that and then leave it. Tell me who it is.”

“I can’t.” She gives a low moan, because she desperately wants to say, but is too afraid of the look on Narae’s face when she does.

The other woman’s expression softens. “You can, honey, you can. You can tell me anything – you know I’ll always be here for you.”

She pushes herself upwards, twisting so that she can look her best friend in the face. “Siwon.” She hears Narae’s intake of breath at the name, but carries on regardless. “I slept with him when Hyunjae dumped me, but it was a one-time thing and – “ She stops when she realises she has nothing else to say.

“Siwon?” Narae repeats dumbly. “As in, Siwon, our Siwon?”

“Yes!” Hyerin snaps impatiently. “The Siwon we’ve known since we were kindergarteners!”

“,” Narae murmurs. “ing hell.”

“My thoughts exactly,” she says miserably. “ing hell indeed.”

***

It becomes an unspoken agreement between them – if neither one of them mention the pregnancy, Hyerin will eat and talk like a normal person. And because Narae cares – and because she really thinks she needs to eat, not least of all because of the b-a-b-y – she goes along with it, stays silent when she has so many things to say and so many things to ask.

But most of all, she wants to give her best friend the giant, crushing hug she so obviously needs, because – although she’s shocked and upset she never mentioned the Siwon thing to her – all she can feel is sympathy. If this was her in the same situation, she would have freaked. She would be just as tight-lipped as Hyerin, just as upset.

They’re society girls; daughters of socialites and their first husbands. Girls who have been primed to be the perfect wives from birth. To go against this destiny – to ruin your fate with an unsanctioned pregnancy – means utter disgrace. Even if she were to get married to Hyunjae immediately, there would still be whispers, backward glances. Suspicious mutterings, judgemental looks underneath lashes caked in mascara.

And the fact that there are two potential fathers – well, it’s a ticking time bomb ready to blow. It’s not as if she and Hyerin are the staunchest advocates of the world they were born into, but it’s hard to let go of values that have been hammered into you from the moment you could speak.

So even though she wants to get Hyerin to talk, she does not force her, does not push because she understands that she can’t face up to it. She understands that it’s even harder because Hyerin has never been even the slightest bit maternal, and the intrusion of a baby into her daily life is not something that will be welcomed. And she knows – because she knows Hyerin inside out – that the guilt churning inside of her will be impossible to ignore.

It’s not the best idea – not healthy – to let Hyerin stay in denial, but it’s one day and she knows her friend. She knows Hyerin will face up to it eventually – knows she’ll have to, because it’s not like you can hide a baby. So she tells her she’s here for her – whenever she feels ready to talk (not if) – and leaves her to it.

As she shuts the front door, a wry thought flitters across her mind. This really was not what she was expecting.

***

It’s too much; she can’t stay in this apartment, alone, with her thoughts plaguing her over and over. She sighs, stuffs her feet into last season’s Manolos and grabs the coat she bought with Narae just two days ago. When she wasn’t pregnant and so totally screwed.

The route she takes it one she knows well – past little boutiques and trendy coffee bars, down into the suburban, residential areas and into a bustling department store. It’s loud, bright and obnoxious, and it’s just what she needs because she’s not sure how to think with all the silence around her.

She shoves her hands into her pockets and watches strangers hurry in and out of shops, like they’ve all got somewhere they desperately need to be. If it was a normal day, she’d probably be one of the shoppers – supplementing a wardrobe of designer labels with high street basics, like a good socialite is supposed to. If she wasn’t in so much trouble – if she wasn’t pregnant, (oh, how she hates the word) she’d be laughing, probably.

She’d at least be smiling.

But there’s nothing worth smiling about, because an unplanned pregnancy is not funny, not clever – it’s so decidedly stupid, that she wonders how on earth she let it happen. She always knew that Narae was the smart one of the two of them – the one who decided to go to university, and make something of herself – but she’d always sort of thought she had some intelligence. She snorts. Clearly not.

It feels too much like one of those American dramas, the ones where the girls are s and the boys are playboys – the ever ist comparisons of uality in full force, as always – and the girl is left to deal with her little problem all by herself. Like she will be – come on, she’s not stupid, there’s no way Hyunjae will stand by her when he finds out she slept with Siwon, practically hours after they broke up – because she’s an idiot. She honestly thought she was better than this, that she had it sorted out.

But she didn’t, because she’s still the insecure little girl she was. The silly, vain little girl who slept with her best friend because she wanted to prove to herself that she still had it. She might be on the shelf at twenty-six, no longer ethereally young and beautiful, but she’s still young. It’s just, in this society, if you’re not married by a certain age…well, the whispers start.

And they’re going to whisper even more when they find out that she’s knocked up. She’ll get the blame, of course; in high society, it’s never the man’s fault, of course not. He can philander as much as he likes, sleep with his secretary instead of his wife and he will still be taken seriously. A woman? Not so much.

Maybe abortion is the answer, then. It’s not quite as much a taboo as it was, is it? And she – she knows people who’ve had them, gotten rid of babies they can’t possibly have because there’s something too scandalous about them. And…it’s not really a baby, yet, is it? It’s too new, too delicate to be anything more than an idea of a child.

She’s not cut out for motherhood. It would be the best for all.

So why is she so unconvinced by her own words? Why does abortion feel like the end of everything, when having a child is surely going to destroy her life more?

Maybe because it's not fair. That the father – whoever he is – deserves a say in this. That it's her mistake and she must live with it – she won't use abortion as a last-minute contraceptive. But in her secret heart of hearts, she knows that there is another reason. A reason she won't admit to because it's too calculating, too un-motherly. To admit she's thinking of keeping this child because it would rid her of her conniving family, and give her her own family to mould feels too cold, too cruel to this poor proto-child who didn't ask for such a ty life.

Her own family had never really given her much thought, and it sounds like the whining of every rich girl whose father ed off once he realised the secretary’s were bigger than his wife’s, but it’s true. She was just a girl, someone to be prettified and sold to the highest bidder. She hasn’t spoken – hasn’t seen – her father in years, and her mother…well, that’s something she’d rather not think about.

Be a good girl and do as you’re told. It was what she’d always done. She’d rebelled, yes – but only in the small ways that showed she wasn’t perfect. Things that could be swept under the carpet, ignored by uncaring parents as simple annoyances created by an ungrateful child. A drunken teen is easy enough to ignore if you try hard enough.

But this – this is something her mother will never forgive. A social faux pas of such magnificence that it could ruin their reputation as a family. Her mother’s legacy could be destroyed. All by one positive pregnancy test.

It’s laughable, really. But nobody will have the guts to find the humour in the situation.

Well, she thinks, as her fingers tighten into anxious fists inside of her pockets, there is one person who’d be able to find something to laugh about in all of this, but she can’t possibly tell him. Heechul might be her surrogate older brother – the only part of her family who might actually care – but he’s Siwon’s best friend. And if she unloads it all on Heechul, she runs the risk of Siwon finding out before she’s ready to tell him.

She’s in so much ing trouble that tears are prickling at her eyelids, because the fact that she can’t even turn to Heechul means that nothing can make this right. Heechul wouldn’t judge her; he wouldn’t call her a or an idiot, and he wouldn’t fuss over her like a mother hen, as Narae will – that’s not his style. He’d just make a quip out of it, tell her how to fix it and suddenly everything would feel a little less like a death sentence. He would chase the monsters away, as he had when she was his five year old step-sister and he realised her family was just as ed up as his.

And yet, she can’t, because she screwed their mutual best friend and is too scared to tell him.

***

When she returns home, she pushes the memory of that positive pregnancy test to the back of her mind, ignores the leaflets and prescriptions that Narae left so conspicuously on her bedside table. Compartmentalising has always been something she’s good at; she’ll deny what she’s really feeling – what’s really going on – until she has to.

But when the next day begins with her retching into the toilet, she begins to understand that there can be no denial: she is pregnant, and there's absolutely nothing she can do about it.