22 weeks

Her life – already subjected to so much upheaval – feels like some kind of farce as she finds herself searching for a home outside of the city she has lived in for all of her life. She picks a place at random from the selection Sungah provides her with, mostly because the advert on the website says she can move in right away and living by the seaside sounds vaguely appealing. The description of the house makes it seem that way, at least.

It seems like a dream, as Sungah orders mountains of bubble-wrap and begins to pack everything she owns up in neat little parcels. Sungah organises it all with her typical stoicism, vowing to follow her mistress to the ends of the Earth, and muttering angrily about castrating 'that Choi boy' when she thinks she can't hear her.

Narae keeps her distracted with endless reruns of terrible dramas, and promises not to tell anyone when she sobs at the sappy endings. Sungah, however, is not amused by her endless throwing of chocolate boxes at the screen, or her refusal to leave the house.

She doesn't hear anything from either Kyuhyun or Siwon, something she is thankful for. She just wants to disappear without a trace, and though she longs for Siwon to come back and tell her it doesn't matter, it's not going to happen, and she needs to make peace with that.

So it's something of a surprise when Heejin comes to visit one morning, breezing in as if it is just a social call and not a discussion of the total mess that is Hyerin's life right now.

“I heard you're moving,” she says cheerfully – she's too well-bred to say why, however. “And I wanted to ask you something before you go.”

“Oh?” Hyerin looks up from where she's been directing an unamused Sungah to pack her things properly, curious. “What would that be?”

Heejin smiles. It lights up her face, and she looks so much like Heechul that she has to look away. “To be one of my bridesmaids,” she grins, “we've decided to get married as soon as we can, considering how long they made us wait. So we're getting married in two months.”

Her eyes widen. That is soon. She doesn't dare suggest that it can't be done, however; she knows Kim Heejin, and what she wants, she gets. “I'll be seven months pregnant by then,” she says, a wry smile gracing her lips. “I'm hardly going to make the most elegant of bridesmaids. And,” she looks down, embarrassed, “I'll be a social pariah, so really, is that what you want for your wedding? Because –”

“Oh, shh,” Heejin rolls her eyes, hands on hips. “There's no such thing as bad press, and really, it wouldn't be my wedding if there wasn't at least one scandal.” Her voice softens, as she pulls one of Hyerin's limp hands into her her own. “And I want you there. It'll be one day, and then you can go back to wherever it is you're moving to.”

Hyerin attempts to keep the smile on her face; she is touched, really – for once, this is a wedding she would like to attend, and to be asked to be a bridesmaid is an honour, truly. But the idea of being trussed up while hugely pregnant and shunned by society makes her cringe. Once again, she'll be in Heejin's shadow, and this time – well, she'll have no chance to shine on her own.

The baby's taken away any opportunity she has to be beautiful, after all.

“Then I'll do it,” she decides, hands shaking a little. Heejin beams at her, too pretty by far. “But you're going to have alter my dress,” she adds, a touch apologetically. “I'm not going to fit into it by the wedding.”

Heejin waves it off. “Not a problem.” In that easy, unconscious way of hers, she pulls Hyerin into a hug, before holding her at arm's length. She gives her a probing look. “We'll never leave you to do this alone, you know,” she tells her. “You do know that, right?”

The we she refers to can only include Heechul, and she realises they must have had a chat about her. We need to talk about Hyerin: the idea makes her smile: “I know,” she says honestly.

“Good.” Heejin shakes her a little for emphasis, and she giggles a little at the sensation. “We're family, okay? And we'll be here, whatever you choose to do.”

Heejin leaves not soon after, claiming she has to bollock someone about centrepieces, but the warmth her words engender stays for the rest of the week.

***

Jongdae takes the news that they're leaving with a little less grace, when Narae sits him down to tell him she'll be gone for several months.

“You're going?” His face falls, expression something in between hurt and fear. “You're just...going?” He repeats, as if he doesn't understand. Narae hears the words he's too embarrassed to vocalise. You're leaving me? Jongdae has always felt so very alone without his big sister to protect him.

Narae nods, and smiles, because she doesn't know what else to do. Her baby brother has always been one of the most important people in her world; she doesn't want to leave him – doesn't want to abandon him to the mercy of their changeable mother – but she is torn.

Hyerin needs her. Hyerin – and her unwanted baby – need her to ground them, to keep Hyerin from turning in on herself. And as much as she loves her brother – the brother she has protected since he was born – her best friend has to take precedence in this terrible moment.

“I have to go with her,” she says, unable to express how much Hyerin needs a steadying influence. “I can't – I can't leave her alone. You understand, don't you?”

She's pleading, she knows, but the guilt is clawing at her insides. This is not a choice she has made easily.

Slowly, Jongdae raises his eyes to regard her with a thoughtful look. “Of course,” he shrugs, fingers gripping his biceps. “Of course I do.”

“Be safe,” she tells him suddenly, the fear that he won't be okay without her all too real. “Don't do anything stupid.”

The warning isn't lost on him, and the corners of his cat-like mouth turn up. “Don't get caught in a gay bar, you mean?” He snorts, biting his bottom lip in amusement. “No one cares about me,” he reminds her, still smirking, “I'm not interesting enough.”

She clutches at the sleeve of his jacket, the fear a tight knot in the pit of her stomach. “Please, Jongdae-yah.” She pulls him into a hug; he stiffens for a moment, but relaxes into her familiar hold almost immediately afterward. “Keep it that way. I won't be here to keep you out of trouble.”

He smiles again, the expression still oddly feline. “Me? Get into trouble? Never,” he assures, her eyes suspiciously bright.

She stares him down for a second, before nodding. “You're welcome to come any time,” she squeezes his shoulder, “should anything happen.”

He nods easily. “I'll remember that, noona.”

***

Their moving date draws closer, as Sungah packs everything up and organises grocery deliveries anddoctor's appointments for life in their new home. Jongdae – despite his trepidation about them leaving – is helpful, lifting heavy things for her and joking about how it's all going to be a lovely holiday.

He takes the news of both her marriage to Siwon and pregnancy with the nonchalance of a hardened socialite, and never mentions either of them to her if he can possibly avoid it. It is as if Siwon's name is forbidden, and if she were in a better mood, she would find the comparison to Voldemort in Harry Potter rather funny.

But all she really feels is a controlled sort of desperation, a broken sadness that keeps her in a kind of fog of disinterest. She doesn't really feel anything about anything, and her dreamlike state feels as if it is semi-permanent; it is as if she is under some kind of horrible spell, and one day, someone will snap their fingers and everything will be right again.

She is rudely awoken from this train of thought, however, when she feels the baby move for the first time. It comes without any warning, when Jongdae is helping her organise the removal of some of the bigger items of furniture, to be taken to the new house before she gets there.

They're laughing about something stupid when it happens, Jongdae pretending to rifle through her bag as she exclaims what bad manners it is to look through a lady's personal items. As she leans forward to take the bag from Jongdae, a slight jerk in her abdomen stops her. She stares down at her stomach, confused, until the movement repeats itself, harder this time.

Tentatively, she rests a trembling palm on her stomach, where she can feel it. It happens again, this time so hard that she can feel something bulge against her hand.

She takes a sharp intake of breath. "I think the baby just kicked," she says, wide-eyed. Jongdae pauses in his task, setting down a chair on the pavement.

"That's good, right?" Jongdae replies cautiously, unused to her mixed feelings about anything pregnancy related.

"I guess," she says doubtfully, mind whirring as another succession of little thumps thuds against her hand. "This is weird..." She feels nauseous, a little dizzy. "I need to sit down."

"Oh, okay!" Jongdae jumps to attention, leading her to the chair he has just put down. It's comical, almost, but she is in no mood to laugh. He regards her nervously as she settles down, hands twisting together. "Do you need a drink of water, or something?"

She shakes her head, glad that the momentary dizziness has passed. She really hates losing control of her own body. "I'm okay now.” The baby just kicked, she thinks dazedly, and she's been feeling it for a while, without knowing what it was. She always thought it would be something more...forceful than this. When you hear the word kick, you think of something that, well, hurts.

It's barely more than a stomach gurgle, but she can feel it – him? – settling down inside of her, the sensation at once so bizarre and strangely familiar that she can't quite wrap her head around it. She stares up at Jongdae, unable to articulate the confusion in her head.

“It moved,” she repeats, aware that she sounds like a complete and utter idiot, “it ing moved.”

Jongdae's eyes narrow as he eyes her with undisguised concern. “Yes,” he says slowly, “you said that.” His hands flutter uselessly, as if he was moving to pat her and then thought better of it. “Um,” he starts, looking more than a little out of his depth, “forgive me if I'm wrong, but I thought that was supposed to, uh, happen?”

“But it's in me,” she mutters, shivering a little, “it's alive, and I – I don't know how to deal with this.” Her eyes are wide, she knows, her pupils probably dilated. She sounds like a madwoman. She possibly is one. “I have a baby, kicking around inside of me.”

He squints at her. “Uh. Yeah.” Not a particularly coherent response, but she has to give him credit – he's dealing with her breakdown remarkably well, though she doesn't miss how he constantly casts about for his older sister, obviously praying for her to save him.

“,” she mumbles, “.”

The baby chooses this moment to do what feels like a full somersault, and she twitches at the sensation. There's no way she can go back from this: now she's realised that this feeling is the baby moving, it can never be forgotten.

It makes it real, something – someone – that is a part of her life, for better or for worse. And as she sits there, she is forced to acknowledge that this baby is fast on its' way to becoming a person, a person whose entire life depends on her.

It scares her less.

***

She has one last visitor, before she leaves. In a move that she decides must be deliberate, Zhou Mi appears the night before she is scheduled to make the long drive down to Busan. He declines a cup of tea and a seat, instead choosing to stand in the middle of her living room, leaning against the antique armoire she inherited from a long-dead grandparent. “I heard you're leaving,” he says carefully, long fingers brushing at an invisible piece of lint on his sleeve.

She doesn't ask how he heard. Zhou Mi always seems to know everything. “I am,” she says equally carefully, regarding him thoughtfully. She knows why he's here.

Kyuhyun.

It's not that he doesn't care for her – he is a good man, underneath it all – but she has trespassed on his territory, and the dark part of him he keeps hidden behind a genial façade is not happy about it.

“I'm sorry for it,” he tells her abruptly.

She dips her head in response, and shrugs. “Nothing to be done. It's not your fault.” He chuckles, the barest of smiles on his lips. “You didn't knock me up.”

Something flashes in his eyes, but it is so fleeting she cannot read his expression. “No,” he raises a perfect eyebrow. She knows he has them threaded. “I certainly didn't.” He leans forward, and reaches a hand out towards her. She takes it gently. “You don't have to hide, you know?”

She smiles sadly. “I do, Mi. You know I do.”

Frustration fills his handsome features. “I wish you didn't.” It touches her, that he feels this way, but she knows he is projecting, too. So much of what he is is hidden; so much of what he wants is forbidden to him.

She holds her hands out. “I wish I didn't either. But I'll be back,” she says determinedly, because she will. “They haven't brought me down.”

He gives her an amused half-smile. “Glad to hear it.” He pauses for a second. “It won't be the same without you,” he says softly, “we'll miss you.” He bares his teeth, the smile a little less amused this time. “Especially Kyuhyun.”

She sighs. “It meant nothing, Mi.” She pulls herself upwards, still unused to her new centre of gravity. Zhou Mi watches, a little nervous as she puts a hand on her back. Her lips quirk bitterly; the bump is becoming so obvious now. “It was...an accident,” she says firmly, “nothing we're ever going to repeat.” She snorts. “As if anyone will ever want me again, after I've had this kid.”

The baby wriggles inside of her, as if he's reacting to the mention of his presence.

Zhou Mi nods jerkily, as if he doesn't really care, but she can see the relief in the backs of his eyes. She supposes it is this relief that encourages him to be kind. “Oh, I think they will.” He tells her gently, fingers wrapping around her wrist. He nods towards her belly, and she flushes. “Being a rebel is y, my darling.”

“I'm not a rebel,” she shakes her head, heart aching, “I'm just an idiot.”

“Oh no,” Zhou Mi gives her a knowing look, “you're anything but stupid, darling.” He lifts a shoulder. “Unlucky, I grant you, but stupid, no.”

She shrugs, unable to think of a reply. She supposes it is flattering that he doesn't think of her as an idiot.

He shifts his long form against her furniture, looking very much like a catalogue model in one of his own fashion shoots. “I'm assuming you've had no contact with our Mr Choi, then?” He asks, eyes fixed on her. The question is asked out of genuine concern, but there is no missing the curiosity in his tone. Zhou Mi likes to know things, because being informed is useful.

Who is she to deny his curiosity? It's not as if it's not going to become common knowledge anyway. “No,” she forces her voice to sound steady, “he's made it quite clear he wants nothing to do with me.”

Zhou Mi's eyes gleam. “I don't think that's true,” he stretches his long arms, rolling his shoulders, and she watches, knowing he has more to say.

He pauses, enjoying the drama. “In fact, I heard that he's been locked away by daddy, and is just waiting for an escape so that he can come apologise.”

She can't help the hope blossoming in her chest, though she tries to repress it. “I'm sure that's just gossip,” she says, even as she finds herself praying that it is true.

“Are you?” Zhou Mi hums, eyes piercing.

She gives him a defiant look, refusing to show how much she wants the rumour to be true. “Yes.”

***

What she doesn't know is that Zhou Mi is, in fact, right, and that he knows what he knows because Siwon has been frantically texting him for updates on what is going on, trapped by his father's extreme disapproval.

Filial piety is the last thing on Siwon's mind when he is finally able to wrench himself out of his father's grip, praying that his wife hasn't already left the city. He knows Sungah – the woman is as good as any spy, and if she doesn't want him to find her, he will have no chance of discovering her.

Luck – or at least, extremely good timing – is on his side, as he swings his Bentley into a (probably illegal) parking spot near Hyerin's apartment. He has dispensed with his limo for the day, knowing it is just another way for his father to keep him under his thumb.

A large moving van blocks the entrance to the apartment block, several men darting in and out of it with familiar pieces of furniture. He recognises Hyerin's favourite dresser, as it disappears into the cavernous inside of the van.

He steels himself, and pushes through the hubbub. “Hyerin!” He calls, “Hyerin!” The two men placing suitcases in a car pause in their movements, squinting at him in confusion. Hyerin is nowhere to be seen.

Narae is there, however, a look of such loathing on her face that he is very sure she will never forgive him for this. As soon as he sees Narae's expression, the wind is knocked out of him.

“She doesn't want to see you,” she says icily, her arms folded. “So just leave.”

“Narae, please – ” He takes a deep breath, eyes roving as he searches for Hyerin's figure. She's disappeared, probably into the car, but he knows she's here. “I know I ed up, but you have to let her talk to me – ”

“I don't have to do anything,” she tells him, voice sharp. “You left her to face this alone. So off and go revel in the fact that you've ruined her.” She hisses, pushing him full-force in the chest with one hand. “I will never forget this, Siwon. Never.”

“I'm not looking for your forgiveness, I'm looking for hers,” he snaps, shoving her hand away. “Just let me see her!”

Narae laughs, the sound ringing in the cold wind. “You want her to forgive you? You said you'd be there for her whatever happened, and as soon as the first hurdle appears, you scatter like a scared little puppy. Face it, Siwon. You don't deserve her forgiveness.”

He swallows, knowing the words are true. He shoulders past her, pausing to look at her over his shoulder as she glares at him. “I have to try,” he tells her.

Her lips thin, and she sets her shoulders. “Then you better hope she's more forgiving than I am, because if it were me, I would find a way to make you pay for this, Siwon.” The fervour in her eyes makes it clear she means every word.

He nods. “Understood.”

***

He finds her directing the men to be careful with various pieces of antique furniture, hands tucked into her armpits against the cold, despite her leather gloves and velvet coat. “Careful!” She calls, breath misting in the cold air, “that table is worth more than my entire apartment!”

A burst of love – so powerful it feels like something solid in his gut – churns within him as he watches her, and he knows there is no denial: he is in love with her, and there is nothing he can do about it.

“Hyerin.” She turns, even though he spoke barely above a mumble, and as her eyes widen, he finds himself moving towards her without even thinking. “Hyerin,” he says again, reaching for her.

She stumbles backwards, all thought of keeping her possessions safe gone. He starts forward again, afraid she'll hurt herself, and she shudders. “What the hell are you doing here?” She asks coldly, stepping back from his touch.

He clenches his empty hand uneasily. “To apologise,” he clears his throat, suddenly full, “to tell you I don't want you to go.”

She stays very still, looking at him with that strange, mistrustful look. She's never looked at him like this before – she's never pulled away from him like this, and it hurts. It hurts like hell to know that he's done this to them, when everything was so ing good.

“And why would you do that?” She enunciates each word carefully, as if speaking to someone she'd rather not talk to.

“Because I love you.” The words feel like they have been torn out of him, and he chokes, looks away because he can't bear to see the confusion in her eyes. They don't say I love you. They don't say things that mean anything because in their world, what's the point? The words are empty; you don't love people because they're stepping stones. You can like them, sure, but love is as mythical to the rich as it is to the poor and in some respects, even harder to obtain.

He's always been sure that he'll marry for money and be happy with it. That – somehow – he'll fall in love with someone he never chose and it'll all work out, but when he looks at Hyerin, he knows it's all bull. He could never love a stranger as much as he loves her. There's too much between them; something unspoken and tentative – but it's there, and it has been since he was old enough to realise he might want something more than .

How ing stupid can you be? “It's always been you.” He sounds corny, romantic but then, that's what he is. He's romantic and idiotic and soft for her, and he knows his father would castigate him for being so weak, but what else is he supposed to do? The Choi family get what they want, and always have. Blind, irrational determination is a trait he's never going to be able to overlook.

“Don't.” The word is bitten off, voice shaking in fear because she can't hear this – she can't. This is worse than what they joked about, it's worse than Heechul's teasing asides, and it's not something she can deal with. “Please don't – “

He snorts. “Not saying it won't make it any less true.” He meets her level gaze with all the intensity he can muster, because the rejection will sting less if she looks him in the eye. If she looks him in the eye, he'll know she's not just running away, like she always does. “You know I'm in love with you.” The laugh this time is torn out his throat, bitter and scornful because a thin veneer of confidence is better than being vulnerable. “You'd be ing blind not to.”

“Shut up, Siwon.” She says fiercely, her fingers clenching and unclenching – an obvious tic to show she's unnerved. He laughs again; at least he can say he caught her off-guard. “You don't love me.” He's about to splutter some form of disagreement, an angry tirade about how she can't know anything about what he feels because she's not him – but one look and he silences. “You just think you love me, because you thought you knocked me up and that's your response to trouble – to convince yourself you wanted to be in that situation in the first place.” She shakes her head, that sad, strained smile she's taken to wearing lately playing at the edge of her lips. “And trust me on this, Siwon. You do not want to be involved in my disgrace.” Her fingers make disparaging air quotes, the smile still mostly unformed.

He shrugs, unwilling to show how much her words sting because what the does she know? “What, does that bother you?” He comes closer, that coil of unresolved tension flickering to life. She feels it, he knows – he can see it in the way she stills, looking anywhere but his face. He starts softly, one hand resting on her waist, the other resting against her stomach. She trembles violently, and this time, he knows it's not to do with him.

It's more to do with what he's doing.

“Don't touch me there.” She whispers – pleads, even. There's a note of panic in her voice, a hint of the shame she tries so hard to hide with bravado because she's not okay with this baby and she's not sure she ever will be. His hand does not move. “Not there, please – ”

He's close enough to whisper into her ear. “It's funny how you care now, because when you were ing me in the back of that limo, you didn't seem to give a about taking advantage of my feelings.” She flinches, but he carries on, hands sliding down to rest on her hips. To the casual observer, they'd look like lovers. He supposes they still are. “As I recall, you even said it ba –“

“You bastard.” She slaps his hands away, the vehemence in her voice surprising even him. “You absolute bastard.” She's still shorter than him – even in heels – but the utter contempt in her voice makes him feel as small as a mouse. “I was drunk, you were taking advantage of me as much as I was of you.”

“So what does it matter if I say it now?” He counters smoothly, too used to years of superficial courtesy to let an opportunity slip past him. “You let me say it then. You liked it then.”

Her eyes open and shut for a few seconds, set in a tight line as she tries to come up with a sensible response. He keeps his hands to himself, this time – but he aches to touch her, to further that ridiculous connection between them. “I wasn't – it's not the same.”

He knows that if he kissed her right now, she'd probably slap him, but he can't say he's not seriously considering it, even though he should be running away as fast as he possibly can. “Why isn't it the same? If what we feel hasn't changed, then – “

“Don't play that game with me, Siwon.” She sighs, stepping away from their almost-embrace. He blinks back at her, expression as neutral as he can make it. She's not fooled. “It's completely different. I'm – “And once again, that irrepressible panic rises up in her eyes as they look at each other. “I'm pregnant.” She mutters, the fight gone out of her because this reality never fails to remind her how completely and utterly screwed she is.

“I don't care,” he tells her, wishing that she'd just get it already. It's not a lie – not exactly – because he doesn't care. He'll take her in any way he can, just as long as she's his, and he's hers. It's all he wants, all he can think of right now, and he knows that later, he'll see what a stupid decision he's making – but in the heat of the moment, with Hyerin so close, yet so far away – he can't even see this baby as an obstacle. He's too far gone, as Heechul would say, too prone to rushing in headlong without any thought for the consequences.

But Hyerin – his better, more rational half – shakes her head and laughs. “Oh, I think you will when you remember it's not your baby.” She's smirking, but there's something broken in the back of her eyes. “My father didn't even bother sticking around for me, and I actually was his kid. What makes you think you'll be able to commit to another man's child?” She's chuckling now, that smirk growing wider to bear her teeth in something more akin to a grimace. “Don't fool yourself, Siwon. No man could care that much.”

“I could,” he says, voice becoming stronger as he carries on, “I will.” He steps forward again, pushing past that invisible line keeping them apart, and pulls her close, hands on her waist. He rests his forehead against hers, feeling her chest heave as she breathes in and out too quickly.

He watches, heart twisting as she wipes her eyes off with the back of her hand, refusing to cry. “Did you mean it?” She asks, voice quiet. Her arms cross of their own volition, hands gripping her elbows. He can see the effort it's taking her to hold back the tears, and he almost wishes that she'd just let go. He longs to hold her properly – to comfort her – but he knows she won't let him. “Any of it? Did you mean it?”

“Of course I did,” he says, heart pumping as he tries to think of anything – anything – that will convince her to forgive him. “Of course I meant it when I said I lov – “

“Will you love me when I tell you I don't love the baby?” She asks, her laugh more than a little hysterical. She impatiently brushes a tear away. “Will you?”

“I will love you whatever,” he says, feeling the tears prickling in his own eyes, tilting her chin up with a gentle hand. He yearns to kiss her – to lose himself in her – but he can't, and he knows that to do so would be cowardly when she still doesn't trust him.

“You left me,” she cries, furious that he would try to earn her forgiveness by pushing his own feelings onto her. “I begged you to stay, and you left. You said you'd be there and you – you weren't.” She swallows, thick. “Why the hell should I trust you now?”

“I said I'm sorry,” he can feel his voice pleading, desperation creeping in as he realises that he's ed up in a way she's never truly going to forgive. “I'm back, and I'm here, please don't push me away.”

She folds her arms under her chest, regarding him coldly. “Why shouldn't I? You pushed me away.”

“It was in the heat of the moment, I wasn't thinking – ”

“Why did you leave, Siwon? You knew there was a pretty big chance it was Hyunjae's, and you said – you promised – you'd be there even if it was. What changed?”

He doesn't know how to explain his jealousy, his irrational anger. He doesn't know how to tell her that it was a weakness he couldn't shake, something he regretted as soon as he got his head screwed on properly. “It was a shock, I was scared because you wouldn't talk to me, and – ” He lets out a shaky breath. “What do you want me to say?”

“I want to know why you left, and I want to know why you came back.” She says evenly, fingers curling into fists. She digs her nails into her palm to keep from screaming at him. “I want to know you're not just going to run away again.”

“I came back because I'm sorry, because I love you – because you need me, the baby needs me.” He looks at her with earnest eyes, begging her to understand. “Hyerin, I love you.”

Her lips twist into a humourless smile. “Wrong answer.” Slowly, she turns away, heedless of his pleas for her to come back.

***

She walks the short distance back to the car, his words ringing in her ears. Because you need me. I love you. I'm sorry.

It's not enough. It will never be enough, when she's tired of men using her as they see fit and leaving when it all gets too much. He didn't say anything to convince her that he'd be there through it all; his assurances of his love mean nothing when he broke his promise, and apologies are worthless when they can't fix shattered dreams. It's just her now. Her and Narae and the child that ruined everything.

Narae is concerned when she returns, and there is a flicker of surprise in her eyes. She wonders if she's that predictable. Did Narae really expect her to walk back into Siwon's arms, no questions asked?

She supposes so. Most people would. Especially most wives. But their marriage of convenience is over practically before it started, and though those few weeks of and security may have made her happy, they're of no use to her now.

“What did he say?” Narae asks, insanely curious, as she gets back into the car. “Did he apologise?”

She nods wordlessly, because it's true. “He said he loved me,” she says, voice emotionless. “He said I needed him.” She wraps her arms around herself once more, aware that the expression on her face is probably worrying her best friend. “It wasn't enough.”

Narae asks the question she's dreading. “Do you love him?”

She watches Minki wash himself in his cat basket, unfettered by human crises. He stares at her for one second, before going right back to his , and she laughs, if a little bitterly. “I think I do.” She sticks a finger through the bars of the cage for Minki to sniff, and he does so, turning to rub up against the bars of his cage. “But it's of no consequence now.”

Narae's beautiful, luminous eyes are sad, but she looks away. This is her own heartbreak. Her own fault.

If nothing else, she has the right to grieve alone.