One Missed Call | ✓

CHAPTER ONE

She kept her head low to enter the car and drag a box from the pile labeled 'dinnerwares', recognizing the messy handwriting of her husband. Feeling an incredible amount of adrenaline surge through her, she grunted and tried to carry the heavy box all by herself, until her arms failed her and could feel it dragging her weight down. Strong arms caught it on time.

"Are you okay?"

Slowly recovering from the initial shock, she could make out Jiwon's concerned eyes looking at her. He gently took the box from her and put it back on the car. Panting, she nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and leaned at the edge of the SUV.

"Babe... you okay?" he repeated.

She nodded absentmindedly. "Yeah... sure. I'm fine."

He didn't pursue the topic further as he grabbed her head from a single reach of his hand and kissed her hair, letting her soak in his sweaty glory. "Just let us handle this and rest for a while. I'll go back to you later."

His wife watched him carry the box she attempted to carry before and proceeded with his work. It led her sight to drift to her brother, looking at her from a distance. She pursed her lips as she looked at anywhere, just not at the image of his broken smile. From the corner of her eye, she could see him stop looking and continued helping the others to move things out of the truck, as if nothing happened at all.

-1-

Weeks later, the unopened boxes Jisoo didn't get around to arrange was finally taken out by her husband. Jisoo hoped there would be enough reason not to unpack anymore.

Jiwon was a busy man, always out of town because of his hectic work schedules. Imagine the suppressed irritation he felt for the past weeks coming home to boxes, looking the same way it did the first time it came. He never had the guts to tell her off.

When she came home after an afternoon stroll, everything was set in place, looking like a house it intended to be. Familiar ornaments adorned different spots in the house. There was the pink-painted seashell she begged him to buy at their honeymoon at the Maldives, the turquoise glass bowl wedding gift from his mother at the coffee table, and the rose-adorned throw pillow on the couch Jisoo used to practice her embroidering skills.

At the kitchen leaning against the granite countertop was her husband sipping a cup of freshly-brewed coffee. He wore whitewashed jeans and a grey shirt two sizes big for him. It was a stark difference to the business suits he always came home with.

"Hey there, babe. You didn't tell me where you went to," he warmly greeted with a smile reaching up to his eyes. Some days, she wondered if he mastered the art of smiling for it to look natural, too rehearsed for her sight.

"You should've told me first," she stated and crossed her arms.

Her husband shrugged and put the cup beside him, answering as he knew perfectly what she was talking about. "I figured you're adjusting and all so I didn't want to bother you with it." He smiled again. "Don't worry about it; it's my rest day after all."

"Who told you to?" she snapped.

She immediately turned her back to avoid looking at his crestfallen expression. No matter how much she dismissed it, she hated him the most when he was being like that. That only appeared when he was with her.

It was a terrible idea to move in the first place. She should've tried harder to oppose, but everyone had their decisions against her, as if they were the ones who had to move, as if their opinions mattered at all.

Feeling the familiar lump in her throat, she went ahead to go to the bedroom and slam the door shut, engulfing her whole body underneath the covers of the mattress. The ache she tried to bury deep inside felt like being clawed out again.