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Chapter 12: A New Chapter – September 2, 2024

He had the most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen.  Even more mesmerizing than Eunho’s.  She felt immediate guilt as the thought washed over her.  She owed her late husband more than to forget him for another man.

She’d never forget Eunho.  It would be impossible for her to forget the tender man whose heart beat within her chest.  Still, something had drawn her to the eyes of the man who had just walked through the doorway to her classroom.

He did have the most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen.

That had been her first thought as the man glanced up at her that warm summer’s day when he dropped his daughter off in her classroom on the first day of school.  But such a thought still felt unfaithful to the memory of a wonderful man who had loved her – truly loved her – and died saving her life.  

Eunho had saved her life.  Twice.  He had promised to protect her with his own self.  And he had accomplished it.  Far beyond his wildest dreams.  But, in the surrendering of his heart to her, he had left her alone.  

And, lately, she had been feeling that void more and more.  She was finally done with college, having earned her teaching degree in the spring.  Her health had also rebounded in an amazing way over the past two years.  She’d had a little time on her hands this summer, so she had faced a sad truth: she despised being alone.  She wanted someone to love.  Someone to hold.  Someone to touch her again.  And she still wanted a child.  Even if that precious being would never be Eunho’s.

She shoved all her thoughts to the side and donned her professionalism.  This was her first day teaching fourth grade.  She was now living the dream Eunho had encouraged her to dream.  So she crossed the room to greet her new student and the man who had accompanied her.  They were the first to arrive this morning.  The very first day of a brand new year.  In more ways than one for Haewon.

“Hello, I’m Mrs. Wang,” she welcomed the man and his daughter with a bright smile.  It lit up her whole face.  

As Myeong stared down at the beautiful woman standing in front of him, he felt a twinge of disappointment at the word “Mrs.”   This woman’s countenance positively glowed.  Did she know it?

“Hello.  I am Kang Myeong, and this is my daughter, Dahui.”

The young girl smiled shyly up at her.  “I’m named for my eomma.”

“I bet she’s every bit as beautiful as you are,” Haewon asserted.

A tremor passed over the girl’s face.  “Is it all right if I find my desk?” she queried quietly.

“Certainly.  I would love to have you sit on the front row.  Pick whichever seat you want.”

As the child walked slowly away from them, her appa faced Haewon squarely.  “Mrs. Wang, Dahui’s eomma died when she was born.  Ten years ago.”

Her heart felt the brunt of those sad words.  Her eyes filled with tears as sympathy overwhelmed her.  After Eunho’s death, she had cried more easily than she used to.

“I am so sorry to hear that,” she whispered as her eyes sought out the child’s poignant face.  “I can’t imagine growing up without an eomma.”

He nodded.  “She has, though.  It’s always been just the two of us.”

He must be quite the man.  To have raised a daughter alone.

Haewon’s eyes met his intriguing ones again.  “I understand your loss.  Better than you can imagine.”  

But before she could say more, another group of people entered through the doorway.  

“I’m sorry.  I need to greet all of my students today.  It was wonderful to meet you, and I promise: I’ll keep an eye on her for you.”

His face broke into a smile.  “Thank you.”

As she walked by him, her scent lingered in the air around him.  He inhaled.  And closed his eyes.  She smelled of vanilla.  Like the sweetest of baked goods.  Like the cookies he was always trying to make with Dahui.  The ones that never turned out right.  He didn’t have his wife’s touch in the kitchen.

Mrs. Wang reminded him vaguely of his wife.  Something delicate in her constitution.  But as he watched her over the next few moments, he couldn’t shake loose of the feeling that she was actually quite strong.  And she clearly took pleasure in children.  She seemed truly excited to meet each of her new students.  

He observed her for as long as he could, but all too soon work was calling him.  He had to rush off to a meeting.  But not too quickly.  Nothing was worth endangering his life.  His precious Dahui needed him.

—

Haewon watched the girl.  She resembled her father.  Tall and strong.  Striking good looks.  But her face was softer than his.  Perhaps she had a little of her mother in her after all.  

Dahui had a head of short, midnight curls.  Her appa must not have wanted to concern himself with plaiting long tresses.  But Dahui’s short hair framed her face in the cutest way possible.  It seemed to draw attention to her wide, dark eyes.  She had a button nose and a rosebud mouth to match.  Her round face made her seem younger than her ten years.  She was truly a little cutie pie.  

Haewon stood at the whiteboard as she drew a circle on it with a dry erase marker.  Then she turned towards her class.  

“Who can find the circumference of the circle?”

Dahui raised her hand.  “It’s two times pi times the radius.”

Haewon nodded.  “Very good, Dahui.  Do you know what we substitute for pi?”

“My birthday,” the girl asserted quietly.  Several children tittered.

“Your birthday?” Haewon furrowed her brow in confusion.

Dahui nodded her head.  “I was born on Pi Day.  March fourteenth.  Three fourteen.  I know it’s actually fourteen three, but I had an American teacher last year who told me I was born on Pi Day.”  She laughed suddenly.  “They actually celebrate it in America by playing math games involving pi and eating pies.  My teacher threw a party on that day last year.  It was so much fun.”

Dahui smiled as she reminisced.  She had felt like the whole class was celebrating her special day.  It had been the funnest birthday she’d ever enjoyed.  

She sobered.  But March fourteenth hadn’t just been the day she was born.  It had also been the day her mother died.  So bittersweet for her appa.  He had always been good about celebrating it with her anyway.  He clearly loved her.  

Dahui had no memory of her mother, of course, but her appa had set her picture in a frame and placed it on the nightstand in her room.  That picture was in some of her earliest memories.  As a little girl, she would stare at it and wish she could see that face in front of her.  Alive and breathing.  

Of course, such a thing could never happen.  But her heart still longed for an eomma.  Dahui wanted to grow her hair long and let some kind lady braid it.  She wanted to paint her nails and try on dresses.  She wanted someone with whom to bake cookies.  Appa tried.  But he always burnt them.

She sighed.  Her appa had never dated anyone.  All he did was work.  When he wasn’t helping her with her homework.  Or watching a movie with her.  Or taking her to the park.  Or trying to bake something sweet in the kitchen with her.  He always failed.  But he never kept trying.  He was the best father in the world.  But she was worried about him.  He needed a woman to take care of him.  

He couldn’t cook.  Even after ten years of trying to learn.  Dahui had begun to take over the dinner chores.  He supervised her use of the stove and oven, but he left everything else to her.  She had watched countless YouTube videos and learned to make several satisfying dishes.  Appa swore she was going to be a chef someday.

But he had no wife to do his laundry.  Or iron his shirts.  Or kiss his lips.  And Dahui could tell he was lonely.  Sometimes, she’d catch him staring at the pictures of her eomma that he’d put up around their apartment.  Such a fragile expression would rest on his countenance then.  

And when her appa’s best friend came to visit with his wife and the two of them would share a quick kiss in front of Appa, Dahui would notice a sad light in his eyes.  So she had decided several months ago that she had a new mission in life.  Now that the kitchen was under control and they were both eating decent meals, it was time to turn her attention to a new project.  Operation Find Appa a Wife.  

As her eyes traced the pretty face of her new teacher, she admitted her disappointment.  Her gaze fell to the huge ruby heart glimmering on Mrs. Wang’s finger.  The crimson gem that clung to a sterling band and was nestled next to another slightly wider, silver band.  Clearly, Mrs. Wang was married.  It was such a shame.  She would be just perfect for Appa.

Mrs. Wang was beautiful.  And Dahui had noticed the way Appa’s eyes had lit up when he’d first looked at her.  She’d felt an odd excitement in him as the pretty lady had crossed the room towards them.  She had also discerned his disappointment when she had introduced herself to them as a married woman.  

For her part, Dahui could picture herself trying on dresses with Mrs. Wang.  And learning to paint her fingernails.  She was sure her teacher would know how to tame her unruly curls too.  The woman was clearly gifted in the art of being feminine.

Dahui frowned.  She wished Mrs. Wang were a viable candidate for the position of her stepmother.  Her new teacher seemed to be absolutely wonderful.  So far, she was the nicest teacher Dahui had ever encountered.  Even kinder than Mrs. Forrester of Pi Day fame. 

Mrs. Wang was responding now.  “That sounds like amazing fun, Dahui!  Perhaps we should celebrate Pi Day this year.  What do you think, class?”

To murmurs of agreement, Mrs. Wang smiled.  “What an extraordinary way to celebrate your birthday.  Playing with pi.  And eating it too!”  

Haewon laughed as she envisioned several ways she could make an edible pi.  She had a few months to plan.  She was grateful to Dahui for an original idea.  Haewon had been plotting ways to make learning fun for her students.  This one seemed to be a sure hit.  

As she drew the attention of her class back to the problem at hand, she smiled at the young girl again.  There was something special about her.  She stood out from the remainder of the class.  Was it just because Haewon felt a natural sympathy for her, knowing her appa had suffered a twin tragedy, a loss like her own?  And recognizing that a girl who had grown up without a mother must feel terribly lonely?

Loneliness was something they definitely had in common.

—

Those beautiful eyes had returned.  She could feel them even before she glanced up at the end of the school day.  Dahui’s appa was standing in the doorway.  Haewon just knew it.  Those eyes of fire were burning a hole through her consciousness.  Disturbing her.  Making her aware of him on many different levels.  Some with which she wasn’t entirely comfortable.

She’d never been with a man.  Except for the night she was raped.  And, thank God, she had no recollection of that awful event.  Only of the condition to which she had awoken in the aftermath of that horrendous night. 

She’d married Eunho, but they had never been physically intimate.  She had balked at it, and so had he.  Their relationship was in a completely different class than every other one he’d ever had.  Haewon had always sensed that he feared having sex with her.  She knew he was afraid he’d awake the beast within his soul, the one that had driven him to coerce many girls to submit to his will.  But Eunho had never been that person with Haewon.  He had never given vent to any of those impulses with her.

He had sought only to protect her.  To woo her.  To indulge her every whim.  To pamper her.  To free her.  To give her the best life she could have in the short period of time she’d been given. 

Except that Eunho had done far above and beyond even his wildest dreams in that regard.  For he had given her the time she could not purchase for herself.  He had given her his own time.  She was living out the remainder of his life, his heart beating in her chest while his body lay in a cold grave.  That empty frame had been buried long ago.  But his living heart pumped her blood throughout her body.  She was conscious of it every single day.  She was thankful for it every single moment.

But she missed him.  She longed for his companionship.  She missed the tenderness he’d shown her.  She had not enjoyed sleeping alone since he had left her. 

She’d played the internal movie of their honeymoon over and over in her head, trying not to lose any of the details.  But, lately, she found them slipping.  She was beginning to lose the thread of his voice too. She couldn’t feel his tender touch on her skin anymore either.  His face was also fading away, despite the pictures she reviewed often.  Eunho’s image had been imprinted on her heart, but as the months flew by, the picture was waning.  

His scent had disappeared from his pillow.  The old sweatshirt of his that she sometimes donned didn’t smell like him anymore.  Even though she hadn’t washed it since he wore it last.  The worst part was the loss of his voice, though.  That precious voice that had whispered words of love to her on so many occasions.

The loss of him – of his face, his voice, his touch, his smell – scared her.  She felt more alone now than she ever had before Eunho had married her.  She’d become accustomed to his presence.  To his laughter.  To the gentle brush of his lips across her own and of his fingertips against her skin.  To the length of him curled around her in their bed, his arm hugging her close to his heart.  She still possessed that heart, but his heat no longer warmed her bed at night.

But, right now, another man’s heat was warming her.  She felt herself flushing before she ever raised her eyes to connect with Myeong’s.  The man was absolutely gorgeous.  She was aware that he probably wouldn’t have been selected to grace the cover of a magazine, but she would have personally taken that editor to task for not picking his photo out of the pile. 

His most notable feature, of course, was those striking eyes.  Highly unusual in a man of Asian descent, those orbs were a crystal blue.  Coupled with the locks of his raven hair and his paler complexion, those eyes drew the attention of many.  Not just Haewon.  Briefly, she wondered if he was part Japanese.  She’d read once that there was a region of northern Japan known for its blue eyes.  Such a heritage would have explained his paler skin too.  Regardless of its explanation, the unusual color scheme of his face made it an intriguing one.

But that wasn’t the only thing.  Something lay beneath the surface of that countenance.  And it drew her to him.   She was not a stranger to grief.  Or to the ache that loneliness emitted.  She could detect it in the twist of his lips and in the depths of his eyes.  But there was also a sweet compassion hidden there.  The man understood loss.  And its variegated consequences.

She sighed.  She didn’t want to be attracted to him.  It made her feel guilty.  But…she didn’t want to be alone for the remainder of her life either.  However, she was his daughter’s teacher.  Wasn’t there something unethical about dating the appa of one of her students?

She shook her head.  What on earth was wrong with her?  The man had barely looked at her.  Let alone asked her out on a date.  He was probably completely unaware of her anyway.  At least, as anything more than his daughter’s teacher.  Certainly, he wasn’t intrigued by her.

But as their eyes suddenly collided, and the breath was whisked from her lungs, she had to rethink that earlier assessment.  His crystal blue eyes were piercing her.  And they seemed to be beckoning her.  Was he as attracted to her as she was to him?

Why was she so drawn to him? 

She allowed her eyes to trace the strong planes of his face.  He had a square jaw, created by bold lines.  There was nothing feminine hidden in that countenance.  Her gaze traveled to the top of his head before descending.  His midnight hair swept over his forehead in a long series of locks forming bangs which kissed his eyebrows.  Those eyebrows were nearly straight and ran parallel to his upper lip.  They lay suspended over those intriguing eyes, which were nearly rectangular.  His nose was a straight, soft blade that widened at the bottom, forming an upside down T.  

His lips were relatively thin but had been painted by genetics’ brush an interesting shade of dark crimson.  When he smiled, she noticed that his teeth, though white, were a little crooked.  Somehow, she found this trait oddly endearing.  They were, as she had once heard a friend say, perfectly imperfect.  Right this moment, those lips had curved into a smile that was directed at her.  She found herself returning that joy without even considering it. 

As he moved towards her, her attention was drawn from his face to his powerful physique.  The man clearly worked out.  He was also quite tall.  He towered over her, much as Eunho had.  Of course, it didn’t require a lot of height on the part of a man to outstrip her by a foot.  Haewon had never grown past four feet eight inches.  It was no wonder that Eunho had always thought of her as a child.  The man had been sixteen inches taller than her.

As Myeong came to stand in front of her, she glanced up into his face and determined he was at least a foot taller than her.  His beautiful,eyes smiled down at her as he began to speak. 

“How was her first day?”

Myeong stared down at the dainty beauty before him.  She resembled a china doll his late wife had treasured as a child.  He’d seen it on a shelf in her bedroom the first time he’d visited her house and she’d given him the grand tour.  He grinned at the memory.  That doll had possessed the same flowing, midnight locks that graced the head of Dahui’s teacher. 

But the woman’s translucent skin was all her own.  It was glowing still.  Her complexion oddly pale.  Her face was a sweet oval.  Her delicately arching eyebrows perched over her great, obsidian eyes, which seemed to twinkle up at him.  Round and wide, they were framed by long, ebony eyelashes.  Her nose was tiny and rounded at its tip.  It softened her face, lending her that childlike air.  Her lips were full and blooming with color.  They were also stretched into a smile. 

“I think it was wonderful, but you can ask her what she thought.  She’s quite brilliant, your daughter.”

“Isn’t she just?”  He grinned proudly as his eyes traveled to trace his daughter’s precious face. 

Haewon could tell that he adored his little girl.  She felt that affection tugging at the door of her heart.  How many different ways would he attempt to gain entrance?

“Please let me know if you need any assistance this year.  I know sometimes teachers require classroom helpers for special trips or class parties.  My work hours are flexible because I work mostly from home.  So please don’t hesitate to ask for my help if you need it.  I can usually reschedule my meetings if necessary.”

Amazed, she gazed up at him.  Most parents didn’t even bother to walk their children to class, let alone offer to give up an afternoon of their time for their child’s education.  Or simply to help a teacher.

“Thank you,” she murmured earnestly.  “That is most generous of you.”

His cornflower eyes lanced hers again.  “Not at all.  You’re the one sowing nearly all your time into my daughter and her classmates.”

“It is my job,” she demurred. 

“Hmm.”  His gaze assessed her.  “Somehow, I feel that there is so much more to it than that.”  His eyes held hers for several beats before Dahui interrupted their moment.

“Appa!  Mrs. Wang said we can celebrate Pi Day on my birthday again!”

His eyebrows shot up towards the roof. “Oh! The infamous Pi Day strikes again!  I wonder if Mrs. Wang will require help on that special day.”

“You are more than welcome to join us.  Especially since it will be Dahui’s birthday.”

“Did I tell you, Mrs. Wang, that I was born on my eomma’s birthday?”

“Were you really?  How remarkable!”  But Haewon felt that familiar sadness tugging at her heart.  Such a precious child shouldn’t have to grow up without a mother.  “Do you do anything special on your birthday to celebrate?”

Dahui giggled as she remembered her last birthday.  “Appa tried to make me a cake last year.”

“Tried being the operative word.  It was an unmitigated disaster.  As are all my attempts in the kitchen.  I do not have Dahui’s cooking skills.”

“Oh?  Are you a culinary genius, Dahui?”

The girl giggled.  “Hardly.”

“Don’t let her fool you!  She’s brilliant!” her appa bragged.  “She cooks us dinner every night.”

“Unless we’re ordering takeout,” Dahui added.

“Right.  We do that occasionally.  Gotta give the chef a night off once in a while.  Especially when she has a lot of homework.”  He reached up and played with the mop of curls on the top of his daughter’s head. 

Haewon watched as the girl’s oddly light brown eyes adored her appa.  “I don’t have any homework tonight, Appa.  So I can cook!  Can we go shopping?  I want to make bibimbap.”

“Do you now?”

“Oh, that sounds fabulous!  I love bibimbap!” Haewon breathed.

Dahui turned glowing eyes towards her. “Would you like to eat dinner with us, Mrs. Wang?”

“Oh, baby, I’m sure her husband would miss her.”

“I assure you: it is quite the other way around,” Haewon responded.

He glanced quizzically down at her.  “I’m sorry?”

“I don’t have a husband anymore,” she murmured quietly.

He noticed an odd note of sorrow piercing her eyes as she spoke.

“Oh.  I’m sorry.  Um, would you like to join us?  I could give you our address…you probably already have it.”  He glanced at his watch.  “We usually eat around seven.”

“That is very nice of you, but––”

“Please, Mrs.Wang,” begged Dahui. “I have no one to test my recipes on except for Appa.”

Not having to prepare and eat a meal alone when she arrived at home sounded absolutely blissful.  “Well…it has been a very long day.  It would be wonderful not to have to cook.  Or to eat a bowl of instant noodles.”  She smiled down at the pretty girl before glancing up at her appa.  “How far away do you live?”

Myeong gave her directions. 

Haewon brightened.  “You don’t live very far from me, actually.”  She was pleasantly surprised. “I think I’ll only need to take one bus.  Should I plan on seven, then?”

His eyes crinkled in the corners as he smiled at her.  “What’s your address?”

She provided it, and he made her a generous offer.

“Oh, you’re right around the corner from us.  Please…let me come pick you up.  Don’t waste your time waiting for a bus.”

“But don’t you need to supervise Dahui in the kitchen?”

“We can do most of the prep work and then come pick you up before we cook anything.  It doesn’t take that long.”

“I thought you were a disaster in the kitchen?” Haewon teased him.

“I’m Dahui’s sous chef.  I can handle that job.”

His daughter giggled.  “Just don’t let him bake anything.  Everything always gets burnt!”

“Hey!” he exclaimed, but there was a twinkle in his eye as he gazed down at his daughter affectionately.  Then he shrugged. “Actually, she speaks the truth.”  He had the grace to look chagrinned. 

Haewon chuckled.  “You wanna pick me up at six thirty?”

He nodded.  “Sounds good.  We’ll see you then.”

“Bye, Mrs. Wang.”  Dahui waved at her before she and her appa crossed the classroom and walked out the door, fading from view.

Haewon turned towards a boy who was calling her name.  What on earth had she just agreed to?

––

Why was she so nervous?  Such a feeling was ridiculous.  This wasn’t a date.  Her student had invited her to dinner.  At her house.  With her appa.  Who was extremely attractive.  And had the most amazing eyes she’d ever seen.

Haewon sighed as she stared at her closet.  She’d been gaping at her choice of clothes for over a half hour.  Nothing seemed appropriate.  She wanted to look cute.  But not overdressed. 

But…why?  Just…why? 

So she could attract the attention of a certain gentleman whom she shouldn’t even be noticing?

She drew a deep breath and chose a pair of black slacks and a sleeveless, pink, button-down blouse.  She nodded with approval at herself when she was finally dressed in this pretty outfit.  Then she brushed her long hair.  It wasn’t quite down to her waist yet.  She’d had it cut to her shoulders two years ago after her heart surgery.  It had been easier to manage.  But she really loved wearing it long.  It fell in gentle waves down her back.  She glanced into the mirror and smiled. 

Would Myeong find her alluring?  Or would he too see but a china doll when he looked at her? If only she were taller.  And a little heavier.  She’d gained a little weight after inheriting Eunho’s healthy heart.  But she was still tiny.  Her bone structure delicate.  At best, her bones could be called elegant.  She’d never been known as robust.  Honestly, she just wanted to be a normal woman.  Instead, she carried the frame of a fragile doll.

Would any man ever notice her for the fiery spirit she was on the inside?  And if he did, would she ever find the courage to risk not just her heart but her body to him too?  Ever since the rape, she just couldn’t imagine loving a man enough to trust her whole self to him.  She hadn’t even found such a place with Eunho.  Though, by the end, she’d needed his help getting bathed and dressed.  He’d been intimately involved in her care, but she’d never welcomed him into the most intimate place of all.  She’d wanted to be touched, yet she had discovered that her comfort zone was less than she would have wished it to be.

She sighed again as she stared at her reflection.  She longed to have roses in her cheeks.  Even after the transplant, she’d remained pale.  She had hoped that her new life would lend color to her complexion.  But alas!  It had not. 

She glanced at the clock and dashed out to the living room.  Mr. Kang would be here at any moment!  And Dahui, of course.  Haewon needed to remind herself that the girl was the one who had invited her to dinner.  Not the gorgeous man.

––

She was beautiful. 

It was his first thought as she opened the door to greet them.  Her midnight hair flowed in gentle waves nearly down to her waist.  The pink shirt she’d chosen to wear seemed to be teasing roses into her cheeks.  Her lips appeared almost scarlet tonight.  She looked less like a china doll this evening.  And more like a vibrant woman.  A captivating one.

“Mrs. Wang, can we see your apartment?” Dahui asked by way of greeting.

“Dahui,” her appa quietly corrected her.

She glanced up at her father and frowned at his tone.

“Oh!  It’s all right,” Haewon intervened.  “It’s only natural for a girl to be curious about her teacher’s living quarters.   Sure!  Come on inside.  Though, I assure you it’s terribly boring.”

Dahui was attracted to the immense bookcase Haewon had set up along one of the walls of the living room.  The girl wandered over to read the titles. 

“Wow.  You have some of my favorite books here!  And poetry.  I love poetry!  Do you love poetry, Mrs. Wang?”

Haewon smiled.  “I do.” 

As a young girl, she had often dreamed that a boy would someday write her a sonnet.  It seemed a foolish dream now.  It was certainly not something that Eunho would have ever even contemplated, let alone actually accomplished.

“It’s terribly romantic, don’t you think?” Dahui asked.

“How old are you?” Haewon smiled teasingly.  “Ten or two-ten?”

The girl laughed.  “Not too young to appreciate a good love story.”

“She’s always been beyond her years,” her appa murmured as he gazed at his daughter with affection in his eyes.

Haewon was wishing he’d look at her like that.  And then he did.  He transferred his gaze to her, and the warmth she disturbed there flooded her own cheeks with more color.

She cleared her throat.  “Shall we go?  I don’t want to disturb your dinner plans.”

“Oh!  Mrs. Wang, can I see your bedroom?”

“Dahui,” again her father reprimanded her.

And again, Mrs. Wang sought to soothe him.  “It’s all right.  It’s only natural to be curious about a woman’s private quarters when you’re a young girl.  Come along.  It’s this way.”  She turned to lead the girl through a door near the front door.  She allowed Dahui to precede her into the room and glanced back towards her appa.  A smile curved her lips.  “Did you want to see it too?”

Alarmed, he glanced sharply into her eyes.  “No.  That’s quite all right.”  He turned abruptly towards her kitchen then as though curious about her pots and pans.

Haewon grinned.  Had she just embarrassed the poor man?

She looked back at him.  Had he never dated anyone after his wife died?  Ten long years.  She felt suddenly quite sorry for him.  How lonely he must be!

––

Dahui entered Mrs. Wang’s room with a sense of awe.  This was what was missing at her house.  A woman’s touch.  Her eyes slid along the top of the dresser.  Its huge mirror reflected the hairbrush, comb, curling iron, and makeup case resting along the top of that bureau.  Her gaze lingered longingly on that brush.  She imagined Mrs. Wang running it through her own hair as she smiled over her shoulder at her in the mirror. 

What would it feel like to have an eomma brush her hair?  She felt certain it would feel different from an appa’s clumsy touch.  Dahui frowned as she glanced into the mirror.  She wanted long, luxurious tresses like Mrs. Wang had.  The girl’s eyes raked her short curls mercilessly.  If she grew her hair out, would it even straighten out a little?  Or would it still be an unruly mass of curls?

She remembered that it had always tangled horribly when she was younger and her hair was longer.  That was the reason her appa had cut off her long locks.  At first, she had been amenable to the idea.  She had grown tired of enduring her father’s brutal brushing of her hair.  He hadn’t meant to be rough.  He just hadn’t had an eomma’s touch, and he hadn’t known how to tease the tangles out.  Instead, he had attempted to yank them out.  She cringed as she remembered many a painful evening full of tears on her part and distress on his.  Hence, the infamous haircut. 

But she was older now.  She could take care of her own hair.  The next time he suggested a haircut, she was going to refuse him.  She was already practicing the conversation in her head.

She turned to glance into the closet.  It was full of pretty dresses and colorful blouses.  She smiled.  Again, a woman’s belongings.  Her own closet was full of uniform skirts and vests, button-down shirts, and jeans.  She had few dresses.  How she would like to own more!  In beautiful colors and patterns.  Like Mrs. Wang did.

Dahui looked over at the bed.  It was a queen.  Plenty of room to stretch out in.  But then she frowned as she considered how lonely Mrs. Wang must be.  She turned towards her teacher and asked the question that had been burning in her heart for two hours.

“Where’s your husband, Mrs. Wang?”

––

Myeong was horrified to hear the words leaving his daughter’s mouth.  He couldn’t see her, but he had heard her question.  He wasn’t in a position to prevent her from asking it either.  He had refused to enter Mrs. Wang’s bedroom.

But he could see the woman’s face.  For just a moment, it froze.  Then a deep pang rippled across it.  For some reason, he felt it in his own chest.

“He died.  Two years ago,” she murmured quietly.

Myeong then felt stabbed to the heart as the piercing of that pain increased.  She had endured a loss like his own.  He knew the sting of that bite in such a personal way.  He stepped forward and spoke without thinking.

“I’m so sorry to hear that, Mrs. Wang,” he breathed.

She turned her head and looked directly at him.  Her face was awash in vulnerability.  “Haewon,” she whispered.

He stepped closer to her.  “What?”

Then she shook her head as one coming out of a daze.  “I’m sorry.  Nothing.  I – thank you.”

“Was it sudden?” he asked.  Again, without thinking.

She nodded her head.  Then she pivoted and questioned his daughter.  “Dahui, are you ready to head back to your home?  I’m getting quite hungry.”

But Myeong was fairly certain that food was the last thing on her mind right now.  A moment later, his daughter popped through the doorway and headed for the front door.  But his eyes were still on the teacher’s face.  She looked so sad now.

She must have really loved him.

She hadn’t wanted to think of Eunho tonight.  She realized it as Dahui asked her question.  Instantly, Haewon had felt like a traitor to the man who had left her his heart.  To the gentle giant who had taken her on a marvelous three-month-long honeymoon to Hawaii and attempted to fill all those days with bliss.  Even the ones during which she had been too exhausted to leave their room.

She knew why she was struggling with such thoughts.  She hadn’t trusted Eunho as much as she’d led him to believe.  A part of her had been afraid that if she gave into the passion she felt in her heart for him, he would revert to his earlier self and injure her.  She hadn’t been able to ignore the shift that had occurred in him.  During their first few weeks together, he had begun to desire her.  She had felt it happening.  And she had seen it in his eyes.  He had begun to see her as more than a china doll.  And an unexpected terror had filled her soul.  So she had completely withdrawn that part of herself from him. 

They’d existed in an odd sort of quasi-intimate space.  She kissed him, quite intimately sometimes.  And she allowed him to touch and kiss certain parts of her anatomy.  But she always kept him away from her core.  She had trusted her lips and her skin to him.  She’d permitted him to play with her hair and to tease her neck.  But she had never allowed him to touch her intimately.  Any time he’d come anywhere close, she’d tensed.  And he had backed off.  Her fear had seemed to feed his own.  Or, perhaps, it had been the other way around.

But, now, being physically attracted to this gorgeous man in front of her made her feel like she was betraying Eunho.  Or his memory, at least. Because, at the end of his life, Eunho had accomplished the most heroic feat of anyone in all her existence.  And sometimes she felt as if she owed him something.  Which was absurd.  He wasn’t here.  Even if she owed him a debt, she had no one to whom to pay it.

She was also aware now of the circumstances that had surrounded both Eunho’s death and her rape.  And she knew that Eunho would tell her she had never owed him anything.  That he had, in fact, owed her his life.  For it was his cruelty to Gyeoul’s cousin that had precipitated her own rape and Gyeoul’s subsequent attempt to kill her as vengeance against Eunho for his rape of the girl on the beach.  Eunho had taken the blade that his own actions had caused to be wielded at Haewon.

But the heart didn’t always make sense of what the head did.  For Haewon knew that her husband had chosen a different path. And as vicious as he had been before, he had never killed anyone.  He didn’t deserve to die.  Not in her estimation.  And that was coming from a girl who had been raped.  Haewon had, in fact, suffered the same fate as the girl Eunho had hurt.  Violated by a man yet left with no memory of it.  She actually found that merciful.

Of course, Eunho should have paid some price.  But, surely, not death.  Gyeoul wasn’t paying with his life.  And he had done the very same thing.  More than once, Haewon suspected.  Plenty of men suffered through the rape of a loved one yet never became a rapist themselves.  The man had clearly been bent before Eunho had violated his cousin.  And to make matters worse, Gyeoul had taken the life of a man.  The one she had loved.  Surely, he did deserve the death penalty for that.  Yet he had not been given it.

Haewon wondered how many girls Gyeoul had hurt and if any of them had been underaged. Then, she remembered Yunyeong and how young she had been when Eunho had forced her, and Haewon recognized that, had he ever been prosecuted, Eunho could have spent his whole life in prison.  She shuddered as she pondered all the different scenarios that might have taken place over his lifetime and Gyeoul’s.  Why did she have more mercy for Eunho, who she knew had hurt several girls, than she did for her own offender? 

Probably because she had seen a different side of Eunho.  He had always been only wonderful to her.  She had trusted him, if not implicitly, at least, in most things.  He had proven himself to be both a faithful friend and a steadfast husband.  They had both learned that he possessed more self-restraint than he had once believed.

Perhaps it was just that he had loved Haewon enough to want to control his unruly passions; whereas, he hadn’t cared about the other girls at all.  Whatever the difference had been, she had felt it.  It had given her an odd sort of faith in him.  Though, she hadn’t been willing to test it too far.

––

Mrs. Wang was subdued on the ride to their apartment.  Dahui filled in the silence with her prattle about one of the books in Haewon’s bookcase.  As Myeong pulled his car into his parking space, his blue eyes slid sideways towards the silent woman sitting next to him.  His gaze traveled down the gentle slope of her forehead before slipping down the blade of her perfect nose.  Then his eyes traced the outline of those lovely lips and the contour of that charming chin.

Even her profile was arresting.  He wanted to murmur in her ear, “Have you any idea how beautiful you are?”  But he realized it would sound cheesy and also would make her feel quite uncomfortable given their current circumstances.

Still, the desire to be near her wouldn’t fade.  It did, in fact, increase the more time he spent in her company.  What was it about her that drew him to her?  

He didn’t think it was just her kindness to his daughter. Though, that was terribly alluring.  Her presence was also highlighting to him just how starved for a woman’s affection and attention Dahui was.  It broke his heart.  He had avoided dating over the past decade mostly for her benefit.  He hadn’t wanted to split his attention between his daughter and his girlfriend. 

He had also been so heartbroken over his wife’s sudden and unexpected death that he hadn’t been able to function well in social situations for several years.  The ache wasn’t as sharp anymore.  Now the loneliness was what was eating him alive.  But he was afraid to put himself out there again.  It had been far too long since he’d pursued anyone.

He and Dahui had been high school sweethearts.  Together for seven years.  She’d been his only girlfriend.  Ever.  He hadn’t the slightest idea of how to be in a casual dating relationship.  His courtship of Dahui had never been casual.  He had been taken with her from the very first day of high school.  No one else had ever even caught his attention.

Until this morning…

––

Dahui grabbed Mrs. Wang’s hand and tugged her towards their apartment.  “Come on. I’m hungry too!  We need to get cooking!”

Haewon’s lips twitched into a smile. She glanced back towards Mr. Kang.  His eyes met hers.  His lips were twisted with humor.  His daughter was adorable.  They both agreed.

Over the next half hour, the three of them worked to prepare dinner, and Haewon found herself yearning for something like this every night.  She felt instantly comfortable in their kitchen, amongst their company.  Was that strange? 

This moment reminded her of her own childhood at home.  Only more relaxed.  Carefree.  Her childhood had never been that.  Her eomma had always been tense, like a tight-rope walker.  Forever leery of a misstep.  A foot placed wrongly.  A cure overlooked.  A treatment missed.  A remedy found too late.  Always the anticipation of her daughter’s death. 

It was never spoken.  But Haewon had felt it.  In the air.  In her mother’s touch.  In the glances that passed between her parents.

Such uncertainty had affected Haewon.  How could it not?  The only time she’d felt free from its strain had been those golden moments she’d spent with Eunho at his house.  No wonder he had been her hero.  He had provided her with the only breathing room she’d ever known.  Both as a child and after the rape.

However, she was discovering that the air in this kitchen was marvelously freeing tonight.  So was the light in Myeong’s eyes every time they collided with her own.  She was beginning to feel giddy.  Weights were falling off of her.

––

They didn’t end up eating until seven thirty.  It was a leisurely dinner.  They were still washing dishes at nine o’clock.  Myeong turned towards his daughter finally and gently admonished her, “Dahui, you have school tomorrow. Off to bed with you.”

She frowned petulantly for a moment, but then her face brightened as she glanced at Mrs. Wang.  “I’ll see you tomorrow!” she exclaimed in excitement, then she headed for bed.  But only after she stood on her tiptoes to kiss her appa on the cheek.  “Goodnight, Appa,” she whispered.

“Goodnight, button.  Sleep tight.  I love you,” he murmured.

And Haewon’s strong heart skipped a beat.

“I love you too, Appa.”  Then the girl was gone, disappearing into her bedroom.

“I should head home,” Haewon murmured.  She felt oddly nervous now that the child wasn’t in the same room with them.

“No,” he responded reflexively then more thoughtfully, “please, stay for a while.  Would you like a glass of wine?”

“No!” she replied forcibly.

His eyebrows flew upward.  Almost comically.  “I beg your pardon.”

“You didn’t offend me.  I don’t drink.”

“Ahhh, I see,” but he didn’t really, and she knew it.

“I have someone else’s heart, you see.”

“Excuse me?” he asked, confused.

“I had a heart transplant two years ago.”

“Oh!” Shock laced his voice as his eyes careened into hers.

That heart was beginning to beat harder.  Should she tell him the whole truth?  Just put all the bizarre circumstances out on the table now?  It might make it easier later.

His brow furrowed momentarily.  “Wait a minute.  Didn’t you say that your husband also died two years ago?”

She nodded.

“Around the same time?”  He was thinking how horrendous that year must have been for her.

“At almost exactly the same time.  The very day, actually.”

“Your husband died the same day you received a new heart?” he asked, shocked.

She bobbed her head up and down slowly before answering, “I have his heart.”

Myeong simply stared at her.  His eyes were delving deeply into her own, almost as though he was asking to find clarification in their depths.  Finally, he spoke. 

“That’s rather remarkable.  Both horrifying and amazing, I imagine.”

She felt a sob bubbling up from deep within her heart.  It came out of her mouth as a tiny, odd sound.  She nodded her head as she covered her mouth with her hand.  “Precisely,” she muttered against her fingers.

“How absolutely horrible that year must have been for you,” he murmured.

“You have no idea.”

His eyes probed hers some more.  “What do you mean?”  He had the feeling she was alluding to something specific.  Something she had yet to mention.

She swallowed.  She had never discussed it with anyone.  Not since the week before her wedding.

“About six months before my husband died, I was raped.”

Myeong just stared at her.  He had thought that he’d been through the ringer.  But as he looked at this resilient woman standing before him, he found that he had no words, for the depth of his compassion for her was overwhelming him. 

She’d been raped?  Her husband had died?  She’d received his heart?  It sounded like something out of a graphic novel.  Only if it were, his heart would have given her superpowers.  He wondered suddenly what hers were.

Did she perhaps store lightning in her lips?  Or in her fingertips?  If she touched him, would it descend into his core?

One question finally bubbled up.  “How did he die?”

She winced.  She hated recalling this part.  She wished someone had possessed the decency to drug her that day.  Before Eunho began to bleed out in her arms.  Before she’d witnessed him stepping between her and that wicked blade.

“The man who raped me stabbed him.  He was trying to kill me, but my husband stepped between us.”  It was quietly spoken, but he felt the brunt of those words anyway.

“My God!” he exclaimed softly.

Her husband had been a true hero.  Just like Myeong’s own wife.  She had bled out on a table as she safely ushered her daughter into the world.  Mrs. Wang’s husband had encased the blade meant for her in his own flesh.  He had bled out for her.  And then given her his heart.

Myeong felt a tear sliding along his lower eyelid.  He closed his eyes as he stifled a sob.  How much could one woman be expected to endure?

“How did you do it?” he whispered suddenly, his eyes closed now.

Haewon studied his attractive face.  He was clearly distressed.  “Do what?”

“Survive.  All of that.  It must have hurt you so badly.  All of it.”

She felt a pang in her chest even as she soaked in his words.  His empathy.

She nodded and closed her own eyes.  “It did.  It still hurts.  Eunho was a complicated man.”

He frowned.  “What do you mean?”

“He wasn’t without his flaws,” she stalled.

“None of us are.”

“No.  It was more than that,” she paused.  Then she took a deep breath and let it out.  “I was raped because of him.”

“What?”  He didn’t understand.  Not at all.

Of course, he didn’t.  She had lived it, and she still found it hard to process.

That her association with Eunho had both cost her the most precious thing she’d possessed and provided her with the thing she’d needed the most.

She winced and repeated herself, “Eunho was complicated.  I met him when I was a child.  For some reason, he loved me.  He was kind to me.”

Myeong nodded.  He could see that she was easy to love.  Of course, this boy had loved her.  He could tell his own daughter already adored her.

“Maybe it was because I was so frail.  I don’t know. I think I reminded him of his mother.”  She glanced up into his eyes.  “She died, you see.  When Eunho was tiny.  She’d been frail too, I think.  And he had loved her.  I think he adored her.  But he had a stepmother who was very unkind to him,” she winced, “and a horribly abusive appa.” 

She closed her eyes and sucked air between her teeth.  She could still see the marks his father had left on his back with that belt buckle.  She could still feel those knots under her fingers.  Under her lips.  Why was it that she could no longer see his face clearly, but those horrid scars were still burned so brightly into her memory?

She felt another sob bubbling up.  She didn’t even try to choke it off.  It escaped her lips, and Myeong reacted automatically, taking a step towards her. Then he stopped, realizing he didn’t know her well enough to pull her into his arms.  But he did reach out and touch her forearm gently.

“You don’t have to tell me if it hurts too much.”

“No,” she whispered as she realized how badly she needed to tell someone. 

She had shared the whole story with no one.  It had felt too personal, too raw, too fresh, to share with anyone in her family or his. The truth could only hurt them all.  So she had held it all within her own heart.  But its echoing waves were swamping her right now.  And this man was a stranger.  He couldn’t be hurt by Eunho’s pain or by her own, could he?  Not like her eomma would have been.  Or Eunho’s sister.  Or even his stepmother.

So she lifted her eyes and told him all of it.  “Eunho was terribly kind to me.  And horribly terrible to everyone else. He lavished on me every bit of the love his eomma planted into his young heart.  And he lavished on everyone else every bit of the hatred that his father planted into his young body.  He was cruel to his baby sister and to his stepmother.  And he was cruel to every girl he could get his hands on.  Except for me.”

She took another deep breath before plunging on.  “Over the course of – I don’t even know – ten to fifteen years? – he slept with many girls.  Some he had to cajole and coerce.  Some he drugged.  I know he outright raped at least one.  He was a horrible person.  Until the night I was raped.”

She was trembling.  Myeong could see it, but she seemed unaware of it.  He wanted to stop her, but somehow he knew that she needed to share this horrible story with someone.  He simply wondered what on earth he had done to earn such trust from her already.

“He was at another party, like he was most nights.  The story I’ve heard from the guys who were in that room with me that night makes it sound like Eunho planned to use me just like the rest of them.  I imagine drugging a girl and passing her around was a favorite pastime of theirs.”  She shuddered. 

“I had run into one of his friends earlier that day.”  She glanced back up at Myeong to clarify, “I had recently moved back to Busan from Seoul.  Anyway, I ran into Gyeoul.  He was one of Eunho’s newer friends.  I had never met him before, but we got to talking, and he informed me that he was a friend of Eunho and would be attending a party with him later that night.  He asked if I’d like to go with him.  Naïve girl that I was, I readily agreed.” 

She paused for a moment and then admitted, “Truthfully, I didn’t know Eunho outside of my relationship with him. And I had been in love with him my entire life.”  Her eyes delved into Myeong’s.  “You see, he was the only one who ever treated me like a normal person.  When I was with him, he gave me freedom.  He made me feel cherished but not suffocated.  Does that make sense?”

He nodded.

“So I went to the party hoping to find him.  Hoping that he would take one look at me and fall in love with me.  I was expecting him to realize that I was no longer a child but a woman to be desired.  However, he wasn’t there. 

“Gyeoul brought me a drink and encouraged me to drink it all.  I don’t even remember him taking me upstairs.  But, apparently, there were several guys in that bedroom with me.  By the time Eunho arrived, Gyeoul had raped me. 

“Eunho instantly recognized me, and he beat Gyeoul up, dressed me, and took me to the hospital. He was absolutely horrified by what they’d done to me.  He cut himself off from them and asked me to marry him.  He took me on a wonderful honeymoon in Hawaii.  For three months.

“But then my heart started to fail, and we headed home.  You see, the effects of the drugs and the rape weakened my heart, and the doctors had given me six months to live.  I had never been a good candidate to receive a donor heart.  So my parents and I had no hope. 

“I planned to spend as much of that six months being as free as possible with Eunho.  Both my parents had zealously protected me as a child and as a teenager.  I was never allowed to go anywhere or to do anything.  So I told Eunho I would marry him if he’d take me on a world tour.  But Maui was so wonderful, we never left.  Until we had to go home.

“It was only much later – the day Gyeoul came to our house to seek vengeance – that we learned the truth.  Two years before, Eunho had met Gyeoul’s cousin on the beach.  He’d lulled her with wine and dinner.  He’d drugged her.  And then he raped her.  Gyeoul spent a year and a half plotting his revenge.  He found Eunho’s weakness – me – and sought to destroy me as Eunho had destroyed his cousin.”

“He specifically picked you to rape?”  Myeong was clearly horrified.

She nodded.  “But, apparently, that didn’t cure his bloodlust because he came to our house that day to kill at least one of us.  If not both.”  Her lips twisted wryly. “The ironic thing was…I was only days from dying.  I was so weak that I could barely drag myself to the front door.  But Eunho stepped between me and that knife.  He stayed alive just long enough to sign his heart over to me.  On the long shot that it was a match.”  She smiled sweetly for a moment.  “It was.  He left me, but he also left me his heart.  I’m living the life that should have been his.”

Myeong just stared at her. He didn’t have a clue what to say.  This beautiful woman had just bared her soul to him.  A veritable stranger.  But as he stared into her eyes, he could see how much she was still hurting.  So he took a risk.

“Mrs. Wang,” he swallowed, “can I hold you?”

She blinked in surprise.  His words had just unleashed a bevy of echoes.  Her own passionate reply to Eunho’s shock at her offering to let him touch her reverberated throughout the hallways of her mind.

“Is it really so shocking that an untouched girl would want to be touched?  No one ever touches me.  Not even my parents.  Do they think I’ll shatter if someone’s skin contacts mine?  If somebody’s heat kisses my own?  

“I long to be touched, Eunho.  If you really loved me, you would touch me.”  

“I could never marry a man who refuses to touch me.”

She had once told Eunho how much she longed to be touched.  It wasn’t any less true now.  In fact, it was probably truer now, for no one had really held her since Eunho had died.  And she had grown accustomed to his fingers on her skin.  And the heat of his body wrapped around her own.  So now she yearned not just for what she desired but also for what she had lost.

So perhaps it was understandable that her face suddenly crumpled and she nodded her head.  He reached for her and pulled her gently into his arms.  Haewon pillowed her face against his chest and closed her eyes.  Immediately, she noticed the steady beat of his heart.  And the guilt started eating her alive again.

But she didn’t pull away from him.  Instead, she pushed the guilt away.  And concentrated on the fact that a living, breathing man was holding her.  The steadfast beat of his heart was reassuring.  He was alive.  He didn’t seem in danger of leaving her any time soon.  Of course, neither had Eunho.

But Eunho had done so many horrible things to so many people that it wasn’t really astonishing that someone had come for revenge.  Haewon had been an innocent victim in the whole evil plot.  Was she safe from it now?

Gyeoul was in prison.  For a very long time.

She wasn’t really even connected to Eunho anymore.  It was impossible now for anyone to hurt him further through her.  Dead men felt no pain.  At least, not from this world any longer.

She sighed and felt that old grief welling up on the inside of her.  She tried to tamp down on it.  But the comfort of those strong arms seemed to be wooing it out of her.  Coaxing her into letting down all her guards and releasing all the pain she’d shoved down under the surface.

She had spent the last two years simply surviving.  Gaining a new heart was hard work.  The recovery had been intensive.  As soon as she’d begun to feel truly human again – or for the first time, really – she had immersed herself in school, focused on earning her teaching degree.  She hadn’t had time for grief.  Which had been just fine with her.  She hadn’t wanted to process all the trauma she’d walked through that year. 

So she hadn’t.

First, she’d focused on living.  Then, she’d concentrated on pursuing her dreams. 

She had never taken the time to mourn properly.  Or to recognize her losses.  Or how she’d been so mercilessly used.

But now it seemed that everything she’d run from was surfacing again.  The horror she’d endured had come calling tonight, and she just didn’t have the strength anymore to keep it at bay.  So she lost it.  All over Myeong’s strong shoulder.  She inundated his heart with her own grief.

But he could handle it.  He’d experienced his own painful loss and its resulting sorrow.

––

Myeong drew her close and bent to sniff her hair.  There it was again.  Vanilla.

She was pouring her grief out against his chest, and he was reveling in her scent. But he didn’t feel embarrassed.  He simply felt drawn to her.  It was a feeling he hadn’t experienced in ten long years.  It was overwhelming him. 

So was her agony.  He wanted to pick her up in his arms and carry her to his room, wrap himself around her, and kiss her softly until he had stolen all the pain from her heart.

She had endured enough to fell a hundred strong men.   Let alone a tiny wisp of a woman.  Yet here she was…devoting her life to his child and several others.  He already loved her for that.

Mrs. Wang was a fighter.  She was a survivor.  But he found that this wasn’t good enough for him.  He didn’t want this precious woman to simply survive.  He wanted to see her thriving.  He wanted to make her dreams come true.

Did she still have any?  Or had the harshness of life wiped every dream from her heart?

––

She wept bitterly against the beat of that strong heart for several long minutes.  But she soon realized her nose was running, so she pulled away from him and covered it with her hand. 

“I need a––”

“Kleenex,” he finished smoothly.  Of course, you do.”  He walked into his living room and freed a Kleenex before grabbing the whole box and returning to her side.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized.  “I didn’t mean to become a blubbering baby.”  She blew her nose.

“You’re not,” he frowned down at her.  “I can’t even begin to fathom what you’ve been through.  All you’ve lost.  You must have spent the last two years in agony.  Have you had anyone to share your pain with?”

She shook her head as she wiped her cheeks.  “No.  No one could handle it.  I didn’t want to burden them.”

“They couldn’t handle it?  But it happened to you.  And you were – physically, at least – the weakest one of all.  Didn’t you need anyone?  Didn’t you need to be held?  And listened to?”

Tears began to flow down her cheeks again.  She nodded, and her face crumpled once more.  “Yes.”  She drew a deep breath, and her words flowed out as she released it, “And now you, a perfect stranger, have done both of those things for me.  Thank you.”  She glanced around.  “It’s getting late.  I should be getting home.”

He wanted to say, “Stay.”  He didn’t want to leave her alone.  She still seemed fragile to him.

“Would you like to take my bed tonight?  I could sleep on my couch.”

Astounded, she gaped at him.  “What?”

“I don’t think you should be alone.  I do, in fact, think you’ve probably spent too much time alone.”  He knew something about that.

She gulped.  Her heart had just shifted violently in her chest.  Was it possible that he too felt the connection between them?

“That’s a generous offer.  Thank you,” she smiled tremulously.  “But I really should go.”

“Let me drive you home, at least.”

She frowned.  “No.  Dahui––”

“…will only be alone for a few minutes.”

She sighed.  “All right.”  But she didn’t move.  “Thank you,” she murmured as her eyes caressed his. 

His gaze was just as locked with hers. 

“For everything,” she breathed.

She didn’t want to leave him either.  But this was madness.  She’d just met him this morning.  She blinked to break the connection and forced herself to look away.  She took a deep breath.  She still had some things to prepare for class tomorrow.  She really needed to head home.

A moment later, they were moving towards his front door.  Both were silent on the drive home.  She bid him farewell and leapt from his car.  Like it was on fire. 

She was sure it was.  Or perhaps that was just her own heart whose heat had been burning her during that weighty drive home.