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"Minho, he will speak with you shortly." An older women says to me. I smile and nod to her.

I wait for it to be my turn. My stomach is flipping like a balled up blanket in a washing machine. The door opens, and I am met with my secretary—who is crying hysterically as she exits the office.

She takes a look at me and scoffs, strutting her stuff down the hall as she sniffles along the way. I shake my head and I take a deep breath before I enter the office. I push the heavy door open, and walk inside.

"Ahh, Minho. The man of the hour." He smiles, with his legs crossed.

"I just have one question," He says. "What the fuck do you think you are doing in your office with Mrs. Jeon?!"

"It wasn't my fault. She came onto me." I stand firm.

"Yeah but that gives you no right to push her into the wall?! I had to pay for hospital bills, and an insurance company to come and fix the damages." He yells.

"Well then my secretary should not have been so disrespectful to me. She came onto me, and I didn't like that. It was self defense." I say.

He shakes his head. "Not even."

I scoff. "Why isn't it? I pushed her away because she started to touch me."

"This is so different. You pushed women!" He yells.

"Because she assaulted me!" I yell back. "How is this different? Because I'm a man? Is that was this is..?"

He sighs. "Look.."

"Oh my god—" i exclaim. "Is that really the way this is going to go?"

"Minho.. it wasn't self defense." He says. "And you know that."

"I don't know that, but you know what I do know? I know that on my own office, I had a women kiss me. Then when I pulled away, she started to touch me— demanding I have sex with her. So you tell me how that wasn't self defense.. you tell me how if the roles were reversed this would be different." I say. "I don't mean to be offensive or sound misogynistic in any way, but come on." I say, trying my hardest to defend myself.

He sighs. "You suspended for a week, pack your shit and leave my office."

I scoff. "What a great boss you are."

I turn around and open the door, not forgetting to slam it on my way out. I don't think what I said was needed, but in the moment it made sense. I reach my office, talking about my phone and starting an audio recording. I have been doing this ever since the day after she came in, because I have been waiting for something to happen—something that will help my case.

I set the phone down on my desk and I grab my bag—starting to take everything that is needed, quickly so I can get it over with and leave sooner. I don't want to be in this muggy building anymore, not one bit.

When I'm done, I throw the bag over my shoulder and pick up my phone. I exit my office and start the dreaded run way walk. As I walk down the halls, all I am getting are stares. To them—I'm the man who assaulted a women in my office. But to me—they are the ones who don't believe someone's story. I hate this.

I push past the glass door and walk to my car as fast as I can. I don't want to be here anymore, I can't do it. It starts to get a bit crowded in my lungs, and I just need to go home.

*

"Hi baby.." I say, waking into my apartment.

I pick up the furry cat, smiling at him as he purrs. He's the only one who is there for me right now, so I need to show him some extra love. He deserves it more than anybody in the world.

I put him down, and he starts to meow while flipping his tail. I tilt my head at him, and he starts to walk down the hall. I follow the cat with caution, who knows what he might lead me too. We enter the kitchen, and i now feel quite silly.

He leaps up on the table, and walks over to my mail pile. He plops himself down on a letter I recognize all to well, so I giggle as his silly behavior.

I walk over to the table and pick up the letter, looking back at my cat. "Want me to read it out loud?" I say, opening the seal. I pull out the paper and—as promised—start to read the words out loud.

Dear Minho,
From Jisung.

Hi baby, how are you doing?

I hope you are doing way better than I am. I hate to admit it—but your attempts to make me happier are only making the hole in my heart rip even more. Not for any other reason beside me feeling guilty, however.

I just don't feel so good again. I don't know if it's just another mood that will pass soon, or if it's serious this time. I just know that it hurts to do daily things. My eyes are always puffy and red, I have to wear pounds of makeup to look normal again.

Yet I don't even know where to start, or how to tell you this. I don't know how you will react—or if you might think I'm too much and leave me. You wouldn't do that, would you? You're not that person.

I don't even know, I just feel lost.

I don't know who I am and no one can really help me. I know that's a backhanded thing to say—because you are sitting there trying your best. I know I'm a hypocrite.

Call me dramatic, but I seriously think something is wrong with my brain. I might be to caught up with the lies of '"I'll be okay." to see it however. I think as long as nobody does what I do to people, to me, then I will be fine.

That's better than most thoughts I have. The thoughts in my mind right now, would kill. And they might.

Everytime i think and feel like this it goes away, but it always comes back so much worse than it left. What will happen when it's at its strongest? I think about that a lot.

What will happen when it gets to bad that I can't see when it's good again?

I stop my reading, since there is nothing left on the page. I slowly raise my head to look at my cat—who looks just as shocked as me.

The Letters He Never Sent || MinsungWhere stories live. Discover now