Wife [Harry Choi×Mc] [Eng] [The Ssum]

Chapter two

I observed as the fine streams of water invaded the gutters housing small seeds of various vegetables in the garden. I felt my hands dry and fingers cracked from handling the soil, while my toes toyed with the lush grass beneath. I sensed any lingering negative energy draining through the soles of my feet, as if the ground was doing reiki on me. However, truth be told, I hadn't felt any negative energy in my body or mind for a long time; I was at peace.

Despite a long day at the hospital, where my feet should have been aching from standing in the operating room for hours, compression stockings had kept them cushioned and comfortable. Even with recent changes in my work and study schedule due to the upcoming final exam marking the end of my first year of residency, I felt no stress. This was exactly what I wanted, and I couldn't complain; it didn't come naturally to me. Moreover, any minimal concerns that might arise were dissipated like a cloud pushed by a gust of wind every time I saw Harry.

A volatile thud against my back disrupted my moment of serenity without warning. I screamed and reflexively turned around, realizing the impact was a pile of damp soil, and the culprit was the man who practically dwarfed me in size, frozen with a heavy shovel in his hands. Surprise mixed with a desire to laugh was evident on his face. My jaw dropped in indignation, and without hesitation, I kicked a small mound of dirt towards him as revenge while laughing and complaining about his audacity.

"No, no! It was accidental; the dirt flew like a lever, I'm sorry!" Harry pleaded for mercy as his impeccably white shorts were violated by the wet soil. I ignored him and, this time, took another handful and threw it at his chest, being careful not to hit his face. Maybe it was childish of me, but in my defense, his soil shovel had covered me completely, and just dirtying his pants wasn't settling the score.

Faced with my clear declaration of war, he looked at me in shock and proceeded to defend himself without objection. I grabbed the hose and soaked him, creating a pile of mud on his clothes. I saw him shiver a bit before taking off his dirty shirt and throwing it at my head, smearing my face and hair while hearing laughter coming from his spot. I removed the fabric carefully; my face was red, and my stomach ached from laughter. I never thought Harry would fight with me using garden soil.

"I'll never give you a hand with your carrots if you treat me like this again," I joked when I felt my defeat. Both of us were covered in mud, dirty, and wet.

"It was unintentional," Harry repeated, running his hand through his gray hair, messing it up a bit. "Don't be mad; I'll cook something for us to eat together."

Being with Harry was the best thing in the world at that moment. He had always been a very lonely person, much like me at some point. When you spend a lot of time alone, you learn to know yourself, be loyal to yourself, entertain yourself, solve your own problems, and unintentionally become very self-sufficient to the point where getting used to being accompanied all the time becomes tedious because you grow fond of your own company. But that didn't align with the comfort I felt with Harry; it was as if I were alone but accompanied, almost like having an imaginary friend, as if he were a part of me. And even though he never told me, I felt like he felt the same way because when you have a very strong and specific feeling towards someone, it's likely reciprocal. We had comfortable silences, endless conversations, shared activities, and at the same time, solitary moments, like when I came home exhausted from work, and he played the piano while I painted in the same room to relax. These were solo activities, but in a way, they were shared heterogeneously; there was a noticeable difference between what he did and what I did, but we went hand in hand.

Harry was very funny, or maybe not. For me, he was because I'm a very cheerful person, and everything he did generated a spike of serotonin for me. Or maybe it wasn't true; perhaps it was the fact that I liked him a lot, and that's why my laughter came easily.