Paper Toads and a Hundred Roses | Lee Sung Kyung & Nam Joo Hyuk

17. Rectified

"Miss," the housekeeper's voice was the only sound I've heard in two full weeks. I've tried to find comfort in many other ridiculous things around the house; the sound of the kettle reaching the boiling point, the soft music flowing in sync with the rapid tapping of my bare foot on the cold marble floor, the rain pelting on the windows like a hammer pounding on wood and the many times I've attempted to control my breath in the midst of all this pent-up anxiety. I've tried to find comfort in many things-but to no avail. All of it sounded louder than normal; looked more evident than normal. Everything just echoes in waves, making my heart rate faster and letting so many thoughts bombard my brain. I'm left helpless, but the only thing I could do now is to clear my throat and look at the woman carrying a tray of tea and the book I've been reading for the past five days on her hands. "I've put Joon Seo to bed and I thought that some tea would help you fall asleep," she approaches the coffee table and places the tray down. I look at it once, then my eyes wander around the room. I never noticed how big my living room is; the thick drapes were drawn as I see the lightning illuminating the night with its flickering light. It must've been peculiar of me to find comfort in the rain-but I still do. It calms me because everything that I've considered good in my life has failed to do so. I hear the housekeeper's retreating footsteps come to a halt, effectively grabbing my attention.

"Miss," she says once more. My eyes divert to where she's standing, clad in a long, vintage skirt and a simple blouse with her indoor slippers. Her age is visible on her face with the way her graying hair is tied back in a bun and the wrinkles are forming by her eyes. This woman has been caring for me since I was in my 20s. I've been a hell of a baggage to deal with, considering my endless need to overthink. Nevertheless, she has never found enough motivation in all the bad things I've done to actually leave me on my own. Letting Joo Hyuk decide for the both of us has led me to realize a lot of things-including the fact that many people have continued to care for me in the many years that I've failed to give them enough recognition for it. "If I may, I'd like to give you some advice," I look at her, my tears being held back by my willingness to hear whatever she has to say. For so many years, I have been the one telling her what to do. But maybe now, I should listen to what she wants me to do, because I want to ease her worries as much as I want to ease mine. She looks at the floor then back at my eyes, letting the simple gesture tell me that she's not going to say a lot. "If he's giving you too much pain-" she says in the most gentle way possible. "-then maybe it's not worth it," she finished, giving me a small smile before turning to leave for bed.

It's been two weeks since I left that ring for him to decide what the next step for us will be. I always believed that all things have its limitations which leads me to the thought that maybe-this is what we will ever be; a tragedy in beautiful strokes of color; intersecting lines with no clear picture; a sheet of notes that don't go together but sound beautiful apart. It's high time that I accept the circumstances and move on with my life. My hand reaches for the porcelain cup resting on the coffee table, only to find it cold. I must have been thinking for a long time as I find myself ditching the cup of tea to stand up and go to bed. The days keep dragging on, draining the energy from my body and the color from my skin. The walls looked drab and what used to be vivid blues seemed like dull greys. The house appeared huge as I felt all alone. The floor felt cold against my bare feet as I grab on the staircase's banister to guide me to my room upstairs. The thunder is making the thick windows shake but I'm suddenly awake because of the echoing sound of the doorbell.

I pull my robe tighter around me, approaching the front door to see who's on the other side of it. I take a look at the clock, reading 11:42 PM as I pull the door open-and I lose my breath again. My mind becomes a mess of complexity as I stare at the man standing before me. He's drenched from head to toe, his fingers slightly shaking, his face pale, but those eyes are just looking at me, and for once in what seemed like forever, I can't help but stare at them too. I was confused if whether or not I should feel elated about this new predicament I'm thrown into all of a sudden. But there was nothing in my hands as I can see the tears on his face, streaming with the streaks of rain from his wet hair. We don't say anything. We don't do anything. We just wait.