Date
"Haa... haaah..."
The sound of her catching her breath drifted out, soon laced with a soft little laugh.
"How many times is this today... we're actually insane."
Happiness clung to Jung Na-yeon's thoroughly spent voice.
"If I can't get up tomorrow, it's your fault."
She said it with a smile, and with the rustle of the blanket the master bedroom fell quiet again. Only the wedding photograph in the living room hung silently on the wall in the dark.
And four weeks slipped by.
Jung Na-yeon stepped out of the bathroom, towel-drying her wet hair. Hyun-soo lay sprawled on the bed staring at the ceiling; he watched her settle in front of the vanity.
"This couple's bed is starting to feel like mine now..."
Jung Na-yeon looked at him through the mirror.
"Drop the 'couple's bed' part. It feels weird."
She squeezed lotion onto the back of her hand and gave a short snort of laughter.
"Though it's not exactly wrong. You've slept in this bed more than he has by now."
She worked the lotion up her arms without ever taking her eyes off Hyun-soo's reflection.
"It's been almost a month. Four weeks since you first came downstairs."
She counted on her fingers.
"Remember how you were panicking over the late rent? I made you doenjang stew and your eyes went this big."
She made circles with both hands, mimicking him.
"That was already a month ago. Crazy, right?"
"Yeah."
Jung Na-yeon picked up the hair dryer from the vanity, set it back down, and walked over to the bed. She perched beside him and pulled the blanket up over her knees.
"Here's the really funny part. He's been gone on that business trip for over two months, and he only texts once or twice a month."
Her voice was calm—anger and hurt long since burned out of it.
"And these days, even when those texts come, I don't feel a thing."
"Really?"
"I used to cry all day."
She nodded as she spoke.
"When was the last time you even went up to the third-floor room? Once, to grab clothes?"
"Something like that."
Jung Na-yeon gave a small smile.
"There's barely anything left up there now. Your toothbrush is here, your towels are here, your underwear's all in this drawer."
She pointed with her chin at the nightstand. One entire drawer was filled with Hyun-soo's clothes.
"You eat here, you sleep here. I'm starting to wonder what the point of rent even is."
She stretched out beside him and hooked her arm through his.
"So what about this month's rent? Going to be late again?"
She looked up at the side of his face. Half teasing, half serious.
"My woman said I don't have to pay."
Jung Na-yeon jabbed a finger into his side.
"My woman? Who's whose woman?"
She couldn't stop the smile that tugged at her mouth even as she shot him a sideways look.
"And when did I ever say you didn't have to pay? I said I'd knock some off if you were late—I never said free."
She patted his chest with her palm, but there was no force behind the words. Her face said she knew how ridiculous she sounded.
"But think about it for real. You're unemployed. Once this month's rent and living expenses are gone, you're broke."
She stared at the ceiling, counting on her fingers again.
"Phone bill, food money... well, food money doesn't count since I'm covering all of that. Still, you need to earn something."
Her voice had slipped into nagging mode, yet the way she burrowed against his arm and used it as a pillow sent the exact opposite message.
"Honestly..."
"What?"
She toyed with the collar of his T-shirt and went quiet for a moment.
"Collecting rent doesn't really mean anything anymore. You sleep here every night, eat here, shower here. The third floor is basically a storage unit."
She let out a breath.
"But if I stop taking it officially, then what does that make us? Actual cohabitation?"
Her eyes flickered. A conversation that had started as a joke had drifted right up to the edge of something real.
She pushed herself up and looked down at him.
"I'm still a married woman, Hyun-soo. There's a wedding photo hanging in that living room, and my husband's name is still on the family register."
She cupped his cheek in her palm and stroked it with her thumb.
Hyun-soo simply watched her.
"But the weird thing is... even that sentence feels like someone else's story these days."
She gave a lonely little smile.
"Pay the rent for now. You haven't even tried to do anything for four whole weeks. And look for a job. Having my man be unemployed is a little embarrassing."
The moment the words "my man" left her mouth she covered it with the back of her hand, face flushing.
"Going to sleep already?"
Before the hand even dropped from her mouth, Hyun-soo's palm settled over her chest. The heat of it through the sleep shirt made Jung Na-yeon catch her breath, then let it out in a soft exhale.
"Hey... I just finished setting the mood."
She caught his wrist but didn't push it away. There was no strength in her fingers.
"You really don't know how to get tired, do you? We did it in the car this afternoon. And again after we got home."
It sounded like a scolding, but her eyes were already half-lidded.
"Guys don't have an off switch."
At his shameless reply she let out a short sigh.
"Haa..."
Every time his hand kneaded her breast through the fabric, her nipple hardened. She turned her face to the side and clenched the blanket.
"I say 'my man' one time and you go straight for this."
She grumbled, cheeks scarlet.
"A man should have some self-control."
She looked into his eyes. In the dim glow of the bedside lamp her own face was reflected in his pupils.
"Looking at Na-yeon makes self-control pretty hard."
"You really are a pervert. I was actually about to sleep. I have laundry tomorrow and shopping to do..."
Her voice trailed off as she bit her lip. When his thumb circled her nipple her hips gave a little jolt.
"Nn... how am I supposed to sleep if you touch me there, idiot."
She gave his shoulder a weak shove, but her legs were already parting on their own.
In the end she looped her arms around his neck and pulled him down.
"Three times in one day is a record, seriously."
She whispered, looking up at his face.
"Turn off the light. At least turn the light off."
Her voice had gone thin. She undid one button of her sleep shirt herself and guided his hand onto bare skin.
"If I can't get up tomorrow, you're making breakfast for real."
"Me?"
"Yes."
"Whoa..."
She laid down that final condition, but the second his lips found her the words melted into a moan.
"Haaah..."
The bedside lamp clicked off, and in the dark only the soft rustle of the blanket remained.
The next morning.
Jung Na-yeon opened her eyes without an alarm. 7:02 a.m.
She checked the numbers on her phone screen and turned her head. Hyun-soo had kicked the blanket down to his waist and was sleeping with his mouth open. After the third round last night he had been the one to pass out first. She reached out to wipe the dried drool from the corner of his mouth, then pulled her hand back for fear of waking him. She gathered the sleep top and panties scattered on the floor, pulled them on, and eased the bedroom door open.
It creaked. Hyun-soo sniffed and shifted, then sank back into sleep.
She closed the door, crossed the living room, and headed for the kitchen.
Morning light fell across the wedding photograph on the living-room wall.
Jung Na-yeon walked past it without looking. A month ago the sight of that photo had still twisted something in her chest; now it registered no more than the pattern on the wallpaper.
She opened the refrigerator. Six eggs, half a bunch of green onions, the tofu she had bought yesterday. She murmured to herself.
"Steamed egg and doenjang soup... if I pan-fry the tofu he'll like that."
After a month she had his tastes down perfectly. His pattern was to wake and sit at the table just as the soup came to a boil; she timed the heat accordingly.
While she sliced the tofu on the cutting board her phone vibrated. She glanced at the screen sitting on the sink. The contact name "Husband" lit up. She did not stop cutting. Only after she had divided the tofu into six pieces and poured oil into the pan did she pick up the phone.
A sentence without even a period. Jung Na-yeon left it on read and set the phone down.
"Sorry, my ass..."
She snorted. The tofu began to sizzle in the pan.
When steam rose from the doenjang soup and the steamed egg had puffed up nicely, she set two places at the table.
Two pairs of chopsticks, two water glasses—on a table where, until a month ago, she had always sat alone.
She looked over the finished spread with quiet satisfaction, then turned her head toward the bedroom and raised her voice.
"Hyun-soo, breakfast. If you don't get up I'm clearing it all away."
No answer. She gave a little snort of laughter and set the ladle down.
"He really can't get up. Someone was the one who insisted on three rounds last night."
She clicked her tongue as she walked toward the bedroom door, but a smile was already playing at the corners of her mouth.