You continued to feel weak from your illness. The stomach flu seemed to have hit you, causing you to have to stay home from work. Though, that didn't excuse you from your job as a parent. Your daughter still needed your care and help.

   Haechan seemed to be absent quite often, but whenever he was home he would always make food and give you comfort.

   "Please come home more often," you asked him as he gently stroked your hair. A movie played on the TV, but you couldn't stop thinking about Haechan having to leave in an hour. Barely anytime for the two of you to spend together.

   "I can try," he whispered. "I can try."

   And times that Haechan was home, he would get calls at the most random moments. He would have to step out of the room to continue. These calls always seemed urgent and important like work had called. On occasion, he would have to leave the house afterward.

   "Just stay," you pouted, tilting you chin up to him.

   Haechan pecked your lips. "I'll see you when I get home. Love you." Then, he left.

   It would make you upset, but you brushed it off anyway.

   Though it was hard to brush it off when it made you feel sick in a different way with him being gone so much, and secretive about his calls.

   Out of curiosity, you checked Haechan's phone while he was in the shower one day, but you only found his call history to be cleared, and all his messages were deleted.

   Something isn't right, you thought. But you couldn't think like that towards your husband. How could he do that? There couldn't possibly be a chance.

   But your stomach still dropped when thinking about all that has happened. All these pieces fitting together.

   And a text that was soon received on Haechan's phone:

XXX-XXX-XXXX:
Okay, I'll see you then!

   By the end of the week, you started to feel a little better physically and decided to go back to work. Though, you struggled to concentrate and were constantly asked if everything was okay.

   "I'm fine," you lied to your co-workers. "Don't worry about me. I'm just feeling tired after being sick."

   They would rub your shoulder and smile. That's it.

   "Why is dad never home?" your daughter asked you. Her head tilted to the side as she colored in a picture with a worn, red crayon. Red was her favorite color, because "it's the color of love."

   God, how she loved love.

   You took a seat next to her and leaned on the table. "Honey, he's just busy with work," you gently replied, hiding the suspicion you felt for Haechan's words.

   "I never get to spend time with both of you," she continued. You peeked down at the picture of you and Haechan hugging her. Of course, it was sloppy and hard to depict, but still beautiful because it was love. It was what you hoped would stay.

   Please let it stay.

   Just stay.