7 A Ghost Named He
Hannah's POV
Wednesdays were my bad days.
Ever since I was thirteen, bad things always happened to me on Wednesday. If I forgot my homework, it was on a Wednesday. If I wore mismatched socks, it was on a Wednesday. Even when my dog died, guess what day it was?
Wednes-fucking-day.
So, as I stood in front of the broken vending machine outside my office not knowing what drink to buy and feeling moody because of my period, I blamed it all on Wednesday.
Curse the stupid fourth day of the week.
"Hey, Hannah."
Hwan's voice brought me out of my sulking. "Are you alright?"
With a groan, I nodded in annoyance. I wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone right now. Heck, I didn't even have the power to glare him away.
"Okay, you're definitely not alright. What's the matter?"
Grabbing my arm, he led me back to my office, while I weakly grumbled in protest. Setting me down in my chair, he got me some water from the dispenser. After much resistance, I drank some of it and to my surprise, I felt a whole lot better almost instantly.
"What did you put in this water? It's magic."
"Just two atoms of the best quality hydrogen and the finest oxygen around."
Staring blankly, I watched in slight annoyance as he laughed at his miserable attempt at a joke. Noticing my expression, he quickly composed himself.
"Not even a grin?"
"That catastrophe wasn't even worthy of a frown."
"I'd like to see you make a joke, Miss Smarty-pants."
Swivelling in my chair, I rolled my eyes. "I make money, not jokes, little boy."
It's now his turn to roll his eyes as I smirked at my comeback. I was such a witty little thing when I wanted to be.
"Isn't it a bit strange that you call me 'little boy'?" Hwan observed, raising a brow at me. "I'm four years older than you."
"Being little has nothing to do with your age. It's more of an ode to the size of a certain distinctive organ you possess."
My eyes landed on his crotch and he immediately covered it with his hands, clearly flustered. "My manhood is a perfectly reasonable size, you pervert!"
"Is it really? Or is that what you say to make yourself feel better?"
"It is! And don't you think it's kind of discriminatory to assume my size because of my race?"
"It's not about your race, silly. You just don't exude big dick energy."
"So, you're judging me based on hypothetical, made-up internet nonsense?"
"It's not nonsense if it's true," I mockingly called, narrowing my eyes at him. "Prove me wrong then, Hwan. How big are you?"
His entire face flushed red at that as he stuttered a reply. "Big is a relative term."
Caught off-guard by his answer, I instantly burst into laughter. Hwan didn't seem too pleased with this as he narrowed his eyes at me, but that only made me laugh even harder.
"You know, this is getting annoying."
"I'm sor- I- I just-you-"
"Fine, keep laughing. But one day you and your porn-infested mind will learn that size isn't everything."
"Oh please," I scoffed condescendingly, "I'll always like my men tall, dark and well endowed."
He simply rolled his eyes in response, still blushing from the sensitive conversation. I shot him a smug smirk, my tone teasing.
"Don't worry, Hwan. Hopefully, one day a girl will love you – relatively big dick and all."
"Stop it!" he cried, embarrassed. "My manhood is perfectly fine!"
"Tell it to your girlfriend. Oh wait, she doesn't exist!"
He glared at me in what I assumed was meant to be an intimidating gesture, but I merely scoffed. There were very few things in this life that could scare me, and Hwan wasn't one of them.
"I do have a girlfriend. Well kind of."
"Hwan, you do realize that our fake relationship which happened over a week ago doesn't count?"
Frustrated, he facepalmed. "I'm not talking about you."
"Then who?"
"It's Candy! The receptionist from downstairs!"
"No need to lie, Hwan. You don't need a woman's validation to feel comfortable about your body."
Visibly upset, he got up from his chair. "I'm not lying. She's into me!"
Not wanting to further wound his ego, I played along. "Okay, okay. I believe your imaginary girlfriend Candy is real. Now can you leave my office?"
"You're such a-a-"
"A bitch? I know. Now bye-bye."
Annoyed, he stormed out with a huff, not bothering to cast me another glance. I struggled to suppress the smug smile that graced my features, amused at his childish behaviour.
How cute.
-
Hwan's POV
To say I felt insulted was an understatement.
I felt completely humiliated.
Hearing Hannah make fun of me was infuriating, but it wasn't what upset me the most. It was the fact that she didn't even believe I could get a girlfriend.
And why? Because of a stupid made-up internet theory that had no real-life basis. I mean what even was 'big dick energy' anyway?
Pure bullshit, that's for sure.
Well, she was going to be in for a shock.
Storming out of the elevator, I speedwalked across the ground floor and straight to Candy's desk. She didn't notice my presence, however, as she was buried in something on her phone.
Sure, I kind of lied about being with Candy to save face, but why not just turn that lie into the truth?
That way I'd prove Hannah wrong and show her I was no 'little boy'.
Taking a calming breath, I put on my most charming smile.
"Hey, Candy."
Looking up from her phone, her eyes widened once she realised it was me. Shooting me a smile, her entire face lit up. "Oh, hi. Can I help you with something, Mr. Park-Lee?"
"Call me Hwan. Mr. Park-Lee is way too uptight."
"Alright, Hwan," she said with a flirty laugh, nervously fiddling with her hair. "What can I help you with?"
Taking a deep breath, I mentally prepared myself for what I was about to do. My palms felt sweaty and my heart was racing from how nervous I suddenly felt. With every ounce of confidence I could muster, I pressed on.
"Actually, I wanted to apologize for not calling you. I've been really busy with work and I felt awful for keeping you waiting. I'm sorry."
"It's fine, Hwan. I understand."
"I was hoping I could make it up to you over some dinner. Are you free tonight?"
She seemed taken aback by my offer, but quickly covered it up. Feigning thinking about it, she batted her eyes dramatically, her eyeliner still as dark and heavy as the last time I saw her.
Still, she was just as pretty.
After an excruciatingly long wait, she nodded eagerly.
"Yes, I am. I'd love to go out with you."
"Perfect," I said excitedly, pleasantly surprised she'd actually agreed to this. "I'll text you the details then."
"Sure. I'll be waiting."
Thrilled, I shot her one last smile before leaving her to continue her work. It was still quite surreal that such a lovely lady said yes to me so easily.
That meant I actually had a date tonight. A real actual date – my first one since college.
The smile on my face slowly faded as I realised what I'd just gotten myself into.
I had a date. My first one since college. Tonight.
Ladies and gentlemen, I was screwed.
-
Candy's POV
I was more than surprised when Hwan showed up at my desk this morning. But I must say, it was a pleasant surprise.
I'd never expected he'd call me so I wasn't upset when he didn't. Yet, he still found the time to come apologize to me and even asked me out on a date.
And here I was giving up on good men. They do exist after all.
With a smile on my face, I went back to reading the romance novel on my phone. Call me a hopeless romantic if you will, but I'd always been a sucker for happily ever afters and finding prince charming even though I was yet to find my own.
My love life had been less than ideal, with every boyfriend I'd had ranging from a cheating bastard to an abusive jerk. I'd been battered and bruised in my search for the one, but I hadn't lost faith yet.
And it was because of men like Hwan.
Every once in a while, good men like him popped up in my life and for whatever reason, they were always out of my grasp. It was either they were too old, married or gay.
But Hwan was the first one to actually hold the prospect of being more than my friend.
Maybe he would be.
I didn't want to get my hopes up, I'd been hurt too many times before to be that naive. But I had a feeling that Hwan wouldn't hurt me.
He was a good man.
And all I'd been searching for was just that.
-
Hannah's POV
I was sitting at the desk in my home office when my phone chimed.
Picking it up, I opened the text I just received from an unknown number. Reading the message, I nearly dropped the phone.
HELLO KIJE. DID YOU MISS ME?
Refusing to accept the situation as reality, I shook my head vigorously. There was no possible way this was happening. There was no way he was back.
Not unless –
No. It couldn't be. This wasn't real. I must be having a nightmare.
My phone chimed again and I reached for it with shaking hands. All the wind was knocked out of me as I read the second text.
I SEE YOU HAVEN'T CHANGED. YOU SHOULD KNOW BETTER THAN TO IGNORE ME
Terrified, I threw my phone across the room, most likely damaging it.
What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck.
God, let this not be real. Please don't let it be real.
But as I huddled on the ground, heart racing in fear, I knew it was real.
He was real.
And after all these years, he'd found me.
-
"Where is it?"
Screaming in frustration, I frantically searched my file cabinet for where I put it. I began to pull random folders down in anger and scatter them on the floor. Then like a raindrop from the sky, it fell from the top shelf and landed at my feet.
The yellow folder had my handwriting scribbled across it as a label.
Prison Records.
I grabbed it off the ground and violently ripped it open. Flipping through, I found the document I was looking for.
His prison record.
Finding his name and prison ID number was my goal, not that I needed much help with the first. Dashing to my landline, I punched in the number for Afo-Kang Correctional Facility, which I got from the prison file, and it rung on the other side.
After the third ring, a female voice finally answered.
"Hello, what can I help you with?" her thick Efik accent flowed through the line.
"Can you please inform me of the status of one of your inmates?"
"Who are you?"
"I'm his…. sister," I lie.
After a series of unnecessary questions that I'd like to assume is the Nigerian equivalent of a background check except it's ineffective, she finally got to what I wanted.
"The inmate with prison number 50467A has been released on parole. He was released on the 22nd of March, which is two weeks ago."
My heart sunk at her words, the phone slipping through my fingers and falling to the floor.
He was free. He was coming.
And all I could do about it was sit on my study floor and scream my lungs out.
