The following morning arrived with a chilly, but surprisingly sunny weather, at which Tiffany marveled as she opened the window in her room and felt the rays of sunshine touch her skin.  She stood by the window for a moment, breathing in the morning air and reveling in the birds’ happy chirping and singing, announcing the winter was soon to be gone. She smiled absent-mindedly, feeling particularly joyful for no real reason at all. But she had once read in an old book that it’s the little moments that should be treasured and enjoyed to the fullest, and that people shouldn’t give those moments much thought, but simply enjoy them while they last, and so that was what she did. 

Not long after, she was already dressed up and ready for the day, her appearance looking prim, pretty and soft as the usual, except for a few strands of hair that refused to stay rolled during the night and now looked a tad loosen and sloppy in comparison to the rest, but Tiffany managed to tame them with a hair pinㅡone that, according to her father, had belonged to her grandmother, and which her mother had sneakily brought with her when she and Tiffany's father eloped to New York, in a metaphorical attempt to be in touch with her family.

Once the object was already in her head holding her thick, dark tresses, she trailed her fingertips through it, losing herself in a small reverie as she wondered how her grandparents possibly looked likeㅡor at least her maternal grandparents, for she never heard much about her own father’s parents. “My father was a good, hard-working man and my mother a dear woman with a commendable innate aptitude to care for and run her family,” was all Tiffany’s father would tell her when she inquired about them. It was enough for her to like them, though, despite never having seem them.

As for her mother’s parents, well, for years, as a young child, Tiffany had imaged her grandmother to look like a witch, and her grandfather as a tyrant king, as her father told her about his past with his late wife and the struggles they had to go through to be together. Quite obviously, the fairy tale books Tiffany always took a particular liking for and devoured as a child played a huge part in influencing her vivid imagination, for who else would possibly want the good Prince and the Princess to be apart like her mother’s parents wanted her father and her mother, if not the evil characters of a fairy tale? But everyone grows up, and when Tiffany did, she began to picture her grandparents as the two wealthy, prim-and-proper figures they were, in reality. The only thing that still remained impossible for her to understand was why they objected so vehemently to her parents’ being together, if their love was indeed as pure and strong as her father described.

She came to herself when she heard the clock go off. She had risen long before it rang. It was something that occured rather often during sunny days. “Sometimes I think I rise with the Sun,” she had told Mrs. Winters a couple of years ago, “for I feel particularly happy and energized when there’s sunshine outside.” The woman would shake her head, mumbling something about how silly that sort of thought was, but Tiffany didn’t care much about it. It was a warm summer day back then, and she just resumed to lying on the grass with a book in one hand, as the other was occupied picking up strawberries that leaked a bit of juice as they were bitten, making treads of sweet liquid run down Tiffany’s chin and drop onto the fabric of her gingham dress, staining it as well as her skin.

She shut off the alarm and left the room, but not before picking up the book she had just finished the previous night. She intended to put it back into the shelf it had come from, and then pick up another. Her father had bought her quite a lot of books in the past few monthsㅡmore than the usual, reallyㅡbut because she had read a particular book thrice in a row a couple of months before, for that was how much she had enjoyed it, she was a bit behind, and had to catch up on her new acquisitions.

She stopped mid-way down the staircase when a different thought loomed in her mind.

Last night. Last afternoon.

Taeyeon.

The gentleness seeping through Taeyeon’s skin as she listened attentively to Tiffany while the girl talked about her drawings. Her hands touching them with such care and caution not to wrinkle a single inch of the paper, as though she held a precious treasure in her hands. The way she smiled genuinely as she spoke of how amazed she was by Tiffany’s traces and, as she put, "talent."

The drawing Tiffany had swept under Taeyeon’s door, into her room.

She took a look around herself and then down the stairs. Both the first and the second floor were quiet. The staffs were concentrated on setting the table for breakfastㅡshe could hear the tinkling sounds of the cutlery against the china before they were laid on the antique table. The maids had not reached the second floor to tidy the bedrooms yet. Considering all that, she tip-toed her way towards and into Taeyeon's room, pushing the door open with the quietude and self-conciousness a burglar would ascertain to bore before he commited a misdemeanor. 

The room was empty when she walked in. Tiffany exhaled heavily in relief. She would hate to sneak into the room to find Taeyeon there. She took a quick glance around the place: the bed was made; three books were stacked on top of the nightstand by the right side of the bed, and the top one had a slight, strange volume marking the page on which Taeyeon had halted her reading—which Tiffany, under closer inspection, later found out it was a wristwatch. She looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was approaching, and when she felt secure enough, she resumed skimming through the room.

She stopped when she reached the dressing table, glacing over the objects laying on it. It was quite messy, in comparison to the rest of the room. A hair brush, bobby pins, a red lipstick with no lid on, blue and pink hair rollers, a few other makeup products, and a bottle of perfume were all scattered over the table. And attached to the corner of the mirror, Tiffany finally noticed, there was a piece of paper which looked very familiar. She smiled at the sight and sat down, allowing herself to take the paper and unfold it. There was the drawing she had so gladly slipped under Taeyeon’s door the night before. Her smile grew wider as she acknowledge the blonde had really kept it—and what's more, she had kept it somewhere she could always see it. 

Tiffany didn't delay herself in the room any longer. She tossed the paper onto the dressing table and sprang up, ready to leave the place and head downstairs. Excited, she rushed out of the room and down the stairs, hurrying to the library as soon as she reached the first floor. To her disappointment, Taeyeon wasn't there—which, Tiffany thought, was rather odd, considering Taeyeon's whereabouts in the mansion were usually the easiest thing to know. Shrugging, she put the book she had in hands back into the shelf, and then picked another, as she had planned. 

But Tiffany really wanted to talk to the blonde, and so she was very pleased when she reached the mansion's pompous backyard and found the woman lying relaxedly on her back on a banch, with a cigarette that she absently and frequently brought towards and then between her lips held securely between her index and middle fingers. Her other hand held up a book she read attentivelyㅡso much that her eyebrows nearly furrowed. Her legs were crossed in a strange way, as one was retracted on top of the bench, supported by Taeyeon's foot, and the other hanged sloppily on top of her knee. Tiffany wanted to smile, amused by the sight. 

“You know, that isn’t exactly good for your health. Especially before breakfast, I suppose,” the girl said, approaching the blonde with silent steps that thus far had remained unnoticed. She stopped by the bench and smiled politely. “Good morning.”

Taeyeon looked up, startled, and sat up straight. She then followed Tiffany’s eyes and let her own gaze fell on the cigarette she had in hand. She chuckled. “I know.” She took a drag off the drug and exhaled the smoke. “But some habits are hard to quit.”

“When did you start smoking?” Tiffany asked and sat down. Taeyeon eyed the girl for a moment and then put down the cigarette, letting it fall onto the grass and stabbing her heel against it.

“I think I was 18,” she said, her eyes on the ashes coming out of the cigarette amidst the vivid green grass.

“And why?”

Taeyeon looked up again, meeting Tiffany's curious, but kind eyes. The girl's gaze bore an aura of understanding and comprehension Taeyeon hadn’t ever seen before. Taeyeon wanted to be sincere with her. She wanted to tell Tiffany that she had started smoking because a pack of cigarettes and a small meal a day were all she could afford back then, when she had just been banished from her parents’ home. She was hungry, and smoking deceived her stomach into thinking that it was full, when it was, in fact, starving. She wanted to say that she thought it was a dreadful habit, really, even though most people did it, that she always hated it when her father smoked two to three cigarettes a day when she was a little girl, but that it had been a desperate measure she felt compelled to take to survive each day of which she couldn’t seem to let go now. But she couldn’t. Yet again, she had to tell Tiffany a lie. She hated the notion that all she did to Tiffany was lie, lie, lie.

“It’s basically a social norm, really,” the blonde responded with dissent. “It’s like drinking. Things you start doing once you grow up, when you're bored or, just... for the sake of it.”

Tiffany snickered. “Sometimes I think society should think some of its norms through. Some of them are of remarkable poor quality.”

You have no idea, Taeyeon thought to herself. “Indeed,” she said, instead.

Tiffany fell silent. Taeyeon glanced at the girl again, marveling at her beauty. The black locks fell loosely on Tiffany’s shoulders and a few strands danced with the soft morning breeze. Then and now, the clouds would pass by blocking the sun, but whenever the sun rays touched Tiffany’s pale skin, it looked as though the girl had a blinding glow of her own; and when the light left Tiffany’s visage, a natural hint of pink could be seen on her cheeks, left there by the warmth, just as though rosy-colored lips had kissed them. Tiffany had ben sun-kissed.

Taeyeon panicked when she caught herself secretly wishing she were the sun.

“Have you read this one?” Taeyeon said, delivering the book she had in hands into Tiffany’s, expecting to divert her mind from her previous, rather inadequate thoughts.

“A Baudelaire anthology. Of course,” the brunette said, smiling a little. “He was a favorite of mine a few years ago.”

“Is that so?”

“Oh, yes. I greatly admire his vision of the world. It’s a very peculiar blend of emotion and reason; very intricate, really, and also very smart. I have learned quite a lot with that. And I’m a big fan of the way he uses the words. He has a very peculiar, though not bad, fashion of writing. All he writes just has such a strong impact. I’m pretty sure there’s a quote that goes, ‘There are women who inspire you with the desire to conquer them and to take your pleasure of them, but this one fills you only with the desire to die slowly under her gaze.’ That quote has always gotten to me,” she finished, nibbling on her lower lip.

Taeyeon flinched a bit, though she never took her eyes off of Tiffany. “Why is that?”

Tiffany shook her head and handed the book back to Taeyeon. “I’m not sure. Perhaps it’s just the way he’s put the words together. Or perhaps it’s the idea of this… this desire, this passion so intense it could make one willing to perish under another’s gaze,” she said, and looked up at Taeyeon again, meeting the blonde’s eyes once more. “I often wondered how that must feel like.”

Taeyeon exhaled heavily, but Tiffany didn’t notice. The brunette shifted her glance and ran a hand through her locks softly, trying to tidy the few strands of hair the breeze had by now skewed.

Taeyeon couldn’t resist helping the girl out.

“What made you stop reading him?” she asked as she ran her fingertips through Tiffany’s scalp with the lightness of a feather, brushing back the awry strands and tucking some behind Tiffany’s ear before she retreated her hand.

Tiffany eyed Taeyeon shyly, and smiled in the same manner. “I suppose I got tired of how real he was, at times.”

Taeyeon smiled a little, and decided to stop inquiring. “Shall we go inside now?” she asked as she rose. “I suppose we must be late for breakfast by now. I understand Mrs. Winters doesn’t quite like it when that happens.”

Tiffany chuckled. “Indeed, she doesn’t.”

The two women headed inside the house in comfortable silence. Once they reached the dining room, Mrs. Winters, with a huge smile across her face, welcomed them as she clasped her hands together in excitement.

“Tiffany! Miss Taeyeon! Oh, how lovely. Just in time. Look who has just arrived!” she said, signaling towards the figure looming in the background.

Tiffany and Taeyeon both glanced at the direction. The former, for the first time, was not a bit excited to see the man. The latter froze in place and unknowingly poised in an austere manner.

“Good morning, ladies,” Anthony Hwang said, taking off his hat and approaching the trio. “I expected a warmer welcome.”

“Hello, father,” Tiffany said, feigning enthusiasm, too preoccupied with the way Taeyeon stepped back as the man drew closer. “What are you doing home?”

“I have a few issues to address at the office, as well as some matters to discuss with a few colleagues and local businessmen. I should be staying for a week,” he responded, and kissed Tiffany’s forehead. He then turned to Taeyeon, whose posture was not the least friendly, albeit it wasn't exactly hostile either. 

“Good morning, Taeyeon,” he said, taking her hand on his own and giving it a cordial kiss. He knew they were both under Mrs. Winters’s scrutinizing eyes, as well as Tiffany's. “Aren’t you happy to see me… darling?”

Taeyeon forced a small smile and retreated her hand. “Delighted,” she said in a rather wry tone. “Especially because I’ve been dying to talk to you.” She took a couple of steps back again and stretched out her arm towards the entrance of the dining room, suggesting they exit it and he follow her to a place where they could talk in private.

Tiffany cringed at the whole scene, but said nothing. She wasn't in the position to say anything.

Soon, Taeyeon and Anthony were in the living room, one in each of its end. Taeyeon’s eyes were full of anger, while his had a sheepish glint of charade.

“Listen, I know we--”

“No, you listen to me, Mister,” Taeyeon interrupted.

“Anthony. It’s time you called me Anthony.”

“Whatever.” The woman’s tone was spiky. She sat down, arms folded and legs crossed, and eyed the man as though she were throwing daggers at him. “I demand an explanation. I have never expected or wanted courtesy from you, but I did expect decency. You don’t exactly strike me as an irresponsible or ill-mannered man,  so would you pray tell me why in the world you replaced me at the office when you said I could work from home?”

The man sighed and mimicked her gesture as he sat down across the room as well. “I’ve been talking to a lot of people recently. Partners, colleagues, my pals. I know how this will sound, but I’ve been advised to do that. I was told having my wife work for me and having that fact known wouldn't exactly be a very well-seen thing among my equals."

Taeyeon looked incredulous. “Advised? Just how many people know about this ridiculous marriage?”

He scratched his chin. “Everyone, really. Everyone in my social circle. I had to tell. It would be worse if I hadn't. Which leads us to another subject: you need to meet the important people. My partners, everyone. I really need you to do that.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Gee, listen,” he said as he checked his wristwatch, “I need to be at the office at once. I’ll pick you up at night and I’ll take you out to dinner so we can talk. I’ll be here at 8 o’clock sharp, so if you'll please be ready.”

Taeyeon chuckled wryly. “And it seems I have no say in that, now do I?”

“You do, in fact,” he said, getting up, “but I think you would like to listen to what I have to say.” It was now his turn to suggest they leave the room. "You are an intelligent woman, Taeyeon. I'm sure I can have a civilized discussion with you." They both headed back to the dining room. Taeyeon walked with disdain fore the man, so that she didn’t have to look at him.

“Leaving, already?” Tiffany asked as she watched Anthony pick up his hat and briefcase, after he and Taeyeon had just entered the dining room once again. The girl addressed her father, but her attention was focused on the blonde sitting across her by the table, with a deeply irritated look on her face.

“Would you like to accompany me to the office today, Tiffany?” he asked jokingly, albeit a bit expectant. He always wanted Tiffany to engage in his business. She would have to run it someday, after all.

“No,” she readily said, and took a sip of orange juice. “I find that place revontingly tedious. And your… fellows don’t exactly please me very much.”

“Very well,” he agreed with a sigh. “I suppose I won’t live to see the day you’ll come to like your father’s craft. Either way, bye-bye.” He bowed his head to Tiffany and to Taeyeon and took his leave.

Tiffany looked at the blonde. “Is everything all right?” she asked.

Taeyeon’s countenance automatically softened, and she managed to conjure a small smile. “Of course. Why?”

Tiffany took a piece of sliced bread in hands. “You looked rather distressed just now,” she remarked, and resumed to grab a knife to spread some butter on the slice.

Taeyeon didn’t know how to respond to that, but she didn’t want to disappoint Tiffany. She knew how many times the girl had tried to approach her and she backed away because she couldn't disclose the real story. She also knew how deeply frustrated Tiffany was by that. She needed to change the subject, distract the girl from the recent events. She was aware Tiffany had sensed something strange that had put her on alert.

“Tiffany, would you be so kind as to do something for me?” Taeyeon started.

Tiffany looked up, her inquiring eyes fixing themselves on Taeyeon. “Yes?”

Taeyeon’s fingers fidgeted as she hesitated a little. “I have a… an appointment with your father tonight. Unfortunately, I have never been the type to go out very much, so the only evening dress I have is rather worn out already, and also a bit old.” She lifted her gaze and eyed Tiffany. “I need to buy myself a new one. Would you like to help me out?”

Tiffany didn’t know if she loved or hated the idea. Surely, she would like to spend more time with Taeyeon, but helping the woman find an outfit to go on what she assumed it was a dinner date with her father, and in fact it was, did not sound as a very pleasant activity to her. Smart as she was, by now, Tiffany had already noticed Taeyeon’s discomfort around Anthony, or even at the mere mention of his name. She didn’t quite like to picture Taeyeon alone with the manㅡat least not knowing the way the blonde felt about it.

She agreed, regardless.

“Of course,” she said, smiling, though not entirely sincerely. “I would be delighted. I know many nice stores I can take you to. When?”

Taeyeon smiled in relief, but quickly retained herself. “After lunch will be just fine. I just have to stop by the bank to make a withdrawal first,” she said, finishing her cup of coffee and rising from her seat. “I think I’ll ask… Charles to drive me there. Charles, is that right?” she asked, referring to the family’s personal chauffeur.

Tiffany nodded. “Charles, yes,” she replied a bit absently.

Taeyeon’s eyes lingered on Tiffany for a moment, and then the woman smiled as she excused herself and headed upstairs. She changed into a maroon dress and added a hat to her head, put on some gloves, grabbed her purse, and in a very short span of time was back downstairs. Sooner than expected, also, the sound of the car’s engine starting reached Tiffany’s ears, and Taeyeon was gone.

***

They were at downtown about half an hour after they had finished lunch. Tiffany still felt harshly torn between her wish to be with Taeyeon and her deep dislike for the idea of Taeyeon going to dinner with her father, but she tried her best to mask that feeling. It certainly wouldn’t be of any help to let it show throughㅡespecially when Taeyeon was so visibly anxious, trodding the sidewalks with nervous, nearly rushed steps.

“Do you think this is a nice place?” Taeyeon asked as they stopped by a demure shop with a few of its best dresses showcased in the display window.

Tiffany took a look. “Well, I don’t mean to devalue anything, but there are stores with dresses of higher quality around here,” she responded sicnerely.

Taeyeon glanced quickly at Tiffany, then back into the store. She recalled the envelope with the few hundreds of dollars Anthony had left addressed to her in the living room before she left, which she found after the man was gone and didn't bother to keep. The last thing Taeyeon wanted was his money. She still had her savings, and for as long as she could, that would be the only money she would use when in need. “I can’t afford fancy dresses, Tiffany.” 

Tiffany thought for a moment, and then smiled excitedly. “But I can. Come,” she said, grabbing Taeyeon by the wrist and dragging her along through the sidewalk.

“I’m sorry?” Taeyeon asked confusedly,  tagging along as she didn't have any alternative.

“See,” Tiffany began, twining her arm with Taeyeon’s as her free hand pointed discreetly forward, “there’s this small, but very fancy little dress store right across the street, on the next block. I go there quite often, it is one of my favorites. Let me take you there. I’m certain you’ll find something wonderful,” she added. They were already about to cross the street.

“Tiffany, I… I really cannot accept that. Besides…” Taeyeon protested, but paused for a moment when they were in the crosswalk. Instinctively, her free hand landed on Tiffany’s arm, a protective gesture that intended nothing but to keep Tiffany safe. The girl noticed it, and she felt a lingering tingle on the spot Taeyeon had touched, although she did so atop the fabric of Tiffany’s coat. “I don’t think your father would approve of our spending his money like that,” she finally completed, once they were both on the next block.

“It isn’t his money. It is mine,” Tiffany rebutted, eyeing Taeyeon. “He gives me a generous sum every month, in case I need it or feel like going shopping. I can do with it as I please. He rarely gives me attention, the least he could do is give me money to keep me entertained, don’t you think so?”

Taeyeon was silent.

“Regardless, I’m not the splurging type. I hardly ever buy anything for myself, or for anyone else, really,” she continued, looking for the targeted store. “I have a whole lot of money saved up from my… well, allowances, so to speak. It’ll be nice to spend it on someone. Like a present. Yes, this is it,” Tiffany said, smiling, now with a much brighter tone. “Take it as a late birthday present, will you?”

The blonde gave Tiffany a look that hinted at a tad of disapproval, but no longer fought against the girl’s wish. She couldn’t resist Tiffany’s expectant expression, and she couldn’t say the girl’s eagerness didn’t amuse her greatly.

“All right,” Taeyeon finally appeased, albeit reluctantly. “But just this time.”

Tiffany giggled. “Marvelous. Come.”

The two stepped inside the store and were readily welcomed by a short, stout woman, whose age showed on the gray strands of hair, although not on her round, rosy face. Maybe a wrinkle or two could be seen around her eyes, but only from very up close. She had a measuring tape hanging around her shoulders down to the front of her body, and was clad in a dress that had probably been out of fashion for about 20 years, which contrasted with the modernity of the fashion pieces showcased around her store. She approached Tiffany with a bright smile on her lips.

“Tiffany, my child! How nice it is to see you again, dear,” she said, wrapping Tiffany in a friendly, but clumsy hug. The girl chuckled.

“Hello, Mrs. Johnson. How’s it going around here?”

“Just Ava, Tiffany, please! And, oh, just wonderful, thank heavens. A customer has just left with three of my most expensive dresses. Now I have more money and all of my attention to give you. You know I hate sharing it," the woman said with a giggle. “And I see you brought someone with you this time,” she added, finally turning to Taeyeon. “Well, aren’t you lovely, child?” she remarked, making the blonde smile. “Who is she, Tiffany? Another cousin of yours? Hopefully not anywhere near as feisty as that other one,” she turned to Tiffany again, adjusting her glasses.

Tiffany snickered. “Definitely not.” She laid her coat, gloves, and purse on top of an armchair, and touched Taeyeon’s shoulder gently as she positioned herself behind the woman and addressed Ava. “Well, Ava, this is Taeyeon. She’s my….” She stopped. The word ‘stepmother’ was there, compelled to come out of her lips, but Tiffany wouldn’t let it. She couldn’t. “...Friend,” she finally said, and withdrew her hand from Taeyeon’s shoulder. “She’s a friend. And she needs an evening dress for tonight. Do you think you can arrange that?”

Taeyeon sneaked a glance at Tiffany’s direction.

“Why, certainly!” Mrs. Johnson said, determined. “Come, come.” The woman beckoned Taeyeon to follow her. Tiffany took Taeyeon’s coat and purse and held it against her body as the blonde followed Ava deeper into the store, where the dresses were displayed neatly arranged by color as they cascaded down the hangers. “Do you have any color preference, darling?” the older woman asked Taeyeon.

Not really, she didn't. “Uh… I--”

“Red,” Tiffany interrupted from the other side of the store, as she sat down on the armchair's arm and observed the other two. She recalled the first day she saw Taeyeon, the red dress, hat, and lipstick the woman wore. The way the bold color contrasted with her golden hair, pale skin and gentle features. Not that Taeyeon needed much to look beautiful, Tiffany regarded, but red definitely did wonders to her appearance. “She looks terrific in red,” she concluded.

Taeyeon had turned around to look at Tiffany when she was interrupted, and had been staring at the girl with an amused smile on her lips since. It felt absolutely flattering for her to hear Tiffany speak so highly of her appearance. She only turned away and diverted her gaze from Tiffany when Mrs. Johnson called her, saying she believed she had found the perfect dress.

“It’ll definitely require a little tailoring here and there,” the woman said as she inspected the dress putting it in front of Taeyeon’s body, “but it’s nothing much. Go on, dear, try it out.” Taeyeon went into the fitting room, as gestured and suggested by Mrs. Johnson, and a couple of minutes later she came out of it with the dress on.

Weren’t it for the loose fabric around Taeyeon’s waist, it could be fair to say the dress had fitted her body perfectly. The strapless piece had a delicate, tasteful bateau neckline, its flare skirt was accentuated by a white petticoat, and it all complimented Taeyeon’s body beautifullyㅡnot to mention, of course, the deep shade of red that once again made Taeyeon stand out, as well as matched the woman’s lipstick flawlessly. The golden hair, that Taeyeon had arranged in an elegant bun before they left, nearly reflected the sanguine color of the dress, which made the woman resemble an exquisite flame. She looked much too stunning, and Tiffany had a terrible time trying to deflect her gaze. But she felt she could burn if she kept peering for too long, and suddenly a rush of guilt spread through her body, making her feel as though she could be somehow endangered.

“Well? How do you love it?” Ava asked.

Taeyeon touched the dress with her palms as she eyed herself in the mirror. “It’s beautiful. I do like it a lot.” The blonde turned around and looked at Tiffany, waiting for her verdict, but the girl was staring absently at the floor. “Tiffany?” she called softly. The brunette’s head shot up, and she looked at Taeyeon once again.

“It’s perfect,” she mumbled, nodding her head. “Perfect. We’ll take it,” she finished, eyeing Mrs. Johnson.

“Excellent!” the woman exclaimed, then pulled Taeyeon by the waist. “Now, turn around, dear. I need to make a few adjustments. You’re too thin, sweetheart, don’t they feed you at home? You gotta get yourself some meat on those bones,” she said, and then continued babbling as she took a needle and a thread from a small box and began sewing the dress here, cutting it there, coming back and joining it back together, until it achieved the perfect fit on Taeyeon’s small, trim body. But neither she nor Tiffany paid any attention to whatever the woman was sayingㅡTaeyeon was glancing intensely at Tiffany, lost in her own thoughts, while the brunette mulled over things herself, only her eyes flickered from Taeyeon to any other part of the store, but then invariably back at the woman, as though they were addicted to her.

They struggled a bit to leave the storeㅡMrs. Johnson truly was a talkative woman. Not that that was a bad trait, no; “Mrs. Johnson is a wonderful person, really,” Tiffany told Taeyeon once they were outside, after the blonde couldn’t contain a sigh of relief to hear the woman’s voice be replaced by the busy, hasty street sounds of downtown New York. “It’s just that she talks so much and so fast it makes you feel lost, and thus bored. But, really, she’s just hard to keep up with. Eventually, you’ll get the hang of it. At least if you want to make yourself understandable as you speak to her.” Taeyeon chuckled at Tiffany’s explanation; it was absurd, but plausible.

Both were mute on their way home. Few words were exchanged as they walked back to the car, and then none as Charles drove them back home. They arrived just as quietly, and the silence was only broken when Tiffany announced she would be in the library, should Taeyeon need anythingㅡbut to that, Taeyeon only responded with a nod.

They spent two quiet hours, each in a different part of the mansionㅡTiffany, in the library; Taeyeon, in the den, trying to write something to divert her thoughts, but both with the same thing in mind: that very moment back at Ava’s store, when their eyes met and melted into an indecipherable, invasive gaze that bore into their souls with so foreign and devastating an intensity, it was both thrilling and alarming. Their eyes yearned to speak a language the two women had yet to fathom, and they had just began to show that.

Tiffany had thought of it as a curious thing: The explanation as to why she had been so enthralled by the woman remained foreign to her, no matter how hard she tried to find it, and she did think about it quite a lot. Taeyeon, on the other hand, understood the kind of look Tiffany gave her perfectly well, and she wished that would be the first and last time the girl's wandering, enticed eyes would scrutinize her figure so eagerly. Taeyeon just couldn’t have the way she felt under Tiffany's gaze accentuate the feelings she had already been nurturing for the girl, which were already troublesome enough to live with. Tiffany’s pull on Taeyeon was strong and unmerciful, and regardless of how good Taeyeon was at resisting temptations and repressing most of her general desires, she knew all it would take for her to sentence herself to her ruin was a tiny, blundering slip towards acceding to Tiffany’s lure, and she was in no position to get herself in any more trouble. But more than that, more than anything, she didn’t want to involve Tiffany in anything of that sort.

Establishing a nice relationship with the brunette would be the best thing to do, Taeyeon reckoned. Perhaps whatever feeling was taking form between the two was the result of the poor knowledge they had about each other, and thus they could be addressing their interest about each other wrongly. Perhaps developing a more friendly relation would help allay this hazardous attraction that seemed to be developing a louder voice each day, making itself more and more present, threatening, and tempting all at once.

Or perhaps Taeyeon just had to accept that, at this point, every time Tiffany appeared in front of her, all she longed to do was to touch and reach out for the girl, and that few things had ever felt as nice to her as being in Tiffany's company.

The large wooden door that welcomed them into the library was already open as Taeyeon approached it, but as proud of and as faithful to her manners as she was, she knocked thrice on it,. Her feet didn’t move until Tiffany glanced over the book she had in hands, eyes landing on Taeyeon, but quickly shying away from the woman afterwards.

“Am I disturbing you?” 

“Not in the least,” Tiffany replied, more eagerly than she wished she had, and put the book aside as she sat up on the couch.

Taeyeon nodded. She trod slowly about the place with her arms crossed as she looked around, then back at Tiffany. “I thought I should thank you again for the dress. It truly is a beautiful piece. And I’d like to thank you for the drawing you left in my room yesterday night, too.” She smiled a bit. “There was so much going on today that I forgot to mention it.”

Tiffany’s eyes brightened. “Did you like it?”

Taeyeon’s smile grew a tad wider. “I loved it.” She took a few steps further, sauntering her way towards the couch, and then sat on its arm. “I told you it was my favorite, didn’t I?”

Tiffany beamed brightly, satisfied with herself. “I’m glad,” she replied simply, with a nod.

The old wooden clock, big and loud enough to have its sound heard from anywhere in the mansion, rang with austerity to announce it was six in the afternoon, startling Taeyeon and Tiffany. In the library, on a shelf that, surprisingly, did not have enough books to fill it entirely, there was a demure mantle clock that held the volumes together. Taeyeon glanced towards it, and the tender expression she invariably had whenever she addressed Tiffany soon faded into disappointment.

“I should start getting ready,” she mumbled. The words tasted bitter as they escaped her lips.

Tiffany looked down for a minute, recalling the reason why they had spent most of that afternoon together. The idea of Taeyeon and her father going out together that night seemed to sound more and more disagreeable each minute. It was frustrating, also, for her not to be able to tell whether she thought the idea repulsive because she didn’t want Taeyeon to feel uncomfortable, or because she wanted the woman’s attention all for and on herself. The latter option, however, was an idea that wasn’t exactly very familiar to Tiffany yet, and thus it was discarted. But she did care about the blonde, and would most definitely hate to have her feel any more troubled than she already seemed, twenty-four hours a day. “I suppose,” she managed to say, nodding.

She didn’t really looked up, but she heard the couch shift as Taeyeon got up. She desisted from picking her book up again when she felt Taeyeon’s hand rest gently on her shoulder for a second as the blonde walked past her. When Tiffany finally managed to lift her gaze, Taeyeon was already walking out of the room.

Tiffany scowled, tossing the book aside againㅡrather angrily, this time.

***

Taeyeon sat down by the dressing table and looked at herself in the mirror. She sighed. Not a single strand of hair was out of place and there was no signal of smudged or badly-applied makeup anywhere on her face. The red dress fit like a glove on her body after Mrs. Johnson’s tailoring. She looked pretty and neat, but not even that could hide her discontentment about the upcoming dinner with Mr. Hwang. But she reminded herself that there was no way out of that, and so she took her purse in hands, the same coat she used when she first arrived in the mansion, and descended the stairs with a heavily dissatisfied look in her face.

She turned to the living room to wait until the car arrived. It was a little past 7:30p.m. She sat down on an armchair and grabbed a cigarette, lit it up, and took a slow drag on it, as though to relieve her frustrations through the smoke. Usually, it helped her calm down. But not that day.

“You don’t look like a woman who wants to have dinner with her husband,” Tiffany’s mellifluous voice bluntly resonated from the room’s entrance, her words as brazen as the unusual look on her face. Taeyeon immediately turned her head towards the girl’s direction, but remained silent. 

“Right,” Tiffany said when she didn't receive a response, and smiled sadly as she crossed her arms. “I forgot. You’re not supposed to speak about that.”

The two stared at each other for a while, until Tiffany decided to leave. She had tried many times to broach the topic of the marriage, but Taeyeon always managed to either evade it or say that it wasn’t a proper matter to be discussed between them. Of course, Tiffany should have learned by then, but her curiosity and, most importantly, the much she cared about it made her keep searching for answers.

The brunette turned around and was about to depart, and Taeyeon couldn’t help herself at the sight.

“You’re right,” she said, or muttered, rather, and took a puff of the cigarette . “I don’t want to.”

Tiffany stopped. Taeyeon admitting to her being unwilling to go out that night was a significant step further towards a better understanding between the two, which pleased the brunette a lot. She walked towards the woman and kneeled down in front of her, gazing attentively at her, her eyeballs barely moving. She took the cigarette from Taeyeon’s hand, placed it on the ashtray, and then crossed her arms over Taeyeon’s knees. The latter froze, but did not object.

“Then why are you going?” Tiffany asked earnestly.

“I should,” Taeyeon replied shortly. “I must.”

“Why?”

The blonde sighed. She had been growing awfully tired of lying to Tiffany, but she couldn’t tell her. She simply couldn’t.

“Tiffany,” she said, placing her hand on top of the girl’s, trying her best to be gentle, “it’s complicated.”

Tiffany was surprised at the intimate way with which Taeyeon had addressed her, which delayed her reaction to what the woman had said. Taeyeon was surprised at herself, tooㅡa week ago, she would have never thought of initiating any sort of contact with Tiffany, yet there she was, going as far as touching the younger’s hand with shameless self-given liberty. Not that she didn't enjoy it, but it wasn't right.

The brunette was about to protest when the car’s horn was heard in front of the house. Both got up promptly. No matter where they were or what they did, they always had this inner guilty feeling that they were doing something wrong. Taeyeon, especially, felt that very intensely and also very often. She was the first to walk out of the living room and towards the front door. Tiffany tagged along, unconsciously reluctant to separate from the woman. The front door opened as they walked, revealing Tiffany's father with his hand on the doorknob.

“Are you ready?” the man asked, looking at Taeyeon.

The woman nodded silently and walked towards him.

It was ridiculous how she felt like she walked towards disgrace, foredooming herself and the situation before she could make anything concrete out of it. Something as simple as a dinner with a man to whom she had a lot to speak about shouldn’t be such an ordeal. But it was. She would much rather stay with Tiffany all night long.

Tiffany. She stopped abruptly and turned around. Gladly, the girl was still there.

“I recall I promised to let you read my texts,” she said, looking at the girl as she put on her coat. “You’ll find some of them in the den, on the desk.”

Tiffany smiled. A real, glad smile that, unfortunately, did not last long, for it faded into malaise after Taeyeon smiled reclusively at her and then took her leave with her father. The brunette turned around and started for the staircase before the door was completely closed.

***

“I don’t understand how come you thought a restaurant as fancy and as crowded as this one would be the most appropriate place to have the sort of conversation we must have,” Taeyeon remarked as she sat down. She reclined forward as the man held the back of the chair, uncomfortable by the proximity.

Their way to the restaurant was silent, but the silence wasn’t nearly as comfortable and pleasant as that which she shared with Tiffany earlier that day. It was excruciating and disturbing, and Taeyeon wanted nothing but to break the car’s window, jump right out of it, and run away. She was more than relieved when they reached the restaurant. All she wanted was to be done with all of that as soon as possible.

“Precisely because it is crowded,” the man explained, sitting down himself. “Everyone here is too busy discussing and eating their own issues away to mind anyone else’s business.”

She raised her eyebrows, inhaling sharp. “I suppose we should start discussing ours, then. What is it that you want?”

He looked at her with an expression that indicated a bit of offense was taken from her tone. “Well, why rush?” he responded, and Taeyeon could hear mockery in his voice. “We have the whole night.”

“I don’t want to spend the whole night with you.”

They waited until the waiter was through with serving the wine to continue.

“Look, I don’t like your tone one bit,” he said sternly. “I brought you here so that we could have a civilized and possibly friendly conversation to sort things out. I will be immensely thankful if you cooperate. I know you are no lady, but you should at least try and act like one.”

Taeyeon took the glass of wine in her hands, and it took her all the willpower she had in her body not to deliberately spill the liquid on himㅡshe really wanted to do that, but instead, she managed to only take a sip of it. “I’m listening.”

“I suppose you want some answers,” he began. Taeyeon rolled her eyes.  He continued, “I dismissed you from the office, as I said, because I was advised to do so. I have this… this very close colleague, a friend I take not only as a pal, but as a good counselor. He was the one who told me it would be good for me and for my business if I married again, in the first place.”

“You are a grown man, the owner of one of the business in New York City, and yet you can’t make decisions on your own?” Taeyeon taunted.

“If you insist on being funny, I swear--”

“Can I place your order, Sir? Madam?” a waiter approached the table, interrupting the man.

Anthony Hwang flared his nostrils at Taeyeon, but managed to answer the waiter calmly, as refinedly as a man of his class would. “The usual,” he said. The waiter nodded, recognizing the man, a loyal client of the place, and walked away.

“Look, Mister,” Taeyeon began before Anthony could. “I won’t lie and tell you I’m not furious you took my job from me. I am. When I accepted your absurd proposal, which I must say, I only did out of pure despair, that was not what you promised me. You guaranteed me my job was secured. The idea of being stuck in a house with or of a man I had no sort of feelings for was horrid, but knowing I could still write and be part of something I worked for years to conquer managed to somewhat diminish it a bit. You didn’t even bother to tell me yourself I was no longer part of the team. Now, I don’t want to hear any of your excuses,” she said sourly when she noticed his lips beginning to move. “I don’t care your friend told you it would be the best thing to dismiss me, or why he concluded that. All I want to know is, and pray tell once for all, what do you want from me, anyway?”

The man shrugged, placing his wrung, interlaced hands on the table. “Honestly, I want you to be my wife.”

"Excuse me?"

“Look, I don’t have any feelings for you either,” he said. “But I’ve been thinking, we began this as some kind of business deal, so why don’t we partner up and try to make it thrive?”

Taeyeon was shocked, reluctant to process what she was hearing.

“If you are suggesting I take on wifely duties, you’d better tell me right now so that I can dash out of this place before the waiter brings the food,” she said through gritted teeth, nearly hissing.

“Couldn’t you try?” The man’s brashness was too much.

“You cannot be serious!” she cried, and would have stood up like a shot, hadn’t he reached out around the table and pushed her back down by her arm when she threatened to lift her body.

“Listen, just think about it. It would be good for us both. By now you’ve seen I can give you a wonderful life. If we just tried to make this work, we would both fall into a comfort zone and everything would be settled.”

“No,” was Taeyeon’s curt answer. “Either you come up with a better plan or I’m filling in for divorce. In fact, divorcing wouldn’t even be necessary. You know very well the marriage can be nullified.”

“Well, I could reverse that.”

Taeyeon clenched her jaw and slapped the back of her hand against the glass of wine, which made it fall with a thud on the clothed tableㅡit was an awfully wrong thing to do, she knew, and it would only make the man angrier, but she couldn’t help it. He was crossing a line she had never thought he would even get close to. The cold, red liquid ran rapidly across the table and dripped down the other end, wetting and staining the man’s gray pants. He flinched, and then quickly grabbed a napkin and dabbed it repeatedly against the wet spot, an action which was followed by an enraged glare he threw at the blonde.

“I am not afraid of you,” she said. “And don’t you dare referring to me that way ever again. It would be much easier to listen to whatever you have to tell me if you weren’t so inconvenient and indecent. I’m a person, not an object you can use for your professional fulfillment and gain, which I’ve taken is actually what you have been intending to do, and definitely not for your... personal contentment.”

“You’re much too audacious, did you know that?” he said, trying his best to control his anger. “And, in fact, yes, that is exactly what I have in mind. What did you expect? To be treated like a queen just for the sake of it? I told you when I suggested you marry me: take it as business deal. I would do something for you, which I’ve already been doing, and you would do something for me. Now shut up and listen to me, once for all.”

She inhaled angrily and leaned back on the chair, waiting for the wretched man to continue.

He sighed. “First of all, very well. I will give up on the idea of trying to make this work as a normal marriage. I won’t ask you to be a wife to me ever again," he said, and his words eased Taeyeon a little, but not enough to make her forget about the things he had said earlier, and how he said them. “But I will ask you to try and work with me. I’ve been giving you a good life, I helped you save and secure your reputation, so the least you could do in return is to help me out with a few things. Now, I’ve been talking to a lot of people, important people,” he stopped a minute to thank the waiter as he placed the plates on the table, “because I have this… project for my business. You see, the newspaper business isn’t what it used to be. The competition is much too strong nowadays. But the advertising business, boy, that has definitely been growing significantly lately,” he continued, and took a sip of wine. “I intend to transform the journal into an advertising agency, but for that, I need the right people with me and I have to make the right connections and partnerships.”

“And what do I have to do with that?” Taeyeon inquired.

“It is important that I have a wife to bring to business meetings with colleagues, potential partners and their respective wives. If the wives like you, they husbands will like you, and when people like that make acquaintances, the chances of turning that into a partnership grows notably. It's complicated, but the thing is, strong and long-lasting business bonds usually start with making good, genuine acquaintances with people, not necessarily envisioning professional or monetary profit.” He sipped on his wine, glancing at her. "And despite it all, you don't really strike one as a disagreeable person, and your looks aren't bad. Be friendly and there'll be no reason for anyone to dislike you."

She quirked an eyebrow. “You want me to talk people into making business with you? Through his wives?”

“I know you’re not familiar with this kind of lifestyle, but believe me when I tell you the relation between a man’s wife and his pals’ is very important when it comes to their relation.” He cut a piece of meat and stuffed it into his mouth, chewing it violently. “And besides, I’m not asking much, am I? I’m not even requesting you go on business trips with me. Which wouldn’t even be necessary, anyway. I’m just asking you to attend a few future meetings with me, host dinners and parties I might eventually throw at home with a smile on your face, and act like a normal, happy wife who is proud of her husband’s achievements and money. I’m sure you could do that if you wanted to.”

Taeyeon leaned back, digesting Anthony’s words. Surely, it wasn’t really a bad offer, and in comparison with the first thing the man had suggested that night, it was far more decent and acceptable, albeit not exactly satisfying. Taeyeon didn't like the idea of being married to him to serve as a business tool, but she couldn’t help agreeing that it was a situation that could, indeed, come to be comfortable at some point. And, of course, on top of all that, there was Tiffany. Taeyeon contained a sigh as the thought of the girl crossed her mind. Tiffany. She couldn’t possibly leave her all alone at this point. Can’t you or won’t you? she asked herself. Both, she readily answered. Taeyeon was very succinct whenever she debated over a matter with herself.

Her answer was terse. “Fine,” she blurted out. “I hate to admit it, because this all still sounds too absurd to me, but I agree with you. I think we might come to an agreement.” She didn’t. But, heaven help her, Tiffany, Tiffany, Tiffany.

Anthony smiled. “I always knew you were smart. That’s splendid.”

“But for that to work, I’ll demand you take me into consideration as well. Don’t expect anything from me but help with your business affairs. And, for the love of God, next time you make a decision that regards me in any way, do address me beforehand.” She paused for a while, gulped discreetly, and then proceeded, “Things should be settled in six months, or else I’m through with all of this.”

“Fair enough,” he agreed, although a little distastefully. He didn’t agree with the deadline Taeyeon had settled, but he was so certain the woman would eventually become complacent, he didn’t bother to argue over that. “I’ll make sure to do that. Anyway, right now I don’t need you to do anything. I’ll be going on another business trip in a couple of days. I guess I’ll be off for a month or so.”

How awfully sad, she thought mockingly. “Then why did you come back now?” she asked, watching as the man devoured the food when he wasn’t speaking.

“I had a few things to take care of in the office. People to meet.”

Taeyeon nodded quietly, and the conversation finished there. She barely touched the food. Anthony, on the other hand, finished his plate and then asked for dessert. They spent another two hours in the restaurantㅡthe man was the only one enjoying himself, and did not seem to care about Taeyeon’s uneasiness and boredom. He did not bother to utter a word of chivalry. Taeyeon wondered how could she had ever thought him a gentleman before.

It was a relief when the two were back in the car and heading home, both sat widely separately, nearly jumping out of the window. Mr. Hwang seemed lost in his own world. Taeyeon was in deep thought herself, still perplexed by the conversation she and the man had just shared, and wondering whether she had made the right decision.

Tiffany came to her mind again. Taeyeon knew she had abided by the man’s ridiculous offer because of her. She had to. She knew Tiffany wouldn’t be pleased to see her leave now. The blonde would be devastated herself. She could see and feel Tiffany’s growing affection for her, and she couldn’t deny her own for the girl. And while that did make the woman feel happy, it also troubled her immensely. Taeyeon’s struggle with her conflicting feelings would prey on her mind the entire day, and wouldn’t leave her alone even in those moments she beamed tenderly in response to a sweet gesture or word from Tiffany, when her smile would rapidly fade into worry and guilt as soon as she reminded herself whom she smiled at, and why.

The car stopped sooner than she expected. She waited anxiously for Charles to open the door, and then hushed towards the mansion’s entrance. Soon Anthony was by her side, unlocking the door and opening it. Taeyeon went in first. It was past 11:30p.m., and the house was quiet and very poorly lit. Mrs. Winters had already gone to bed. Taeyeon thought that to be extremely fortunate, for she didn’t want to hear any questions regarding the dinner, and she knew Mrs. Winters would make some, had she the opportunity to.

Anthony took his hat off, bid Taeyeon goodnight, and then headed upstairs. Just as indifferent and nonchalant as he has been all evening, Taeyeon thought. She watched the man vanish on the staircase, and then started for it herself, but the sight of a faint light coming from the living room halted her steps. As though she were pulled by the place, she changed her course, and soon found herself kneeling down by the red velvet-covered armchair, where Tiffany slept all curled up, and albeit in a seemingly very uncomfortable position, with a very peaceful countenance. Her chest moved up and down rhythmically, and just as calmly as the air escaped her nose as she breathed.

Taeyeon smiled to herself, took her gloves off, then and removed the book the girl had held against her chest from her handsㅡcautiously, lest she startle her. She put it aside as quietly as she took it, and resumed to look at Tiffany again. It would be impossible to tell how much Taeyeon mentally chastised herself when she reached her arm and hand up, allowing her fingers to touch Tiffany’s face and brush aside a few strands of hair that fell on the girl’s cheek, reveling in the sensation her fingertips against Tiffany’s complexion provided, but the sight in front of the blonde evoked so much tenderness in her, it made it impossible for her to be bothered by the failure of her decency for too long. She just couldn’t keep her hands to herself.

“Tiffany,” she finally, albeit reluctantly, cooed in a whisper, retreating her hand. Tiffany moved a little, but didn’t wake up.

The blonde nibbled on her lower lip. She shouldn’t be as close to the girl as she was, close enough to caress Tiffany’s features with her eyes, inspecting every curve and up and down of the younger’s face, comely and sweet even in her sleep, as her head hanged sideways, nearly lying itself on Tiffany’s own shoulder. But the urge to feel Tiffany’s skin under her palm again, as though it was a magnet attracting her fingers, spoke louder than her reason, and so Taeyeon reached her hand up once again, landed it on Tiffany’s bare upper arm, and caressed its length upwards, giving it a light squeeze once she neared the girl’s slim shoulder. 

Upon this, Tiffany finally became conscious. Taeyeon retracted her hand as soon as she saw Tiffany’s body move again, praying quietly the girl wouldn’t recall being touched by her. The brunette’s eyes sparkled as she slowly opened her lids, and any possible sight of tiredness or sleepiness vanished when her eyes fell on Taeyeon and lingered there for a while, both because of the shock and because of how truly beautiful Taeyeon looked under the dim light.

“Hi,” Tiffany said quietly.

Taeyeon’s smile was reserved as she got up and took a few steps back.  “What are you doing here?”

“I was waiting for you to come back,” the girl crooned, eyes fixed on Taeyeon. The blonde’s composure faltered for a short while as Tiffany’s tired, slightly raspy voice reached her ears with those words.

“You shouldn’t have,” Taeyeon managed to breathe out.

“But I wanted to know about the dinner,” Tiffany justified, sitting up straight. “So?”

“It was… interesting,” the blonde responded, hugging her elbows.

“You don’t seem very pleased.”

“I said interesting,” Taeyeon remarked, as she approached the armchair again in reclusive steps, “not pleasant.” Tiffany’s left eyebrow shot up. Taeyeon just sighed quietly. “Come,” the blonde said, stretching out her hand towards Tiffany. “It’s late. You must be tired. I know I am.”

Tiffany didn’t question herself, or the woman for that matter, neither before nor as she took the latter’s hand, smiling a little. Her grip on Taeyeon’s hand was tighter than it should have been as she rose from her seat, as in an attempt to feel the woman close to her, with her. She felt protected. And Taeyeon was absolutely delighted to help the girl steady herself up, watching in wonder the latter’s every single move, each overflowing with sheer grace. The physical connection, however, was soon broken, and the two headed upstairs with a shy space between their bodies so large it could fit another two of them in, even though they walked side by side.

The blonde headed towards the den once she had already slipped into her nightgown. The papers she had left for Tiffany containing some of her texts remained there, apparently untouched. She picked them up, switching them carefully, pulling one sideways and then pushing it back behind the others, trying to confirm whether it was true none had been taken.

“I’m sorry,” she heard Tiffany’s voice approach from behind. She looked over her shoulder and saw the girl making her way towards her, eyes on the papers Taeyeon had in hands. The ends of her silk white nightgown bounced graciously back and forth with each step she took, dancing around and making Tiffany look as though she floated across the room. “I couldn’t read those today. I… my mind was busy. I’ll tell you, I read about five chapters of a book and cannot recall a single word of it,” she completed with a frown and a sigh.

“Well, you can always read them tomorrow,” the blonde said, handing the papers to Tiffany. “No rush.”

Tiffany nodded, taking the papers in her hand. She lifted her eyes and met Taeyeon’s: the brown orbs that looked just as illegible as ever, although now they had a soft, tender look, which captured and enchanted Tiffany’s attention so violently and abruptly she couldn’t even move, and so her lips couldn’t curve into the smile she wanted to show. 

A tension could be sensed between the two when Tiffany took two steps closer to Taeyeon, her eyes mimicking an elevator as they slid down and glanced at the heart-shaped neckline of Taeyeon’s nightgown, then returned shyly to Taeyeon’s face. To both women, the feeling was similar to that of helplessness, at the same time it resembled a strange thrill and comfort that resulted from simply being in each other's company. Tiffany wanted to understand that, explore that. Taeyeon, on the other hand, couldn’t find space in her mind for anything else other than her desires when her eyes fell on Tiffany’s florid lips. It was her impulsive nature and her emotionally-clouded thinking that always had her in trouble.

The clock struck midnight, startling the two.

“Good night, Tiffany,” Taeyeon was the first to speak, glad she had found an excuse to leave the place before she could do anything stupid. There was a concealed, repressed smile on her lips as she walked past the girl. “Sleep well.”

Tiffany nodded and mumbled a “You too” as she watched Taeyeon walk out of the den. She hugged the papers against her stomach and sighed heavily as yet another frown deformed the delicate forms of her face.