XVI.

Irene awoke with a sudden impulse to sit up. A dream? Vague memories of something warm. Of a coat. Of a hug. Hugging… Wendy? Wendy’s smell faintly present still, somewhere. In her nose? A sensual memory? A sensual dream?

A headache. Ow. Urghhh. Irene took a note to refrain from alcohol since the last time she got wasted but considering the frustrations inflicted upon by her soon-to-be wife, it had been very difficult to do so. She needed the alcohol to cleanse her worries, to empty her mind. Having her messages ignored felt a tad bit painful, after all.

Irene laid back down on a bed. A sturdy bed far from the soft cotton that she was used to. Irene’s eyes then darted to the ceiling. An unfamiliar ceiling with a round fluorescent light at the centre, currently turned off due to the morning sun filtering in through polyester curtains. Huh? Irene turned. A desk—a very small desk—that was not made of high quality pinewood but of something resembling wood. Huh? Irene turned again and looked at her hands that clutched unfamiliar covers. A blanket that was thin, cheap and definitely not satin. Huh???

Realisation struck, manifesting into something solid, something Irene could recognise and clearly grasp.

This wasn’t her bed. This wasn’t her room. This wasn’t her house.

“AHHHH!!” Irene shouted, her body sitting up, a consequential reflex from anxiety that had developed upon the comprehension—sort of—of everything. “W-Where am I?”

Irene felt a cold subtle breeze on her arms, causing a sudden shiver on her body. She found herself clutching the not-so-very satin fabric closer to herself and soon after, footsteps on a creaking floorboard resonated themselves, getting closer and closer until it rounded a wall that seemed to separate another part of a flat.

A flat. Wait—

Wendy appeared in her vision wearing a loose jumper paired with some faded jeans, her hair tied up in a ponytail.

“Wendy?”

Now that Irene’s consciousness was slowly reforming itself, understanding things came naturally. The unfamiliarity dissipated far from her perception and familiarity took its place. She had been here before. Once. In her hand then was a rose that Wendy had resolutely rejected.

“Wendy… W-Why am I here?”

Irene wasn’t the type to be upfront, especially about her feelings—at least that was what she thought then at the time—until she started feeling this weird yet wonderful affection for Wendy, who used to be just her meagre personal assistant. But now, being in the unfamiliar yet familiar abode of Wendy, Irene got a sudden urge to pull up the covers tighter to herself, as if to protect something she originally thought to be what she wanted to share with, with Wendy.

“W-What happened? Y-You d-d-d-didn’t—perhaps—?!”

Wendy remained calm. She was used to this, to the convoluted mess that Ms. Bae always managed to create every time she got into contact with her beloved alcohol. There were steps to Ms. Bae’s manic drunkenness behaviour. The clinginess always came first along with the slurred speech and the overly exaggerated cuteness, like a baby babbling away demanding for some attention. What followed next was drowsiness, eventually leading to Ms. Bae’s deep slumber, acting much like her own reset button, erasing every inch of her memory regarding her insobriety that Wendy always found it hard to convince Ms. Bae afterwards that Wendy was a just an innocent victim to all this said mess.

Wendy hovered over by her bed, looking down towards a bewildered Ms. Bae. The world was unfair for making Ms. Bae look drastically perfect first thing in the morning even when she was hungover.

“I beg of you to please not make it a habit of yours to drink alcohol you can barely manage. A hangover is never a good thing,” Wendy said.

“But,” Irene relaxed, freeing her hands from the blanket, “That’s why I have you…” She scooted closer to a distance where she could easily reach for Wendy’s hand and in a successful attempt at the gentle touch she continued, “…to take care of me.”

Wendy’s hand was limp upon the initial contact of Ms. Bae’s soft marshmallow hands on hers. Ms. Bae’s fingers clasped Wendy’s with a tender grip that Wendy felt her face flush at the sudden sensitivity Ms. Bae was displaying and consequentially giving to her. Wendy felt the sudden need, the sudden want to reassure those hands and despite the confliction within her, she pushed through it and returned the gesture. “Please. It’s bad for your health.”

Irene thought about it, about how she turned to alcohol whenever anything remotely upsetting came to her mind. How she relied on it to make her forget about the bitter things, the unpleasant memories, especially whenever her parents’ death anniversary came around, with Seulgi being responsible for taking care of her drunken self. But now, with Wendy by her side, squeezing her hand for a reply, Irene couldn’t help but yield to her request. “Well, if you ask me in that way, what can I do but say yes?”

Wendy smiled, a soft look in her eyes. They were grateful eyes and Irene found herself smiling back. It was this caring nature of Wendy that she had come to fall for.

“I cooked something. Can you manage to stand up? The food’s in the kitchen. I mean, if not, I can just bring it over. It’s no big deal.”

Irene shook her head. “It’s okay. I think I can get up.”

Irene proceeded to make use of her legs, one at a time, a bit stiff but functioning well. Although, as soon as both of her feet were on the ground, she still failed to keep her balance and she stumbled but Wendy caught her just in time.

“Are you okay? Still dizzy?”

There was a slight sway in her vision but Irene knew she was capable of standing up. She’d had too many hangovers before, a lot more worse than this one, that she was confident in saying that she was able to handle herself. But Wendy was here. Holding her. Handling her. Was it that wrong to take advantage of such situation?

“Uhhh… I-I think… ughhh…” Irene leaned closer to Wendy, allowing herself to be engulfed by Wendy’s arms, snuggling closer and closer.

“M-Ms. Bae? I think you need to drink some water. I’ll get you one so go take a rest on the bed.”

Irene felt a shift in movement, a growing distance between them instantly apparent that Irene immediately locked her hands around Wendy’s waist, strongly refusing for the woman to leave her side. “Don’t go…”

“Eh?” Wendy hated seeing that pout. Ms. Bae’s exceptionally adorable pout. “You’re making it really difficult for me, Ms. Bae.”

“Huh? Difficult? This? Hugging? You don’t want a hug? I can let go if you want me to.”

“Uh—It’s just—it’s not—I-I…”

Irene gave this sly smile, as if she’d caught Wendy, as if she could see through Wendy’s thoughts and intentions. “So yo