Luck is on my side right now.

There have been some issues regarding our stay in Malaysia and we had to book a flight back home two days earlier than expected. Another thing, I had a small argument with the professors yet again because I told them I am soon finishing my research and get out of the team once I do. Which is one more reason why they wanted to book an earlier flight since. . . perhaps they got irritated at me.

I got to go home earlier.

It’s like fate is telling me I should tell Iseul soon.

But I think I yet to have the courage to do so.

It isn’t easy, I can assure you.

It’s more painful than breaking up with her—not that I would—because in break up’s, you can do something about it either fix it or date someone else—not that I could—but in this one. . . there is nothing I can do to help her with the pain.

It’s not like I can take it from her instead. But if I could, I would hurt for her.

Right now, I stand before Iseul’s door while I hold my bag. Besides depressing myself for the past three days in Malaysia, I missed her as well. Somehow, knowing something that she doesn’t—I mean I know a lot of things that she doesn’t but you have got to know what I am trying to say—makes me want to be closer to her. It was a combination of guilt, fear and desire to hold her.

Hold her tight in advance before I break her heart, not that I would, the news would.

So I punch in her door code and once it made a clicking sound, I grab the knob and turn it open. I see her back figure at her kitchen, she was scooting down to the counter top like she was doing something. She was wearing a pair of short shorts.

And I know I am not supposed to be this way right now. I was just so depressed right at the door earlier.

But I could feel my Oxytocin level turning on high.

This is not what I planned.

Why is she wearing shorts, she shouldn’t wear shorts right now because I need to tell her something really important and I just can—Ugh, good Lord, I’ll just tell her later.

At times like this, I would like to declare myself as imperfect. I’m just a man stuck between getting my fiancée in shorts get to work because I missed her and depressing her with bad news. To be honest, the preferable answer is so obvious.

Getting my fiancée in shorts get to work because I missed her – that is the better one.

The sad one can go later because anyway, I don’t know yet how to actually start it without fearing of her cries right in front of me again.

So I placed my bag down on her couch before walking straight into the kitchen. She isn’t reacting but I know that she is aware of my presence. It was quite messy in the kitchen, she was baking. As soon as I was right behind her, I get the hold of her lower hips.

Aigoo, I really missed her.

I feel myself shivering by simply touching her. “Don’t you—I’m putting this for a while. Get away.” She suddenly hisses back which made me pout in disappointment. I follow what she said and let go to walk to the other side of the counter right across her. “Aren’t you supposed to be in Malaysia right now?” She asks and finally looks up. Her hair was tied in a messy bun, her hands were messy with white icing—not helpful at all—and she was sweating—again not helpful at all—which made her somehow look. . . ually attractive for me.

“Wow. I missed you too.” I mock and fold my arms. “You said five days, it’s only been three.” She explains and I heave a sigh. Yes, she’s right but still. . . she should miss me too, why is she like this, this is so unfair. But anyway, “The other health institute we were planned to meet cancelled the interview, we had to move our flight earlier. Isn’t that supposed to be good news?” I ask hoping at least, I’d have a good news before the other one.

Finally, she drops her icing tube.

“Alright, it is.” She tells and sighs. What did she sigh? Did she not like my presence? Why would she not like my presence? This is so depressing. “I miss you?~” She tells in a questioning way. Why is she asking me? She doesn’t her herself? Why is she so unfair. “You did? I don’t know.” I answer back. “Geez, hold your temper.” She grunts while rubbing her dirty hands on her apron. She now begins walking my way.

She then tiptoes and hugs me on the neck.

I could feel the sweats on her forearm touch the back of my neck which made me shiver because they were cold. She looks into my eyes in worry. Is my sadness too obvious? She can’t know, I am not ready yet. “Why, what happened?” She asks. Sometimes I hate the fact that we know each other too much already. “Nothing, the team just had quite a misunderstanding.” I made an excuse which is partly true as well.

“About what?” She asks and begins combing my hair with her slender fingers. It made me sigh in satisfaction as I enjoy the sensation she was giving. “I’ve been trying to finalize and finish my contributed report and research first. I might be done before all of them. They are not favored by that because they said they also need me on theirs.” I explain and look back down to her.

“Well. . . why’d you want to finish first then?” She coos softly. Looking into her eyes, my eyes glisten with joy because I’m this close to her right now. It makes me forget that I might make her cry later on—Good lord, now I remember. This is so horrible. “Of course. As much as I can, I want to marry you already. You lent me six months, and then I gave you another six months for preparation just to make our relationship last for two years. But these days. . . I’ve been thinking. And I have realized it doesn’t matter at all.” I try to explain as I pull her by the small of her back.

She smiles in response. The smile that I only want her to obtain.

“Really? You won’t care anymore if we’re questioned of marrying quite a bit suddenly?” She sheepishly grins. “It’s just mind over matter. If they think like that then be it. I won’t step down their levels.” I answer and her bare shoulders with my thumb. “Even if they question me of why I am letting myself be tied to a narcissistic insanely genius human forever and ever?” She then asks.

She is very sweet.

“I like the forever and ever, repeat that one.” I end up smiling as I point to her lips. “They will really question our relationship. It’s inevitable. Because I am a very intelligent person and to choose you as my wedded wife is very unlikely for my expected taste of women. I ju—“ Don’t throw the sarcasm back to me, Mister.” She cuts. I blink in confusion. “I’m not being sarcastic.” I explain truthfully.

“Then what is your taste of women then?” She asks. “No, I mean for my level of intelligence, not as an individual. As an individual, I’ve only come up with my taste of women when I knew of you.” I answer as much as I could. She didn’t answer but instead, she begins untying my necktie.

I gulp.

“What are you doing?” I ask while raising an eyebrow. “Undressing a penguin, what else?” She asks and I couldn’t help myself anymore the moment she looks