There was a time when I was crazy about that woman – Tiffany Young. The way she walked. The way she talked. The way she dreamed. The way she simply was.

   The first time I met her we were already in our late twenties, and I had never met a woman quite like her. She would always stand tall and proud; it was as though the ground itself would suddenly become firmer just because she stood on it. Her hair always flawlessly cascading over her shoulders, a designer bag hanging from her left forearm – the seemingly endless collection of pump heels she had. There was something almost mystical about the way she carried herself with such poise.

   She had made more than an impression on my very impressionable mind. I had never felt weaker on my knees than the moment she held unto my waist and whispered “Be mine”. I was hers then. I knew it. But I only truly fell in love when I got to meet the other side of her – the messy, conflicted, troubled, and honestly nerdy part of her. The books she read, the movies she watched, the people who had hurt her before. It all had shaped her in so many ways, and I felt I was being invited into a world that was complex, often chaotic but ever sincere. I don’t think I have ever loved anything so much like I did her smile.

   As she sat across me, I realized all those feelings had become a bittersweet memory I enjoyed replaying in my head like a comfort blanket that would eventually start to suffocate me. There was very little left of them now – if anything at all. She placed the designer bag on top of the table, her expression so stern it was almost unreadable. Almost.

“We agreed to meet alone.” I spoke.

“I want my lawyer here.”

   There was also a time when Jessica Jung, ‘the lawyer’, had been one of my closest friends. I could almost see something of apologetic in her eyes – though I was almost certain it was probably pity. Sadness. A certain melancholy. The kinds of things you expect to see when tragedy strikes – a cathartic pathos of sorts. Jessica silently slid a small stack of papers towards me. I had seen them a lot in the past year; the pile seemed to grow thicker the more time went on.

“I’m here, so sign the papers.” Tiffany’s tone was surprisingly calm, but the flare on her nostrils told a different story.

“This is not what we agreed.”

“You said you’d sign them, if I agreed to talk. We’re talking, now sign them.” She crossed her right leg over the left, resting her back against the chair. I met her eyes, but I wish I hadn’t – they were empty. “Why do you keep making things so difficult? Just sign it!”

   Her voice echoed inside my office, bouncing off the walls. A few months ago, I probably would have shouted back. But right then, I had no reaction to match that. I think I was hollow.

“Please, Tiffany. I just want to talk – the two of us. I’ll sign it afterwards.”

   Jessica leaned closer to whisper something in her ear, looking as drained as I felt. I knew Tiffany did not want to relent on her stance; though she eventually and reluctantly nodded to signal her lawyer to leave. She did not owe me that conversation, but she owed it to us – to the version of us whom, while seemingly gone, once shared the same drive to fight through life alongside one another. It was hard to tell when we had started walking apart; it was hard to pinpoint what we could have done differently. It probably would not have made any difference even if we did.

“I won’t let you take my kid away from me.”

   She knew I would never do that. Throughout this entire process, not even once did I ever consider – let alone legally propose – anything but the joint custody of our girl. She was a great mother; the little one loved her immensely. I still loved her immensely.

“Fany, I–”

“Don’t call me that.”

   She was so antagonistic; so defensive. I knew she had always been that way, right from the start – her ego was too big. So was mine. Perhaps, that is why we ended up right there with a pile of divorce papers sitting restlessly between us.

   I was unsure on how to approach the conversation when she was in such a state. Would she even listen at all?

“If this is about the house, I’m sure we can reach a deal. Though, I would prefer to sell it and split the profit fifty-fifty. Regarding the apartment in Korea, I don’t want it. If it’s about the cars, I already told you I only care for the SUV. I can’t drive Juhyun and her friends around with two seats, so you should keep the–”

“Tiffany!” I heard my own voice echoing in the room, and she seemed startled. I don’t think she expected me to have such an outburst. I knew it would be hard, but I completely lost my patience. There she was talking about the house, the apartment, the cars – as if either of us actually cared about any of those things. “Just… stop. I want to talk to you earnestly.”

“You keep saying that, but I have nothing else to discuss with you. I honestly don’t know what you want from me.” She fidgeted with the golden circle around her finger. It made me feel less pathetic for still wearing mine.

“I want you to be honest. I’m still your wife – that’s got to mean something.”

   Tiffany actually chuckled, though I doubted she had found anything funny. “Did that ever mean anything to you at all? It sure didn’t seem like it that day.”

“We both made mistakes, you know that too damn well.” She rolled her eyes, as I knew she would. At least, some things would never change.

“Except I did not bring my “mistakes” into our home, now did I?”

“You told me you were in love with someone else, Tiffany.” It had been years, but it still hurt to even say it. “You moved out! You took Juhyun! How is that not bringing your mistakes into our home?!”

***

“If that is how you feel, go on. Go be happy with what’s-her-name.”

   I could barely stand. My knees were threatening to give in on me, and it was suddenly hard to breathe. My pride wouldn’t let me show it, though; and I was thankful for it.

“I think it would be best for me to keep Juhyun. You can still see her whenever you want.”

   What was I supposed to reply to that? Juhyun was my daughter too, but I didn’t want her away from Tiffany. The little one was too attached to her in a way she hadn’t been with me.

“I’ll pick her up from school as usual. We’ll schedule other dates too.”

“Thanks for letting me do this, Tae. I think we’ll both be happier this way.”

***

   I could see Tiffany was hurt I mentioned our daughter’s involvement. I should have shown a little restraint, I really had no intention to make things worse. I knew how much she regretted that time in our lives.

“You don’t get to sit there and spout at me like that!” If eyes could kill, I would be dead right there and then. I don’t think I would have minded it much. “You brough that–, woman, into my house. You let her touch my furniture; you ed her in my garage!”

   I knew I had wounded her pride deeply. I knew she had wounded mine as well, all those years ago. We were too alike in this sense.

“She meant nothing to me.” I was suddenly feeling much calmer – or maybe it was just exhaustion taking over. It was hard to tell.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” She scoffed, shaking her head. I knew nothing of what I said would ever make a difference, but I still wanted to try. “So, what was it, Kim Taeyeon? Revenge for what I did back then?”

   Tiffany knew better than that. When she returned to me with Juhyun in tow – she was nearly three by then –, I had already forgiven her with my full heart. I just wanted my family back. The house felt so empty – so lifeless – without their laughter. Just like it did now.

“I love you too much for that.” I really did.

“What good is that now?” She was right.

***

   I had never even spared more than two looks at Kim Eunji. She was just a coworker whom, of course, I thought was attractive – like I thought many other women were. It had never meant much to me. None had what Tiffany did, even after all these years – of that I was certain.

“I heard you had a sports car collection, Taeyeon. Is that right?”

   There were three. Three lovely cars of which the loveliest – the Porsche – had been a gift from my wife. I told her that. I was only meant to show Eunji the cars. That was it. Nothing else had even crossed my mind – so I had no idea why I kept pressing my body closer to hers when she pushed me against the wall. Maybe I felt exhilarated to know I could still make another woman feel such an urgency for me. Maybe the novelty of those lips made it more exciting. Maybe I had just gone insane. Maybe I would never know. But those glistening and disappointed eyes would surely haunt me until the end of my days.

“Kim Taeyeon, get this woman out of my house.”

***

“I’m sorry, Fany.” I truly was. “How did we get here? I hate it.”

“I don’t know, Tae.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I hate it too.”

   There was nothing else to say. We would have kept on fighting, rehashing the same wounds as though we were guided by a drive to hurt one another. The faint hope I had of saving our marriage – our family – was just misguided wishful thinking. We had both broken each other’s trust several times; boundaries kept being mercilessly pushed, until they eventually broke down dragging us along. I still loved her. She still loved me. We both loved Juhyun. But it wasn’t enough anymore.

“Where do I sign?”

   The pen felt so heavy between my fingers it was hard to maneuver.

   There was a time I had been crazy about that woman – Tiffany Young. The way she bit her lower lip a little too tightly before kissing me. The way she whispered sweet little nothings into my ear. The way she screamed my name against the sheets. The way she simply was. There was a time, but it had come and gone.

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A/N: Just a little something I wrote recently that I thought would fit perfectly here. I also posted it on its own.