Byulyi had long-dreamed of their future life together, allowing herself the comfort of imagination for the first time since she was a child.

She knew it was love when she first saw Yongsun. Yongsun smiled, laughed – and oh, did she laugh with all her heart when she truly let go, illuminated by the sun, the tears in her eyes sparkling – Byulyi could forget reality just for a moment. She would allow herself then, to think of what might come after this.

Yongsun shared in her dream, but she frolicked where Byulyi would only tiptoe. They were engaged by nineteen, a hapless ordeal in which Byulyi’s beloved had attempted to arrange the perfect evening, only for the waiter to have slipped the ring into the wrong meal, the restaurant to have refused her card and the theatre to have been fully booked. They had ended up at the ocean, Yongsun increasingly agitated Byulyi’s soothing words meaning very little in the face of her guilt. She had spat the words out then, softening with every memory she recounted and every compliment she stammered through, her eyes fixed on the ground, her hands fisted tightly in her pockets.

Byulyi had cried.

But as with all dreams people like Byulyi partook in, there was only so long that life would allow to indulge in sweet fantasies. It came slowly at first; the firm and constant rejection of Yongsun by Byulyi’s parents, the way she tensed whenever she felt she were being judged or criticized, the avoidance of dinner parties and family events. She loved Byulyi, of course, but the charade increasingly began to crack with each blow to her pride, each attempt to conform to a standard set too high for mere mortals failing miserably.

The problem with Yongsun had never been that she did not love Byulyi. It had been that she did not love herself.

As she crumbled, she withdrew more and more, convinced of her own inferiority. Byulyi could not silence the harsh words Yongsun fired at herself, the never-ending insults that drove them further and further apart, the space in-between filled with resent not for each other, but for themselves.

It was a sunny day in April when Yongsun finally ended it, the tears sparkling in her eyes as she left.

And it was a sunny day in April when Byulyi observed her dream come true for another.

Byulyi looked over to the play park where the familiar laugh came, joined by the soft, high voices of young children, no older than six or seven, Byulyi estimated. She’d been aware of Yongsun’s remarriage, thanks to Hyejin’s enthusiastic announcement followed by Wheein’s angry hushing, but the years following had separated even her and Wheein, until her sole company came in the form of a once-monthly visit by Seulgi and Irene, in which all discussion of Yongsun, or Byulyi’s personal life at all, was markedly avoided. There was plenty to discuss, after all. Byulyi had rapidly become one of Korea’s most influential women, between her painting and musical talents, both of which took her all over the world, meeting the likes of people others could only imagine, the fantastic life of a celebrity and heiress who never, ever could have the time for such base things as friends and family.

“Yongsun-ah! One of you is going to get hurt!”

The playful shout came from nearby and Byulyi instantly recognized the woman currently making her way into the park. She had researched her, thoroughly, after Hyejin had informed her of Yongsun’s wedding, and had come to the bitter conclusion that she was indeed, a much better match for her than Byulyi ever could have been. Yongsun pulled one of the children up onto her back and scrambled towards her husband, completely disregarding the state of her clothing as she made her way through the muddy grass.

“Horsey! Papa is a horsey!” the child giggled as she clung on. Yongsun neighed and snorted, completely in her element.

“Papa is going to hurt her knees even more if she carries on like that!” the woman mock-scolded, plucking the child from her husband and beginning to spit-wash the girl’s face.

“Yeah, actually, I think horsey needs a break for some hay. And maybe a hot chocolate,” Yongsun added with some afterthought, grinning as she stood up.

“If you can make it all the way home without injuring your knees, I promise. With extra marshmallows.”

“I love y-”

Byulyi turned away sharply, closing her eyes and blocking out the scene. Since she had first seen Yongsun she had allowed herself to wish for a future that had never truly been intended for her. The memories of Yongsun she still allowed herself to treasure – the peacefulness of her features as she dozed in the morning sun, the blush on her cheeks as she confided her innermost feelings, the gentleness in her warm eyes as she spoke of her affections – hit her all at once, and Byulyi could not help but feel the same swell of emotion for her ex-girlfriend as she always had.

Yet there she was, in love with someone else.