South Korea, 2042

“I wanted a divorce, Chanyeol.”

Both were silenced, letting the undeniable heavy breathing followed, dancing freely in the air.

The picture hanging by the wall witnessed how tensed the atmosphere was, but remained silent, the picture on which Baekhyun smiled from ear to ear as Chanyeol goofily smiled. A golden memories aged 20 years, far from 2022, and now has been aging along with both of them.

The breakfast between their faces remained still, even the milk drop stayed firm, as if rejecting any movement, afraid to break the situation even worse.

The taller and slightly younger men presented calmly, but both of them knew too well, they had lost the translation of ‘fine’, at least for that moment. With a slight throat clearing sound, he responded weakly,

“Baekhyun, I thought you might have already realized this as well, and I don’t see the point of hiding this any longer either. I’ve been thinking the same case as what you have just mentioned, for a while.”

“Then why didn’t you just spit it clearly to my face, ‘Let’s divorce, Baekhyun’ ? Isn’t it what you’ve always done, acting without thinking?”

“We’ve been married for 20 years, Baekhyun, how am I supposed to respond on that funny-and-too-sudden force?”

Both  continued their argument, completely engulfed in it, didn’t even realized the once intense knocking on the door had long gone completely into silence, leaving only wedding invitation sat alone, still by the corner of the front floor, written

‘Dokjun Park and Zhuyi Oh request the honour of your pressence on their wedding day’