It was past midnight when Hyemin finally got home and she was exhausted. Work is always exhaustive, expecially if two of your crew members suddenly called in sick. Its the spring flu, that's what it is. After the interview was finished, she sat down with the editing crew for the rest of the night, pruning the show to perfection.

So now she was finally back in her apartment. Her beloved apartment. This is the only place in this crazy city where she found sanctuary. Her apartment was a haven, a place that she had brought, in her mind, to perfection. She had done the interior designing herself right down to the last china cat on the last shelf. The far right side of her apartment was converted into her work area and reading area, filling the floor-to-ceiling shelves with books of all kind. Here she had placed her favourite plushy chair to sit in and she spent many long hours curled up in the chair reading.

Her bedroom especially was her most private realm. She had never let anyone into her bedroom before and that was one thing Hyemin had never relented on. Her bed, a queen size walnut wood fram, was her most precious possession, the only thing she had in memory of her mother. The bed was not just a bed but a diary of her mother's life as well. 

When she was a young girl, her mother had taken to carving important dates and names into the headboard, leaving the varnished wood full of history. When she was still alive, Hyemin's mother would often tell Hyemin the story behind the date and names and to Hyemin, these dates and names were an inseparable part of her own history.

Sometimes she might find a date that her mother had not told her about and it was through these names and dates that she finally found a way to get clower to her father. Her father was an old fahsion Asian man and when he was younger, communicating with his only daughter was not something he had been particularly good at. Hyemin had always though of him to be a cold man but she realised now that it was mostly because he simply didn't know what to talk about with her. The dates on her mother's bed gave them a common ground and Hyemin came to learn the gentle, loving side of her father. The bed brought them together and for that, she would be eternally grateful.

Now, living in Korea all by herself, Hyemin had also begun to care in dates and names as well. The first had been November 12, 2010 - Kim Jongin. First love. Of course, to that she had added another date; March 23 2015. The day he married Park Jiyeon, their managing director and daughter of NEXT's president.

The bed contains her mother's stories and now her own stories as well. Someday, Hyemin wondered if she might pass it on to her own daughter. Of course, the way things are going now... she would laugh ironically at the thought. Marriage was not something she felt like she could believe in, in today's societyt. Marriage...

Come to think of it, she wonders what is it that could have caused that man, Kim Jongdae to become a wedding planner. It's not the type of profession that a man would just 'fall into'. Since she started the 'Choices' section, Hyemin had come to learn that people who have unique professions would normally have a strong motivation behind it and it is these stories that she loved.

The idea for 'Choices' came to her when she met a colour therapist once. The woman uses colour in order to rebalance or recreate different energy for the human psyche. Sitting with her for an hour, Hye