This is the wheesa sequel to Take Me to Church.

 

Say You Love Me/Won’t Let Go

Jessie Ware x James Arthur

 

‘Cause I don't wanna fall in love
If you don't wanna try,
But all that I've been thinking of
Is maybe that you're mine
Baby it looks as though we're running out of words to say
And love's floating away

I knew I loved you then
But you'd never know
'Cause I played it cool when I was scared of letting go
I know I needed you
But I never showed

Won't you stay?
Won't you stay?
Slowly, slowly you run for me,
But do you know me at all
Some one told me love controls everything
But only if you know!

I'm so in love with you
And I hope you know
Darling your love is more than worth its weight in gold
We've come so far my dear
Look how we've grown

Won't you stay?

Just say you won't let go

 

---

 

The first time Hyejin let Wheein go, they were sixteen.

 

In the crowded hallways of a private academy, Hyejin’s head turned at the sight of the new transfer student brushing past her and her friends. Jung Wheein. She sat behind her in biology, didn’t she? She always smelled vaguely like spring whenever she brushed by.

 

Out of sheer instinct, she clapped a hand around her wrist. “Hey!” she cried.

 

Their eyes met, the world falling away for a moment as Hyejin looked into Wheein’s wide eyes. There was a jolt of surprise, then, when another voice spoke from the outside, shrill, disembodied, and unfamiliar.

 

“Yeah, who do you think you are, walking between us like that. We were having a conversation. So rude.” Hyejin slid her eyes over to the source of the voice—right. These people were the type to flock to her and beg her for friendship. Hyejin rolled her eyes to mask her annoyance.

 

“Yeah, who raised you?” Another chimed in.

 

“Calm down,” a third one said with a sympathetic smile toward Wheein, “Daddy says we have a responsibility to be nice to poor people. Never know who will end up working for you.”

 

Hyejin rolled her eyes again. Barely three months into this school and she was already tired of these self-absorbed socialites. The sons and daughters of the ultra-wealthy were all the same—vain, shallow, and bored. Just like her.

 

Wheein studied them calmly, glaring when her eyes traced the length of Hyejin’s arm and into her eyes. “Did you need something?” she asked, her tone pricking the skin on the back of Hyejin’s neck. “Or did you just stop me so I can be awed by your wealth and contribution to society?”

 

Hyejin arched a brow, still silent in her contemplation—her grip still tight around Wheein’s wrist. She liked this one already. She was different from these people.

 

“No,” Hyejin replied. “I don’t need anything. Just wanted to take a look at you.”

 

Wheein blinked against the backdrop of her friends’ snickers. She pursed her lips. “Right.”

 

“What? You’re cute.”

 

The surrounding girls went silent, their gaze running between Hyejin and the new transfer student. Wheein scoffed, though it squeaked several shades closer to nervous laughter. Her frantic eyes darted from Hyejin to her friends to her wrist, unsure what to do. Unsure if she understood the punchline.

 

Hyejin smirked, her thumb drawing a gentle pattern into the soft underside of Wheein’s wrist. “I'll see you around,” she said.

 

Hyejin let go of her wrist, satisfied with the deepening blush across Wheein’s cheeks. Her friends immediately bombarded her with questions. In response, she simply hummed and pulled out her cell phone to check her reflection, angling it slightly to watch the transfer student walk away.

 

Wheein turned—their eyes meeting through screen of Hyejin’s phone, and, instantly, something flickered inside Hyejin.

 

Wheein stuck out like tumbleweed within these grand, prestigious halls. And yet something had drawn Hyejin toward her like a secret to eager ears.

 

Next time, Hyejin vowed as Wheein disappeared around the corner, she wouldn’t let go so easily.

 

---

 

The second time Hyejin let her go was six months later.

 

Hyejin had been more than public about her fascination for the other girl, and more than tireless in her pursuit. Once acclimatized to Hyejin’s persistence, Wheein was surprisingly patient, begrudgingly polite, and perhaps not unhappy to have a friend in her corner. Hyejin’s affections, however, brought more than a little attention to the hardworking student.

 

Other students kept their distance—they respected the quiet, scholarship student well enough, but most of all nobody, teachers included, wanted to get on the bad side of Hyejin and her posse.

 

On this particular day, Hyejin was taking a stroll through the school’s courtyard, having just woken up from her third-period nap. When she saw Wheein walking by, she beamed and jogged up to her. “Wheeinie,” she said, wrapping her arms around the other girl’s shoulders. “I’ve missed you.”

 

Wheein laughed nervously, adjusting her grip on her books as she looked around. As always, prying eyes were everywhere. “Hi,” she mumbled, sighing in spite of her pinking cheeks. “Um, I have to get to class. What do you want?”

 

Hyejin never missed those looks, missed the way her demeanour changed under the gaze of these nobodies. Wheein cared what others thought—she knew that. She understood it as well as she could—after all, being a transfer student couldn’t be easy in this prestigious, elitist cesspool. But Hyejin just didn’t care. Over the last few months, she had seen so many sides of her in their private little moments, countless reactions to her attention that she found herself craving for more.

 

From the way she tucked her hair whenever she was complimented to the way her cheeks reddened in direct opposition to the aloofness she tried so hard to project—Hyejin wanted all of it, and as a girl who had never been used to being denied, she wasn’t afraid to let her intentions known.

 

She reached out and grabbed her wrist.

 

“Wheein,” she said softly, “have you thought about your answer?”

 

Wheein sighed. “Please stop asking me. I already told you, I...can’t go out with you." Another look at the whispering spectators. "I-I just can’t. Goodbye, Hyejin.”

 

Hyejin tightened her grip. “I’m serious about you, Wheein. I’m not going to give up.”

 

Wheein glanced down at her sleeve. “I have to go to class,” she said, tugging her arm. But Hyejin held on. Wheein narrowed her eyes. “Let go.”

 

“Not until you agree to go out with me. Just once. One date.”

 

Wheein’s teeth tugged at her bottom lip, her eyes darting around the courtyard. Hyejin stepped closer; she stepped back.

 

“Please.”

 

“F-fine,” Wheein said. Then, her eyes lit up. “But only if you beat me in the next biology exam.” Her smile had been triumphant, challenging, knowing exactly how ill-prepared Hyejin was for their upcoming exam.

 

Hyejin’s lips pressed into a thin line, heart racing. It seemed impossible, but she’d do anything for a chance.

 

“Deal.”

 

Finally, she let go, watching as Wheein hurried to her next class. Finally, she grinned—she had a chance. A flame thrummed with life within her. After that exam, she decided, she’d never have to let go ever again.

 

Luckily for them both, Hyejin’s radio silence in the week leading up to the exam led to a monumental victory. 93 vs. 92.

 

One percent and seven sleepless nights was all it took.

 

This single percentile would go on to change the course of their lives forever. It would eventually lead to a quiet stroll along a beach, ice cream dripping down their chins, aching laughter, and a careful, tentative kiss under the stars.

 

It would eventually place Wheein in her arms, fastened tightly against her heart.

 

True to her promise, she didn’t let go.

 

At least, she never intended to.

 

---

 

The third time Hyejin let go was two blissful years later, on the eve of their graduation ceremony.

 

They had spent the morning laughing through tears, arms around their friends as if it were the last night of their lives. For Hyejin, it certainly felt that way.

 

She had been accepted into her father’s alma mater, content to follow the path her parents had set in exchange for the freedoms they granted. Wheein was going to the same school. It was going to be perfect.

 

Hyejin dug her hand into the pocket of her jeans, finger brushing against the cool metal there—it was a surprise. Their last night together before the two of them began a new future tomorrow. She could barely contain her smile as she drummed her fingers on the wheel of her new car.

 

A new future!

 

She pictured waking up beside the love of her life, breakfast in bed, and looks across the dining room table. Fresh flowers on the table, their own place in the city. Should they get a dog? A cat? God, she could barely wait. They were only 18, but she was sure this could be the rest of their lives. They would both be so, so happy together.

 

Baby steps, Hyejin, she reminded herself as she patted her pocket. She had the whole night ahead of her—the beach, the waves, the stars. Just her, Wheein, a bottle of the most expensive champagne—a grown-up replication of their first date. It was a simple plan, but just thinking about it made Hyejin feel like she was falling in love all over again.

 

She was pulled from her thoughts at the sound of her passenger side door opening. She beamed.

 

“Sorry I’m late,” Wheein mumbled, eyes scanning the leather seats and expensive interior apprehensively as she always did.

 

Hyejin reached for her hand and leaned over to kiss the knuckle. “You should be,” she teased, “because I missed you like crazy.”

 

“I saw you six hours ago,” Wheein laughed.

 

“Definitely too long ago,” Hyejin replied with a grin as she pushed the ignition button. “How was dinner with your mom?”

 

Wheein gazed out the window. “It was nice. Where are we going, Hyejin?”

 

“It’s a surprise.”

 

“A surprise, huh?” Wheein’s voice was soft, wistful, and suddenly so far away.

 

Hyejin looked over, brows knitted. “Something wrong?”

 

Wheein shook her head.

 

Hyejin glanced over at Wheein, then at the house. She hadn’t even pulled out of the parking spot yet and already something felt different. She turned off the engine, her plans for the night stopping and retreating to the far corner of her mind as she turned to Wheein.

 

“You should never feel like you need to hide something from me,” Hyejin whispered, reaching for her hand once more with a quiet smile. To her surprise, Wheein moved her hand away to reach down to retrieve something. Hyejin’s could’ve sworn her heart had stopped.

 

Wheein took a deep breath; Hyejin tried to shake off the sinking, foreboding feeling with a rehearsed smile.

 

“The truth is,” Wheein said slowly, “I haven’t been completely honest.”

 

The car suddenly felt very, very cold. “What are you talking about, Wheein?”

 

Finally, Wheein straightened her back. In her hand, a brown manila envelope. “I...told you I got an offer from the same school as you, but I...I turned it down.” Wheein’s gaze burned into the envelope, avoiding Hyejin’s eyes as best she could. “I’m...I got accepted into a university in Australia. I’m leaving, Hyejin. I’m sorry. I...I tried to tell you so many times but you never wanted to hear it. I guess I’m sorry I didn’t try harder.”

 

Hyejin never could’ve expected that the sound of her future shattering before her would be so silent.

 

“But I...I thought…we had plans.”

 

Wheein shook her head. “No, you had plans. You always decide things on your own, Hyejin.” She sighed, wearier than she was angry, though her words bit all the same. “No matter how many times I tell you things, you never listen. We just...never lived in the same world, I guess.”

 

“What are you saying?” Hyejin clutched her jeans, voice quivering as she pressed against the outline of her pocket, her gift mocking her.

 

“That I’m leaving, Hyejin.”

 

Wheein met her moist eyes with a steady gaze. She didn’t react when Hyejin reached across to clutch her upper arm.

 

“But you can stay. We can—we can do anything here. Together. Whatever you want, Wheein. There’s nothing in Australia that I can’t give you here. Please,” she begged, one hand on her heart and the other on Wheein’s cold shoulder. “D-don’t you love me?”

 

Wheein covered Hyejin’s hand with her own, her own brown eyes glittering now with unshed tears. Still, she willed herself to be strong. “For better or for worse, I’ll always love you, Hyejin. But that’s exactly why I have to go.”

 

“That doesn’t make any sense!” She cried, recoiling when her sudden volume made Wheein flinch.

 

“I don’t expect you to understand.”

 

“Then tell me.”

 

Wheein’s smile was slow and sad, almost sympathetic in a way that made the proud heiress feel so, so small. “You can never understand,” she said, peeling her hand off her shoulder. “You don’t live in my world, and you don’t want to.”

 

“Look, if this is about money…”

 

Wheein groaned. “It’s not about money, Hyejin! Why don’t you get it?”

 

Hyejin felt the wave of emotion surging in a twenty-foot tall tsunami inside her. “Maybe I don’t get why you’re leaving all of a sudden because I thought we were okay and I thought we were in love and I thought we were going on a romantic date tonight, because maybe”—she shoved her hand into her pocket and, voice breaking, pulled out a silver key and flung it into Wheein’s lap—“I thought you’d be happy if I told you I bought us an apartment. Because maybe I thought you’d be happy with me. So, yeah, I don’t get it. All of this. So please. ing explain it to me.”

 

Wheein picked up the key with trembling hands. “This…” she began quietly, “this is exactly what I mean.” When she finally looked up at Hyejin, eyes bright with fury, she held the silver key up like an accusation. “This is exactly what I mean!” she repeated, chest expanding with emotion. “You never listen. We’ve never even talked about this! This is just...This is so unfair, Hyejin! You know I...you…you can’t—you can’t just do whatever you want because you have money and you can!”

 

“Then, this is about money!” she snapped back.

 

“No!” Wheein roared, throwing the key back into Hyejin’s lap so hard that it burned for a moment. “ing listen to me! Do you—do you even know what I want? I mean, in life. Outside of this. Us. You. Do you know what I want?”

 

Hyejin de-escalated into a simmer, just enough to squeak the obvious answer. “Medical school. You want to be a doctor,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “I’m not that ty. I remember that much.”

 

“Yeah,” Wheein scoffed. “You remembered that, but you don’t remember all the times I told you how much I didn’t want to be a doctor.” She crossed her arms, though her defiance quickly turned to grief as her fingers climbed and she held herself, shaking as disappointment smothered the two of them. “You forgot all the times I told you my parents are suffocating me, that I’m suffocating myself under the weight of these expectations. I—I guess you wouldn’t remember this, but the thing I want most...I told you on our first date, and again on our first anniversary.” She sighed, staring down at her empty hands now. “The thing I want most is to be worthy of something good in this world. That’s...that’s why I have to go. I’m sorry.”

 

“Please. I’m sorry. I’m...horrible, but I can change. Don’t go. We can figure it out. Please, I’m sorry.” Hyejin clutched her sleeve, blinking back the hot trail of tears, anger fading into misery.

 

“Goodbye, Hyejin.”

 

The anger would return, weeks later when the sound of her car door slamming and Wheein’s footsteps disappearing retreated into distant memory. Anger at herself, at Wheein, and at every rose-coloured memory she now knew to be a lie. The anger and grief would return in those dark and lonely nights, when reality seemed extra out of reach.

 

The anger would subside with time, with strings of broken relationships and an armada of excuses amassed over the years. Even the sadness would fade, once she learned to forgive.

 

But in that moment under the stars, it was all so far away. Hyejin let go of Wheein’s sleeve and watched her walk back to her house.

 

She silently drove home, numb, then slipped under the covers, thinking, as she would over the years, of the broken expression and the unshed tears on Wheein’s face.

 

Emotions tugged and spilled forward inside the comfort of her own arms, the dread of tomorrow weighing heavily on her heart. How was she supposed to face tomorrow when her world and her future now laid in distorted little pieces at her feet?

 

In that moment, everything felt so impossible.

 

---

 

The fourth time Hyejin let her go was seven years later, in a quiet corner of a hospital wing.

 

A chance encounter had led to a slack-jawed reunion beside her distraught best friend. Byulyi’s break-up had brought them here. The hospital was quiet except for a few prying eyes. Byulyi looked pale. Hyejin had promised not to abandon her, but Wheein—she had another chance.

 

Did she have another chance?

 

“Goodbye, Hyejin,” Wheein said, echoing the words she said seven years ago.

 

Goodbye. Seven years later, the word was still a stinging slap to her face. Years of work, years of effort, years of trying to understand, years of trying to find her way, years of trying to fix herself—the single word brought her back to her car at eighteen, driving the empty streets lost and alone on the night of her graduation. Years of thinking she knew who she was and could be, thinking she could accept living with this hole inside of her, thinking she could move on—the single word made her weak.

 

Hyejin hated feeling weak.

 

She stumbled after Wheein, hands outreached as she hurried across the maternity wing.

 

They soon found themselves in an emptier hallway.

 

“Wheein, for ’s sake, can you please slow down?”

 

To her surprise, she did. Wheein stopped, allowed a long moment of silence to run through her before turning around. Her eyes, to Hyejin’s further surprise, was wavering with unshed tears. Just as they had seven years ago.

 

“What do you want me to say?” She finally whispered.

 

Hyejin caught up, fingertips brushing the shoulder of Wheein’s scrubs before stepping back, her heart hammering. “Look, I...I just…want to say...god, I don’t know.” She paused, running her fingers through her hair. “H-how have you been, Wheein?”

 

She turned, her shoulders dropping. The air was tense, and yet the small smile, brief as it was, came easy, as if some part of them recognized a long-forgotten comfort between them.

 

“I’ve been alright,” she said.

 

Hyejin stared at the floor. “I haven’t.” Before she could see Wheein’s expression, she added, “B-but I don’t think I’ve been alright for a long time. Maybe before we even met.” She laughed in attempt to ease the tension.

 

Wheein said nothing.

 

Hyejin sighed, fingers combing through her hair anxiously. “I-I mean I’m a mess. Probably always been, but I’ve been...trying to figure it out I guess. You said you wanted to be worthy, but I...god, I’ve never wanted something so amazing in my life. I’ve...thought about you a lot over the years, you know. And about this. About what worthiness even means. I wish I wasn’t so stupid back then. You...you were so...good. And I...nevermind, I just...can’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if you never left, you know?”

 

Wheein rustled as she ran a hand over her face. “Why? We would’ve exploded, Hyejin. You know that, don’t you? It would’ve been ugly.”

 

“You’re probably right,” Hyejin said with a hollow chuckle. “Do you, um, think we can ever...be friends again?”

 

Their eyes met then, something flickering inside their mirrored pupils—old desire, old flame; old fear, old darkness. Mixed uncertainty warred inside them as the angel and devil danced on their shoulders, pulling them apart and pushing them together at the same time. Something lived between them, but the risk of total collapse was too much to consider.

 

“I don’t know,” Wheein muttered. “I...don’t even know how I feel about seeing you again. It’s...sudden...and...a lot, Hyejin. A lot.”

 

“I know.” Hyejin inched forward. Wheein flinched. It stung to see someone she once loved so fiercely be so afraid of her, but when she didn’t move away, she continued to approach, as if she were a small animal. “I’m not asking for your forgiveness,” Hyejin said with a sheepish smile. “I know it’s sudden. Over the years, I thought a lot about what I would say to you if I ever ran into you again, but...I don’t know. It’s surreal. I guess if this is the first and last time we ever speak again, I just want you to know that...Jung Wheein, you...you make me better. I regret what happened, but I’ll never regret how much I love you. And I’m...happy I got to know you. Yeah. That’s all.”

 

Hyejin looked down to see that her hand had found its way to Wheein’s, fingers cradling fingers lightly as she spoke. Wheein’s eyes flicked down, but neither moved. Neither spoke.

 

Hyejin waited. Her stomach coiled tightly. She reminded herself to breathe. Inhale and exhale.

 

The silence prickled her skin.

 

Finally, she breathed the only words she could think to say.

 

“I missed you.”

 

Still Wheein did not speak. Her eyes sought out Hyejin’s, rummaging through them as if searching for treasure. Hyejin’s heart pounded, praying she wouldn’t find the emptiness she’d been expanding over the years.

 

“C-can I see you again?” Hyejin asked.

 

Wheein blushed. “I have to go,” she mumbled. Their fingers brushed by each other as she turned.

 

Hyejin wanted to yell. Stomp and cry, splutter and fall—anything to feel the electricity in her memory. In that moment, she saw her future before her, paved with strangers and -out nights, expensive indulgences and practiced smiles. Maybe she could live without that spark of chemistry, unworthy as she was, but how much longer could she keep mistaking emptiness for freedom?

 

She wanted to throw herself at the legs of time and turn the clock back seven years.

 

Of course, not even a black credit card could buy an opportunity like that.

 

Instead, her fingers flexed at the loneliness between them, truly feeling for the first time how tangible it was. Her hands were so weak, and yet when did they get accustomed to all this heaviness?

 

“Goodbye, Hyejin.”

 

Hyejin closed her eyes to try to block out those words. "See you later," she whispered.

 

 

---

 

The fifth time she let her go was seven months later, on the eve of a quiet, starry night.

 

When Byulyi and Yongsun found their way back together again, they were reborn. Hyejin watched from the sidelines as their confidence grew, as they learned to compromise, as they learned to exist together in spite of all the bad that came along with the good. She watched her best friend laugh and cry, watched her learn to fight her own battles. They were beautiful and explosive and somehow, they worked.

 

Meanwhile, Hyejin’s life was going nowhere. The parties bored her, and the make-believe title her father bestowed upon her at his company no longer meant anything to her. Even his approval seemed...dull.

 

The only thing she looked forward to was the mandatory monthly bonding time with Byulyi. Determined not to be swept away by her relationship, Byulyi had insisted on this so she could spend time with her best friend no matter how busy they were. On their first official Friendship Day, the two of them spent hours at the bar. On their second official Friendship Day, Yongsun tagged along for karaoke. They drank way too much, sang every song they knew more than two lyrics to, and, particularly in Hyejin’s case, spilled far too many secrets. .

 

Perhaps it should not have been surprising, then, when Friendship Day rolled around for the third time, and Hyejin found herself sitting beside Wheein at cozy lounge. Across, Byulyi and Yongsun wore proud, self-congratulatory grins that quickly fell when the group descended into awkward silence. They danced around conversation, taking turns stewing in silence while politely going along with Byulyi and Yongsun’s attempts to lighten the mood.

 

Things improved when they began teasing Byulyi—the excitement of making the shy architect squirm was enough to break the ice just long enough to realize the ice was broken. Once Hyejin and Wheein caught themselves staring, laughing, or touching, they’d freeze over all over again.

 

So, by the time it was Friendship Day again, Hyejin was bewildered to see Wheein invited again. Her friends, she decided, must’ve been eager for another night of excruciating awkwardness. Several more Friendship Days later, politeness replaced awkwardness, then, slowly but surely, expectation replaced politeness. There was nothing in the world that Hyejin looked forward to more on a monthly basis. Even if they did not speak the entire night, just being able to breathe the same air again was...wonderful.

 

It became apparent early on that seeing Wheein once a month wasn’t going to be enough. With increasing difficulty, Hyejin would pull herself back by the collar—how dare you? She’d chastised herself. Selfish greed for her attention would push Wheein away, yet she couldn’t deny these very familiar feelings of days past.

 

Today was Friendship Day once more.

 

Hyejin checked her watch—everyone was ten minutes late. Yongsun was a stickler for time, so something was definitely amiss. She checked her phone—she had the right time and date.

 

Where are you? She wrote to Byulyi.

 

No response.

 

She stood outside the metro station, watching faces pass by. They were supposed to meet for dinner, and she was getting hungry. Hyejin didn’t like getting hungry.

 

She called Byulyi—the line rang several times before the automated message came up. Byulyi has declined her call. Hyejin grit her teeth. How dare she?

 

Another ten minutes later, she received a single message from Byulyi.

 

Come to the old ice cream shop.

 

She wasted no time furiously typing back several colourfully worded replies, but Byulyi did not respond. She called again—straight to voicemail, this time.

 

This punk, Hyejin thought.

 

Begrudgingly, she made her way to the ice cream shop, conveniently located ten minutes away on foot. Ten minutes too many for hungry and annoyed Hyejin.

 

Still, she held back as much as she could when she approached the familiar doors, taken swiftly back to the last time she was here with Byulyi. Stupid Byulyi, she inwardly grumbled. After everything she’d done for the girl, this is how she was repaid?

 

As she scanned the red booths, a familiar head of chestnut hair caught her eye. Wheein? She began to approach, long before her mind could process what she was doing and why Wheein was there all alone.

 

“Hi.”

 

Wheein turned and jumped. “What are you doing here?” she asked, shuffling backwards in her booth.

 

Hyejin glanced around the booth, assessing the empty seat in front and the empty seat beside Wheein. “Were you expecting someone else?”

 

Wheein shook her head. “Yongsun unnie told me to meet her here.”

 

“I thought as much,” Hyejin replied, slipping into the empty seat beside Wheein as she spoke. “Byulyi told me to come here, but something feels wrong.”

 

Wheein inched back until she was pressed against the wall. “Yeah,” she mumbled, “they’re never this late.”

 

Hyejin raised a brow. “Why are you so far away? Are you that scared of me?”

 

“No,” Wheein said, propping her elbow on the table to rest her chin in her hand. “Why did you sit in my seat? We both know they aren’t coming.”

 

Hyejin blinked. “Oh, I didn’t even notice,” she said, though she made no move to change her seat. “I guess I always end up sitting beside you when we go out.” Crossing her arms, she smirked. “At least this way, you can’t run away.”

 

“W-who said I would run away?” Wheein snapped. “I didn’t come all the way here just so I can go home hungry.”

 

Hyejin picked up the menu, a single red and white sheet printed inside a protective layer of plastic. “Ice cream for dinner?” She asked, pointing at the menu.

 

Wheein laughed. “Some things never change,” she said.

 

A wistful smile tugged at Hyejin’s lips. “That was our first date, wasn’t it?” she said.

 

“Ice cream for dinner? Yeah, I wonder if that place is still around. The little shop on the beach.”

 

“Ah, that place had the best ice cream, didn’t it?”

 

“Yeah, remember their weird cheesecake taro flavour?”

 

“With the chunks of taro and cake? That was delicious!”

 

Much to their collective surprise, nostalgia loosened the tension, bringing them back to happier, simpler times. Much to Hyejin’s surprise, Wheein seemed all too happy to revisit those days alongside her.

 

By the time their ice cream came and went, they’d found a long-lost rhythm within their shared memories. The awkwardness of the last seven years seemed to have disappeared altogether, and Hyejin wanted this feeling to last forever.

 

Two hours later, they found themselves outside, lingering by Hyejin’s car when Hyejin’s stomach gurgled. With a blush, she glanced at Wheein, hoping for a chance to simply be with her for just a little longer. With a hopeful smile, she said, “Maybe we should get some real food?”

 

When Wheein met her imploring eyes, Hyejin thought she recognized the longing and the expectancy she’d once seen on a younger Wheein. By then, whether Wheein recognized it or not, she had closed the awkward distance from the beginning of the evening. As they stood by the car, they were so close that Hyejin was sure she wasn’t the only one pining for more. They were so close that maybe she could just lean over and kiss her.

 

But the small, apologetic smile pulled her back and made her stomach plummet.

 

“I...I want to,” Wheein said slowly, “but I can’t.”

 

“Why not?” Hyejin paused as soon as the question slipped out, eyes darting to Wheein’s face, hoping she hadn’t pressed her luck too much.

 

“I’m, uh, I have to take the bus.”

 

Hyejin gestured to her vehicle. “I’ll drive you. C’mon,” she said, flashing her most charming smile, “aren’t you hungry?”

 

Wheein bit her lip, her feet shuffling in place against the concrete as she spoke. “Listen, Hyejin...I need to be honest with you. You and I...we’re different people now. I know you want us to go back to the way we used to be—you’re not exactly subtle—but I...I’m not who I used to be.”

 

Hyejin’s skin was warm with embarrassment when Wheein exposed her feelings into the open air. “What are you talking about?” she said, dismissing the warmth as best she could. “I...I’ve never forgotten who you were, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like who you are now.”

 

Wheein sighed, and simply stared with resignation when Hyejin took her hand between hers. “You’ve made your choices and I’ve made mine,” she whispered. “That’s the way it is. I don’t know how to explain it more. It’s just...it’s different now.”

 

Hyejin tightened her hold on Wheein’s hand. “Wheein, stop with the riddles, please. What do you mean?”

 

“I have to go,” Wheein said, attempting to pull her hand back. Hyejin, however, defiantly refused. She did not want to let go anymore. “Let me go, Hyejin.”

 

“Wheein, please,” Hyejin begged, “what can I do to make you see how serious I am about you?”

 

Wheein scoffed lightly. “How can you say that when you don’t even know me?”

 

“Just let me—”

 

“I have a daughter now.”

 

“W-what?”

 

Wheein looked up to search the shock in Hyejin’s expression. Finding exactly what she expected in her stillness, she slipped her hand out of Hyejin’s, a sad smile gracing her lips as she tucked her hair behind her ears. “She’s waiting for me.” She turned to go, but stopped, hovering just for a moment. “Maybe,” she said with no small amount of uncertainty, “in our next lives.”

 

As Hyejin stood on the curb that day, watching Wheein walk away, she wanted to run after her and grab her hand. For the next several weeks, she would wish she did, but in that moment, she simply could not process the news.

 

In the seven years they had not seen each other, Wheein had a child. Was she married? She hadn’t seen a ring. Was the father around? Did it matter? What did that mean for her?

 

As she drove home that day, she was sure at the very least that she would never love another woman like she loved Wheein. As much as she wanted her back, however, could she even imagine motherhood for herself?

 

Hyejin slowed at a red light and rested her forehead on the steering wheel. “Hyejin, you selfish bastard,” she groaned out loud.

 

Wheein was quite possibly navigating motherhood alone, after god knows how many trials she had undergone already, and all Hyejin could think of was herself. Perhaps Wheein was wrong: they weren’t different people now. Perhaps Hyejin hadn’t learned a damn thing since high school.

 

Now what? She wondered. She’d let her go again. How many times would she keep ing up?
 

---

The last time Hyejin almost let her go was two weeks later.

 

Hyejin ran up the front steps to the hospital, taking two at a time. She hurtled down the halls, ignoring the cries of displeased nurses and bewildered doctors.

 

She had been thinking for two weeks straight, declining every other activity in her life that did not threaten her survival. When she woke up that day, she knew it was now or never. She had to tell her before she lost her nerve.

 

She roamed the hospital, asking for Jung Wheein at every wing. Finally, she called Yongsun, who told her she had taken the day off. Hyejin’s heart pumped frantically—not a good sign. No, Hyejin told herself, she was not going to let the universe’s subliminal messages dictate her life.

 

She ran out of the building, got into her car, and begged Yongsun for Wheein’s address. Several promises of double dates and free dinners later, Hyejin pulled out of the parking lot and into the main street, refusing to let herself think until she arrived.

 

Just as she entered Wheein’s street, however, her car screeched to a stop. There, about three minutes from Yongsun’s address, was a small but lush park. She could hear the shrill laughter of children through her rolled up windows—something told her this was the place.

 

She stepped out of the car, feeling more than a little self-conscious when several young parents and older grandparents watched her, squinting cautiously at her designer sunglasses and red lipstick. As she approached, the tension intensified. A couple of children looked up and around between the adults before losing interest and running off into the playground.

 

There was a picnic table laden with little cakes and fruits and snacks, a cluster of presents on a fold-out lawn chair, and a brigade of strollers off to the side.

 

She scanned the faces watching her, none of them looking familiar.

 

Perhaps her gut feeling was wrong. A couple of parents began to advance toward her—she better go before she had to make up a viable excuse for why she was crashing a child’s birthday party.

 

She was about to turn and leave when—

 

“Hyejin?”

 

She whipped her attention toward the playground, where Wheein jogged up toward her, her hair and jeans speckled with sand. Wheein gave several young parents a smile and a nod as she passed, easing them back to the warm mood of the springtime party. Then, she tugged Hyejin’s arm toward a quiet area in the shade of a tree.

 

“Why are you here?” Wheein whispered, more surprised than she was annoyed. “And how did you find me?”

 

“I made a deal with the devil,” Hyejin replied, smirking. “But more importantly, I needed to find you because I have something to say.”

 

Wheein looked around and caught the eyes of more than a couple over-curious moms. “Right now?” she asked distractedly.

 

Hyejin chuckled, thinking back to Wheein’s same cautiousness when they were fourteen. She was as vigilant as she was back then while head and heart fought their unseen war, as if just being with Hyejin invoked a kind of guilt she could not explain. Back then, Hyejin never hid her lovesickness, and though Wheein held the cure, she always looked so expectant. Don’t give up on me, her eyes would say while her lips said the exact opposite.

 

Time had passed, yes. They were different now, yes, but that expression was unmistakable.

 

“We’re at a birthday party, Hyejin. Now isn’t a good time.”

 

Hyejin’s hand whipped out to grab her arm, pulling them both closer behind the tree and away from prying eyes. “Timing doesn’t always work out for us, does it?” she said breathily into Wheein’s shoulder. “We’ve wasted so much time, Wheein. I don’t want to play these games anymore. I don’t—I don’t want to spend another seven years without you.”

 

Wheein’s reply gently wavered against Hyejin’s torrent of emotion in her embrace. “Hyejin, I…I can’t. I’m not who I used to be.”

 

“Listen,” Hyejin said, clutching her closer, “I know. I know I’m a kid. Honestly, I’m not even sure I know how to take care of myself yet, but I’m...I want to be different. I’m crazy about you and no matter who you are now, I want to figure it out together. Figure us out together. I want to take care of you. Give me a chance, Wheein. Let me try to be worthy of you and your daughter.” Hyejin paused, suddenly pulling away with a sheepish look on her face. “Unless there’s someone else?”

 

Wheein laughed, shaking her head. “No one else. Just you.”

 

“Then,” Hyejin whispered, running her hands up Wheein’s arms, “is that enough?”

 

Wheein took a deep breath. “Yeah...I think so.” She reached around and wrapped her arms around Hyejin's middle. Cheek to cheek, heart to heart, the old flame flickered to life. They were silent, contemplative as they pondered their future ahead. 

 

Their thoughts, however were interrupted when a little hand wedged itself between them.

 

“Mama? Why are you here?”

 

Hyejin pulled back and looked into a pair of big, brown eyes, strikingly similar to Wheein’s own. “H-hello,” she said. The child tilted her head, but said nothing.

 

Wheein’s expression melted as she picked up the child. “Oh, hello. Did you miss your Mama?” she said, with a big grin. Hyejin’s heartbeat quickened, the simple scene warming her entire body.

 

The child, meanwhile, clung to Wheein’s neck, silent, her gaze never wavering from Hyejin’s. There was so much serenity in the five-year-old’s expression, so much peace that Hyejin never quite managed to attain in her 25 years. Instinctively, she held out a finger, which the child reached for.

 

“Who are you?” The child asked, poking Hyejin's finger with her own.

 

“I’m Ahn Hyejin,” she replied, meeting Wheein’s eyes with a smile. “I’m a friend of your Mama.”

 

The child nodded. “I see,” she said. Then, she turned to her mother and kissed her on the cheek. “I’m going to go play now,” she said. “I was just making sure you’re okay.”

 

Wheein laughed, then put her down. “Thank you, Sumi.”

 

As Sumi scampered off to rejoin her friends, Hyejin was left bewildered. “What just happened?” she asked. Somehow, it felt like something truly sacred just passed through them.

 

“I think she likes you,” Wheein laughed. “She’s an interesting kid, isn’t she?”

 

“You really love each other, don’t you?”

 

Wheein smiled. “She’s everything to me.”

 

Hyejin reached for her hand again, slipping her fingers between Wheein’s. “And you’re everything to me,” she whispered. “I hope...in time, slowly, but surely, you’ll allow me to be a part of this world too. I never want to let you go again.”

 

“I...can’t promise anything, Hyejin,” Wheein said, lowering her gaze, “but I want to try.”

 

They stepped toward each other, wrapping around their familiar bodies as they stood beneath the shade of the sturdy tree, quietly enjoying the feeling of each other’s arms for another moment. The path ahead, uncertain as it was, seemed well-lit for the first time in Hyejin’s life. It was enough for her, at the very least, for Wheein to return to her side. The rest, she knew, would fall into place in time.

 

There would be a lot of adjusting. Perhaps a lot of tears. A lot of frustration as they learned to dance in each other’s rhythms. But, she believed, there would be a lot of joy too.

 

All they could do now was try and fight for a love that would guide their way. A love they could both feel worthy of.

 

---

Notes: Hello! I'm back for the final part of this unexpected triad of a story. It's a bit on the real side, but I guess these are the kinds of stories that have been on my mind lately. As we are winding down the school year, it's getting very, very busy, but I DO have a light-hearted romcom fic in progress. Hope to get that up as soon as possible. It'll be a good change of pace!

Fun inspo story: the Wheein has a child plot twist came from my friend, who went on a date a few days ago and was told that very night (after the date) that the other person had a preteen child and wanted to move real quick with my friend. Shocked and confused, I incorporated it into my story, because life happens!

Also, holy crap, I definitely thought this was going to be 5k words or less.