After being done with the dishes, you wipe your hands on the apron, then taking it off after that. You hang the apron at the hook, just at the wall near the refrigerator. You spun around, back to the kitchen and check whether there are any more things that you’ve left behind and have forgotten to do.

Nothing. Perfect.

You walk out from the kitchen and into the living room. No one is there. The television is not either and you your head up to the clock to look at the time. It’s 8:30 pm. You turn one round, scanning the lower floor of your house. That’s weird, you think, where can your daughter be? She normally hogs the television at this time.

You slowly go up the staircase, brushing your hand along the staircase handle on your way up, just to make sure it’s dustless. You can’t help but do that all the time, it’s your job as a housewife anyways.

You reach your daughter’s room, just at the end of the hallway. You hold up your fist, wanting to knock but you put it back down. You press your right ear against the door, instead, when you hear sobbing sounds.

“Mum,” your daughter calls out, gasping softly. “I know you’re out there.”

You step back and notice your shadow moving with every action of yours. Oh. “Ji Eun-ah,” you say softly. “Why are you crying?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

You gently knock on the door, telling her, “You know you can tell me everything, right?” Then, you slowly turn the door knob and stick your head in. “Ji Eun-ah.”

She wipes her face, trying to get every drop of tears off. You walk closer to her bed and sit down next to her. You study her face, she didn’t look at you but stare down at the blanket over her legs instead. You tuck her fringe back, just noticing how grown up she is. 17 years. You’ve raised her for 17 years. You’ve been married for 17 years.

“What is it like to fall for someone?” she asks, smiling bitterly. “What is it like to love someone?”

You keep quiet and continue staring at her. You’re confused. She’s just 17 years old. Who could possibly fall in love with someone at such a young age? You didn’t. At least, you were conditioned that way. Before the age of 18, you convinced yourself that there’s no point of loving anyone. You don’t deserved to love someone and you definitely don’t deserved to be loved back either. That is, until someone unexpected changed your perspective.

Seeing that you’re silent, your daughter turns to the other side, where the side table is. “I hope you don’t mind but…” she trails off then turning back to you with an old book. Your eyes widen at it, it’s your diary, and you smile slightly. “I locked myself in the storeroom that other day, uhm, for some reasons,” she begins, flipping the hard cover open, not wanting to explain what reason it is but you’re her mother and you clearly know she was crying in there again. “And I found this.”

You notice the book isn’t covered with dust, your daughter must have found it for quite some time.

After simply flipping the pages of your diary a few times, you daughter sighs in annoyance and flips the book upside down instead, shaking it. A picture drops out and she smiles.

She holds it up and you see it clear enough. It is quite an old picture, taken almost two decades back. She hands it to you and you slowly take it, recalling what you felt when you took the picture. This picture was taken in a hospital. You sat on his bed, making bunny ears above his fully-bandaged head while he holds up a peace sign. You gently brush your index finger over the guy’s pale, smiling face. Chanyeol’s face. You smile, remembering the times you were with him. He changed your life.

Your daughter leans closer, you hear her breathing next to your ear, and then she asks, “Who is that guy next to you, mummy?”

She rests her chin on your shoulder and you tilt your head, resting on hers. “A very special guy,” you reply, then giving your daughter a peck on her head. “His name is Park Chan Yeol.”

“Is he your best friend, mummy? Was he very sick?” she continues asking, curious about him.

You turn to her and look back to the picture, asking, “Did you read my diary, dear?”

She shakes her head. “No, not really.” She bites her lower lip. “Some part, maybe.”

You won’t be angry if she did anyways. You nod. “He was very sick,” you answer her previous question. You look over to her, having a feeling that tears are going to well up soon. “He had brain cancer,” you add and she drops her jaw. But, you can’t help to smile again, admitting, “He wasn’t just a best friend. He was much more than that.”

Your daughter sighs and drops back onto her bed. “Do you love daddy, mummy?”

You giggle softly at her silly question, ruffling her hair and she pats her fringe back into place, pouting. “Of course, dear. I love him,” you then gently tap the tip of her nose, “and you, very, very much.”

Just then, you hear someone clearing their throat and the both of you turn to the door. “Did I just hear someone calling me?” the man at the door asks. You smile to him and he smiles back. It is your husband. He comes closer. “Isn’t that Chanyeol?” he asks, smiling, pointing at the picture from your back. You nod.

You daughter leans even closer to you, asking you one last question, whispering into your ears so your husband, her dad, won’t get to hear it. “Did you love Uncle Chanyeol then, mummy?”

You smile and you nod again. You did. “And I don’t mind loving him again,” you begin your reply, “in the next life.”

This is going to my first time writing something angsty so bear with me, oh god. A litle fluff, here and there. The main character will be Park Chanyeol, of course. Along with Kai (a nurse) and Baekhyun (a classmate). About her, or your, husband, you guys have to wait and see (;

I will update this, but not as frequent as how I updated 'Picture Perfect'. Those who subscribed to that fanfic of mine know very well how I update almost everyday untill the last few chapters where I stall for two days at least o.o So yeah.

Subcribe! & comments are loved, as always.

Loves!