Chapter 47: Gone

I remember being young, really young, even before Hayeon was born, and it was my birthday. My father was still alive, I remember, and it was just us three – My father, my mother and I.

I remember it was my birthday because I can remember waking up, seeing my mother’s face looming over me with a gentle smile, and softly she said, “Taeyeon, it’s your Birthday. Happy birthday, darling.” And then she hugged me.

And I remember the cake. It was small with white icing and one single candle burning in the center. We sat in that cramped little kitchen that was only a few centimeters away from the bedroom, around that small little table, with that small little cake, just my small little family and I. And then I blew out the candle, but I can’t remember what I wished for…a unicorn maybe, or maybe a flying motorcycle…well, whatever it was, I don’t remember.

There are a lot of things that I don’t remember. Sometimes my mother will talk of the past and some of the things I did as a child, and sometimes I just can’t recall the memory, and I’ll strain my memory as hard as I can, only to get a headache and flittering images instead.

But this picture before me, right now, is something that I want to remember until the day I close my eyes and take my last breath.

Tiffany smiles, a little shy, tugging at her fingers, the candlelight making her look golden and warm beyond compare. Her dress glides down her curves seamlessly, and a million words and phrases come to contort my tongue, but nothing intelligible forms, so I just allow my grin to split my face in two and the fuzziness to spread around my vital organs.

“Surprise,” She says softly, briefly gesturing around our room, awash in gentle lighting and perfumed with nostalgic scents.

I look around, speechless, unknowing how to react. I return my gaze to land upon her, and I smile with every single muscle in my face.

“I know its not much, and we already had a party this morning, but I just thought it’d be nice if we could spend some alone time together before you go, and there are probably too many candles, and I wasn’t sure what you wanted to eat or if you actually wanted to eat at all or if you’d already eaten,” She’s mumbling, too lost in her gibberish to notice that I’m now standing right in front of her. “And it’s okay if you don’t like-“

With one finger beneath her chin, I tilt the angle of her head so she can look at me. I lean in and kiss her. I kiss her because there is nothing else that I can say or do to convey my inexplicable emotions. I kiss her because I love her.

“I love it, so don’t think otherwise.” I say, just above a whisper, running my thumb just beneath her eye.

Her confusion soon clears, and she smiles, genuinely and breathtakingly. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you,” I kiss her once again on the forehead. “But you didn’t have to do all this.”

Her lips turn upwards in a graceful smile, “I know, but I wanted to.”

We hold each other’s gazes for a little while, and I can hear Henry in the kitchen, the clatter of pots and pans, but all I can see is Tiffany and her eyes and her lips, and everything about her that I’ve come to love so much.

“My Queen, I’m sorry for interrupting, but everything is ready,” Henry calls out from the kitchen.

“Its okay, Henry, I’ll be there in a second.” Tiffany replies, looking briefly over her shoulder at him. She turns to me with a smile, “Here, let me take your blazer,” She comes behind me and I allow her to slip the material down the length of my arms, she then ushers me to sit at the table and proceeds to hang my blazer on the back of my chair. “And just sit here, while I get everything ready.”

She leans down and pecks my cheek once more before heading over to the kitchen. I watch her as she converses with Henry in hushed sort of whispers, looking like some sort of domestic goddess who fell from the confines of the sky. I gaze in admiration.

I watch as Henry bows to her, to which she returns. He comes out from behind the kitchen counter and smiles at me, also offering me a bow. “Happy birthday, Your Highness,”

I nod to him in appreciation, “Thank you, Henry.”

And then he leaves, leaving Tiffany and I alone. She winks at me from the kitchen, and I grin uncontrollably.

She comes to the table with two plates of food, setting one of them in front of me before taking a seat opposite.

The small, flickering candle sits between us and lights Tiffany’s face as though she is an incomparable work of art, crafted by the most careful of hands.

“Thank you…for all of this.” I say, seeing that she’s made my favorites. “Did you make all this?”

She cuts her food delicately and shrugs, acting casual. “I had some help from Henry.”

I give a little smirk through the romantic light, and begin eating. Everything about this is so perfect - Tiffany, candles, great tasting food and easy conversation.

“So, how was the office?” She asks, looking at me, chewing.

“A little stressful, I guess. The whole department was preparing for the trip tomorrow. I can’t wait for things to just settle, you know.”

“Yeah, me too. Everything’s been really up in the air lately. But I’m sure things are going to calm down soon enough.” She places her hand atop mine gently and smiles in reassurance.

I nod, “I hope so.”

All falls quiet, and we eat and steal adoring glances at each other from across the table.

“I was thinking of visiting Yoona.” She says nonchalantly.

“Yoona?”

She breathes out. “Yeah, Yoona. I want to see how she’s doing, especially because of her…mental issues and stuff. Apparently she’s been asking to see me…and you…the both of us.”

“Are you sure that you’re ready to see her? I mean, she did try and kill you quite recently.”

“I’m not sure…but I want to. Do you think it’s a good idea?”

I press my lips together in thought. “If you want to, then you should. I’m not going to stop you. What suddenly brought this on?”

“Oh, Siwon. He called earlier, wished you a happy birthday, and he told me that he went in and saw her. He said that she’s a lot better since being in the institute, and that she wanted us to go see her so she could apologize.”

“Then I think you should go.”

“Really?”                                                                                                    

“Really.”

A smile breaks across her face. “Thank you, Taeyeon.”

“It’s the right thing to do.”

She nods in agreement, smiling at me through her eyes.

“I saw Yuri today.” I say, peaking Tiffany’s interest.

“You did? Where?”

“At the office, she stopped by.”

“How is she? I haven’t seen her or Jessica in a while.”

“She’s good, I think. She seems really stressed out with the wedding though. The date keeps getting pushed back, for one reason or another. Oh, and I had her look over Jay’s proposal. She thought the figures were a bit off too, so it’s not just us.”

“Oh, so what are we going to do about it?” Tiffany asks, scrunching her brows.

“We can’t actually do anything. It’s Jay’s proposal for his side of the company, if we think there’s something wrong all we can do is convince him to change it, but it’s a bit late for that.”

She exhales through her nose. “Let’s not talk about business. Let’s just enjoy the evening stress-free.”

I have to agree to that, and we just end up talking a whole lot about nothing. Fleeting little conversations that begin but never really end, and its relaxing just being with Tiffany, thinking about Tiffany, in her purest and most ethereal form. I’d forgotten what it felt like to be free from the chains of your mind, they’d been broken, for a little while at least.

Tiffany kicks off her heels and settles on the couch beside me, pressing play on the remote as my arm comes around her.

We cuddle beneath the blanket, my office attire askew and Tiffany’s dress looking beautiful but out place in the situation, as Jay Gatsby stands at the end of the dock, reaching out to the blinking light on the screen.

Tiffany’s head falls onto my shoulder, and I kiss her gently on the head, running my fingers along the upper part of her arm. “Thank you for getting this movie.” I whisper.

“You’re most welcome.” She replies softly through the voices of the movie.

The movie plays, and relaxation settles into my muscles, into my eyelids, one little bit at a time.

As Gatsby recalls his life, looking up to the sky, I look down at Tiffany, her face alight with pictures of another’s mind, “I knew when I kissed this girl…I would be forever wed to her.”

She feels me staring, and looks up at me curiously. “What’s wrong?”

I smile a little. “Nothing, absolutely nothing. Everything is perfect.”

She returns my smile and sits up. The room is romantically dim with burning candles and the light of Gatsby’s past washing over us.

With her finger, she draws a gentle line down my jaw and to the tip of my chin, and I take in every detail of her face, the glint in her eyes and the shadows that draw themselves across her skin. I think she’s beautiful in this moment, and she always has been beautiful, and she always will be beautiful. But it’s the standstill of a moment, the most insignifica