They said this was cold feet, but she knew so much better. This wasn’t cold feet. The tears, the doubts, the fears, the anxiety… those weren’t one of cold feet. This wasn’t cold feet. The tears, the doubts, the fears, the anxiety… were those of a mistake. She knew. She knew this was a mistake.

Every part of her screamed: thisisamistake thisisamistake thisisamistake. And in the deepest depth of her, she begged: saveyourself saveyourself saveyourself. Because she was a smart woman, she knew she deserved better. But she couldn’t save herself and she had no chances backing down because it was far too late already: the ballroom booked, the invitation sent, the dress already fit, the decoration set. It was far too late.

She cried last night, sobbing into her mother arms like a six-years old her used to do after tumbling down the stairs or tripping off wet floors. She cried and cried and cried and told Mom about her doubts and fears and whatever she was feeling. But Mom only said it was normal, it was cold feet. Mom said she was young, so she was a little scared of big commitments and life-time promises, but Mom convinced her it was okay and this was not a wrong choice. Mom was wrong; Mom did not know her soon-to-be husband was stolen away from another woman. She ripped apart a perfect couple life and sold her own dignity. She did not tell Mom she was pregnant too. Mom was wrong, but Jieun was right: this was a mistake.

There was not much time left before the wedding started, it was small and private (and hopefully warm). She stayed inside the bride’s waiting room with her bridesmaids and best friends, but they all had left and she was left alone. The mirror on the opposite wall caught her figures so nicely, she wore the best white dress and her hair updo looked flawless on her. She looked beautiful and happy, like any other bride should look on her wedding day. But when she looked at her own reflection, she could only see a sad woman and a sad life ahead and a broken heart.

She had asked herself again and again since yesterday, where her dignity had gone. She used to be so little and cheery and reckless and young and beautiful. She used to be so free and happy and kind. She used to be naïve and faithful. All she had become, in the end, was a foolish woman who destroyed a happy couple life and stole another woman’s men and got herself pregnant and fake life-long promises. She dreamed of happy endings and strolled down the doomed path.

Mom told her she was going to be happy. Mom had never seen any young couple, more in love, more sincere, happier than of her and Jongin. Mom told her Jongin was a good brilliant man, kind and prosperous, gentle and loyal. She’d be loved all her life. But Mom was wrong (Mom was never wrong but there were too many secrets to keep). She’d never be loved. He could never looked at her with as much love as how he used to look at her. He was a good man, but he was not in love. He was in love with someone else.

There were music and flowers and drinks and food, colorful lights and beautiful dresses. She took Dad’s hand and slipped her hand around his arms and flashed the brightest smile. Inside, she chanted: thisisamistake thisisamistake thisisamistake please please saveme saveme saveme. And she prayed, so she could see the little hope, but all she saw at the other end of the aisle was not her handsome betrothed. All she saw was doomed future: lonely days, unloved wife, crying kids, and mistakes and regrets.

Her legs buckled and she wanted to run because it’s a mistake and she did not want to be a mistake, but it’s too late (toolate toolate toolate).

They exchanged vows. She couldn’t make out anything the priest said because she was too scared and her “cold feet” almost made her run away as she heard him say his vow. He did not mean his vow, she saw the regrets in his eyes and the disappointment in his voice and she imagined the flashes of her he replayed in his head. He’s a great actor, but she’s an unrequited love, only she knew. But she had said her vows and she meant it with every word. This may be a mistake, nevertheless she fell to deep in love and often she was foolish enough to believe it’s okay (itsokay itsokay itsokay). She prayed her vows and sincerity would be enough (but she knew it’s not).

When they kissed, there was no excitement or sparks or embarrassment. There was no emotion, because he’s not drunk and high and lust. He’s sober and sad and full of regrets. He did not taste of anything but regrets and smoke. The kiss ended in three seconds, before she could even comprehend the touch. They barely touched and her knees buckled because regrets began pouring down on her.

She thought the society were great hypocrite because they only judged and judged and judged, because she and he were actually brilliant actors. Even with her slips of roles, everyone clapped and cooed at their kiss. Adoration and admiration clear in every guest eyes. Mom was crying tears non-stop and hugging Dad because Mommy’s little girl has grown up and she’s married and happy. Dad stood there and smiled proud with pride. Her best friend hugged her and bridesmaids congratulated her. People said they were a perfect couple, but people were often wrong. They were just brilliant actors.

Keep up the good work and be proud, she told herself. Chin up, smile bright, shy touches, and tears of joy. This was a life she has chosen: a consequence of stealing another woman’s men. This was a life she has chosen: to be an actress. She loved acting (god, it’s a passionate love she had for acting) and every tiny bits of it’s up and down. Acting felt good, different bursts of emotions and shady grey spots to blurt out nasty emotion. So, this was simple: acting all her life. She should love it. Because all her life would be an act: a happy future, lovely wife and loving husband, a smiling kid, and grateful and happiness. (Lies lies lies)

But she couldn’t. She didn’t want this to be doomed and mistaken and lies and acts, she was in love with all her hearts and it was unrequited and maybe that’s why it hurt so much. Her legs buckled many times, a last effort to run from her doomed future. And she may have scrambled down the aisle, taking quick panicky steps away from her now-husband. Because sometimes (that was more than often) love and faith and patience weren’t enough and she knew. She hoped she could have grabbed him before the vows began and yelled at him I’m not a fool! She never understood the saying “love is blind”, but today she learnt all about it.

She sat next to him as the event continued throughout the night. It’s a warm wild night with sweet wedding song and love. He touched her hand once in a while and tugged her closer each time she made slips on her role. It had only begun yet they both had already learnt each other role so quickly, and in no time she’d be a ticking bomb ready to doom and be doomed.

When she looked at him for real –eye to eye –she saw his sorry and silence apologies but no promises. He held her hand with such gentleness that felt more of guilt than care. And when they danced, she saw everything. When she took off her pain and numbed everything, she knew he was sorry and hurting. And everything hurt twice afterward. His touches burnt. And when he reached for her flat stomach, trying to feel the unborn baby, and silently promised although he could never love her, he would always love their baby… she pressed her eyes closed and kissed him on the cheek. I know, I know.

They would never be okay, but she told and whimpered to herself: I’m okay, I’m okay.

***

There was no spark, no smile, or happiness in his eyes. His smile was sheepish, but sweet and charming and attractive. It was enough. It’s easier to be male: people judge less, people are wooed easier –there’s only less burden. It was enough for him to flash half-assed handsome smiles and smirks and showed off his handsomeness for people to like and adore him really well, to even say his betrothed was the luckiest bride. People didn’t know anything. They only judged and judged and judged. When he looked at his bride, he saw pain and desperation and burden. He was sorry. It was unfair.

He took her hand once in a while, when he saw her legs stopped bucking and ready to run away any moment. He would have let her run, because he was eating and ripping her dignity. He thought he’s corrupted and she’s very pure, he shouldn’t taint her. But in her mind, he’s a broken man she used, it’s all her fault. It’s a promise –the gestures –of not being able to love her back as much as she loves him, but of loving their child to no end. But he still needed closure, so he could move on and accept his life with another woman beside her.

This was how he felt about the party: it was loud and chirpy and grand. She’s beautiful and sad. He’s uneasy and guilty. And he told himself as he took her hand in his for the third time: this was no tragedy.

So, imagine when he finally thought it was over and he’s going to be okay and she’s going to be okay too, she walked in like a breath of fresh spring air. She added twice unease in his heart, twice guilt, but also twice relief. She’s the closure he’d always longed for silently. She’s his closure.

She looked lost, he wondered how she was doing lately: if she ate well, if she stopped being alcoholic, if she still had those panic attacks, if she often cried herself to sleep. He called her constantly every night, but those were nonsense conversation that kept their distant and walls –the breakup aftermath –very clear. The call never ended more than thirty seconds. Now, dressed in his favourite black dress, standing by the entrance door: confused and hesitant. She looked perfect in that dress, one that he often thought made her looked beautiful and it exposed little skin made her looked classy yet y. It’s one of those dresses that made him think he’s lucky and she’s very beautiful and they’re perfect. Good old times.

She looked brighter somehow… he did not expect her to come (he never had the intention to invite her anyway) but the way Suzy froe next to him explained everything and he was silently grateful. He saw another man took her hand in his and helped her waltzed into the ballroom with happier eyes and better smiles. It brought back the good old times in him. The good old times when he was the one to take her hand, to paint her chirpy smiles, to hug her when she cried, and just… to be there for her. But the thing about good old time: they were just good old times.

When Suzy reached out to him, his eyes still glued to his beautiful ex, she tiptoed and pressed her lips against his ear. “When she comes around and you think you need to go and talk to him, then please just go.”

He turned around and stared at her dumbfounded expression. She continued, “You need her. I know you once loved me, but you always love her. So, please stop looking at me like that.”

Still, she wished this was the closure that would lighten up her doomed future. Still, she wished this would not hurt her –that this was (please please please) the right choice. But she knew, by the way he looked at her, it’s a lost caused.

***

They fought and she felt sad and bad about it. They rarely fought and she knew it was inevitable. She fought back in the good old days with Kim Jongin, over the trivial so often. She would feel sad and disappointed, a bit lonely and sometime full of regrets, but the guilt was never this consuming. When she cried last night, she was only thinking of herself. She felt this all trouble was about her –her her her and she was the chaos. When she woke up and saw Luhan, all tired and deprived and sad, it tugged her heartstring and for a mili second she thought she couldn’t breathe. She didn’t think she could bear seeing him so sad and helpless, especially when it was all about her. So, she came up to him, ignoring the pleasant yet sad smell of morning coffee and the drip of three cubes of sugar to his glass, and hugged him from behind. He cupped her cheek and their all-too-familiar almond eyes met and he would have kissed her if she hadn’t snapped and remembered where her heart lies. She wasn’t ready to love anyone yet. Kim Jongin still tugged her heart like no one else.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered once she had snapped and pulled back before their lips could touch. He let her arms wrapped around his waist and he put an awkward arm around her shoulder.

“Are you coming?” He asked when his breathe was no longer caught in his throat and the aches lessened. “To the wedding…?” He brushed her locks away and tugged it behind her ear so he could get a clear view of her face once more: tear-stained cheeks and puffy eyes, red nose and pursed lips. He fought the urge to reach for her brown hair and tugged a lose strand behind hear ear.

“Yes,” she breathed, more like whimpered. Her voice cracked from too much crying. “I mean… if you can wait for me, I’ll go with you.” She made gestures so he knew how much of a mess she was and she needed to fix herself. He wanted to hold her close and tell her she looked beautiful but he couldn’t because it sounded like a big fat lie. She was a mess and still beautiful as a mess (though he preferred her unbroken).

“I can spare all the time for you.” He took her hand and gave it a light squeeze before he scrambled real quick in the kitchen. “Come on… let me help you.” He led her to the couch and lied her down. He pressed cold tea-drenched-cotton to her eyes, reducing the swell. And she let his hands buried in her hair.

It took her an hour to get ready: hair styled, body cleaned, make-up done, perfume sprayed. She was beautiful in her little black dress. He wanted to tell her she was beautiful (his heart skipped brilliant beats), but he knew she wasn’t trying to be beautiful. She wanted to be love. So, he kept his mouth shut and offered her his arms. When she took it with gratefulness and their hand brushed against each other, he held her and squeezed it lightly. She replied by reaching for his forearms and brushed her fingers against it.

The drive was long and silent. She let him held her hand throughout the drive, light squeezes of comfort each time he noticed the creases in her features. It wasn’t comfortable yet, still awfully awkward but the improvement was there and he would take baby steps with her. She brushed back his knuckles and sometimes she let their finger entangled and squeezed back. He would have been gleeful if this had been an ordinary day, but this… wasn’t.

When he held her once more at the door, he begged her not to break. She felt so small and so fragile, so unloved and so afraid. But her eyes was locked on her ex. He let out shaky breath, silently praying please please go home with me tonight.

She thought of herself as a thoughtful person, because she eventually came. She came when everything was almost over. She didn’t think she could have handled their vows exchange and kisses and lovely gazes and cheers and the dances. She knew she still meant something to Jongin. It’s in his eyes –the way he stared at her remained the same and she fought the urge to run to his arms. Warmth, she missed his warmth. And her coming… if she had come earlier, she would have ruined the wedding. If she hadn’t come, the Ferris wheel wouldn’t have stopped turning.

(She came to conclusion that her life somehow had turned into a Ferris wheel: an endless cycle of misfortunes. She wanted it to stop.)

She stood there proud and ready to meet Kim Jongin, to write their ending, and to face Suzy. She shook his hands and congratulated him. She glanced at Suzy and firmly pressed her lips together and faintly smiled. But Kim Jongin was hesitant to let her slipped away, as how she was hesitant to enter the wedding hall. It’s okay, she said. It’s okay because it’s already over. Even when his eyes said he’s still head over heels for her and her heart still ached for him. Because it’s over.

It’s over.

Jongin thought Jieun looked so much better. There were less dark spots under her eyes, fading creases between her brows, and better sparks in her eyes. Definitely better smiles and healthier skin. She looked so much better than when she was with him. Still, he could see the faint traces of tears behind her make-up and he fought to stay still, to not reach for her and asked her if something was wrong. But Jieun could see his sad eyes, full of regrets, and slumped shoulder. She could feel his burdens and it took her everything not to hug him. it made her wonder if it was her fault too.

She slipped away when the music was a little too loud, the cheers a little too happy, and the space too little. Things were a little claustrophobic since she met eyes with Kim Jongin and Luhan disappeared because the reporters were a bit haunting even with private wedding being written in headlines. So, she slipped away from the crowd for some time alone. She liked the balcony, fresh cold air and starless night.

“You have something on your mind.” A deep voice echoed and she shuddered because the wind was cold and the voice sounded so familiar and beautiful. “You haven’t changed much, still the balcony for stressful nights.”

She begged inside for him not to come any closer. The effects would be too great, she might still melt in his hands. But her soles were planted deeply and she couldn’t move. When she turned around, he had taken her hand and pulled her into a hug in a sweep. His nose buried in her hair, taking whips of her scent.

“I miss you.” He whispered deep and his whole body vibrated lightly. “This is wrong, I know. I just married someone and I’m hugging my ex right now but I miss you. I really really miss you.”

She wanted to push him away, to not lean into his touches. She wanted to say no, she is okay without him and she will be okay without him. She can live without him. But she couldn’t.

“Come with me, Jieun.” He whispered and his touches were gentle and warm and familiar. He felt like home –a part of her she lost long ago. “Just you and I and nothing else. Just you and me… and I love you.” He kissed her cheek and circled her waist, pulling her closer.

She wanted to say no again. Her brain begged her to save what was left of her: her heart and her pride, everything that was still left intact. Still, he was too much temptation for her. She pulled him closer and kissed him.

***

There is a certain ambiance, very rare and very nice, on lazy morning. It’s the certain ambiance where sleep does not wash away the exhaustion, but it’s so warm and nice and fluffy. It’s the certain ambiance when you wake up slightly annoyed by the sunshine, but it’s the perfect brightness and it’s very blessed. It’s the certain ambiance when everything felt perfect and nice.

It never came in Lee Ji Eun life until today. And Kim Jongin swore this was paradise before everything was fated to doom. It’s okay because this ambiance could only last for so long, and it’s her and him and the world.

She woke up with exhaustion, a certain soreness between her legs and swollen lips. Her body was sweaty and sticky and marked. The sunshine penetrating through creamy white curtains woke her up; he’s still asleep with even breath and exhaustion. He looked satisfied. His skin brushed against her softer one and she turned slowly so he wouldn’t wake up. He had swollen lips and marks on his collarbone. Brushing his bangs away, she lied back on the bed, closer to his arms, and he quickly reached for her.

“Hey,” her eyes twinkled when she woke up once more and met his eyes, looking at her with such gentleness and love. She brushed his hair away and kissed him on the lips.

“Hey,” she hummed, “you’re awake”. She replied and he reached for her once more when she decided she had enough fun last night and the soreness between her legs might have to last for a while. He groaned when she stood up, dragging the sheets away with her. She giggled, he liked to cuddle way too much. “I’m so sticky right now. I just want to take a shower and sleep some more later.”

“Can I join you?” he . She giggled, nodded, and ran for the bathroom teasingly. She dropped the sheets right in front of him and lunged for his kisses.

There’s a lot of things Kim Jongin liked about Lee Ji Eun. But it’s been a rocky relationship and suddenly loving and being loved back weren’t enough anymore. Now, when he had her in his arms once more, he wondered why it had stopped being enough. It’s been perfect. So perfect.

He liked it when it’s the afterglow; she’s wearing one of his over-sized t-shirt that went down to her upper thigh, but still too big for her petite figure. She held a cup of warm coffee in her hands, looking outside the window with the sun shining on her. She glowed (with beautiful smile and twinkling eyes). He just wanted to watch her again and again and pulled her into a kiss (more often back to bed).

He circled an arm around her waist, trying to kiss her and pull her back to bed, but she giggled and placed the cup back on the table. She smelled like fresh hotel soap and shampoo, a bit of her perfume and his perfume. He probably smelled like a bit of her too.

“I want to go for a drive with you. We’ll have fun and have a tour around the town in the afternoon. I’ll take you out on dates every evening.” He whispered. “And I’ll take you to brilliant romantic dinner at night… and later… we’ll have so much fun here.”

“It’s fine, really…” she reached for his forearms and squeezed it lightly. Her eyes soft and gentle, her smile reached the corner of her lips, “even if we don’t do anything.” But there was something in his eyes –sad and distant and in love –that made her understood. He’d like to give her everything and he’d take her everything. She breathed out a sigh and pressed their forehead together. When she opened her eyes, he looked so much in love and gentle, she whispered, “okay.”

He thought he fell a little more in love than he already was.

***

For a moment, he’s not Kim Jongin and she’s not Lee Ji Eun. It’s not the world they knew. At the moment, he’s a man and she’s a woman, and the world was a brilliant place to be in love. He held her hand and took her out for romantic dinner. They cuddled on bed and woke up to each other every morning. He wore his heart on his sleeves, unafraid, unguarded. She let him see everything, unbroken and okay.

It’s two people in love in a great world.

She thought of beautiful morning and warm hugs only. There’s no space for heartache and fear because this won’t last long. She knew this would end soon, so she’d take everything she could have and give him everything she had right then. She didn’t question the world: why this could only last for so long and why they couldn’t be together or why she suddenly felt so whole again. It’s past that point. She didn’t question anything. She closed her eyes and let her mind went blank more than twice a day.

It’s the last day. She had run out of pretty dresses to wear for romantic dinner. She had to buy new sundress for a good drive in the afternoon. There’s no more of his long-sleeve t-shirt to wear after an excellent night. It’s just one last piece of his long-sleeve shirt she’s wearing, and her last piece of skinny jeans and t-shirt for tomorrow.

It’s no longer her and him in a great world. She’s suddenly Lee Ji Eun and he’s suddenly Kim Jongin and she realize they were never okay to begin with. The past days had only been adrenaline rush and running away.

His arms still wrapped around her petite waist and he’s still very warm and present. She cuddled closer to him to embrace of the last moments. He’s awake, as much as she’s reluctant to go to sleep tonight. There’s no question, no answers, just a few understanding between them. And it’s okay. She’s been long convinced that it’s okay.

She didn’t remember how she fell asleep. When her breath suddenly even out and she’s suddenly knock out to oblivion. It’s not the best sleep she has had in a while. It wasn’t the worst either. She dreamt of wonderful ‘what-ifs’ and woke up to a pair of muscular arms still circled around her. He’s awake and she wondered if he slept last night, but his voice sounded a bit raspy and she thought he slept for a while.

“I’ll miss you,” he said. It’s a wrong thing to say, she didn’t want to feel the ache and the longing right now. At least, not now, when he’s still so real and they’re still no one. But she pushed it back down to embrace reality.

“I’ll miss you too,” she pressed their foreheads together and fluttered her eyes opened. It’s a different look he had right now. It wasn’t gentle and dreamy. It’s sad, so sad. “But I’ll be okay and you’ll be okay too.”

And at that moment, he realized she’s a different person. Happier, positive, and hopeful. She’s not okay yet, he found cracks in her, but she’s healing. The tug in his heart felt lighter this way.

“She’s been pregnant, isn’t she?” It’s not the perfect statement, but it’s real. And it’s been a brilliant week and she thought she could brace herself for bad news. “She’s been pregnant for a long time. That’s why you can’t be with me. That’s why you don’t run after me after our break up. That’s why we’re stealing kisses and let the awkwardness flow.”

“Yes,” he breathed out and repeated again. “Yes.” He’s about to say sorry when she pressed her lips against his. It’s chaste, reminded him of their first kiss –hesitant and awkward but sweet. She didn’t want an apology. She never asked for one. She didn’t think it’s something he needed to be sorry about.

“How long?”

“Five weeks.” He’s afraid she’d pull away. The baby was a mistake, it’s not over one-night stand but it’s over too much drinking and too much lust, too much love for another woman and too much pain in his chest. “We lost our first baby. She… aborted it.” And he knew how much she’d hate him for losing a baby. But she didn’t pull away and the fear flickering inside was dying down a bit when she pressed her body closer to his. He could feel her everywhere.

“You’re going to be a great Dad.” She whispered. It wasn’t something he wanted to hear but it’s something she’d like to say. She liked children, she loved babies. “You’re going to come home to your child and feel so brilliant and gifted. They’re going to love you so much. You’re going to wonder why we can’t be together once in a while, I know, but it’s okay. I’m going to wonder so much too. But I’m going to be okay. Your child is going to be amazing and you’re going to be amazing too.”

He smiled at her. He begged her not to pull away too soon. It’s two hours before the plane took off and they’re still tangled in bed, trying to prolong the moment.

“You changed,”

“I know. But still not enough to break away from you.”

When they said goodbye, it’s a little sad but there’s no tears. It’s an ache he buried deep in his heart. She smiled a bitter smile and she braced herself for reality. They’re okay again.

He never saw her afterwards.

***

Luhan was used to coming home to pitter-patter of footsteps pacing around the house. He was used to waking up in the morning to fresh cup of coffee –one black and another with two blocks of extra sugar –and the clank-clunk of kitchen utensils. He’s used to spending free evening reading books in the library, the smell of old books and scrunched-up paper twice stronger. He’s used to the harmony echoing around the house once she decided to strum her guitar for a bit. But it’s empty now and he wasn’t used to it for one bit.

He waited because he’s Xi Luhan and he had the patience to wait for eternity. She didn’t come back, not for three or four days, not for the next devastating days where he just sat there and crossed his fingers, hoping the door would swing open and she’d pop out. He stopped coming home after four days. It’s too empty. He settled for the dorm.

It’s suddenly the sixth day and he braced himself to call her. There’s a constant beep-beep of connecting lines but she never picked up in the end. She’s running away, from the world, from everything. And perhaps, she’s happy enough to forget everything. But he’s afraid for her. It could only last for so long until it all came crashing down.

He saw her later. Two weeks after she’s been gone with the runaway groom. His bride was left devastated and crying tears of sorrow that night. He’d been watching from behind the walls, leaning back, and trying to fix his broken heart. She slipped off his fingers and he didn’t think she’d stay the same afterwards.

When he saw her, he was overwhelmed –he didn’t know which one overwhelmed him most: anger, betrayal, relief, or heartbreak –he pulled her to a hug and squeezed her breath away. She squeaked –surprised –but she hugged him back. She didn’t say sorry, she promised nothing. He thought she cared and she did, but it’s never been more than that yet.

She smelled different –more of hotel shampoo and soaps than her own perfume –but he’s too overwhelmed to care. She didn’t pull away, even when it was getting hard to breath. She could probably feel his beating heart –ba-thump, ba-thump –how fast and strong it was. He wasn’t nervous, but overwhelmed, and by the soft look she sent his way, he knew she knew it too.

It’s five minutes and forty-three seconds –he counted it because it was all so silent and he could hear every ticking seconds –she remained in his embrace. She didn’t pull away or pushed him. She stayed, silent until the ends. He wondered if it was guilt or maybe she’s just too exhausted. But he’s a little afraid she knew he’s so in love and she’s having him wrapped around her tiny fingers, and he’s just a victim of a broken love. He’s afraid she’s just playing around because everything about them wasn’t healthy.

He regretted pulling away six seconds later. When she took three steps back and he realized there’s a huge luggage behind her.

“I’m leaving.”

Author Note

I'm in love with this chapter, although it's so draggy -sigh- Enjoy, people!