Chapter III:

A Night of Winter to Remember

21:39 KST

After driving her way home, Dara abruptly stepped out of the car, shut its door then pressed the carlock button, and turned to face the foothold of her house yet she remained standing the shoulders of the road, her back reclined against the windowpane of her Porsche, eyes observantly clinging around the quaint area.    

Snow has blanketed the roofs of the households and buildings within the vicinity; miniscule snowflakes fallen from the dark sky wafted along the breaths of the night’s chilly breeze. The ground was a mass of white, gray and streaks of green as winter has fallen on the city of Seoul. She savored the tranquility of the night, sighing upon the calm and sullen sight.

Something about the serenity of the place has calmed her, cradling her weary mind; the muffled noises from people around was a lullaby in her ears. She closed her eyes, heaved a long intake of breathe before exhaling a puff of smoky air then she straightened, and walked towards her house.

“Home, at last.” A gurgling groan of relief was heard as she stepped inside the living room; the comforting salmon shade of her walls greeted her.

The ambiance inside was far more relaxing than bizarre setting in her firm’s office.

 There was really no place like home.

Dara lazily threw herself on the couch, snuggling with one of the throw pillows. Her lidded eyes then roamed around the room, stopping upon the sight of the calendar placed atop the shelf beside her, those brilliant brown eyes staring at the chart intently.

“So it’s 23nd of August huh?” she sighed while nonchalantly lifting her head up and faced the wide ceiling, the corners of fell into a sullen frown. It was almost hard to believe that the fierce and bold lawyer earlier and the woman now laid somber as if the world crushed before her eyes was in actuality the same person. The mask of fearlessness has been momentarily removed because when Sandara was alone she was what she really was; a mere woman who lost the genuine outlook towards what life has to offer.

Fragile, weak and scarred.  

Then a blare of ringing noise disrupted her thoughts. She stretched an arm, reaching for the phone by her side and answered; “Yoboseyo?” 

 “Tokki ~ ah!!” a loud booming voice responded and she couldn’t help but chuckle at the childishness of that caller.

 “Yah, Bommie, no need to shout.”

“I just miss you my dear cousin, how are you?”  Her cousin Bom asked with obvious worry traced in every word.

“I'm doing good, couz.” She feigned the enthusiasm in her voice.

“Are you sure? Dara-ah, if you want, I can come t—” 

“No, Bom,” she interrupted in a tone of urgency. “I wouldn’t want you to worry, okay? I can handle myself so don’t worry about me. ”

“But, couz, I am always worried about you. And I am more now, knowing what date today is.” There was no denying how sincere Bom was with her words, and she could already see her scowling behind the line.

“Mian, couz. I’m sorry for making you worry. Today is just any normal day,”—no, it isn’t and both of them perfectly knew about it—“I have a lot of paper works to do, so I know this night will pass even before I could notice it. You just rock that fashion show, arra?  I heard things are great there in Paris. Keep it that way.” She heard a sigh, but ignored it and said, “I need to go couz, bye! Goodluck!” and cut the call abruptly after her words, paying no heed on Bom’s protests. 

Five seconds passed and still her gaze reveled on the phone’s screen, sighing. “I’m sorry, Bommie,” she whispered, her voice shaking as tears began clouding her sight.

“Even I worry for myself.”

The flow of hot tears fell uncontrollably, her heart ached of the same pain over and over again she even wondered how it managed to remain intact instead of exploding because of the unbearable tumult. The agony was frustrating, but what made it worst was the fact that she was hopelessly in love with a memory, an echo from another time and another place.

There was no antidote for a heart broken by a lost love.

“Stop it,” A scold from that prideful part of herself slammed through her subconscious, “Stop being so pathetic, Dara.”

That voice was right; she should stop bawling her eyes out every time loneliness consumed her. She wiped the tears away, leveling her ragged breathes as she tried to compose herself once again.

When she was sure she had quell the tears to a definite stop, the woman rose from the couch and strutted her way towards her bedroom.

Not a minute after, Dara found h­­erself fishing the clothes inside of her enormous closet. “What to use?” she muttered eyeing the cadre of fine dresses hanged in front of her. A peeking black dress caught her attention, her eyes lingered on it and she smiled.

“This is perfect,”

After prepping herself up, Dara turned towards the huge vanity mirror across the room, cocked her head, critically surveying the reflection before her. The black dress was more than good; it was perfect. It hugged th