She’s nervous. Her palms were sweaty and she’s slightly trembling yet she did her best not to make it too obvious. She could feel her heart beat erratically, telling herself this was a bad idea and urging her feet to turn around and run away.   Like always. But Donghae kept her in place.   Donghae and his hand that was holding hers. Donghae and his fingers which were entwined with hers. Donghae and the silver ring that was brushing against Hyukjae’s skin. She looked over her other hand and found its twin, looking back at Donghae’s face and found the other with a small encouraging smile on his face. She’s still scared, yes. But then Donghae swore it’ll be okay, and if it didn’t it’s still fine because he’ll be there. Donghae’s with her and perhaps it did make a difference because this time she’s not alone. And it’s Donghae. She’s with Donghae. Somehow this made her feel a little better.   The living room was the same as Hyukjae had remembered it, high ceiling, crystal-like chandeliers, velvet-covered couch, the artificial fireplace, and the huge family portrait on the center of it all. The sight of it had emotions clouding up inside her, memories started playing like a movie clip right before her eyes.   She detached her hold from Donghae as she approached the picture, three familiar figures looking back at her, her hand automatically tried to reach out, but she came into a halt halfway feeling the curious stares of the maids, who didn’t have a clue who she was, nearby. She contented herself with a stare.   How long had it been? When was the last time she stood in this living room and found the leisure to just stare at that image? Eleven years since her mom died, eleven years since the last time she’s been in this house which life and happiness had been taken along with her mother when she passed away. Hyukjae gulped, the corner of her eyes heating up as she pushed all the other thoughts aside and let her fingers touched her mother’s hand.. holding hers, his, the hands of five year-old Little Eunhyuk.   Mom.. I’m back.   “You resemble her a lot.”, Hyukjae heard Donghae mumbled behind her. She turned around, her eyes misty and fretful but when Donghae placed his hands on her shoulders, that reassuring tight-lipped smile back again on his face, Hyukjae actually believed.   “It’ll be fine. You will be fine.”, he told her and she nodded. Gustav appeared and called for her, and as she was about to turn in a corner and disappeared from his sight, Hyukjae looked back and found him still standing there, holding his thumbs up and mouthing it’s going to be okay. Hyukjae smiled. Somehow, Donghae gave her the assertion that even if things won’t turn out right, he would still be there, as he had promised, waiting for Hyukjae.   Albeit all the hurt and whirlwind of emotions, Hyukjae was grateful enough to discover that Donghae cared, cares.. this much.   She held on the ring on her finger, taking occasional deep breaths as they neared the room where Lee Won Jun, her father, was. The pathway she walked on wasn’t that long but it felt like forever, the decade of memories without this man who supposed to be her father started to playback once again and Hyukjae felt like running like before, turning back and run straight to Donghae. And yet before she could do so they’re already there, standing before the door which will lead her to him, her father.   One way or another she knew she’ll come to this day she’ll be able to face him again. And although the nerves and the chills were there, Hyukjae knew, once she entered that door, there’ll be no turning back.   Clutching her fist tighter, feeling the ring against her palm, Hyukjae took another deep breath, and pushed the door open.     -   She remembered her younger self, about in her fifth or sixth year, running and playing around their big manor with her best friend Junsu. She recalled passing this area, and being told that they shouldn’t ever enter it or Dad will be mad. They once dared to do so, but it was locked and the head of the maids Mrs. Kim found them, telling them they shouldn’t be doing that again or else the dragon with the head of a horse from that room will eat them up.   Never did they venture to be within ten meter radius from that specific door ever again.   Fast forward twelve years later, Hyukjae laid her eyes on the controversial room for the first time. It was far from the images she and Junsu used to conjure up. It wasn’t dark, no cobwebs and scary spiders the size of Mrs. Kim’s face. There’s no passageway leading to the gates of hell too or some enchanted fireplace which will magically transfer a person in and out of the room (they got this theory Heechul’s that dragon’s owner alright)   It was actually an office. The same like what her father had in the second floor. There’s the large desk, some piles of papers and folders, wide range of bookshelves, a small place on the side allotted for guests with a tea table in the middle. Everything’s pretty much ordinary and Hyukjae couldn’t see the point why the place was prohibited for them in the first place when all of a sudden, her eyes landed on the wall behind her.   It wasn’t that big of a space, but it was enough to cover up that particular part of the wall. There were pictures in frames, there were some which were just thumbtacked or taped. She noticed, however, how it was chronologically arranged and how there was a one-sitter couch before it, as if someone spent a portion of his day staring at those pictures, relieving moments, or in their case, envisaging memories he never took part in.   “I think it was a little too cheesy and so not me, so I never tell you guys about this.”   Hyukjae felt his presence, heard his voice, and emotions clogged up inside her and the words were a little hard to voice out but she did manage to whisper.   “’The is this ?” And he chuckled a little too sheepishly, coyly, too uncharacteristically in Hyukjae’s opinion but she mentioned none of it as tears silently stream down her face, gazing back at the dozens of pictures of her, him, some with her mom, most just Eunhyuk, photos of him growing up, all over the years.   -   It was her who first broke the silence with “How did you know it was me?”   They were in the terrace connected with the room with the portraits, overlooking the back garden where she, Junsu and Heechul used to play, where her mother used to grow flowers which never actually lasted because they would usually pluck them up and scatter all over the ground.   Perhaps it could be the best place in the house, though Hyukjae wasn’t really sure because she barely remembered. But then one thing she’s sure of, it wa