It had begun to snow since midday, more intense and heavier than ever. To some reasonable people, it looked like the mother of snow had its own intention to keep the townsfolk home for it seemed too dangerous to walk or drive at time like this. But, for some mad men, it could be seen as an attempt to discourage them from doing their activities outdoor. Therefore, some might heavy-heartedly stay at home and some might be mad enough to become rebellious toward the weather.

Han Huisoo was not an exception. She was trapped alone inside the house where she had been staying for four days already. She was at the second floor of the two-storey house, standing nearby the window while looking at her neighbors’ house whose gabled roof looked like a cake decoration, surrounded by a layer of thick white icing. Ever since staying at the house, she did not really have many options to do and she certainly did not adore that idea very much.

Her bedroom was upstairs which was why; most of the time; she would be found inhabitting the upper floor. The house was a two-bedroomed semi-detached house that was not too big for a whole family, but was certainly too big for two people like Jongin and her—who by any chance—were not in a speaking term. The house, therefore, felt a little bit too big for Huisoo since there was not much words shared between them.

To: Kim

Your family’s gonna be here. Hope you can make it home earlier.

She typed a message for her dearest fiancé who was not home at time. He, however, always went out for his mother’s Dae Hwan branch in the morning and would be home around eight (except two days ago when he arrived home at 1 a.m in semi-conscious state with alcohol lingered in the air). So, she was practically by herself throughout the daylights.

Talking about Jongin—arriving home drunk had come as a surprise for her because it was her first time seeing him completely knocked out. As a matter of fact, he was not like that when he drank with his dudes. And matter were only further complicated as she met a pair of familiar eyes at the doorway whose owner sent the drunk Jongin home that night. Huisoo could felt a flutter in her chest as those eyes reflected a kind of bewilderment when they met Huisoo’s, and she got no idea why she suddenly felt ignited when there was no fire.

From: Kim

What time?

Why would he ask such thing? Huisoo sighed as she slid her handphone into her sweatpants pocket and decided not to reply him. She turned around only to be faced with the spacious room between her bedroom and Jongin’s. She puckered her lips as her mind started visualizing scary thoughts for her to play. There were a set of white sofa shaping a half rectangle  in the middle of the room, placed right in front of a television. She was not going to be delusional, but the unoccupied sofa and the empty space surrounding it were strange enough to give her goosebumps.

With a timid soul, she quickly headed downstairs and set her feet in the kitchen. She peeked at the fridge and smiled to herself. She could make a lot of dishes with the material inside of it. In fact, a bunch.

And for the first time in four days, she was happy. She was pleased that she was going to have visitors finally. While doing the dishes, she already thought about how nice it would be to talk to the missable Sejong and her long time-no-see Jongshin. Finally, she would not feel alone, because really, the four-day stay had felt like a month when she could not talk to anybody.

Around seven in the evening, her fiancé landed home with a stoic expression. He was still the same as a week ago, quiet and perhaps, extra cold.

While watching him from the lounge, she did not realize that she had been holding her breath for seconds just by the sight of him. She was not sure whether it was because she had grown unfamiliar with his figure or something, because to say their conversation became shorter day by day was not a lie, and so, to say that it became awkward to have him around was justifiable.

And believe it or not, it was not helping her at all. It was bemusing, how at time like this, she still had the thought of working out the relationship. Meanwhile, he did not seem to get it. He was busy enjoying himself without knowing she was dying inside the house.

She sighed.

She missed Jongin and his spiteful remarks and his overconfident self and his dry laughter and his everything. Compared to now, it was way better to hear him making fun of her or to watch him picking somebody else’s flaw and laugh at it together rather than not hearing him at all. She missed him, but whatever.

As he shuffled around the living room, he threw his padded jacket at the backrest of the couch. He was wearing a white shirt that was still neatly stuffed into his gray cotton slack. She unconsciously smiled to herself; he was still the man of his outfit no matter what. Despite, she caught something odd by the way he dressed himself for the past four