— Not a Love Song —

He wanders about the park, kicking dirt and pebbles with the tip of his shoe, hands shoved in the pockets. The place is rather deserted, save from some passers-by every few minutes. After all it’s a Sunday afternoon, still too chilly to spend too much time outdoors. It’s perfect though he thinks, the weather. The coldness is a good distraction that enables him to focus solely on keeping warm.

They had a fight again, him and Qian, though he doesn’t think it’s considered a fight, because there aren’t enough spoken words to prove so, only empty gazes and bottled up feelings. It’s been like that for years. He’s always too tired to address the issue, while she just refuses to prolong it. They are good at avoiding problems, choosing to close one eye at the growing cancer between them instead of sitting down together to talk things over. Day by day, their conversations grow shorter and shorter while their exchanged words grow more limited. Looking back, he hadn’t realized when they’re having meals together, asking each other about their days started being a chore rather than a personal time for them to enjoy.

Changmin rests and lays his back on one of the benches by the playground with a lollipop in mouth, staring into the distance for a minute before he pulls out his phone. He browses through his me2day timeline (not that he updates that often) and stops short when a certain entry catches his eyes. It’s Sooyeon, who posted from her New York home to congratulate Yoona’s first article that made it into the National Geographic magazine. She attached the article in her entry, so Changmin takes his time to read it (or at least try to ― holding both degree and Masters in Law doesn’t really come along with a guarantee of English fluency).

He blinks. When was the last time he actually talked to Yoona? Though they have gone past the awkward stage of their (former) relationship―their tearful last exchanged emails now long forgotten―and had a mutual agreement to keep their friendship, they never really met or spoke to each other often. Life gets in the way, more often than not. She gets caught up with work, while he has been busy playing the role of a responsible husband.

He snaps out of his reverie when his phone falls flat on his face, and his nose does a job of wonder of hitting the dial button. That’s when he realized he has been staring at her number. He fumbles to find the right button to cancel the call as a string of profanities escapes his mouth, but it is too late because a “Hello?” is heard over the speaker.

“,” he says instead of a ‘hello’ when he presses the phone to his ear, and he hears her laughing the laugh he hasn’t heard in a long while from the other line as he gets up.

“Wow, what a greeting from someone I haven’t heard from for so long,” Yoona teases.

“I didn’t mean to. Really! I’m sorry, it’s quite a long story.”

“I have time.”

That statement leads to a new question. “Where are you?”

“As in now? Lining up at the cashier’s counter to pay for―oh wait a sec, it’s my turn.” Right then, he hears the sounds of scanner, rustling of plastic bags and the cashier stating the price, followed by coins clinking and more plastic bags rustling before she finally gets back to him. “Hello? You still there?”

“Hmmm barely.” Again, she fills his ear with her laugh. Her voice sounds light, more cheerful than he remembers it to be. It causes him to wonder if she is brighter too―happier. “Where are you exactly?”

“Well, exiting the supermarket,” she answers curtly.

“Is the supermarket in Korea or some other countries?”

“Does Lotte Mart ring a bell?”

“Oh?” he raises a brow. “You’re off work? Are you free now?”

“I’m rather expensive, Mr. Shim. But if you wish to see me I’m sure my assistant can arrange something. Wait, let me check my schedule first. Hm, does right now sound fine to you?”

Changmin chortles at her reply. “It’s an honour enough that you’re willing to see me, Miss Im.”

Yoona manages another laugh. “I’m hungry. Can we go get lunch?”

“Of course,” he’s beaming now. There’s a spring in his feet as he jumps from the bench and bounces on his toes after she gives him the details of where they should meet up. There’s spring blooming in his heart as he heads to the said restaurant that’s not very far from where he is, and when he finds her at a table beside the window waving delightedly, his face blossoms into a smile.

Once he approaches the table, she gives him a hug and he tries to hide his surprise so not to make her feel uncomfortable, especially after seeing each other for the first time is nearly a year. “So how are you?” she casually begins, as normal friends do when catching up.

He tells her about his work, the cases he has handled without disclosing too much detail. She does the same, recounting tales from the adventures she went on, of the food and cultures and people (for food is more important than the rest). An hour passes by in a blink of eye. Customers continue to come in and out of the restaurant, waiters going around taking orders and clearing tables, but they stay where they.

Later as Changmin sips his coffee, Yoona places an elbow on the table and rests her chin in her palm, staring at him. “So you want to tell me what’s going on?” she asks, though it seems by her knowing expression that she has already pretty much figured out.

“I suppose you’re not going to take a no for an answer.” It’s a statement.

“I suppose you’re not wrong,” she tries a smile for him. “I’ve got all the time in the world, Changmin.”

Meanwhile, his fades a little. Tearing his eyes away, he drags a sigh as he stares off at the world that continues to run without him, as if his existence or participation never mattered. “To tell you the truth, I have no idea what’s going on,” he confesses. “I guess that’s bad, because I’m supposed to know.”

“What’s wrong?”

“You see, Qian… she can’t have kids. Not ever. But that’s not what’s wrong. I mean, of course, it is, in a way. You know how much I want children of my own, right? But it’s not like I can blame her for that, because it’s not even her fault. The re