I.

Being surrounded by white walls was never a problem for Tiffany.

In fact, she deliberately requested for all the walls around her to be white. As clean and as blank as possible, she had said to the painter, smiling widely until her cheeks hurt and her eyes disappeared.

And now years after, her walls were still white, albeit a little dirty and lacking maintenance. There were small cracks everywhere and the portions nearer to the floors and ceilings had now faded, slightly revealing the color of concrete underneath.

It made Tiffany stop what she was doing. She couldn’t understand why she didn’t notice them before.

She dug for her hot pink planner amongst the sea of lace and silk that covered her work table, finding it under a box of white buttons and semi-precious crystals. She flipped the cover open and sighed, seeing nothing but scribbles and post its on every page.

There wasn’t a single empty slot for the whole month, and when that fact normally made her happy, this time it simply didn’t. It made her pout like a kid who dropped her candy, huffing as she tossed the bulky planner on the chair beside her.

The walls would have to wait, Tiffany thought dejectedly, returning to her work at the same time her assistant had knocked on the door.

“Tiffany?” The girl asked, holding a clipboard against her chest. “Your next appointment’s here. A Miss Kim?”

“Oh,” she said, eyes darting towards the rectangular clock mounted on the center of her chipping white walls. She motioned for her to send them in immediately.

A smile and a quick nod, and the assistant was gone. Tiffany used the time to tidy up a bit, piling her sketches neatly while she retrieved a few blank sheets from her drawer. She covered her work table with a wide, light pink cloth, preserving her current work for later.

She turned towards the door when she heard footsteps coming up the stairs that led to her studio.

—–

“Hello.”

The first thing that came to Tiffany’s mind when she saw the woman was young.

She stood by the doorway in her torn jeans and plaid shirt—baby face, perfect skin—looking every bit of the teenager Tiffany assumed her to be. Her lopsided smile and carefree aura lit Tiffany’s off-white walls, making the designer smile in return.

“Hi! Come in, please.”She walked towards her and extended her hand. “My name’s Tiffany.”

“Kim Taeyeon,” the girl merely said with a grin, pointing to herself before shaking her hand.

It made Tiffany chuckle.

Now that they stood face to face, the girl looked even younger with her petite stature, standing a few inches shorter than her. Her hands were soft but she had a very firm grip, and she carried in a subtle scent of lavender and jasmine.

Despite the young age, which Tiffany almost lamented about—too young to be tied down, the designer mused—she was sure she’d be a very beautiful bride, and she swore to herself that she’d make her the perfect dress.

It would have to be an off-shoulder top, Tiffany imagined, noting the prominent collarbones peeking from the opened buttons of the woman’s shirt. She had a very smooth neck, and her shoulders were broad, and—

“Wow you jerk, you totally left me there!”

Tiffany’s train of thought instantly derailed, swooping down its imaginary bridge in full speed before exploding into a pile of burning rubble at the bottom. She blinked and turned to the newcomer who was fuming at the side, pinching Taeyeon’s arm as the latter writhed in pain.

“Ow—Stop! The lady said I could come up!” The petite girl hissed, swatting the hands away.

“Yes, but you didn’t have to leave me! I was just in the ladies room!”

“You took too long—Ow, ow—“

“Ehem.”

It’s only when Tiffany cleared that the two stopped bickering. She could cleary see how both women flustered under her questioning gaze, and it was almost comical, how both of their eyes widened at the same time.

She grinned at them nonetheless, offering her hand towards the other woman. “Hi, I’m Tiffany Hwang,” she introduced herself for the second time that day, smiling widely at the reddened cheeks.

The woman—wearing gym clothes with her blonde hair tied in a messy bun—took it in a soft hold before letting go to punch the other girl on the arm.

“I’m sorry, Miss Hwang,” she said, grinning at her whining friend, “my maid of honor is an idiot. I’m Kim Hyoyeon, by the way.”

Tiffany’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

Before she could even stop herself, she had her head turning towards Taeyeon, and then Hyoyeon, and then Taeyeon again, then back. It was very evident on her face that she was caught in confusion, and by the way the other two were looking at her with amusement, it was clear that they understood.

“I know she looks more of a bride than I am but please don’t look so disappointed.” Hyoyeon chided, teasing.

“N-No!” Tiffany spluttered. She took the bride-to-be’s hand again, shook it with more vigour this time, apologetic. “I just thought she’s the Kim I was waiting for. You know, same family name and all,” She said, flustered, chuckling a bit while pointing to the girl who was still rubbing her arm.

“This girl’s too picky, she won’t be married any time soon.”

“Hey—“

“Shut up. You know it’s true.” Hyoyeon turned to Tiffany after pinching Taeyeon on her side. “I’m not worried about myself, but if I could get married AND find someone for her, then that would be two things off my list.”

Tiffany laughed, amused. She looked at Taeyeon who was shaking her head, a playful scowl on her lips.

After a few more pleasantries, she led the two girls to her desk, showing them her collection of wedding gown designs.

—–