Luhan slammed the door of his apartment and stumbled in, his shoes leaving soggy footprints.

Hopefully an actual shower (and not one that consisted of toxic Cali rain) would clear his mind. Luhan mindlessly pulled off his wet clothing and systematically rifled through his pockets before tossing them in the washer.

Keys? check. Wallet? check. Phone? check.

Ring?

Luhan’s heart pounded and he rummaged through all his pockets like a madman.

This couldn’t be happening. There was no way that in less than twenty-four hours, he had lost his entire annual bonus. He dropped to his knees and searched the carpet frantically.

It had to be here. He put his still damp shirt back on and sprinted down to his car without even grabbing an umbrella, keeping his eyes peeled for signs of a velvet box.

He racked his brain and tried to remember where he had last seen the ring. He recalled that it had been with him when he met with Tiffany, which left so many possibilities as to where the ring and package had disappeared to. The beach? The car? The pavement? The apartment? It would be impossible to look everywhere alone.

⋘⋘❆⋙⋙

Tiffany stood outside the jewelry store, trying to make sure that the store’s logo was the same insignia scrawled on the box. She took a deep breath and entered the store, a strong blast of air tousling her hair.

“Can I help you?” The girl behind the counter was lazily scraping the bottom of her nails with a dime without bothering to look up at Tiffany.

“Can I, uh, see the engagement rings?”

“Right this way, ma’am.” The employee glanced strangely at her as she led Tiffany towards the back. Tiffany realized that a girl buying engagement ring was a little peculiar; it was the boy who was supposed to propose. Her mind flickered with the thought of Luhan proposing to his fiancée-to-be and her eyes warmed with the shadows of tears. Tiffany tried her hardest to keep herself intact.

“Oh, my...friend’s boyfriend asked me to um, help him pick out a wedding ring. Yes, that’s right.” As her eyes scanned the pristine arrangement of every imaginable ring, she immediately distinguished Luhan’s from the rest. Pointing to the ring, she asked the price casually.

“Seven thousand two-hundred fifty dollars.” Seeing Tiffany’s dumbfounded expression, the girl sneered. “We are a designer brand after all.”

“Actually, um. do you have that ring in a size six?” Grabbing a set of keys from her pocket, the girl opened the bottom drawer beneath the display cabinet and sifted through the shelves before resurfacing with a ring in hand. She handed it to Tiffany, who examined it, twisting the metal band underneath the lights and watching the diamond glitter. Cautiously, she slid it onto her ring finger.

As she stared at her hand, she wanted to cry so bad, because she had missed Luhan so much but he hadn’t even expected to see her ever again. She tried hard not to think about the same ring on a different girl’s finger as Luhan vowed to take care of her through sickness and health.  She had imagined their reunion so many times, however none of them had ended with this cold betrayal.But Tiffany blinked hard, choking down quiet sobs, and jerked the ring off and nodded curtly towards the girl. She had to get out of there as fast as possible, before she broke down.

After she had made her escape and marched through the exit with extreme determination, she bumped into someone who was entering the store.

“I am so sorry about-”She turned around to apologize, but she choked on her words.

“Tiffany?”   

⋘⋘❆⋙⋙

Yoona stood in front of the English hotel, trying to hail a taxi to the airport. The flight had made a stop in England and she was about to catch her transfer flight to Norway. It had been two days since she had landed in England and she hadn’t found her charger yet.  

She had long forgiven the incident that happened the night that she’d left, because she assured herself that she trusted Luhan. All she cared about at the moment was hearing his voice. She scolded herself for not making a Skype when he’d asked her to, because her computer was fully charged and she knew he didn’t check his e-mail anyways. Yoona sat quietly in the cab, picturing Luhan’s innocent features in her mind, flustered as they walked out of the restaurant. She wondered for a moment, what had he been about to say?

The plane to Norway was rather empty so Yoona sat in the back, on the aisle seat, crossing her legs in front and leaving her bag on the seat next to her to make it obvious that the empty seats next to her were not an open invitation to intrude her personal space. Jet lag had taken its toll on her the past few days and she fell asleep without noticing. When she awakened, the plane had landed. Yoona yawned, blinking and collecting her luggage. Someone had opened the windows and the sunshine glaring through scorched her eyes.

She checked the address of the hotel that her manager had booked for that evening. The driver of the taxi she had hailed impatiently said something in Norwegian, and even though Yoona had bought a Norwegian language guide at the airport, she could barely manage to understand what he was saying. She plastered a smile on her face and quickly got in, handing him the slip of paper with the address. He nodded and promptly drove off. The short taxi ride was stuffy and uncomfortable, mustard-colored seats smelling of musty cigarettes and stale perfumes. When they arrived, she stuffed a few bills into his hand and fled with her suitcase, not bothering to ask for the change (or help carrying her overstuffed luggage).

Upon entering the doors, the entire staff at the front desk looked up, smiled, and bowed politely, before saying something unintelligible. Yoona tried her best not to feel frustrated. She looked in her phrasebook, but when she tried to pronounce something at the staff, they just exchanged confused glances and spoke more Norwegian. The receptionist motioned towards a teenager fiddling with his phone and whispered something in his ear. A few painstakingly long moments later, he came back with a young asian man.

“Do you...speak Korean?” The man spoke extra slow in accented Korean. Yoona nodded in relief.

“Thank God, I can finally understand someone,” Yoona noticed his tall stature, broad shoulders, and neat lapeled suit. “Are you the manager?”

He laughed. “I’m actually just a bellboy. They have a really, really, strict uniform code here. You need helping checking in right?”

“Yeah. It should be under Kim Jun- I mean, Junmyeon Kim’s tab for uh, Yoona Im.” Yoona responded, handing them her printout of the booking.

He exchanged a few phrases with the receptionist, and she quickly typed a few things into her computer, sliding a key card across the counter.

“All set!” he said cheerfully, picking up her luggage without wincing. “Follow me.”

As they stood in the elevator, Yoona stared at the back of his head and thought of Luhan, about how she had lingered behind him as he carried her suitcase. Except Luhan had been unloading gallons of sweat through his 100% pima cotton floral-print tourist shirt and this bellboy wasn’t even struggling. Her eyes wandered down to his back muscles and remained there for a long time. He cleared his throat.

“We’re on your floor,”

He led the way to her room, sharply shined loafers padding across the worn carpet. Yoona followed hesitantly, peering around the corners cautiously.

“Okay, I’ll leave you alone now, remember to call room service if you need anything. I’ll tell the night staff to redirect your calls to me.” She nodded obediently, fumbling to find her wallet and a tip. When her fingers finally touched the corner of the bill, she was about to hand it to him when he grabbed her wrist and stopped her. Yoona looked up, confused, because she’d never experienced any situation like this and she wasn’t sure what the societally accepted response was.  

“I don’t take tips.” He smiled. “Use the money to treat yourself to something nice. Goodnight.” He walked out the door promptly, hands stuck smugly in his pockets.

Yoona stood in the middle of the room, the money still clamped in her palm, dumbfounded.

⋘⋘❆⋙⋙

“I uh...” Tiffany grimaced at the sound of her own voice. “Hey Luhan.”

“Hi Tiffany.” The two stayed there for a few seconds that felt like an eternity, until a random passerby shouldered Tiffany as he hurriedly rushed past her, probably on the way to the flash sale at Dillard’s or something.

“Are you free today? I think I need to clear things up.” Tiffany finally declared.

“Yeah, I’ve got...some time on my hands.”

The two ended up at the food court, waiting in line at McDonald’s. The air smelled thickly of grease as the line shuffled forwards.

“What are you getting?” She asked Luhan, who was scrutinizing the menu.

“Probably just a medium fountain drink with a large fries and a Big Mac-”

“-with the pickles removed, no ketchup, extra mustard, and the beef patty sliced gently horizontally.” Tiffany finished surely, grinning cheekily at him. Luhan wanted to remind her again that he was taken, but he noticed her puffy eyes and decided to leave the topic alone.

Once they had sat down, greasy fries and all, Luhan took a big bite of his burger so he wouldn’t have to say anything. Tiffany studied him carefully before clearing and gathering up all the pieces of her shattered confidence.

“I know that what happened yesterday was probably uncomfortable for both of us, and I just hope that we can go back to being friends. We may not be...together anymore, but I still want to be a part of your life.” She smiled melancholically at him before dropping her gaze. Luhan let out a breath he didn’t know that he’d been holding.

“That’s cool, Tiffany. I was really worried about you.” He held out his hand. “Pinky promise that we’ll stay friends?” Tiffany wiped her fingers on a napkin and wrapped her pinky around his.  

“Also, I have a question. Yesterday, after I left the beach, I realized that my ring disappeared. Do you...know where it is?”

“Actually Luhan, I um...I took it...”

“What?! The he-” Luhan almost yelled, but Tiffany clamped her hand over his mouth before he could say anything else.

“Haha, gotcha! I’m just kidding. I have no idea where your ring is.” Tiffany lied effortlessly, feeling an empty ache in her chest. Her appetite disappeared and she dropped the french fry in her hand.

“Darn it, Tiffany, don’t do that! I was so angry for a second that I was about to bite your hand. Next time I won’t be so nice.” Luhan frowned. She stared out the window in silence.

“So you lost it...but how are you going to propose now?”

“I have to get it back...but Yoona- my girlfriend, is in Norway for a business trip. I was going to propose that night when I saw you at that club, but now she’s gone.”

“How long will she be gone?”

“I don’t know. Probably upward of a month, because she works in architecture, and she usually doesn’t leave until the construction plan is finished.”

“That gives you about a month to find the ring or buy a new one...”

“Except I can’t buy a new one because I spent all my money and they only had one in her size.” he frowned

“Well, then, Luhan, I volunteer to help your charity case of an engagement because I stopped you the first time.” she said, patting his back on her way to the trashcan.

⋘⋘❆⋙⋙

Jessica glared at her hopeless cousin, who was focusing very hard on her cuticles.

“What am I going to do with you, Tiffany Hwang?”

“Nothing, Hwang Sooyeon. You can do nothing. I waited five years for this. And I’m not going to let it go.” she replied calmly. “Thanks, but you don’t have to worry about me like I’m a toddler.”

“For Pete’s sake, he left you in the middle of an alley in the middle of the night! You’re not some Disney princess, okay Tiffany? You’re not going to get your happy-ever-after by doing this, you’re just going to end up broken-hearted. Again.”

“I’m not going to let that happen, Jessica. I know what I’m doing.”

“Luhan betrayed you the second he left Seoul, and now he’s proposing to her. And even if you’re too blind to see it now, the lovesick third wheel never gets the guy. No matter how hard she tries.”

“Why are you so angry Jessica? I thought you were my friend--aren’t friends supposed to support each other through thick and thin? Can’t you just accept reality? Are you just jealous that I actually have a life outside of this apartment and you just stay inside all day with your overpriced sunglasses?”

Tiffany almost immediately regretted saying those words the moment they left . Blanc & Eclare was something Jessica had sacrificed so much to start. She lowered her eyes guiltily and watched Jessica’s expression closely.

But Jessica’s brows never furrowed, nor did the corners of turn down like they usually did. Instead, she folded her hands together and tilted her head at Tiffany. “I’m sorry, you’re right.” Jessica replied, her voice saccharinely sweet. She paused for a moment. “Say, what do you want for dinner tonight? Noodles? Stir-fry? Pizza? Microwave mac and cheese? I think there’s a new Thai takeout around the corner...”

“Jess, are you sure…-?”

“Well, I’ll just call for pizza then. Do you know where I put the newspaper coupon?” Jessica asked, leaning over to dig in her purse, avoiding eye contact.

“You left it on the counter, but Jessica, I just want to say that I’m-”

Jessica stood up without a warning and sauntered towards the exit, hair swept over one shoulder to hide her face.

“See you later!” she called almost too cheerfully, her voice slightly hoarse “I’ll call in for delivery. Pizza will be here in about 20.”

“Wait-” Tiffany trailed off as the door slammed shut. She was left blinking. Jessica was one of the most rational people she knew, so Tiffany was perplexed with her cousin’s actions. It was baffling to her that Jessica would get so affected over something so seemingly insignificant compared to their normal lives. But if she was really so upset, then Tiffany was going to apologize. And do it well, because Tiffany Hwang never gave up when she had her eyes set on something.

So she rummaged through the pantry and found a box of brownie mix and the matching tub of chocolate frosting with sprinkles. There wasn’t any more of Jessica’s favorite organic-vegan- gluten-free cake mix, but Tiffany figured she could still manage to make a cake with the help of Betty Crocker and her Hershey’s syrup.

By the time she was finished, the kitchen was scattered, with leftover brownie batter spilled onto any and every solid surface of the room and an occasional egg shell scattered in between. A lifetime of takeout and store-bought Valentines had left her with little culinary talent, but it was all fine--a small tin of undercover brownie batter, just enough for two, was baking in the oven.

So she waited. She checked her facebook account. She took the cake out of the oven and iced it to the best of her abilities. She put it back into the oven to warm it. She painted her nails. She re-painted her nails. She even rearranged the contents of the refrigerator according to the food group, calorie count, and grams of saturated fat.

The sun had set long ago, the cake was half dried-out from being in the oven for too long, and Jessica still wasn’t home. Tiffany started to worry, but Jessica’s phone was conveniently turned off, just like she knew it would be. She stood up and paced the room. She checked her email. She the TV and then turned it off. She tapped her fingers on the coffee table. She thought about the episode of Criminal Minds that she had watched the night before. She wondered if she should call the Los Angeles police department. She waited some more.

The lock clicked and the door suddenly swung open, revealing a perfectly normal looking Jessica Hwang, her expression sullied. But when she caught sight of Tiffany waiting in the living room, she immediately conjured up a thousand-watt smile.

“Hey, Jess, I made you a cake...” Tiffany fumbled with the oven door as she retrieved the cake, quietly watching her cousin out of the corner of her eye. Jessica just smiled even wider.

“That’s okay, Tiffany. I’m not hungry.” And without waiting for an answer, she hurried upstairs to her room, humming quietly, though her voice was dull. Tiffany frowned as she looked at the crusty surface of the now dry cake.

The pizza never came.

⋘⋘❆⋙⋙

Yoona doodled on the paper, watching the pen ink flow smoothly across the page. She drew hearts all over the graph paper, writing Luhan & Yoona in cursive. She wondered how Luhan was doing back in California, because she had yet to figure out the fine science of Norwegian electricity plugs and her phone charger was absent without leave. She scribbled their names once more and sighed, imagining him in his empty apartment, heartbrokenly making calls to her unresponsive cell phone and shedding lonely tears on his windowsill as he peered forlornly at the colorless scenery below.

Yoona shook herself and blushed. She was acting like a middle schooler grossly infatuated with the  Jonas brothers.

Yuri nudged her arm hard, delivering her back to the conference table where a short, stout man was finishing up an analysis of the economic budget of the Norwegian city council. Everyone stood and applauded as he returned to his seat and rearranged the three strands of hair still left on his head. As the people in the room scrambled to their feet, gathering their possessions, Yoona noticed that everyone had taken diligent notes. She quickly stuffed her notebook of badly drawn sketches and loopy swirls of “Lu Yoona” into her purse and stood up to leave.

“Hey Yoona, what’s gotten into you?” Yuri asked, swinging her arms playfully.

A light blush appeared on her cheeks. “Nothing, I was just kind of distracted. Seriously, Yuri--stop wiggling your eyebrows at me, no, ugh, stop-”

“Make sure to call your boyfriend and tell him some disgustingly sweet nothings for me, okay? Byeeeeee, Mrs. Lu Yoonaaaa,” Yuri cackled, waltzing away in the opposite direction. Yoona rolled her eyes and pulled out her wallet.

120 krones, some loose change, and a crumpled ten dollar bill. She sighed and put it back. It was going to be a while until she could go exchange some money.

As she walked back to her hotel, cursing her heels and the cobbled pavement, she picked up a takeout menu at a Chinese restaurant that, surprisingly, spoke a little English. The musty smell of chimney smoke wafted through the cold air as Yoona harried through the crowd, her black pumps cramping her feet. She wrapped her shawl tighter over her shoulders as she finally neared the entrance of the hotel. The elevator was empty, so Yoona quickly removed her shoes and stretched her aching legs. Gripping her briefcase firmly with her right hand and her shoes in the other, she carefully shuffled down the hallway and into her room.

The bed had been remade and the furniture dusted. The air smelled like lemons as the furnace blasted heat into the small suite. She the television to watch Pretty Little Liars, before she remembered that she was in Norway. Exasperated, she flopped backwards onto the king-sized bed, but, losing her balance, she slipped on the comforter and landed on the firm carpet. Yoona wanted to cry in exasperation and possibly just lie on the floor for the rest of the evening, but she got up and limped to the bathroom, hoping to find a first aid kit or at least to run cold water over her knees. She flicked the switch, squinting to adjust to the bright LED lights, then blinking in bewilderment.

The soggy towels she had left on the sink counter had been replaced by new, fluffy ones folded into various shapes. There was a monkey hanging from the showerhead, a swan by the hairdryer, and a giraffe next to the soap dispenser. She walked closer to the sink, a small smile playing on her lips and bruised knees forgotten.

There was a small note jutting out from one of the giraffe’s feet and Yoona grabbed it. It was written in scraggly Korean that was barely readable, but Yoona managed to make out the few words scribbled onto the paper. Have a happy day! Remember to smile.

She immediately guessed that it was the bellboy from earlier. She ran back out to her briefcase and grabbed a pen. Flipping the paper over, she wrote a quick thank-you. Using a gum wrapper that was tucked inside the pocket of her parka, she folded a small crane and placed it on top of the note.

Feeling satisfied, she exited the bathroom and sat on the bed, picking up the takeout menu from earlier. “It’s okay to splurge on food,” she told herself. “After all, you did walk back to the hotel instead of taking a taxi.”

She scanned the menu curiously. Fried rice, boring, noodles, also boring, potstickers, okay, curry, eugh, kung pao chicken….

Yoona stopped and frowned at it. That was Luhan’s favorite dish. Whenever they had takeout back home he would order it first and refuse to share, saying “Well you think the peppers are too spicy, so it’s all mine now.” It was true, the peppercorns had always made her wipe her tongue in disgust, but suddenly, she felt like ordering some. So Yoona picked up the phone and dialed the number, thankful that the person on the other end spoke some English.

When the dishes finally arrived, Yoona quickly took out the small plastic container sitting on top and snapped her chopsticks apart before putting a piece of the chicken in and chewing.

It was just as bad as the first time she had tried it, but she continued chewing, tears prickling in her eyes. Yoona didn’t know if they were from the peppercorns or from missing Luhan, but she wiped them away and picked up another piece, and another, and another, each one tasting more and more bitter, leaving her with an unsettling feeling.

She closed the takeout container halfway through and slid back under her covers, mouth numb and tearducts burning.