Seasons change.  Time passes.  And early May once again finds thirty-year old Jung Yunho nervously anticipating an evening with his soul mate.  Checking his watch, Yunho quickly ducks through the doorway of a local flower shop.  Yoochun highly recommends it as the absolute best place to go for special-occasion flowers, and Yunho absolutely has to have roses for his anniversary dinner with Jaejoong.  He feels guilty that they had to postpone their celebration a day.  But sweet, supportive Jaejoong insisted that being prepared for his big presentation at work was more important.

“Besides,” Jaejoong had said with a dazzling smile, “This way we can celebrate our marriage and your success at the same time.”

So they made plans to meet for a quiet dinner at their favourite restaurant: the same place Yunho proposed seven years ago.  It has a new owner and a new interior design since then, but it’s still a very sentimental place for them both.  A lot of good memories have been made within its walls: birthdays, anniversaries, Valentine and White Days.  Yunho hopes another will be made this evening.  In the wake of a stellar presentation, his promotion is finally official, and Yunho is now financially in a position to pick up all of those hints Jaejoong has been dropping the past couple of years about wanting to start a family.

Unable to supress the grin that keeps slipping onto his face, Yunho selects two dozen blood red roses surrounded by deep green fern leaves.  The girl behind the counter carefully wraps them in cellophane and a white ribbon before ringing his purchase into the cash register.

Yunho pulls a black leather wallet out of his dark pinstriped suit, reaching for his platinum credit card to pay for the flowers, then sets about filling out the tiny card with the words:

For: My life, my love, my heart, my soul, my Jaejoongie

                                                       Now and forever yours, Yunho

“Thank you for your purchase, Sir,” the young lady says, handing back his credit card and receipt.

He glances up to retrieve the receipt and notices, to his dismay, that the succulent green stems of the roses have gone dark and discoloured.

No!

He grabs up the bouquet, heedless of thorns, and stares in horror at the fragrant rose petals: once a deep, sensual crimson, now a dull grey.

“No, no, no, no, no,” he whispers, unable to believe his eyes.

“Is something wrong, Sir?” the girl asks.

“No, no, this…this can’t be happening.”

Clutching the flowers to his chest, he rushes back onto the street.  He presses two on his speed dial and races toward the parking lot in which he left his automobile.

“Please pick up, Baby.  Please…Joongie…answer me, please,” he frantically murmurs, fumbling for his keys.

Eventually the ringing ceases, and an enchanting, cheerful voice sounds.

You’ve reached the voice mail of Kim Jaejoong...

“,” Yunho hisses, hanging up quickly to dial their home number.

A handful of rings yields the same result.

You have reached the home of Jung Yunho and Kim Jaejoong…

Yunho fights the urge to hurl