“I am pretty sure this is the women’s department, Ryeowook,” Jemma sighed in exasperation, her gaze following the idol who was happily pouncing around the shelves. He just giggled and took off like a hawk that’d spotted its prey. She followed a little begrudgingly, trying to see what had made the boy run off like a child at a candy shop.

“Look, look, look!” he chirped, bouncing up and down, holding an oversized sweater with a giraffe print on the front, “It’s cute and they have it in 3 different colors and please hold this while I go try it on!” he shoved the bags in the manager’s hands and set off for the dressing rooms. 

Jemma found a white couch and the bags on it, annoyance clear in her features. She felt like she was being punished for some wrongdoing in the past – having a hyperactive idol obsessed with giraffes leading her around the large department store like some dog on a leash. Because like it or not, Jemma was bound to the idol by contract to not let him out of her sight at places where he could potentially cause a commotion.

“Your boyfriend is really cute,” came a voice from behind. Jemma turned around and saw a shopping assistant holding out a glass of champagne, “I can’t shake off the feeling that I’ve seen him somewhere before…do you shop here often?” she asked with a smile, as Jemma took a swig of champagne. The sweet liquid pleasantly tickled as she examined the assistant still politely smiling.

“He is not my boyfriend,” Jemma smiled politely. The woman giggled.

“You sure do look like it though,”

Jemma eyed the girl, sipping more champagne, “No, trust me. I work for him,” she handed back the empty glass, “And I don’t think you’ve seen him before, we don’t visit often,” she opened her bag, fishing for her phone, but then remembered it wouldn’t be there. When she looked back up, the sales assistant was gone, although Jemma spotted her behind a counter frantically looking up something on her phone.

Five minutes later, Ryeowook emerged from the dressing room wearing the sweater, “What do you think?” he asked. Jemma motioned for him to spin as she evaluated. The sweater was falling off his bony shoulder, revealing his left clavicle in a manner that shouldn’t have been so seductive. The manager’s brows furrowed, chasing away all those thoughts.

“It’s good. Take it and let’s go,” she ushered the boy back, already looking forward to being at the house where she could…what? With no phone or laptop, all she could do was spend the day at the massive library at the house, hoping to find something worth reading. 

“But Jemma,” Ryeowook whined, trying to act cute, “We haven’t been to the fourth floor yet and I wanted to check out the accessories section,” he looked at her with pleading eyes. She sighed, shaking her head no, “Please? Just another hour?” 

Not seeing the point of arguing, the manager just rolled her eyes and ushered him towards the dressing room again. She had a bad feeling about her decision, however she decided to ignore it and move on. The faster they finished here, the faster she would be back at the house. 

Ryeowook emerged out of the dressing room a few minutes later, holding the sweater in three different colors and they took off. Walking past the mannequins, Jemma let her mind wander off and before she realised, she was standing before a mannequin wearing a white dress. Her eyes followed the delicate embroidery on the bodice, the soft fall of the skirt, hitting just under the knee. The fabric looked like it was glowing in the bright daylight seeping through the tall window. Suddenly she felt a suppressed memory emerge, a cotton white dress, red lipstick, blonde hair tied up in a tight bun. It was the eyes though – those bright blue pools, brighter than any gem on earth, b with tears that would never dare fall, a silent plea directed at the girl, the world, the universe. A look of silent defeat, regret, sorrow – it was a look Jemma could never forget. It still haunted her at night.

“Do it for your father, Jemma,” her mother had begged, “He deserves it. Please, Jemma…”

“Jemma!” the voice came as if through a tunnel. The girl shook her head, realizing she was still staring at the dress. Ryeowook was standing by the escalators ahead, questioningly looking at the girl. She hurried, trying to forget – although she never could – her mother’s pleas to go to the funeral. She never went.

“