A week had passed after Moonbyul's confession, and she did not hear from her since, though she saw her a few times on the news, swarmed by microphones and voice recorders. She knew how she hated that, and she laughed every time she saw her annoyance publicly shown on national TV. 

It was her birthday and there were wishes from her parents, her friends and her colleagues, but not from Moonbyul. She got to admit. She had been checking her phone constantly, but each time she looked away feeling a little down. 

"Maybe she's busy," she told herself as she browsed through the TV channels. 

Moonbyul was indeed busy. They pulled out the footages from the black box, but it turned out that the car thief was not that stupid afterall. The last footage they got was the Jungs' car porch, which meant he managed to disable it. She reviewed the footages over and over again, but she found no evidence related to the case. And maybe also because of Jung Won Il's rather disturbing smile, which kept reappearing in her mind. He was trying to tell her something; she was certain of that. Maybe he was telling her that Solar no longer loved her, and she had finally moved on. Maybe that was why she always pulled her hand back after reaching out for her phone to call the other person. 

It was Solar's birthday. She remembered; she never forgot, but she cowered. Maybe she should not have told her how she felt. 

She stopped the car and grabbed the umbrella from the back seat. Holding a bouquet in her hand, she walked up the hill to where her mother was resting. Her father walked in front of her, dressed in black. His back slightly hunched and his footsteps heavy. The big black umbrella above his head suddenly made him look small. 

They stopped in front of a small gravestone, among all the others. She knelt down on one knee, disregarding the puddle, laying the bouquet of chrysanthemum down. That was her mother's favourite flower, and they would bring it to her every year. Her mother's smile was as bright as the flowers, somehow making her forget the pain of losing her. 

"Hi mom, we're back," she said softly against the rain. Her father stood behind her in silence. "How have you been doing?" 

The sound of rain drops beating against their umbrellas echoed, as if it was her mother's answer. It peaceful, like how she had probably found peace on the other side. 

"We're doing great, so don't worry about us," she continued to say. She would tear up when she said the same thing years ago, but she no longer had the urge to cry. She was smiling. It had been ten years since her mother's passing; it was time to let go.  

"I love you, mom. I always do," she said as she reached out to wipe the droplets on her mother's face. She lingered for a few seconds before standing up, making way for her father. She left him to give him space like how she always did. 

Her father was a tough man, both in appearance and personality, but her mother's passing rubbed his edges away. He blamed himself for her mother's death, and she blamed him as well, for the first few years. It was all his fault, she told herself. If only he had kept her by his side more often, so the culprit would not have the chance to seek revenge on her. 

Yes, if only. When she was with Solar, she finally understood how her father probably felt. Anxiety, anger, helplessness... That constant reminder to herself that she had to protect Solar added on to those emotions. It did not help when her birthday coincided with her mother's death anniversary, and neither did Solar’s constant traveling. She occupied herself with work to stop herself from thinking but it only frustrated her even more, and it got her to the point where she thought, "Maybe she would be better without me." 

Her father stepped away from the gravestone and looked longingly at his wife. She never knew what her father was thinking. He might say he was no longer blaming himself but sometimes, the frown he had when he looked at the pictures of the past said otherwise.  

They walked back to the car in silence. After her mother left, she rarely spoke to her father, and she regretted it. A simple "how are you" or "it's okay, I'll be here" would be enough, but all she gave him was guilt. 

"Dad?" She called out softly to him. There was no reply, so she thought he could not hear her, but when she looked up, her father was looking at her with genuine interest. Suddenly, she forgot what she wanted to say.

"If you have another chance," she blurted out unknowingly; that was the question she always wanted to ask. "Would you push mom away? So she won't have to..."

She did not have to finish the question because she knew her father understood her perfectly. 

"No," he said, almost instantly. 

They reached the car, and there was a long pause before her father spoke again. 

"I would regret it even more if I were to let her go. If it was destined to be this way," he said, in a voice so soft that she had never heard before. "I'm glad I didn't push her away." 

She never knew her father was someone who believed in destiny, but he must have thought about it a lot to finally put it that way. Her father must have struggled more than her, considering the decades he had spent with her mother. 

Moon Bo Han looked at the somewhat troubled expression on his daughter's face. Though they did not share the closest relationship, she was still his daughter afterall, and he could feel something was bothering her.

"Why did you ask?" He asked.

Moonbyul quickly glanced over to her father before turning her attention back to the road. She shrugged it off as mere curiosity. 

"Is it really just curiosity?" He asked again.

Other times she would have been annoyed but then, she was not. Instead, she kept quiet because she did not know how to answer. Her mother always said she was just like her father, personality-wise. They were both awfully private, and even to the people closest to them, they were slow to open up. She had never told her father about Solar, but he could have guessed. 

Seeing how his daughter was not answering, he changed the topic. 

"How's the case going?" Though he was long retired, he still followed the cases that were happening now and then. 

"Still working on it," Moonbyul said. "We got the footages from the black box. We've been looking at it for the past few days but nothing striking."

He could hear the frustration in her voice. He understood her feelings, but there was something more to just frustration. It was too silmilar; it felt like dejavu. 

"Where is he? Have you found him? Why are you taking so long to find a man?" Moon Bo Han shouted at his officers. The person whom they were desperately trying to lock up escaped and they knew nothing about his whereabouts. 

His phone rang, and he paused to look at the screen. His wife called. 

"Well, continue searching!" He said, feeling frustrated. He took a deep breath before answering the call. "Hello?"

"Hello, Inspector," a sing-song voice greeted him. It was cheerful but he knew there was nothing to be happy about. He froze and he looked at his phone screen again. It was his wife. It should be her. "Your wife asks me to send you her love."

In that moment, he sprinted out of the station and drove home as fast as he could, but it was too late. His wife was lying on the ground, gasping for air, and the killer no where to be seen. The moment she saw him, a very small smile formed. He never knew how much energy she took, but the next moment, her eyes closed and she was gone forever. From then on, he blamed himself. If only the killer did not escape; if only he found him first; if only he did not leave his wife alone; if only he was fast enough; if only. 

"Byul," her father called out to her softly. She stopped the car as the traffic light turned red. He reached out to place a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it affectionately. "Whatever is going to happen will happen, don't be to hard on yourself."

Then, she realised that her father had already freed himself from the guilt that ensnared him for years and he knew what she was going through. The green light lit up. She smiled, and nodded. I will, she hoped.

"Live a life you won't regret, Byul," her father said after she dropped him off first. "No matter how painful it is."

She stood outside Solar's apartment, the present in her hand. No regrets from this moment onwards. She knocked on the door, the way only the two of them would know. A few seconds later, the door opened, revealing Solar all dressed up. Her heart sank as she realised she was probably one step too late, again. She stuck her hands into the pockets of her jacket, conveniently hiding the present. 

"Hey," she greeted with a smile, trying to look as natural as possible. 

Solar broke into a bright smile the moment she saw who was at the door. "Byul!" 

"Are you going out?" Moonbyul pointed to her outfit. She was just asking the obvious. Solar looked at the dress she was wearing and nodded. When she saw Moonbyul, she forgot that she was not celebrating her birthday with her. "I, uh, just wanted to, uh, wish you a happy birthday." 

She looked at the pockets of Moonbyul's jacket. It seemed like she was fumbling for something but when she took out her hands, empty, to give her a hug, she was a little disappointed. Then again, what was she hoping for? 

"You should get going, you don't want to be late," Moonbyul said. Suddenly, she seemed so distant again. She wanted to say something but the notification from her phone distracted her. 

"I'm here." A message from Jung Won Il. 

Just like a week ago, Moonbyul walked her down but this time, she felt like a wall was up, separating  them. All this while up till the moment they left, Moonbyul had her hands in her pockets. She pulled out a ring with a chain attached to it. It was a ring that she had worn since young; a ring given to her by her mother. A moon and a star were engraved on it. "You can give this to the person you love when you grow up," her mother told her.

She always wore it, either on her finger or as a necklace, and this was the first time she took it off with the intention of giving it to someone. She sighed and looked up at the sky. 

"Mom, where do people go after they die?" Moonbyul asked. She was five. 

Her mother ruffled her hair affectionately and carried her out to the balcony. She pointed to the night sky and asked, "Can you see that?"

Moonbyul squinted. She could not see anything but if her mother could see it, it meant that there was something. She nodded her head furiously. 

"It's a star. People become stars after they die," her mother said, bouncing her around in her arms. "When mommy grows old and can no longer stay, I'll become a star and look out for you from above, so if you're having a hard time, just look up and mommy will be there with you."

People would not become stars after death, but every year, on that faithful day, she chose to believe that. She wished her mother would be here with her, to hold her and tell her what to do. She held back her tears, and whispered with hope that her mother would be listening, "Mom... Please help me."

"Don't make choices that you'll regret," a voice popped up, in her memories. Her mother said the same thing to her, just like her father, but how would she know if it was a regrettable choice or not? She looked down at the silver ring in her hand. Maybe her heart already knew what to do but she was just too afraid to actually realise it.

-

The light along the corridor flickered on as Solar exited the lift. Jung Won Il brought her out for a feast. It was good meal, but that was it. He gave her a beautiful bracelet and it was sweet of him, but there was just this emptiness in her that she could not explain. She took out her key and it jingled, along with a shuffling noise behind her. She turned her head sharply and saw Moonbyul sitting on the stairs. 

"Byul?" She took a step towards her.

Moonbyul stood up and held out something for her to see. It was a silver ring, with a moon and a star engraved on it. She recognised this ring, and she knew how much it meant to the person standing in front of her.

"Happy birthday," Moonbyul said. She glanced down at her watch and smiled. 30 minutes to midnight. "I hope I'm not too late."