On the corner of 15th Street, there was a glass house that attracted a lot of attention.

 

It was a normal glass house, made from ceiling windows and metal, privacy contained behind sleek black curtains and a demure looking door. It was a house strategically placed because of the market just down the street and the world renowned cafe opposite it. The house also boasted a colourful garden, its owners having green thumbs and a penchant for blue and pink flowers, with fairy lights hanging off the side of the walls, lighting up softly once the sun went to rest.

 

But these were not the reasons why the house attracted a lot of attention.

 

The main reason was tucked beneath the fairy lights and overshadowed the beautiful gardens, hiding the windows from the view of the world.

 

The glass house, owned by two people who are very much in love, was covered with post its, each with words of love written on them.

 

*

 

Tiffany’s head shot up when she heard a vehicle pull up, glancing over to the empty house opposite her cafe where two women were standing in front of, one with hair spun from gold, the other dark as midnight. She raised her eyebrow at the sight of the newcomers, watching carefully as the movers started to unload the boxes, the blonde jumping on the spot excitedly as she waved her hands about. The dark haired woman was smiling, a smile that she could see all the way from her cafe, Tiffany’s own lips curling into a her own smile as she continued to observe two people who were very much in love.

 

She shook her head and went back to frothing the milk, directing the smile back at the customer in front of her, whom had thankfully not seen her distracted. She passed the drink over to the businesswoman once she was done, the lady nodding at her in thanks before moving away, the bell ringing softly as the door opened. Moving aside to the cashier’s, she tapped the screen once to tick off the order, lifting her head immediately when the bell rang again, stuttering when she realised it was the new neighbours.

 

Her new, beautiful neighbours.

 

That she was staring at earlier.

 

“W-welcome to Eclare!”

 

The dark haired woman seemed distracted, her eyes roaming the cafe’s interior but her fingers were tightly clasped with the blonde’s, the light haired woman gently guiding the dazed woman over to the counter, her eyes curving into a smile that matched the ones on her lips as she greeted Tiffany.

 

The blonde pointed to the sign that said ‘Cakes of the Day! Ask the friendly barista!’.

 

“Hi! I was wondering what cakes you have on menu today?”

 

Tiffany nodded, rattling off the cakes they had on hand today, calmed down somewhat when she realised there was no way they could’ve known Tiffany had been staring at them earlier. The blonde listened intently and ordered without even consulting with the dark haired woman, the distracted woman still looking around the cafe as though it fascinated her.

 

“Alright, could I grab a latte, a hot chocolate, and a slice of that peanut butter chocolate cake?”

 

Tiffany jabbed the screen and keyed in their orders, watching them carefully from the corner of her eyes.

 

The blonde tugged on her counterpart’s hand, whispering so softly that Tiffany couldn’t catch the words but Tiffany was floored by how dazed brown eyes turned soft and attentive when her other half called for her. The ebony haired woman’s lips quirked up into a small smile as she gazed at the light haired woman lovingly, answering when the blonde finished her sentence.

 

“You know I’m okay with whatever you ordered.”

 

The blonde’s smile, if it was possible, brightened further, the woman leaning in to brush their noses together, Tiffany blushing in the midst of very obvious love.

 

Clearing awkwardly, Tiffany told them the amount they have to pay, asking for their names once they gave over money.

 

“Could I get your names please? And is it to go or dining in?”

 

The blonde grinned.

 

“I’m Wendy. And this one here is Irene. And dining in, please.”

 

The black haired woman raised a hand in greeting, the previous attentiveness Tiffany had seen disappearing behind mysterious pools of brown, Irene once again distracted by something or another in her cafe.

 

“Alright! I call your names once your orders are ready.”

 

Wendy nodded and pulled Irene towards a row of tables by the window, the both of them seating themselves at the table where they could see the movers clearly, Wendy speaking silently again. Tiffany watched in fascination as Irene, once again, pulled away from whatever it was that caught her attention to listen to Wendy, her eyes practically forming hearts as the blonde continued to talk, her hand motions matching her words excitedly.

 

Tiffany shook her head and started on the orders, her lips matching the smiles on both women’s faces.

 

It wasn’t everyday she saw two people who were very much in love.

 

*

 

“...Hi?”

 

Tiffany peeked from behind the coffee machine, greeting the customer with a smile and wiped her hands on her apron.

 

“Hey, what can I get for you today, Irene?”

 

Irene frowned slightly, her fingers twisting in her shirt, as though she was missing the touch of someone. A cursory glance out the windows told her that Wendy was currently sitting on a ladder, the blonde painting a metal beam blue. Irene cleared , her eyes darting up to the menu board, the black haired woman coming closer to the counter, Tiffany leaning in to listen better.

 

“Could I get ... a latte- no, could you make it a double hot chocolate and an iced chocolate?”

 

Tiffany raise her brow, wondering why Irene was changing the drinks up but said nothing, nodding as she put in the woman’s order.

 

“Alright, anything else?”

 

Her confusion must have been present in her tone or face because Irene supplied the answer as she pointed out several pastries for Tiffany to pack as well.

 

“SeungWan hasn’t been eating well and she has low blood sugar. I’m trying to get her to cut back on the coffee.”

 

Tiffany didn’t have to ask who SeungWan was, Irene already giving it away when she turned back towards the house, her eyes softening and that same smile appearing whenever she caught sight of Wendy.

 

Tiffany finished the order quickly, dumping in several chocolate danishes into the bag without Irene knowing, and passed it over to the dark haired woman, Irene lowering her head in thanks. She gathered the cups in her arms carefully and exited the shop, her feet taking her back across the street quickly.

 

Tiffany couldn’t help but continue to stare, Irene passing over the hot chocolate to Wendy and a pastry, the blonde jumping off from the ladder and hugging Irene.

 

Tiffany laughed along with them but couldn’t quite keep the envy out of her heart.

 

(She too wanted someone looking out for her like the both of them did for each other.)

 

*

 

The both of them soon became regulars at her cafe, Tiffany making fast friends with Wendy, the composer’s personality matching hers eerily well and she often had a laugh when Wendy was in store. She had a little bit of trouble connecting with Irene, mainly because the woman was so closed off and didn’t seem to be interested in anything else other than the notebook she had with her or Wendy.

 

Wendy clued her in three weeks after they moved in, two weeks after Tiffany found out that the couple were both younger than her.

 

“JooHyun is a writer so she’s often in her own world. It’s hard to get her out and sometimes, it’s endearing but sometimes, I get so annoyed.”

 

Tiffany wiped the glass and raised it to her eyes to inspect for water spots, placing it back on the shelf when she was satisfied.

 

“You don’t like it when she’s in her own world?”

 

Wendy sighed and placed her chin on her palm, her eyes travelling over to Irene who was scribbling something in the corner.

 

“Sometimes, I just wished she’d listen to me more.”

 

“Have you told her?”

 

Wendy made a shrugging, nodding gesture, her hands folded on her stomach.

 

“I tried? But I ended up just rambling and I think I lost her attention halfway.”

 

Tiffany laughed, folding her wet cloth properly before hanging it on the rack, wanting to let the blonde know of her observations (and hopefully soothe some nerves).

 

“I don’t know if you noticed, Wendy, but if there was ever a time Irene paid attention to something, it’s when you’re involved.”

 

Wendy furrowed her brow.

 

“What?”

 

Tiffany picked her thermometer up, pointing it over to Irene before using it to measure the water in her machine.

 

“Call her. You’ll see.”

 

Wendy gave her a look but complied, raising her voice slightly, the end of her sentence hitching slightly in happiness.

 

“JooHyun-?”

 

Irene closed her book slowly and ambled over to Wendy, one arm wrapping around Wendy’s waist, their hands finding each other without even looking.

 

“Hmm, what is it?”

 

Wendy’s grin was threatening to split her face, shaking her head before kissing Irene on the cheek. Tiffany huffed softly and raised her eyebrow at the younger woman, the blonde mouthing a thank you to the barista.

 

Tiffany ducked behind the machine, turning on the steamer to check on it.

 

She was glad that she could help clear a misunderstanding between Wendy and Irene.

 

(Her mind wandered to a time where something like that had happened-

 

No.)

 

It just didn’t seem right that there were things that could tear them apart.

 

*

 

One night, when Tiffany was sleeping, she heard a door slam before the shouting started.

 

She remembered being startled because she had never heard Irene raise her voice even when she argued with Wendy over trivial and big matters, her voice always hushed while they stayed in the corner of her shop. She remembered wondering why Wendy was crying, her words jumbled with sobs, almost indiscernible but loud. She remembered huddling under her blankets, at that precipice where she was in between sleep and consciousness, Wendy and Irene’s voices filtering into her wavering dreams.

She remembered thinking that this wasn’t right, that this was a nightmare.

 

“You never listen! I told you time and again-”

 

“I listen! I only ever listen to you! I’ve always listened-”

 

“Then why couldn’t you remember?! I told you before it was-”

 

“That’s completely unfair! You told me weeks ago-”

 

“I told my co-worker weeks ago and he remembers!”

 

“What does he have to do with anything?!”

 

“Everything! Do you even care?!”

 

“I do! I’ve only ever cared about you!”

 

“Then show it! Pay attention! Remember the things I tell you! I told you weeks ago that this was an important meeting for me but you didn’t listen and came barging into my meeting-”

 

“I was worried! Am I not supposed to be worried?!”

 

“You wouldn’t have to if you just listened!”

 

“I told you, I listen!”

 

Tiffany had winced at the screech, Irene’s voice coming out hoarse.

 

“I always listen to you.”

 

It was quiet after that and soon Tiffany found herself falling back asleep, brushing off the events as a hallucination.

 

And after that, she remembered Wendy’s reply.

 

“But you never remember. And it doesn’t seem like you care. I need to know you care.”

 

And she remembered thinking they both should learn to listen to each other because it seemed like they were shouting at each other without really hearing what the other was saying.

 

*

 

You told me that I never remember a word you said. But I was too busy memorising the songs your eyes were singing, the way your face lit up with every gesture you made, the way your mouth shaped while forming the words, the small dimple on your cheek. Because, to me, those were all the words worth remembering. But I’ll be better, just come back to me.

 

Tiffany had not thought about the night until the first post it appeared by the side of the glass house, blue and unassuming, taped down tightly to prevent it from flying off. Her customers had come in twittering excitedly about the words written on the note, cooing to Tiffany when she asked.

 

“It’s really romantic! Like a love letter!”

 

Tiffany frowned but thought nothing of it, thinking it was just another one of Wendy and Irene’s little projects, their previous attempt still blooming beautifully in the garden.

 

Until Irene walked in alone, her eye withdrawn and her hands empty of a notebook. Tiffany didn’t dare speak up when Irene ordered, a small latte and watched the younger woman take a seat by the window, her eyes trained on her house.

 

It wasn’t until the sky had turned dark and the full cup of coffee in front of Irene had gone cold that Tiffany asked, even though she already knew the answer.

 

“Irene.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Where’s Wendy?”

 

She remembered how Irene’s eyes had watered but no tears spilt, the woman merely gripping her cup tightly as she drew the drink towards her. Irene had sniffed at the drink before answering, her voice small but strong.

 

“SeungWan left.”

 

*

 

I’m slowly picking up the pieces of the glass heart I gave to you so I could return it between your ribs when you come back.

 

Irene stayed in that corner by the window, always looking over her house. The blue post it was soon joined by other notes, each brilliantly coloured, each containing an epitaph from the writer’s heart.

 

(Tiffany had read one or two but stopped ultimately because it seemed too private, too much of a love letter to someone who had moved away.)

 

She continued to order coffee she would never drink, writing down lines and lines of words in her notebook that was soon filled with words she couldn’t put up by the side of her house.

 

Irene sat there by the corner by the window and watched her house, a silent beacon wishing for Wendy to walk up that pathway and come back home.

 

Tiffany silently gave her food and a comforting hot cup of chocolate but Irene barely touched them, picking at the food while she continued to bask in the smell of her cold cup of latte.

 

*

 

Due to the ever growing popularity of the glass house made from love letters, Tiffany found that her business was booming, forcing her to have to hire extra help just to cope with the amount of people coming over for coffee after taking a peek at the very public heartbreak. Her extra hands, Seulgi, Sulli and Krystal, had immediately taken to Irene, all of them often sighing in the corner as they lamented over her romanticism and her ever lasting love for the person initialled SW on the windows.

 

Tiffany shook her head when Krystal started up the subject again, all three employees still staring at Irene who was typing in the corner.

 

(It was a relief to see Irene finally functioning again, typing out her stories and eating, even if she only ever ate things Wendy favoured.

 

Even if it had taken the writer 3 months to snap out of it.

 

Tiffany pointedly ignored the untouched cup of coffee situated near Irene.)

 

“Do you think she’d ever come back?”

 

Sulli groused softly.

 

“She had months to come back, she probably wouldn’t.”

 

Seulgi put in her two cents.

 

“I think the actual question would be if Irene would stop waiting.”

 

Shaking her head, Tiffany answered the three of them, effectively putting a stop to the gossip and scattering the three of them.

 

“Irene will wait as long as she still has letters to write.”

 

She glanced over to her friend and saw that Irene was still stuck in her own world, where words mattered and SeungWan was loved and shook her head.

 

Irene will wait because she still has so much to tell Wendy in the form she was comfortable with.

 

*

 

You told me that I should’ve cared more. I told you I did. But I didn’t know how to make you believe it. Because I would rather shadow you every step of the way so you can find your own happiness than show you overly open gestures. But I’m learning how to.

 

Tiffany remembered that sentence as clear as day, even though she had first read it all those months ago.

 

She doesn’t know whether to call Irene loyal or stupid.

 

(Maybe she’s both.)

 

*

 

I’m learning to be less of a dreamer and more of a realist because I found out that reality tied me to you. Dreams mean nothing if I did not wake up to you. When will you be back?

 

“Will you try moving on, Irene?”

 

Tiffany placed down her second cup of coffee, her other hand taking away the stale batch and placing it on her tray. Irene blinked once, twice, her eyes drooping from staring at her computer for too long and she looked up, pursed.

 

“I’m sorry, did you say something?”

 

(“I don’t know if you noticed, Wendy, but if there was ever a time Irene paid attention to something, it’s when you’re involved.”

 

“What?”

 

“Call her, you’ll see.”)

 

Tiffany repeated herself slowly, watching as Irene digest her words and not reply.

 

She knew that the writer had understood her hidden meaning but had chosen not to say anything.

 

“Irene, this isn’t healthy.”

 

Irene shrugged and closed her laptop silently, her fingers twined above the sleek silver machine.

 

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll wait.”

 

Almost about to tip the cold latte over Irene’s head (how can anyone be that stubborn?!), Tiffany sat down in a huff, pulled into a worried frown.

 

“This is not healthy. You’re sitting here, barely living w