I enter the marbled floors of the office and see the employees eye at me like I’m their prey. I hear whispers from their cubicles and now I’m convinced it’s another day in the office. They probably heard the whole dating thing with Mr. Oh—I fake-dated my boss for two days, in a foreign country and encountered his ex, it’s worth a whole lot of rumors in the office of course. But I ignore them. I received an e-mail from the HR department head yesterday, saying that I only have a week left to finish my required hours. Yes, a week. I idly wonder if Mr. Oh has been notified that I end my internship this Saturday. But I immediately stop myself from thinking of such when I am reminded that we’re no longer even friends anymore. I want myself to be nothing but professional this week, considering that it’s my last.

When I reach my desk, I see that the daisies have already died in the improvised vase I had for it. I catch a sting on my chest, looking at how the petals are pale and hanging low when they used to be so lively and bright. I stare at it, with full knowledge that by now it should be tossed in the trash bin, but a part of me can’t bear to touch it. I want it there like it used to be. I had such a beautiful memory with those daisies, how a beautiful man, a newfound beautiful friend gave them followed by a beautiful Japanese lunch date. That beautiful day I was commanded out of my box and feel comfortable around him and mouth his oddly beautiful name. It was that day we became more than just the man who gave me orders and more than the girl who followed his every word. But now the daisies are dead, pretty much like the short-lived friendship we’ve managed to keep for a limited time.

My phone vibrates and a reminder flashes on screen. Give Mr. Oh a morning call :) it says. I stare at it for a moment and hesitate. One of these days, this alarm is no longer going to exist anymore. And somehow, that fact brings a wave of sadness in me. I turn it off and call him anyway. It rings for a couple of times, until he picks up. He breathes on the line, but doesn’t greet me. I want him to yell ‘what’ like I’ve disturbed him from something, just like how he used to answer my morning calls. But instead, there’s only breathing on the other end.

“Good morning, Mr. Oh,” I tell him with regret that there’s not much enthusiasm in my voice as there have been in my past morning calls to him. I wait for him to say it back, but there’s no good morning, too, Ms. Kim or a simple what’s my schedule for today. My mouth hangs open, wondering what should I say next and I can still hear him just breathing. Part of me wants to ask him what he had for breakfast, how is he doing, did he catch a jetlag, or if he’s tired. I clear my throat; “You’ve got a meeting this afternoon with Director Jung and a scheduled dinner meeting with President Oh.” I tell him and wait for him to say thank you, but all I can hear is breathing and nothing more.

I take it as a cue to hang up, but oddly, I don’t. I remain on the line, like him. We don’t talk. We just breathe. No words said, but I know there’s a lot to say. Why can’t you say it? I ask him this in my head. He has no idea how frustrated I am, how badly I want to speak not just for me, but also for him. I already know, but why can’t you say it? Why are you like this? I want him to tell me it was nothing if it really was nothing. I want him to say it was something if it was something. I just want you to say something else other than ‘it’s complicated’ or ‘you don’t understand’. If it’s complicated then tell me why so I can at least try to simplify things. If you think I don’t understand it then make me understand. Do something. Say something.

A pair of warm hands covers my eyes as I feel someone’s presence behind me, “Guess who?” Mr. Kai asks as he chuckles. I grab his hand and take it off and turn to him. He smiles brightly at me, “Good morning!” He exclaims as I give him the same bright smile he gave and bow my head. I briefly look at my phone and see that the call has already ended. A pang of pain meets my chest and I look back up at Mr. Kai.

“Good morning, too, sir.” I tell him.

He looks inside Sehun’s office and then eyes at me, “He isn’t here yet?” I nod in response and he looks at his watch, “I guess he’s really buying me time. I didn’t think he would do it,” I’m confused and Mr. Kai gives me a look.

“Buy you time for what, sir?”

“Breakfast. I know your morning food intake is less than you’re supposed to get so I asked your boss if I could borrow you to eat with me,” There’s a bitter taste in my mouth. As much as I find Mr. Kai’s gesture sweet and as flustered as I am with how he’s nice and warm around me, knowing that Sehun technically gave him permission to be like this around me makes me sad. It makes me think that’s it. It’s really all that it was. He’s just going to let another guy make his way towards me when our days spent in New Zealand felt so scary yet so right.

Mr. Kai takes me to the rooftop and there’s a basket sitting on top of a white blanket in the middle of the helipad. I give him a look as my mouth stretches into an unsure smile, “Mr. Kai…”

He sheepishly smiles at me and scratches the back of his head, “I know picnics aren’t supposed to be…well…on a helipad. But it’s a place with no reception and the best view of the city,”

“I’m fine with the convenient store though.” I tell him as he points his index finger at me and walks to the picnic basket. I look at him as he opens the basket and reveals to me the bread and snacks bought from the convenient store, “You didn’t!”

“I knew you’d comment about food. I had to get you the ones that won’t burden you.” He tells me confidently and I give him a satisfied smile, “I figured I shouldn’t play the prince charming card on you. It’s too cliché,” He adds and my mouth gapes at him. I know exactly what he means and I know his words aren’t just plain said words. It has meaning to it. Shots have been fired, regardless. Did he have to go there?

Mr. Kai knew it was all fake. He knew it all even before I admitted it. He knew I lied to him about it, he knew Sehun only did it to save us both from—and I quote—Jacob the maniac and Catherine the ex. And he also knew I was hurt from the show we tried to pull off to fool a few people. It was astounding how easily he read me like an open book. Mr. Kai only made mention of Sehun when we were on our way back to the hotel. He didn’t force me to talk about it when he asked why, but I somehow managed to vent a part of my frustration and dejectedness. And he told me it was all going to be okay and he makes me want to believe so.

“Yeah, like the stuff you see in movies,” I say and I let out a sigh. I look at him and smile, “And is this your way of giving me a movie moment, too, huh? What’s your movie reference? What’s the scene supposed to be?” last time I got a dance scene under the moonlight and a kiss in the rain. What’s it going to be now?

Mr. Kai bends down to grab a piece of bread from the basket, “Nah,” He tosses me the bread and smiles at me, “I prefer an original movie, featuring the guy with Spice Girl’s on his playlist and