Irene unlocks the door and invites Wendy to come in. She admires the quaint apartment – half excited about knowing another side of Irene’s personality, and half expectant that it’s just what she had imagined.

It is enough for a single person to live in but big compared to other studio-type apartments. The furniture is simple but classy, fitting for a woman like Irene. The walls are grazed with elegant mirrors and some paintings. On one corner is a desk with piled-up books, intermediate pads, and highlighter pens. On another is a bookshelf, filled with various books from fiction to self-help to references.

She sees a row of frames by the living room with pictures of Irene with her family and some friends. One picture shows a ten-year-old Irene and her sister playing by the beach. Another shows her high school graduation day, with her parents smiling behind her.

She also sees a picture of Irene with Seulgi, Krystal, and Amber at a college event. The couples are holding hands.

There’s another picture of Irene and Seulgi, and she tries her best to ignore it. They looked so happy as they look into the camera (to Wendy’s eyes) with Irene’s arms wrapped around Seulgi’s shoulders from behind her.

She looks away to Irene’s recent solo picture with a surfboard by the beach.

“Let’s take a picture so I can add you that collection.” Wendy’s startled to hear a voice by her side. She turns to see Irene who puts out her phone so they could take a selca together.

That is how one sentence changed Wendy’s mood from jealousy to love struck in an instant.

---

“You can watch TV or something while I prepare our dinner.” Irene says while preparing the ingredients, busily cutting the vegetables and setting them aside.

“Can’t I help?” Wendy pouts with her best imitation of a puppy, which proved to be useless because Irene does not even look at her.

Irene finally looks up. “No. Just go make yourself feel at home while I cook.” She says before immediately resuming with her work.

Wendy huffs. She was sitting on a chair by the counter watching Irene pace around the kitchen when the latter shooed her away.

She goes back to the sofa, gets the remote on the table when something else catches her eye. She picks it up and starts screaming while running to kitchen.

“What?! Are you okay?!” Irene almost bumps into her by the doorway, wearing an apron and holding a ladle in her hand. If only Wendy could