Note: This story is a direct sequel to Elevator Love Letter, and it is told from Wheein's perspective.

 

Four Walls

Broods

 

---

 

You know I told you that I wasn't scared, well I lied

 

---

 

I must’ve been around seven years old when something began to change within me, when fear and anxiety began creeping into my life. Just thinking about it makes me nostalgic for the days when I had been wide-eyed, still naive, believing that I could do anything. “Anything” was such a large, inexplicable idea—my imagination, too restricted by my little world, could never have comprehended the potential of the word.

 

I missed the days before reality broke into my life.

 

It was evening—October, perhaps—when I found my mother with her head buried in her hands. I’d never seen her so still before, and yet, not having built a window to the adult world, I hugged her knee and begged her to look at my drawing.

 

“Not now, Wheein,” she said. Her voice was wound tight like a broken toy mouse.

 

“I made something beautiful, Mama,” I had insisted. “Don’t be sad.”

 

“It doesn’t help, darling. I’m sorry.”

 

Though I know now that my father’s departure had impacted my mother in ways I could not possibly comprehend, that was when I realized two things.

 

First, my art was to be mine alone. That it could not make anyone happy, at least not in the same way I willed it to empty my mind and falsify my contentedness. And perhaps...if not even art could make anyone happy, I began believing that I couldn’t make anyone happy.

 

And second—I think it was around then, as a seven-year-old who could only watch as her mother shattered right before her—that I realized how useless and weak human beings were. Worse than useless, we were destructive.

 

Over the course of all the disappointments in my life, I came to accept and reassert the truth over and over. People are parasites. To the land, the sky, the sea. Most of all, to each other.

 

So I stayed to myself. Contrary to what my fragile peers soon thought, I didn’t think I was better than anyone else. I just...I guess I was afraid of others more than anything. People have the power to hurt and to heal, yet they always choose the easier way. And someone like me, invisible and weak, was bound to get caught in the crossfire.

 

In a way, I ended up putting myself right between the crosshairs. Despite how much I wanted to be apart and alone, there was something else about the other side. I looked on people whom others fawned over, and admired the attention lavished onto them. What was it like, I wondered, to meet, exceed, and defy expectations over and over. Whereas for invisible me...I just had myself. And that hardly mattered in the grand scheme of things. Especially when, no matter how hard I tried, these useless hands smothered everything to death at every touch.

 

It was inevitable, I guess, that I would be drawn to a woman like Ahn Hyejin. People like me flocked to her confidence, her raw power, the quiet dissent in her eyes. The kind of woman you just couldn’t help but notice. The kind of woman who saw the world differently as she rolled it in her palms.

 

And flock to her I did. One morning at a time.

 

Falling in love was perhaps the scariest feeling of all. I still remember seeing her walk past me for the first time—I was inundated with so many feelings at the sight of a woman so divine. Four-inch stilettos, sunglasses, red lips, and coiffed hair. A woman so out of reach, she may as well have been in outer space up there on the top floor.

 

That same woman who, by some miracle I would not have even dared to dream about only three months ago, was now face-down, in my bed. All because of something I considered as insignificant as orange envelopes.

 

But for how long, I couldn’t help but wonder.

 

“Wheein,” Hyejin mumbled, eyes closed, her voice still raspy from sleep. “Why are you staring at me?”

 

“Just thinking,” I replied.

 

She reached out and pushed my hair out of my eyes. “You think too much, baby. It’s late. Get some sleep.”

 

Somehow, she had a way of peeling back my vulnerabilities. I took her fingers and kissed them. Somehow, they made me feel like I was so much more. That I wasn’t as weak as I perceived myself to be. Even if only for a moment.

 

And yet, I could not shake the fear that this was simply a mirage at an oasis, like our minds could somehow project the things we wanted most. That we were here because she just hadn’t quite noticed yet that I could never compare to her.

 

I wondered whether she would even want this illusion once she understood the true depth of my cowardice. Or could she see past it all and still favour reality? Times like these I wished nothing more than to peel back her layers and peer inside.

 

I wished she could peel back my fears too, but I was afraid she’d find me empty inside.

 

---

 

Those four walls now are the only place that I can breathe out

 

---

 

“Wheein, I’ll come to work with you,” Hyejin announced as she pulled on her blouse.

 

She said this every time we spend the night together even though she knew perfectly what my answer was going to be. Even though she must’ve known why I insisted on being together in my modest apartment rather than her penthouse suite.

 

“Don’t,” I said, meeting her eyes through the vanity as I put on my lipstick. “Please.”

 

She sighed, as she always did. “Why don’t you want to be seen together?” She asked. There was something different about her tone that time. Vulnerability, perhaps. It was becoming more and more frequent—this side of her bared for my scrutiny. I didn’t know how to feel. As the days wore on, our relationship seemed to become more and more, and it was so easy to be swept up. So easy to follow her lead. If she chipped off a brick in her defenses, I’d do the same. Pretty soon, we would both be exposed. Vulnerable. And I didn’t mind it in the false security of our bedroom, but once we stepped past the threshold and into the real world…

 

I didn’t understand why she wanted to show off our relationship. She didn’t understand that at the end of all this, I’d be the one with nothing left.

 

I didn’t care about whatever rumours might start, but once people know, we were going to be put under a magnifying glass. The rumours would spin out into her orbit, and she would confirm over and over again that I could not compare.

 

“We have to be professional,” I lied.

 

“But even on the weekends,” she huffed slightly, puffing her cheeks. I loved this childish side of her, so different than the powerful facade she spent her life crafting.

 

But what was I supposed to say?

 

“Why do we need to announce it? All I need is you.”

 

“Is it because I’m a woman?”

 

I shook my head. “It’s because I don’t need anything else beside you.”

 

This was often enough to placate her. That day was no different. Though it was true, every time I spoke these words the seeds of doubt are watered and fertilized. After all, how many times can I say something before it becomes hollow? How many times until it’s not enough? How much will she put up with before she realizes that I’m not enough?

 

All I wanted was to curl up beside her and just exist.

 

Since I was young, I learned to want and desire, especially for the impossible, because it was safe, maybe, to want things you can’t have so you wouldn’t have to deal with the consequences. I wanted my father to be a good person. I wanted my mother to be happy. I wanted someone to fix me, complete me. I wanted to see the world, be somebody else, find my broken pieces and sew them on the tapestry of every life I’ve never lived.

 

Wanting Hyejin was harder than all of that. There were real terms and conditions. There was love to consider. And love was so delicate—so fragile and beautiful on the clouds of our shaky breaths.

 

As she left that day, I put my hand on the door frame. How much longer? I wondered.

 

How many more minutes until goodbye?

 

Turns out, there’s never enough time.

 

The countdown began at the tail-end of the year.

 

On New Years Eve, my department hosted a party. We never needed any encouragement, but if there ever were the perfect excuse to be possessed by the most ed up versions of our sad selves, it was New Years Eve. I was ready, silently tossing drinks back in my corner, listening to the people around me reveal parts of their souls I didn’t want to see.

 

I was good at drinking, and I was good at not drawing attention to myself. My plan was to drink till I forgot my own name and let my soul fly free into the night. Tomorrow can carry the rest of the burden. It seemed like a good idea even when a coworker started hitting on me. I looked at his pink face with hazy eyes and wondered if this was what I deserved. When my time with Hyejin came to an end, I thought as he rambled on about himself, could I settle for a guy like him? The kind society deemed right for me. So many women did at parties like these. Why couldn’t I?

 

He was sitting, but I think—though I could not clearly recall in my state—he was six feet tall. Broad. Put a lot of effort into his hair. His voice was like white noise. His hands were big, the kind some women felt were safe. But as they reached for me, like sharks in the water, they didn’t feel so safe. I backed away, almost immediately hitting a wall. They pressed closer. I couldn’t hear what he was saying. I said no, I think. Or did I fear him enough to keep my mouth shut? They kept reaching for me, like shadows crawling toward me.

 

Until, suddenly, he was gone.

 

I lifted my heavy head and saw none other than Ahn Hyejin, holding the wrist of this man, who towered over her by nearly a foot, yet seemed so small in her presence, his grey suit paling with his cheeks.

 

“What the do you think you’re doing?” Hyejin was yelling. The entire room was still. What were you supposed to say, after all, when the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company joins in on a department party like this, hones like a homing missile, and embarrasses you in front of everyone?

 

The man spluttered something. I sat there, saying nothing, simply in awe of the woman I love. I didn’t even think about how this might affect our relationship.

 

I felt everyone’s eyes flicking back and forth between me and Hyejin. His too, pleading. His shoulder was going to bruise tomorrow with the force of Hyejin’s accusing finger. My manager was there too, trying to assuage her with a few canned phrases like a true corporate drone.

 

“We’re leaving,” she said, pulling me by the arm. “And you,” the man looked like he was about to piss his pants, “I expect to see your things out of the office tomorrow at 9 AM sharp.”

 

“Miss Ahn,” my manager pleaded, “let’s not be rash. Perhaps we can discuss this tomorrow morning.”

 

Hyejin turned to my manager with flashing red eyes. “From your callous attitude, I see that you condone such blatant ual harassment from your staff?”

 

“Well...no...of course not.”

 

Grey suit added, “We’re just having a good time.”

 

She shot him a withering glare. “We are leaving,” she repeated. “You both disgust me.”

 

The next thing I knew, I was stuffed in the back of the limo with Hyejin’s arm protectively around my waist. In her other hand, she held her phone. I clung to her shirt, so sleepy now that I could barely lift my head.

 

“Fire them both,” she said firmly. “No. We live in Seoul. No one is irreplaceable.” She tightened her hold on me, as if to assure me of something my foggy mind could not piece together. “And tomorrow, I want you to give me a list of names from HR of anyone who has ever been reported for harassment or misconduct. Yes, I’ll be seeing to it personally. Hm. Yes, that’s a good idea. Look into it. I want a proposal for this harassment training plan on my desk by next Wednesday. Thank you.”

 

At the end of the call, she sighed and rested her head on mine. “Why didn’t you just say no, Wheein?”

 

Drifting in and out of sleep now, I didn’t respond. Poor innocent Hyejin, I remember thinking. Her world is so different from mine. Not once did she ever have to think about settling. Why would you when you had everything?

 

When I awoke again, it was dark. I groaned and rolled over, only to scream when I saw Hyejin sitting there in the dark watching me. “What are you doing?” I mumbled with a hand on my heart.

 

Hyejin blinked, then walked over to sit by me on the bed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” she said, brushing a strand of my hair behind my ear. “I was just thinking.”

 

I moved to sit up, but a sharp pain shot through my head, pinning me right back down on the bed. “Ow.”

 

She laughed. “You drank way too much, Wheein.”

 

“Is it midnight? Did we count down?” I grumbled.

 

“It’s three. Happy New Year, baby,” she replied, leaning over to kiss me on the cheek.

 

I smiled. “Happy New Year, Hyejin.”

 

“Go back to sleep now. We’ll talk in the morning.”

 

“Okay.”

 

---

 

You told me babe, I only think of you
And I said all I got is a bunch of sad stories

 

---

 

In the morning, Hyejin served up breakfast and silence. She wouldn’t meet my eye, even when I filled her vision with my sorry self. I wondered if she blamed me. Did it seem like I was inviting his attention? Was I dressed too provocatively? Could she see through me in the moment I had considered settling for a man like him?

 

I reached across the table to hold her hand as we ate, hoping it would anchor her enough to meet my eyes. It felt like a win when she didn’t pull away, but I’d never seen her so far away. Not even when I spent every morning hiding behind her in a crowded elevator, quivering like a newborn deer with an orange envelope in my hand. At least back then I was safe to fantasize.

 

“Talk to me, Hyejin,” I pleaded.

 

“Drink more water,” she said.

 

“Look,” I said, locking my fingers between hers, “I’m sorry.”

 

Finally, her eyes locked in on mine, so intensely I had to fight the urge to look away. Not when I had her here at last. “Why?” she said.

 

“I’ve upset you,” I replied, her finger with a thumb. “You shouldn’t have had to intervene. I should’ve pushed him away. I’m sorry.”

 

She tightened our interlocked hands. “That’s not why I’m upset. I’m not—I’m not even upset at you. I’ve been thinking all night and...I just don’t understand. I feel...ashamed. It’s my fault.” She said, chewing on her lip. “It happened because I don’t have a clue about my employees. I avoided dealing with other people and because of that, I let those scum fester. It’s all my fault.”

 

I shook my head. “Corporate culture is like that, Hyejin. Don’t be so hard on yourself. It’s how it is. Everywhere.”

 

For a long moment, Hyejin studied me. What did she see? I wondered.

 

“That’s what I don’t understand,” she confessed, slowly withdrawing her hand. “You were so...resigned. Whatever he was about to do...you were going to allow. I get that corporate culture can be toxic and you were pretty drunk, but you...you didn’t fight back at all. It’s like you expected it.”

 

I shrugged. “It’s not that simple.”

 

“Do you love me?” she asked.

 

“Of course,” I said, masking all the anxieties suddenly whirling inside me with a small smile.

 

“Well, I love you more than anything in the world,” Hyejin murmured, her eyes b with unshed tears. “You can think whatever you want, but I want to love you and protect you for the rest of my life. Yesterday...yesterday was ing scary. I wanted so badly to beat him up for even thinking he could talk to you. I wanted to him up for messing with my girl, but I know...I know you want to keep our relationship a secret. I know that’s what you want. I just...wish it didn’t have to be that way so I could protect you.”

 

I stood. I don’t know why. Before I could process her words, my secrets poured out from my throat where they’d been asphyxiating me before.

 

“I love you. More than anything,” I declared. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell the world...I dream of it just as much as you. I just...don’t know. I worry that once they know, they’ll…they’ll see me differently. See you differently. I know I’m a useless coward, but I don’t know what I would do if they find out and you finally break things off. I wouldn’t be able to stand the way they’ll whisper. The way they treat me then.”

 

“When I ‘finally break things off’? What are you talking about?” She said, standing to meet me at eye level. “Are you expecting me to break up with you?”

 

I stated the fact, for in that time and place it was my truth: “Yes. It’s inevitable.”

 

“Is that what you want?” Accusing—that’s how I remember her voice. Disbelieving, accusing, and affirming of all my worst nightmares.

 

In response, my frustration rose and bubbled. “I want to be just the way we are inside these walls. I don’t want us to define you and me. Do you get it?”

 

“No!” She cried, throwing up her hands. “I don’t get it! I just want to be able to openly love you so I can protect you from s like that guy. Why are you making it so difficult?”

 

“Why are you making it so simple?”

 

How exactly do you break down society into digestible little chunks? Expectations, burning hot messes, trifles, and human weaknesses—how do you arrange it on a plate and serve it to a woman who has always had everything?

 

How could she not see how much magic these four walls contained? That we could be just us, defying everything that didn’t agree with our vision of the perfect world.

 

I cried a lot that day. She yelled a lot, and, finally, we collapsed. She left those four walls, and no matter how much I pleaded, she didn’t look back.

 

---

 

And I'm trying hard to take it lightly
But we're here now

 

---

 

I remember everything about the moment I thought I had lost the love of my life. I was wearing a black sweater. One thread had been clawed out by my cat. She wore a simple blouse. Her lipstick was darker than usual, and slightly smudged. The rings around her eyes were a faded grey, heavily yet poorly concealed by her makeup. I noticed that the painting in the room was slightly askew. I will forever remember the strong lines of her back as she slammed the door close behind her.

 

I blamed that man at first, for rousing the beast between us, then myself. I thought about all the things I could’ve said instead to make her stay. Often these thoughts ended with the reminder that I couldn’t change the past, and the selfishness of taming a wild stallion.

 

I destroyed us. It was the only thing I could do.

 

I returned to work, exactly 3 minutes late every day so I could avoid the elevator rush. Nobody said anything. True to her word, my manager and coworker disappeared, replaced almost immediately by fresh faces.

 

She disappeared, taking my light with her.

 

She told me once that she couldn’t help but marvel at the way I stole little pieces of her shadow away from her. I thought that was beautiful. And I wondered whether she could see her shadow perched at the summit of my own, like the littlest Michelangelo with his chisel and hammer. But I simply replied that I was taking good care of it.

 

---

 

Fallen at the hands of the perfect...

 

---

 

Two months trudged by, slow and painful as I pondered and dreaded the rest of my life. Since New Year’s Eve a few coworkers have started looking at me differently. Whispering their-half truths, which they’ve so haphazardly cobbled together from fantasy, hearsay, and boredom. If they spent more than two seconds to think about my alleged—now defunct—relationship with our CEO, they might even move on and get a life.

 

Sadly, I wasn’t so lucky. They’ll get over it eventually, I told myself. Then they’ll stop looking at me like I had a neon, red ‘A’ emblazoned across my chest. It always sent a wave of nausea straight to my stomach when that voice began sounding so much like Hyejin.

 

Two months of strained, pasted-on propriety later, I began carrying an orange envelope in my bag again. I wasn’t sure I was ever going to see her again, much less consider what I’d do if I did.

 

I missed her like nothing else.

 

Where did we go wrong?

 

When did fear begin dictating my life? When did fear not dictate my life?

 

Inside the envelope was my resignation letter.

 

Like clockwork, my eyes scanned the crowd inside the elevator every morning, searching and avoiding her at the same time. I clutched my bag tighter with anticipation, but it was the same brown and black heads, the same painstakingly grey jackets, black skirts, and white shirts.

 

Then, a flash of red lipstick.

 

My eyes darted and my blood ran cold. Frozen to the spot, I snuck a glance at the dark, tortoiseshell sunglasses. There was no mistaking the almost haughty demand for respect in her stance, and the confident, yet vacant, expression as she stared ahead at the polished elevator doors.

 

I wondered what she was thinking. What she saw when her reflection stared back at her through the elevator doors.

 

My fingers brushed against the envelope in my bag, stomach in knots the same way it was months ago when I stood in this very same place. Months ago before I could even comprehend the idea of how it felt to have her arms around me. Months ago when I was...somehow braver than I felt now.

 

I pulled the orange envelope out.

 

I ducked behind a tall man with an expensive haircut.

 

I reached out.

 

The elevator dinged.

 

I was inches away from her bag when the elevator’s sudden arrival pushed a wall of bodies all around me, jostling me on all sides with irritated grunts and murmurs. The force of the pre-caffeinated crowd dragged me out the elevator.

 

It was my floor, I noticed warily. Maybe there would be another chance. In another life.

 

Just before the door began to close behind me, something latched onto my wrist and me back inside. I nearly tripped over my own feet, if not for the strong arms that steadied me.

 

The first thing I noticed was the startled expressions of the few remaining passengers. My stomach knotted, briefly feeling their judgment laced in their curious gaze.

 

Once the sunken feeling settled, I noticed the hand on my waist and the warm, familiar shape of the body pressed beside me. Just having her so close again—the sunken dread bubbled up into thousands of little hummingbirds taking flight. I turned away from the peering eyes, focussing only on the warmth of her hand radiating into my skin.

 

We didn’t speak a word until we reached the top floor. Alone now, I pressed the envelope into her hands.

 

She watched me carefully. Unlike the first series of letters I’d given her, she seemed apprehensive as she held it in her hands, as if feeling the weight I’d been carrying for the last two weeks.

 

“This is not a love letter, is it?” she said, smiling weakly. The confidence she had exhibited inside the elevator had melted away as soon as she had entered the sanctuary of her own office. I missed this side of her. This free, vulnerable, and lonely soul I fell in love with so many times on the side of my bed, ready to share and love with arms wide open.

 

My heart wavered.

 

I bit my lip.

 

I wanted to snatch that envelope back and continue living in the lies I’ve weaved. Surely, it would be safer. Safer, but...would she still have me back?

 

Instead, I steeled my expression.

 

“It’s a resignation letter.”

 

I hoped that didn’t feel as cold as it sounded.

 

“You don’t have to do this,” she said with a sigh. “Don’t throw away your career for...what we had.” She stopped, choking on the syllables as the words tumbled out like dead flies.

 

I meet her dark, imploring eyes.

 

“I miss you.”

 

That...was not what I wanted to say. At least, I thought I’d buried those words.

 

Before I knew it, her arms were around me and the scent of her hair was enough to complete me again in a way I never knew she could. Our hearts found each other in the second our shadows connected.

 

“I miss you too.” My skin tingled. “Oh god, I miss you too.”

 

“I…That’s why I need to go,” I confessed, gripping her tighter despite the voices telling me to let go—telling me I’ve wasted enough of her precious minutes.

 

“But why? I never cared who saw us.”

 

Do I tell her? How do I dredge up the depths of my weakness for her perusal? There wasn’t enough perfume in the world to cover up my petulance.

 

“I did.”

 

“Why?” She pulled me back and searched my eyes. “Don’t you see how much I love you? Who cares what they think?”

 

“I do. Well, I did. I...I don’t know if I still do.” I averted my eyes, shame burning my cheeks. “They talk. I try not to listen, but it’s hard not to when...when they confirm my demons over and over. You…” I exhaled to buy myself a moment, “you deserve better than me.”

 

Hyejin bit the inside of her cheek, stepping back now to appraise me. I, suddenly self-conscious, avoided her eyes.

 

Silence ballooned between us.

 

Then, she smiled wryly and shook her head. “We’re both cowards, aren’t we? Socially awkward cowards who think the worst and can’t express themselves.” I met her eyes. “You know I...I...I thought if I let you go, you’d find yourself happier with someone else. Maybe a man. I don’t know.”

 

“What?”

 

She shrugged. “I wasn’t going to push you any more than I already have. I knew how I felt about you from the very beginning, but...it was such a new relationship and we were moving so fast and I knew you were uncomfortable, but I wanted everything. I wanted everything. So...so I told myself to hold on. You were clearly uncertain and unhappy, but I told myself that I could make you happy.” She scoffed. “Then I remembered I’m a high-maintenance, selfish narcissist. No wonder you were ashamed of me.”

 

“I was never ashamed of you! I was...ashamed of myself,” I blurted.

 

“Well, then,” she reached back for something on her desk, then held up a red envelope, “it looks like we had the same idea.”

 

She curved my fingers over the lightly fragranced paper. I looked at her curiously, but she only nodded.

 

I pulled out a neatly folded piece of elegant linen paper, embossed in gold with the company’s letterhead. A love letter? I wondered briefly. On company stationary?

 

“Resignation letter,” she said, smiling nervously.

 

“What?” I gasped.

 

“I won’t be daddy’s little puppet anymore,” she announced, straightening slightly. “I want to be someone who deserves you, Wheein.”

 

“I...I don’t understand.”

 

She shifted her gaze to the carpet, suddenly shy. “I started a nonprofit,” she said quietly. “Ever since that day at the New Years party, I...I felt powerless. So, I thought about what you said, and I...I’ve been working on a solution to changing corporate culture. It’s...education workshops mainly. For now. I...I hope it can help a lot of people. Well, if I can help even one person, it might be worth it.”

 

“That’s...really great, Hyejin.”

 

She grinned. My heart fluttered. “Yeah, it kind of is. I don’t think I’ve ever been so excited about something before.”

 

I said nothing, wondering how on earth a woman like Hyejin could possibly think she would be happy with someone like me. She deserved the world. Could I give her something so vast?

 

“I still love you,” she confessed in a whisper.

 

I shrank back slightly, something familiar sinking in the pit of my stomach. I pushed it out with all my strength. “I want to give you everything,” I said, “but my hands are too small and I’m too weak. You deserve so much more than me.”

 

She stepped forward and held my hands in her own. “Do you love me too?”

 

“Of course,” I said before I could process the question.

 

“Then you’ve already given me everything.”

 

---

 

Those three words now are home

 

---

 

In the following months, our shadows walked hand-in-hand. No longer comparing them, we got used to distributing the weight across our shoulders, and, since then, they didn’t feel so heavy.

 

After leaving that elevator for the last time, I naturally partnered with Hyejin in her nonprofit work. Our little team, beginning with only the four of us—Hyejin, me, and her two loyal secretaries—began to grow steadily. As we gained traction, we travelled more and more, participating in conferences and giving workshops wherever we could. We were captains of our own destiny, fearless in whichever storms we chose to traverse.

 

It wasn’t without its ups and downs, but we were happy. Genuinely, openly happy in a way my imagination could never have painted so vividly.

 

On New Years Eve, two years later, we were on a train from Italy to Germany, passing by the Alps as we cut through Austria. It was our first real vacation as a couple, and my eyes and fingers were glued to the window, in utter awe of the mountains all around us. I’d seen these very mountains only in books and dreams—to be among them now...it was beyond what I could even allow myself to yearn for.

 

Genuinely, openly happy.

 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Hyejin’s voice floated into my ear from beside me.

 

“Yes,” I breathed.

 

“Like you,” she said, brushing a lock of hair behind my ear. She leaned in to give my ear lobe a quick nibble.

 

“That tickles,” I giggle, shoving her back lightly so as not to disturb the nearby passengers. “What are you doing?”

 

But the playfulness suddenly dimmed. “Wheein, look at me,” she said gravely.

 

I frowned, but complied, diving right into her eyes with concern.

 

She took a deep breath, her warm eyes suddenly far away. Inexplicable fear crept closer. Just listen, I told myself sternly, stop assuming she wants to break up with you every time she sighs! I pushed the fear back as best as I could, like I’d done so many times in the last two years.

 

“I had it all planned,” Hyejin murmured toward the vacant space between us. “I reserved a nice restaurant, picked the perfect day, and I even ordered music and wine. Even though you don’t really like wine, but...ah, that’s not the point. I had it all planned...I mean, it’s only two days away, but I don’t think I can wait.”

 

I wrinkled my brows, confused. “What—”

 

“Just listen. Please. Before I lose my courage.” I nodded.

 

She exhaled. “Just now, you were so beautiful,” she continued, “and I thought...god, I love you so much, and all these feelings are filling my heart so much I’m afraid it might burst.”

 

“What are you talking about, Hyejin?” I said, chuckling nervously.

 

“Jung Wheein,” she unfurled her fingers to reveal, a small, blue, velvet box. “Will you marry me?”

 

My world stilled. Sunshine streamed through the train window. The mountains sparkled all around me. But nothing in this world seemed more surreal than the shining ring in Hyejin’s hand.

 

The other passengers murmured like a wall of background noise. Everyone held their breaths in a moment of stillness.

 

Could they hear how hard my heart was beating?

 

Surely, no one in this world should be allowed to feel such profound happiness. Especially someone like me—I kicked the thought to the curb and gazed into her sparkling, waiting eyes.

 

“Yes!” I cried, wrapping her arms around Hyejin’s neck. “Yes, yes, yes! I love you so, so, so much.”

 

Everyone around us clapped—the two of us, with our joint shadows gathered at our feet in the sparkling afternoon sun, cried.

 

---

Note: Hello all~ Long time no see! I started this story all the way back in January, but I got stuck multiple times, and in the end, I don't feel like I did the first story justice. Still, I liked a few of the lines, and I think I've come too far to have this hide around in my harddrive. 

This story actually began as inspiration from Billy Raffoul's "Acoustic", but the direction of the story got kind of sad. By the end, I was really inspired by Gabriel Aplin's "Miss You", but neither of those songs fit the theme as much as "Four Walls", which I've actually had in my Freedom-Bound playlist for years. 

Speaking of Freedom-Bound, I'm actually taking it really easy right now with writing. I've been throwing my energy elsewhere recently, and I'm sorry to say that I've just fallen out of Mamamoo's orbit at the moment. Still, I love writing more than anything else, and finishing this story really reminded me that.

In time, I hope to be able to keep giving you guys good stories, so don't give up on me yet! (There are definitely some in the planning stages!)

All the best, friends, and I hope to see you all again soon!