The question of why people always whiff roses in hopes of finding a pleasant aroma when they already know that it has an unpleasant one still wanders around my mind, almost 20 years of treading around various kinds of answers passed and I still haven’t put my finger on the right answer to this simple question. The more I grew up, the more I became curious as to why people do so, and this simple innocent question was responsible of digging more and more questions into my barren mind. Why do people try when they know it wouldn’t work? Why do they cling onto a weak string of hope when they know it is not possible? What is so fascinating in acting as if things are getting better and better when everything is still the same as if the clock has never made a move? But who am I to ask such questions and judge people’s instinctive nature? Am I really any different when I mimicked people’s doings and every time I got a hold of a rose, I smelled it? Am I really any different when all I did was subconsciously become one of those people as I found myself smelling unpleasantly smelling roses too many times just as soon as I had found myself clinging onto the same string of hope onto which I have seen many people cling when I knew it was not possible? Am I really any different when all I did was think when I whiffed a supposedly fragrant flower that had lost its scent long ago was still beautiful even when it had lost the only thing that made it beautiful?

I was not any different.

The second question the preoccupied my little childish mind was why do people still use flowers as presents? I did understand that roses are really beautiful and I loved nature enough to believe that packs of flowers are a masterpiece created by God, and I did believe that roses are simply pretty dressed in any color chosen by nature. But the real question that penetrated my mind was what was so good about giving a present to someone when it will soon wither and be forgotten, thrown by the process of time and found rotten? What was so good in plucking happy flowers out of their secure home to be neglected and mistreated by ignorant people? Have people ever thought of giving a pot of soil with seeds of various kinds of plants instead? Wasn’t it more meaningful to teach the person you appreciate enough to give roses to how to bring up and look after something as beautiful as roses? Wasn’t it more soulful to revive roses from death instead of mournfully driving them to death?

But still, I wasn’t any different to judge those people when all I did was abandon the plants and flowers I brought up from deep slumber into life, to the extent that I, their guardian, became their filicide.

“Madame, Mr Kim has arrived safely and dinner is about to be served.” I snapped out of my long trail of thoughts and slightly jumped at the servant’s sudden appearance and her high-pitched voice. I let out a breath I had held in for what seemed like an hour, holding tightly on the flower I had plucked out when I first got into here, our small garden. I slightly nodded my head to dismiss her, avoiding initiating any kind of conversation. If it wasn’t for the apparent look of worry on her face as she slightly bowed her head before hesitantly walking away I would have never noticed my moist cheek. I widened my eyes when I touched my wet cheek as another tear fell on my hand. I hastily wiped my cheeks with the hem of my dress’s sleeve and fanned my eyes with both of my hands to try and diminish any trace of tears. Unfortunately, I didn’t have my phone or any sharp object on which I can see my reflect, so I just had to keep fanning my eyes for about five minutes at least because I wouldn’t want to go in there with red eyes; it was hard enough to convince them when I first came here that my puffy eyes were caused by lack of sleep, and nothing more.

I took small slow steps towards the house, borrowing more time to whiten my reddened eyes. As I took the first step into the entrance of the house I was hit by a thickly nostalgic atmosphere. It was so noisy inside the house and the aura the scent of food provided in the place played memories at the back of my head. I got lost in the smell and I got swallowed into the memories as I completely surrendered to my homesick soul’s need to travel back to the old good memories of the old happy me, when I didn’t have to worry about anything around me, when I thought that life was really nothing but a bowl of cherries, back then when my deepest fear was to skip Detective Conan’s new episode or to have to wait for a second part of the new episode because Conan couldn’t solve it in only one episode, back then when the word sadness was so foreign to me and when I used to scream just for fun or to show happiness. Back then when I only slept because my body needed to and not because I wanted to tuck all my fears and depression in for a few hours.

I was snapped out of my nostalgic thoughts, and my bittersweet smile faded when I sensed an arm being wrapped around my shoulder, clutching it tightly. I let out a muffled sneer as I acknowledged the scent of the person who dared to touch me without permission. I was about to react but was soon stopped in my tracks when his soft lips touched the wrinkled skin of my forehead. “How is my Bibi doing?”

I subconsciously rolled my eyes, totally not surprised by his outstanding acting skills before I plastered a fake smile on my face. I slightly moved my head to the side, his shoulder still wrapped around mine, to look as if I was hugging him, but I only did so to wipe the wet spot on which I was just kissed. As much as I was moved by his fake kiss, I still had to act as if it was no effect to me. I put on my actress persona, and hastily got engaged in the movie he just started as I wrapped my arms around his waist and laid my head on his expanding chest, hearing his steady heartbeats while I doubted he could feel my unsteady ones upon the skin of his upper stomach, “Much better than when you left her all alone this morning.” My fake smile was still glued on my face, and I could swear if someone really did watch us closely, he/she would have known by now that I was faking it all, and because I, of course, would never get to Junmyeon’s level, I had to dig my face more into his chest to hide my bitter reluctant smile.

“I can’t believe you even leave my daughter all alone for work on holidays! What a workaholic kid you are!” My father shouted from afar as he made his way towards us with a big smile on his face and a glass wrapped elegantly in his hand. I mentally broke down in tears of happiness and joy as I hastily unwrapped my-already-loosened-arms and ran up to my father to kiss his cheek and insignificantly support his back with my small hand as my lips formed a pure artificial pout.

“You know how it is these days.” Instead of joking around with my father, Junmyeon preferred to put on his serious façade as he sighed.

“As if! Please scold him on behalf of me, dad! He always does this! He never even enjoys himself!” I almost rolled my eyes at myself but I had to maintain the fabricated scene, so I just quitted being cute and scared the pout off with a laugh.

“Ah, please!” He splashed a big smile on his face as he threw his head backwards, “Look who is talking! The one who forgot her birthday because she was too busy working on one of her patients.”

“I told you I hate calling them patients!” I stated through gritted teeth childishly as I crossed my arms. I genuinely hated the word “patient” when it comes to describing the ones who come to me seeking help. I have always preferred calling them heroes for they can, so heroically, endure and tolerate the pain within their worn out soul that many others cannot, and what is most important is the fact that they accept the fact that they need help and actually make an attempt to seek one.

Junmyeon was about to talk again in an attempt to retort back but he was soon cut by father who was not even listening to our little conversation in the first place as he was engaged in a little conversation with someone passing by, “I totally know how it is.” My father’s deep voice reassured as he placed a reassuring arm on Junmyeon’s shoulder, patting it for a couple of times. “But still, you know how spoiled my daughter was when she was here, and you know I wouldn’t allow you to make her any less spoiled!” My father pointed a threating finger jokingly at Junmyeon’s face while squeezing my shoulder as he kissed the top of my head. Junmyeon put both of his hands up in surrender and let out a small chuckle. I mentally eyed both my father and Junmyeon in disgust, holding back the snort that I yearned to let out for four years every time these two talked.

Humph! I can already see what is coming!

“Ah!” Junmyeon slapped his forehead replacing his smug grin with a genuine one, “How can I not spoil her when my most brilliant achievement in life was my ability to be able to persuade her to marry me?” He looked deeply into my eyes as his smile slightly faded but it was soon widened anew as he averted his gaze once again to my father “And how can I not spoil her when she makes me feel like it’s always spring with her ever-blooming beauty?”

“Just as expected! You never lose your charms, do you?” My father cheered throwing his hand in the air to high-five Junmyeon’s who seemed to be enjoying this cheap farce. I was so not in the mood to cope with such a childish conversation so my mind took the easiest way to turn a blind eye to their conversation as I noticed the long mirror far across the living room we were currently standing in, I noticed my slightly unfixed dress, and after I fixed it I took a look at my face to see if my makeup was ruined. I slightly shrieked when I noticed how puffy my eyes were, even though I had makeup on and I had been awake for hours already, it was all in vain to hide the effect of yesterday’s mental breakdown and hours of crying. When I fell on the ground yesterday after I had completely lost all of my strength to fight back the pain, I was still conscious enough to acknowledge my surroundings.

Junmyeon stood there, for a couple of minutes, silently staring at my lifeless body, not even spilling an audible breath out of his lips. A knock on the door slightly awakened my senses, and I was even more aware of my surroundings but I was still too weak to react and so I didn’t even try to move. “Enter.” Was all Junmyeon said with his heaved voice. The one at the door, whom I assumed was one of our servants, gasped loudly upon seeing the hideous scene. After her gasp, the room fell silent again and the atmosphere was so stiflingly thick until his calm voice cleared it all away with a few words before he made his way out of the room with peaceful treads. “Take care of her.” The girl was flustered for a couple of moments but she was quick to come back to her senses. She ran towards my body with teary eyes, and as soon as I had opened my eyes I realized that it was Jamila, the closest servant I had, whom I had treated as a friend ever since I got into this house. All over these years, she was the only one who had always been biased towards me and I was really thankful that someone decided to take my side instead of blindly taking their master’s side with their washed excuse of a brain. At first I was suspicious as to why she was all sweet to me unlike others who had been always been a hypocrite around me, who would smile at me and then turn around and talk complete nonsense about me but as days, weeks, months and years passed, I realized that she didn’t really have to be close to me for any reason, she just liked me, appreciated how nicely I treated all of them, and thought that I was good enough not to be treated the way I was. As time passed, the nonsense talking between other servants died down as they were able to see the true me and that I wasn’t trying to fake being nice at first and be able to realize that I was, indeed, nice. But whenever a fight was initiated between Junmyeon and me, whispers and weird looks and attitudes would start again and all the nonsense would find its way into their malfunctioning mind. So I just learned to lock myself in my room until everything dies down after every fight, and if I urgently needed anything I would just call Jamila. It was such a relief that I had someone like her, really. “Ma’am!” She gasped once again as she let a sob escape . “Until when are you planning to endure all of this cruelty?!” She let a couple of tears roll down her reddish cheeks as she caressed my arm, sympathy thrown all over her face and body language. “Just help me stand up and go buy my medicine; I haven’t taken any since this morning.” My hoarse voice travelled through my throat loaded with needles that cut right through the worn out skin of it. I shut my eyes once again and clutched my stomach at the sudden shooting pain. “But ma’am you’ve been taking it un-“ “Hurry!” My voice was unwillingly loud enough to make her jump slightly in fright. She leaned once again to help me stand up and as soon as I had been able to stand on my feet once again, I waved my hand towards the door to dismiss her but she insisted on helping me walk until I sat on the bed and then she got out of the room and closed the door gently behind her. Ever since what happened last week, I had been so sick to the extent that I couldn’t move, not even in my bed, let alone going to work. Not only was my body too weak to endure my abdominal pain, but also