"What do you think?" Eomma asked, moving the flowers a bit more to the center. "Perfect, right?"

It was. All of it, from the table set out on the back deck with our best wedding linens, votives, and vases, to spread of varies of food and Wooyoung's specialties. For dinner, there would be samgyeopsal with side dishes and spring rolls, like I requested.

"It's great," I said, even as she continued to putter, moving a fork a millimeter to one side, then back again. Through the kitchen window, I could see Wooyoung, his apron on, standing with Taecyeon at the island. As it was for Mark and Minhyuk, this dinner would be Taecyeon's first formal introduction to our little family, such as it was, and it felt both strange and nice to see our numbers double after all this time.

"You're nervous," I observed, as Eomma moved the fork again.

"Nonsense," she replied, not looking at me. "I just want everything to be perfect for my only daughter's birthday party."

"Sure you do," I said, as she again looked around the house to the driveway, where Minhyuk was due any moment. "You know I'm going to like him, right?"

"Oh, I know," she said, although she didn't exactly sound fully confident. "It's just my first boyfriend in nineteen years. Kind of a big deal."

"Huge," I agreed. She gave me a look. "I mean in a good way! I'm going to be gone soon. You can't hang out with Wooyoung. Especially if he's part of a couple now, too."

With this, we both looked into the kitchen again, where Wooyoung was pouring glasses of wine, one for him, one for Taecyeon. He must have sensed our attention, because he turned, blushing slightly, then looked flustered. Taecyeon, however, waved happily. I waved back.

"To be honest, I never thought something like this would happen for me," Eomma said, coming around to stand beside me. "You just get to the point where you think, well, that's over, you know? That part of my life. I was okay with it. I had what I thought I needed: you, and Wooyoung, my work. It all made sense."

"But maybe," I started to recite her favorite lines from Workholes, "we don't always know what we need."

She beamed at me, proud. "Excatly."

Wooyoung slid the glass door open, sticking his head out. "We're on target for everything to come together by six, just so you know. You both ready for the guests?

"You make it sound so formal," I chuckled.

"It's a celebration!" His phone beeped; he pulled it out, looking at it. "And as such, I think you might need shoes. I don't cook for barefoot people."

"I have flip-flops in the kitchen," I said.

"This is a party," he insisted. "Please put on proper shoes."

I looked at Eomma, who shrugged innocently it was obvious she was in on whatever he was up to. "What's going on?" I asked.

"Nothing," he said, as his phone beeped again. "Just want everything to be perfect."

Eomma looked at me. "You might as well humor him. When he gets like this, there's really no options."

"Fine," I said. "I'll go get some real shoes."

As I walked inside, passing Taecyeon, who was arranging cheeses on a tray, I heard Wooyoung say something to Eomma, his voice low. She replied, also quietly. Just like thieves. Some things never change.

I climbed the stairs, looking at the clock as I went. In my closet, I scanned the various options lined up against the wall, trying to decide which ones went best with what I had on. Then I saw the black sandals under that same colored dress, their beaded straps folded neatly around them. If I was moving on, I thought, it was time to do it in all ways, not just some. I stepped closer, picking them up, and slid my bare foot into one. It still fit perfectly, the worn spot at the toe from all the walking that night instantly familiar, even as I'd long forgotten it.

I'd just finished buckling them when I heard voices outside my open window. Walking over, I expected to see Mark, or maybe Gayeon and Jaebum, who were also joining us. But the yard was empty, whoever had arrived already out of sight under the front porch. When I headed back downstairs to greet them, though, there was only Wooyoung, shutting the front door. When he saw me, he jumped, startled.

"You're supposed to be upstairs," he said, shifting what I saw a box in his arms, on top the name of a bakery just down the office.

"It only takes so long to pick out shoes," I said. "What's that?"

He looked down at the box as if he'd never seen it before. "This? Oh. Nothing."

"Looks like a cake," I pointed out.

"It might be a cake," he said. "It could also be any number of other things that come in boxes."

I tilt my head. "Looks like a cake," I said again.

"Fine." He sighed, shaking his head and looking at the ceiling. "If you must know -"

"I must," I said. I always got happy seeing Wooyoung squirm. It was like the best birthday present ever.

"- I made you a chocolate chip cheesecake last night for your birthday. It was perfect, until I tried to put it into the car to bring it here and dropped it over the counter."

"I love your chocolate chip cheesecake," I said.

He gave me a pained look. "Are you trying to make me feel awful?"

"Wooyoung." I smiled. "It's fine. I love any kind of cake, you know that. I'm just glad we're all together."

"Well, this is from Sweeties, so it's going to be good," he pointed out, nodding at the box. "Thank goodness Sehun was just leaving the office and could run out and get one. He's lifesaver. I just hope he has good taste in desserts. I left it all up to him."

"Sehun?" I said. "That's who was just here?"

"Well, you weren't supposed to know," he said, "but clearly my shoe deception was as lame as I suspected."

I turned, looking out the glass panel by the door. The street was quiet, no one in sight. What did I want to see, anyway? We'd wrapped things up as neatly as could be expected after all our messy threads. End of story. Now and for the last time.

"Wooyoung?" Taecyeon called from the kitchen. "I'm wondering about crackers or baguette with this artisanal blue. Can you help?"

"Coming," he replied, setting the box down on the hallway table just as the doorbell rang. Immediately, Eomma came inside from the backyard, smoothing her hair. I took a look through the glass: standing there was a dark-haired man in a sweater, holding a huge bouquet of flowers.

Behind me, Wooyoung and Mark were huddled over the cheese plate, their voices low. I heard Wooyoung laugh, the sound of comfort as always, then looked at Eomma again, the smile that broke across Minhyuk's face as she opened the door to face him. So much happiness at once; it was almost too much, like a bright light that made me squint.

This was how it was supposed to be, I thought, as I walked over to the Sweeties box, looking down at it. Carefully, I eased it open, immediately smelling sugar: the cake was round and chocolate frosted, dotted with white and coral pink roses. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SUZY, it said in an arc of perfect lettering on the top. And below, smaller: MAKE A WISH.

I blinked, immediately feeling a lump rise in my throat. I left it all up to him, Wooyoung had told me. I thought of that night with the candles, how frustrated I'd been by Sehun's insistence on blowing them out his way, and then of the wish wall at Jihyo and Suho's wedding, the second chances I'd asked for. I'd made so many wishes, though, that hadn't come true.

Eomma was coming down the hallway now, Minhyuk following: I saw she was holding his hand, her cheeks pink, happier than I'd ever seen her. "This is Suzy," she said, taking my arm. "Suzy, this is Kang Minhyuk."

"It's lovely meeting you," I said, as the doorbell rang again.

"Happy birthday." Up close, I saw what I'd thought was one big bouquet was actually two smaller ones. He handed me a bunch of light pink daisies, then gave Eomma the other, gorgeous, frilly peonies. Her favorite. Nice. "Thanks for inviting me."

"Of course," I said, as the doorbell rang again. "One second, let me answer the door. I think it's my boyfriend."

As I left them, I realized this was the first time I'd referred him this way out loud. It felt strange in my mouth, in a way I hadn't expected, something I tried to swallow as I went down the hall. When I opened it, Mark was standing there with a bunch of balloons, more flowers, and what was clearly an archery bag, wrapped in pink paper decorated with hearts. He had his phone in his hand and took a picture of my face before I could manage to smile.

"Hey," I said, blinking. "Is this the surprise?"

"One of them," he replied, stepping forward and kissing me on the cheek. No dive bomb: I saw it coming, and didn't flinched. "Sorry I'm late. There was all this traffic. A dog ran out in the road and some guy followed and got hit trying to grab it. A total shock."

Instantly, I felt cold. "A dog? Was . . . is everyone okay?"

"I don't know," he said, holding out the flowers to me. Roses this time, dark red. "It had just happened when I drove by. All I saw was a bandana in the road."

He stepped past me then, inside, but I just stood there in the open door, frozen. Behind me, I could hear Eomma, Wooyoung, and their dates talking, the happy sounds of people meeting who have something important in common. The world always goes on, even when your own part of it stops. I knew this better than anyone. I was aware, too, how quickly you could lose the things you thought would be around forever, or at least long enough for you to change your mind.

"Suzy?" Mark asked from behind me. "You coming?"

MAKE A WISH, the cake had read, and right then I knew what mine was. Please, God, I thought, as I stepped over the threshold, hurrying down the stairs. When I got to the sidewalk, I reached down, unbuckling my shoes. Then I left them behind as I ran, barefoot, toward the growing sound of sirens.

At first, all I could see were red and blue lights, flashing. Traffic had slowed in both directions, a single officer trying to wave people through one lane at a time. One both sides of the street, people had gathered, either alone or in groups, eerily silent as they watched the paramedics working on someone by the curb.

My heart was in my mouth, the beat filling my ears, as I rounded the corner, dodging around two women with strollers. One had a hand to , the other her baby in her arms, its chubby cheeks pressed against her own. "Careful," she called out to me, her voice sharp; past admonishment, part warning. but I'd been that way all this time, and it hadn't changed a thing. Maybe it was better to barrel through life, breaking fragile things and catching on every jagged edge. Neat or messy, calm or crazy, I still ended up this same place.

Finally, I reached the intersection, stumbling to a stop. I was vaguely aware of my feet hurting, skin split in places as I stood on the curb, scanning the stopped  traffic all around me. Emergencies shouldn't feel the same, with similar colors and noises, when each one is so unique, all its own. I thought of myself all those months ago, standing in the emptying hallway at school, gradually more and more alone as I stood on the edge of knowing and not, a place I'd later tell myself I would've returned to a million times over if I could. But now, I realized it was really no better, that uncertainty. Even when there's still hope, it's hard to see, especially with tears in your eyes.

"Miss!" I heard as I stepped off the curb, in between two cars. I could feel the heat coming off them, the warmth of the pavement under my feet, one of which was definitely bleeding now. A policeman blurred in my side vision, still yelling at me. "You can't got there. Turn back!"

I didn't, pushing through past engines, the distant sound of radios, the hushed whispered of another set of bystanders, now watching me.

"Miss!" the cop yelled again. He was coming toward me now. I squeezed around the final bumper, feeling hot chrome on my leg, then looked to my right, where the medics were huddled over something bulky in the road, a blanket draped across it.

Everything got slower, suddenly: the banging approach of the officer's footsteps, the slow roll of a nearby car creeping forward, my own breath, now audible and jagged in my lungs. One of the paramedics was on his radio now, another racing along the opposite sidewalk with a gurney, wheels rattling. Every sound so specific and unique I already knew I'd remember it later, and forever. A sob escaped my lips, primal and terrifying, as I felt the officer grab my arm.

"Miss!" he barked, pulling me back. "You cannot be here. Go back to the sidewalk."

"No," I said. His broad shoulders and dark uniform were blocking my vision: all I could see was myself, thrashing, in the mirrored lenses of his sunglasses. The outside view, again, but this time I was fully within it as well. Why was it that you felt most alive at the moments so close to death? "You don't understand."

I was out of control, I knew this. He had to seize my other arm as I continued to try to dodge past. "Can I get some help here?" he barked over my head. Finally, I craned my neck enough to see around him. The medic was replacing his radio slowly, exchanging looks with his partner, who wasn't rushing anymore.

No, I thought, a million memories spilling over in my head all at once. That damp sand on the dark beach, a boy in a white shirt, billowing, the bouncy notes of a pop song ringtone. All familiar, like a slideshow I'd watched so many times. But then, as the cop gripped my arms, pushing me back, something else: a room full of flowers. A scruffy dog in my side vision, his head out the window. Candles lit and then re-lit, a group of people moving on an makeshift dance floor. All those weddings, and kisses, and leave-taking, the faces of so many brides and grooms blurring in my head. Love is what it's all about, Wooyoung had said to me all those months ago, although at the time, these were just words. I wondered if he'd feel differently now. I knew I did. because standing there, tears streaking my face, I would've given anything for another chance at what I'd passed up, uneven and imperfect as it was. Life didn't begin clearly, and it surely never ended that way. We were blessed with whatever we had in the middle. It made sense that it be messy, too.

"Get back," the officer shouted, pushing me off him with both hands, and then I did lose my grip, falling over my own feet and bumping against a parked car behind me. I could feel people looking at me, the sudden glare of attention as I came back to my own body and awareness, this here, this now. I put my hands to my face, sinking to my knees in the grass by the sidewalk, my feet throbbing beneath me. I was still there, huddled into myself, when I felt something scratchy and alive brush my cheek, then nose. I opened my eyes.

Vivi.

"Hey," I whispered, not quite sure he was real, even as I reached out, touching the fur at his neck. His tail, now waving, thumped the car behind him. "What are you -"

A shadow fell over me then, and I looked up, past his toned body, to see Sehun standing above me. I thought I might be dreaming until I saw the pink soda in his hand, along with the end og the dog's leash, his wrinkled shirt, that one loose strand over his forehead in the heat. Not the idealized details of dreams or fantasies, but those of real life, this life. As he crouched down, his face worried, to get closer to me, he was about to say something, but I didn't give him the chance. Already, I was reaching up, my arms tight around his neck, and I pulled him to me and pressed my lips against his. At first I could feel his surprise, but then he was responding, his hand moving through my hair, fingers against my neck. It was primal and epic, nothing like mellow, and as it went on for what felt like forever, I could hear traffic beginning to resume, Vivi circling around us, barking, the world moving on. This time, though, I was okay to be left behind a few minutes for a kiss, a beginning, my own walk, sunset or not. Whatever I was allowed.