c h a p t e r  t w e n t y - o n e.

.
.
.

Wendy felt complete, in an odd way that she couldn’t explain.

                Like autumn into winter, she felt like her life had fallen into place.

                As Chen did have a real short story to finish by the end of the year for his literary magazine, he retreated for a week to work on it.

                Unlike last time, Wendy felt entirely complacent with him being absent for a little while. She went back to working her normal hours (without her boss’ suspiciously convenient modifications to her schedule) at The Roost, and she felt more at home there than ever.

                Every cup of coffee that she created that week was the best cup that she had ever made in her life.

                “You’ve been in an exceptionally good mood lately.” remarked Mr. Cho, leaning against the counter and taking a sip of his morning house brew that Wendy had just finished preparing for him.

                “Aren’t I usually in a good mood, sir?” she responded.

                He eyed her.

                “...What?”

                “...He really does make you happy, doesn’t he?”

                Shyly, the barista turned towards the espresso machine and busied herself with emptying out the portafilters. She didn’t bother to ask him what he meant by that; she knew that he knew everything. “...Yes. He does.” she said, her the color in her cheeks deepening.

                “May I make a recommendation?”

                “...Of course?”

                “No more sleepovers until marriage, hmm? It does tend to become a rather ordinary thing otherwise.”

                Now Wendy’s face was as red as it could possibly be. “Yes, sir.” She swallowed hard as she rinsed out the filters, refusing to look her boss in the eyes again for a long, long time. Mr. Cho just smiled and shook his head fondly. He turned to walk away towards his office, but he paused at the end of the counter. His barista watched, surreptitiously, as he leaned against the granite again.

                “Are you okay, Mr. Cho?” she asked, when he stayed in the position for longer than fifteen seconds without moving or making any sound.

                “Yes; just a little tired, I suppose.”

                “Because you stayed up late watching your dramas again, most likely.” she half-scolded, and he laughed a little in return.

                “Most likely, indeed.” he said. Finally he disappeared into the back room, leaving Wendy to sigh with relief that she was relatively alone again.

                Taking advantage of the lack of immediate customers, she glanced out the window.

                All of the leaves were gone and the trees were bare. The air was cold and foggy. Wendy hoped that it would snow soon, so that the world would look less dismal and stop threatening to spoil her good mood.

                Like autumn that became winter, the things that had fallen wither and perish.

.
.

That evening, Wendy stood in the kitchen of her apartment, busily engaged with her cooking.

                When she was nearly finished, her roommate groggily walked in. “...Wow, what is that amazing smell?”

                “I made red beef curry. It’s Chen’s favorite.” The other beamed, “He texted me saying that he finished his short story, so I’m going to surprise him with dinner.”

                “Nice.”

                “...Could I borrow your car?”

                “Sure. I’m going to go back to bed anyway.”

                Wendy hummed and practically danced on her toes as she ladled the piping hot curry and spooned rice into portable containers.

                Amber smirked to herself as she filled her water bottle at the fridge. “...Chen must be treating you real good for you to be this... elated.”

                The other paused to let out an exasperated sigh. “That’s exactly what Henry said, and even Mr. Cho said something similar to me today! So embarrassing...”

                Before walking back to her room, Amber patted her roommate’s head fondly. “I’m happy for you.” she said.

                Me too. Thought Wendy, smiling at the meal she had just created; packed up and ready to go.

.
.

She drove the long, windy road to her boss’ house in the forests outside of town. The car heater was turned up, the windows were rolled down, and the radio played songs reminiscent of summer and times that were more carefree but somehow, just not as interesting.

                She felt so peaceful.

.
.

Mr. Cho welcomed Wendy in, saying that Chen hadn’t returned yet. She was glad for it; now she had time to set up dinner in his room and surprise him even more whenever he did arrive.

.
.

When he stepped into the room, she turned immediately to greet him but the split second that she saw him, her smile faded and her heart dropped down to the pit of her stomach. Every good feeling that she had ever felt in her life seemed to disappear from existence entirely.

                Swallowing, she dreaded the answer to the question she was about to ask.

                “Jongdae.” she said, quietly, “What’s wrong?”

                His eyes were fixated on the carpet below their feet. Without looking at her, he held out a single sheet of paper.

                Wendy hesitated to take it at first, wanting him to just tell her so that she could hear his voice and make sure t