i really ed it up this time, didn’t i, my dear?

- little lion man, mumford & sons

Seulgi’s world ends in a small, square room. Four walls and white, with a broken beat in the background that she slowly realizes is her heart.

In her hands is a pen and a piece of paper that feels like a death sentence, while the lawyer next to her is the jury who didn’t give Seulgi any chance to fight.

“Thank you for cooperating, thus making this process very amicable,” he says. A disembodied voice Seulgi can’t put a face to despite having met with him countless of times the past few weeks. “We’ll be taking it from here.”

He shakes a hand with another man in the same black suit. Seulgi briefly wonders if she should have worn black too. It feels like a funeral after all, with her having to dig six feet under a proverbial ground to find a place to stick her heart into; a space where it doesn’t hurt.

(There is none.)

In the end, all Seulgi does is keep her head down and burn a hole on the dark mahogany desk she’s propped on, as the hard scrape of chairs against the wooden floor screeches sharp all over the dingy room.

Her eyes are stinging, is parched. But all Seulgi will remember is how her world splits in half as she watches her now ex-wife (but forever the love of her life) walk away, leaving Seulgi as the memory Irene would rather forget.

...

The rain started in a drizzle, feather light droplets that stuck to one’s hair like dew. Seulgi had walked long enough for the beads to pool on her hair, forming tiny globes that slid down to her shoulders and through the rough fabric of her gray coat.

Then, it began to pour. Her steps grew quicker as she headed towards her usual way home. But the drizzle turned into showers in a blink, bucketfuls that made Seulgi sure there was no way she was going to make it back to her apartment remotely dry.

Such a bad time to wear her new coat, really.

Her feet swiveled right, back to where the lone cafe she passed by a little while ago was. It was half-empty then, but the once overcast sky had turned even more darker that it rounded people up by the cafe’s front, lining them all under the shelter of the curved green roofs.

Seulgi hastily trudged inside, past the dark mahogany door and into the warmth that the cafe offered. Though, the place was almost full now, and she almost barrelled into the last person that was standing on the cashier’s line what with the long queue practically reaching the doorway.

Seulgi muttered a quick apology and bowed a few times before squeezing her way through, towards the booth she just spotted a young couple sliding out of.

She weaved through the various tables and chairs, with a certain grace borne from rigorous practices and rehearsals her pursued degree called for. It honestly almost felt like a dance as the cafe’s music crooned in her ears, one that ended up with her finally reaching the booth and sliding smoothly inside.

Or, it would have. If not for this smaller form that crashed right into her, a lighter weight that Seulgi barely really felt.

She was petite yet all angular; at least her shoulder was. Seulgi caught the brunt of the impact, the curve of it hitting the spot just below her collarbone. But she was soft, Seulgi thought, as her fingers splayed at the small of her back and her arms wound around the smaller woman by reflex to break her fall.

“I’m sorry!” The surprised woman said. Her wide round eyes were matched with abashed red hues dotting her cheeks.

Seulgi simply accepted the apology with a kind smile. She helped the woman right herself up, and then dropped the arms that was once supporting her weight, pulling them back to her side like a sudden shy, obedient child. “Are you okay?”

“I am, thank you,” the woman replied. Her fingers fiddled with the hem of her cream-colored knitted sweater, then, “It’s just—I’ve been waiting around for fifteen minutes, so when I saw the vacant seat, I practically ran to it.”

“I guess we were after the same spot.” Seulgi shook her head gently, chuckling. Though, she turned a little hesitant when she asked—uncertain because the woman could already have a companion for all she knew; and Seulgi might be unknowingly just setting herself up for a different kind of embarrassment. “We could just share?”

The other woman beamed at her, but Seulgi could tell that her answering nod was shy, with the way she ducked her head into a grateful bow. “I’d like that.”

“Yeah?” Seulgi’s eyes disappeared behind crescent arcs. “Me too.”

.

Her name was Joohyun, Seulgi had found out later on; Irene to most, but Joohyun said it was perfectly fine for Seulgi to call her that.

She was currently doing her pre-med, majoring in Medical Technology in the same university that Seulgi was taking her Performing Arts degree at.

And Seulgi? Seulgi was having a hard time believing her when she said she hadn’t slept a wink in three days.

“But you’re so pretty!” She had even blurted out, to which the other woman blushed profusely at.

“Thank you,” Irene mumbled as she nibbled at her bottom lip, shying away from Seulgi’s perplexed gaze. “I’ve actually been living in this coffee house since finals week started.”

Thankfully, Seulgi was quick enough to recover and fill the awkward silence that was about to fall on them. “Do I even want to know how many cups of coffee you’ve managed to consume?” She quipped, making Irene laugh softly.

“Fortunately, I only drink tea.”

“Ah.” Seulgi nodded, and then made a mental note to herself to remember. She was pretty bad at remembering things, but Irene already was an exception she was willing to make.

(Daunting, yet Seulgi didn’t feel scared at all.)

“How about I go get us both a cup?”

Irene’s eyes narrowed playfully as she threw a good-natured glare at the woman sitting in front of her. “If this is your way of telling me that I look like I desperately need one—”

“Nah. I mean, you could be wearing the same shirt for three days now and I still won’t be able to tell that you are...”

“Yah!” Irene’s hand darted out, hitting Seulgi on her arm. Her face was pulled into a grimace, at the idea of an unwashed piece of clothing touching her skin. “I don’t think I’d actually survive that.”

“It happens.” The other woman laughed softly. “So, red bean or green tea?”

“Are you trying to find out what’s my favorite drink?” Irene asked in reply. She raised her chin a little, and arched a brow at Seulgi. It was meant to be intimidating, but the smile she was fighting from shaping on her lips belied it entirely.

A smile that made her lips quiver, her nostrils flare; that same smile that stirred something inside Seulgi that she really had no business feeling.

“Maybe,” Seulgi then replied. She drawled the word out, and finished it off with a cheeky shrug.

Irene hummed, squinting her eyes, this time as if she was trying to determine if Seulgi was one of those creeps she (unfortunately) often faced. But Seulgi’s smirk was nowhere near erse; if anything, it was just downright adorable, with her eyes folding into creases that made her look earnest.

“It’s neither,” she finally told Seulgi, whose face somewhat fell. Irene quickly discovered that she hated that look on the other woman’s face, and so she added right away. “It’s Soy Strawberries. No whipped cream.”

Seulgi grinned at her then. And if her heart skipped a beat, it was only because Seulgi was being really nice and she had always appreciated such gestures.

.

When Seulgi came back, she slid the to-go cup in front of Irene, punched the straw in while Irene was busy thumbing over her phone, and tried so very hard to keep her heart inside the cages of her chest when Irene finally had dropped her phone back inside her bag and smiled at her in gratitude.

Irene turned the cup in its place, swearing that she was only checking if Seulgi got her name right; and that she’d be incredibly happy if she did as it was Seulgi’s first try.

Yet the first letter of her name wasn’t even on the cup. Instead, it was a string of words—eight to be exact.

(And if Irene looked back, she’d think it was the very first sign.)

For the prettiest girl I’ve met this morning.

Irene swiped a thumb at the words jotted down, wiping the dews of the cold drink away. The corner of her lips quirked up with mischief, coaxing an ensuing blush from Seulgi as the taller woman dropped her shy gaze. “Just this morning?”

Seulgi chanced a glance at the glass windows before answering. There had always been something about the rain that calmed her, and right now, she needed it most for the sake of her racing heart.

The drops hit the glass faster than bullets, splashing in bursts that was bigger than when she first walked in into the cafe. She felt happy about it, for reasons she couldn’t quite admit out loud yet, and instead simply said, “From the looks of it, even up to this afternoon.”

Irene took a leisurely sip of her drink, and then propped an elbow on the table, her palm catching her chin. The touch of the cold, icy liquid was like liquid courage, and Irene found herself saying, “I’m not really sure what to feel about it being so short lived.”

Seulgi, in turn, propped an elbow too; mimicking Irene’s posture. But she stared at Irene like she meant every word as she said, “How about tomorrow, too? And the days after that?”

(Because she did.)

…

“Unnie, I thought you were having the day off?”

Seulgi looks up from the button she’s popping out of her white dress shirt—Irene’s favorite that she honestly doesn’t know why she has worn today, of all days. “Yeah, but,” she starts to say, with shaky fingers struggling to unhook the last button, and her still stinging eyes bravely meeting SinB’s. “It’s uhm, it’s over.”

Fifteen minutes, Seulgi’s treacherous mind whispers. It took nine hundred seconds for her entire life to unravel right before her very eyes while she sits helpless behind a wooden desk, mind blank and hands weary, unable to salvage any part.

“Oh,” SinB breathes out, pulling back as Seulgi cracks her locker door open. “Are you—are you okay?”

But it doesn’t even register in Seulgi’s ears, no. Not when her eyes catch the picture tacked behind her locker door: her kissing Irene’s cheek as they both looked and smiled at the camera.

(Seulgi hardly remembers the last time she had smiled like that, like nothing else mattered in this world but the woman wrapped in her arms.

All Seulgi ever remembers now is the taste of bile rising at the back of when she heard those words; the slam of their bedroom door; the way closed up as she watched a sleek silver taxi take her whole world away.)

“Unnie?”

Seulgi startles. It takes a second for her to look anywhere else, to collect herself together and away from the memory she’s about to spiral into. It’s an endless cycle these days, vicious and unforgiving, with a thin thread of sanity as Seulgi’s only saving grace.

“I am,” she says. Her lips press together to form a tight smile. “Thank you for asking.”

SinB’s eyebrows draw together in concern. “You can just skip today, you know. I can teach your class instead.”

“No,” Seulgi protests, though it’s noticeably weak. She shrugs her dress shirt off and folds it with the utmost care before placing it inside her locker. (It’s a gift from Irene, after all.) “I can handle it.”

“Unnie...”

The taller woman takes a step closer, her hand reaching out towards Seulgi. But Seulgi’s already flinching away and taking a step back. So SinB simply withdraws her hand, letting it rest over her stomach instead. “I—if you’re sure.”

Seulgi’s answering nod is barely there. Her head feels heavy with everything, and all she wants right now is some mindless music that can drown the resounding it’s over swimming in her thoughts; until it’s pushed to that locked part of her brain where Irene resides and Joohyun is written all over its walls.

“I have to go get changed,” she says. It’s a dismissal and a please-don’t-make-me-talk-about-it wrapped in seven words, and so SinB acquiesces, mumbles a see yah, unnie before walking out of the locker room and back to the studio.

Then, she’s alone. Her gaze returns to the picture stuck on the metal door, peeling it off the next second when the sight of Irene’s smiling face becomes too much and her heart slips through the cracks in her ribcage.

...

She goes home to an empty apartment. It’s been like that for a while now, but today just cements the fact that it’ll never be filled the same way Seulgi has always dreamed of: echoes of small feet skidding against the floorboards as their kids race towards the door to welcome Seulgi home; Irene shuffling around their kitchen as she prepares dinner after a boring shift in the hospital. Her wife greeting her with a soft kiss that lingers, as if they haven’t seen each other in years even though they’ve spent their entire lunch break together.

What remains of her dream is an empty bed, Irene’s side cold and untouched, and her scent as the only memory she left behind.

...

At the corner of their spare room lies a box that Seulgi has only once had enough courage to draw near to. That one day cheap vodka was pumping in her blood and her mind was hazy enough to sift through their stuff, picking up and plucking out the rest of the things Irene owned but had left for reasons that escaped Seulgi at that time.

She put them all inside that box, just in case Irene decides to come back for them (and inevitably erase every single proof of her existence in Seulgi’s life).

It takes her a hefty-priced whiskey this time. Four shots, and her vision spinning. She’s swaying a little when she tugs the flaps open, her fingers trembling as she fishes out the picture she took off of her locker door from the back pocket of her jeans.

Seulgi gives it a last look, letting nimble fingers trace Irene’s face. There’s a wistful smile on her lips as she holds it closer, eyes fluttering shut when the smoothness of paper presses against her forehead.

“I love you,” she whispers to an empty room. It rings hollow, devoid of the spirit that once coursed in Seulgi’s veins. “Please always be happy.”

.

(And she means it, she really does. More than anything else, all Seulgi ever wants is for Irene to be perfectly happy.

Even if her happiness costs hers.)

...

Seulgi chanced a glance at the woman sitting right in front of her. She had her head down, nose buried in one of those medical journals that Seulgi couldn’t be bothered remembering the title of.

Her long blonde hair was tucked behind her ears, and from Seulgi’s spot, she could see the curves of it sticking out.

It was a rare sight that Seulgi couldn’t pass up the chance on, and so she picked up her phone resting on the table, tapping at the camera application and sneakily taking a picture of the most beautiful woman she had the greatest luck of calling her girlfriend.

Irene’s head shot up as soon as the shutter sound went off, her eyes narrowing while she stared at Seulgi. “What are you doing?”

“I needed something new to sketch,” Seulgi answered, shrugging it off.

“Baby, my hair’s a mess!” Irene whined in protest. “It’s probably sticking out in all directions right now.”

But Seulgi’s eyes only grew tender despite finding the notion ridiculous. Because Irene could be covered in all kinds of grease and soot like a homeless person and she would still find her absolutely beautiful. “You look perfect, Hyun-ah.”

A dust of pink covered Irene’s cheeks, warmth climbing up to the tips of her ears. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not,” Seulgi assured in between soft chuckles. She pulled her chair closer to Irene’s, bending a little and propping her arms against her knees just so she could meet Irene’s bashful eyes.

She stared at her, drinking her sight in. Irene’s hair was indeed a mess from the numerous times she had run her fingers through it. It had been a tight shift so far, with the emergency room backed up from the several traumas that came in due to the snow that had been falling for days.

Irene’s white coat was already creased, the result of a fourteen hour shift and still counting. Her baby blue scrubs seemed well-worn and in need of a change.

Her face was bare, devoid of any makeup. There were dark circles under her eyes, and she looked like she needed a few hours of sleep. Or a shower, at least.

(But Irene had foregone all of that to spend some time with Seulgi. This was the first time they were able to meet in three days, and they’d just both been dying to see the other even though they were both not going to admit it.)

She looked ethereal, with that shy smile that quirked her lips, and her round eyes doe-like and sheepish. And she was looking at Seulgi in a way that made Seulgi wonder what the hell it was that she had done right to be given this chance.

Seulgi couldn’t help but think that right here, in this moment, Irene took her breath away.

(It wasn't the first time, and it was clearly not going to be the last.)

“You’re so beautiful.”

“You just want to make out in the oncall room again,” Irene quipped, feigning a huff. “Well guess what, Kang Seulgi, it’s not going to happen again. Or ever. That last time was enough of a close call.”

Seulgi laughed at the memory of a very, very pale Irene pushing her out of the oncall room, after Yongsun had knocked on the door and hissed that their chief resident was coming right at the corner.

“Hey, I’m not the one who pulled you by the tie, didn’t I?”

“You wore that tie on purpose!” Irene tried to defend. Her indignation was not feigned this time, but it was belied by the growing flush swiftly heating up her cheeks. “And that black coat! You caught me off guard!”

Seulgi hummed as she nodded her head. The smile she was sending Irene’s way was playful, bordering into a smirk that Irene badly wanted to kick off of her face.

Or kiss. Preferably so. Kiss the smirk off of her face until Seulgi would forget her own name and only remember Joohyun, and Irene would be victorious in the end.

“We can’t, Seulgi. I mean it.”

“I’m not saying anything,” Seulgi said. Her nostrils flared as she tamped down the urge to grin. “It’s not like you still have ten minutes left before your next surgery and there’s an unoccupied room down the hallway… oh wait.”

Irene raised a hand, flicking the other woman on her forehead. “I said no.”

“Yeah?” Seulgi challenged. “Even if I say that I have something really important to tell you?”

“Then tell me here.”

“Really?” She looked around, making a show of scanning the entire floor and taking note of all the people that passed them by. “You want me to tell you here?”

“Yes,” Irene replied, voice resolute. She was sure it’d be something silly, knowing how her girlfriend was most of the time. Or, God forbid, something embarrassingly lewd. But Irene was prepared to take that than risk getting caught by their overly strict, pompous chief resident.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!” She affirmed. Her brows scrunched, throwing a disapproving look at Seulgi’s teasing smirk. It was as if Seulgi knew a secret that Irene absolutely had no idea about. “Yah, Kang Seulgi. I only have eight minutes left.”

“I don’t know.” Seulgi titled her head, pretending to mull it over. “I mean, it’s something that should really be for your ears only.”

“It’s obscene, isn’t it,” Irene deadpanned, eyes rolling. “Can’t it wait till we get back to my place? I have to go up to the surgery suite.”

She turned back towards the table to flip the journal sprawled open above it to a close, and then picked it up and cradled it in her arm. She slid her phone inside the right pocket of her white coat next.

Irene faced a still-stooped Seulgi once more, leaning down to plant a quick kiss on Seulgi’s lips while her fingers busied themselves in gathering her hair up into a messy bun. “I’ll see you at dinner?”

Seulgi, though, was quiet. She just continued to stare at Irene, looking like she had no plans of moving from where she was.

Irene, in turn, frowned at this. She was expecting to hear a yes as she pushed off her chair to stand, but Seulgi was just smiling at her, Seulgi’s enamored eyes trailing her every move.

“Baby?” Irene asked, cupping a hand over Seulgi’s cheek. “Are you okay?”

Slowly, then, Seulgi straightened up. Her arms slid from where they were propped on, wrapping around Irene’s waist and pulling her closer, until she could rest her chin on Irene’s stomach.

“Seulgi-yah?”

She nuzzled Irene’s stomach a few times, seeking the warmth that Irene had always offered. Then, she tipped her head back up again to look at the woman who held her heart right on her palm, then said.

“I love you, Joohyun.”

.

Irene blinked. Fast. Hard. Her eyes fluttered nonstop much like the butterflies that had gotten loose and soared all over her insides. “Oh my God.”

opened and closed several times, her tongue unable to form intelligible words. Her chest heaved jagged breaths full of surprise, that got longer and deeper as the glitter in Seulgi’s eyes shined.

Irene could only pull back a little from Seulgi’s still tight hold. Then, she shoved Seulgi by her shoulder, her voice shaking with disbelief as she said, “You—you say something like this when I’m about to scrub in on a surgery! Yah Kang Seulgi!”

Seulgi’s grin grew fuller, the arms twined around Irene loosening up quickly to give the other woman enough room to let her words sink in.

She stood up and pocketed her hands, watching the other woman with nothing but pure amusement—and a heart that swelled tenfolds upon finally getting to admit those words that she had been dying to say since their first kiss—as Irene poked her in the chest with an accusing finger. “You do these things just to—to faze me!”

Seulgi pressed her lips together, and wordlessly covered the hand hovering above her chest with her own. Her fingers pried closed ones open, until they lay splayed flat on that spot where her heart lied beneath, beating. “I have to keep you on your toes, baby. You know I’m such a no jam. I don’t want you to get bored of me easily.”

Irene clucked her tongue, then, “You know I won’t.” But her voice quivered for an entirely different reason this time, feeling how fast Seulgi’s heartbeat was racing underneath her palm. “What are you even talking about?”

Matched with a watery smile, Seulgi could see right past the irked front Irene was putting. She smiled at her, fondness tugging at the corner of her lips as genuine understanding settled on her face. “You don’t have to say it back right now. I just… I really just couldn’t keep it any longer.”

Irene sniffled as she swallowed thickly. She pulled her hand back from where Seulgi was pinning it in place, though she did not waste any second—even the littlest time where doubt could seep in; because no matter how much Seulgi would say and could say that she’d understand, Irene had no plans on making her feel like she didn’t feel the same way—and laced her arms around Seulgi’s waist.

Her fingers locked together, resting the heels of her palms at the small of Seulgi’s back as she tucked her face in the crook of Seulgi’s neck. Warm breath hit Seulgi’s skin as she murmured, “I love you too, even if you’re like this.”

Irene heard more than felt the small breath of relief Seulgi had let out, and she couldn’t help but feel relieved too, knowing she did it right.

“You love me like this,” Seulgi replied. She let her hands run up and down Irene’s back as she felt wetness pool in that space that connected her neck and her shoulder, that same spot where Irene’s face was currently buried in.

The cloth of Irene’s white coat was rough under her palm, but it was a soothing motion that evened Irene’s sniffling breaths, so Seulgi didn’t mind it at all.

She planted small kisses all over Irene’s head: the top of her hair, along the lines that shaped her face, Irene’s temples, above that mole in her right eye; before pressing a final one that lingered at the crown of her head.

Then, she said. “Do you want to take that oncall room now?”

“It’s still a no, Kang Seulgi.”

...

She briefly considers making dinner, when her stomach growls in reminder that she hasn’t really eaten anything substantial throughout the day.

(What for, really, if she can taste nothing but the acid at the back of that refuses to settle down, and everything else she tries to take simply ends up on the floor or on any other surface.)

There’s some left over from the pasta Yeri has brought her two days ago; a plateful of pesto that tastes the same way Irene makes it. But Seulgi is too tired to think anything of it, dried out of all the hope she used to carry with her.

She fishes it out of the fridge and puts it in their—her microwave, sets it to three minutes because she likes it scalding.

It begins spinning, its telltale sound deafening in such an empty kitchen. It even wins over the continuous buzz Seulgi’s phone makes as it rings incessantly on top of the tiled island counter.

Though, the device still manages to catch Seulgi’s attention. She picks it up, not bothering to check who the caller is; swipes left to end the call before firing a quick text to Yeri to say, thanks again for the pasta.

Fires another before she loses the burst of courage she doesn’t really know where she has drawn from. Please make sure your unnie doesn’t skip any meals, okay?

She leaves her phone at the farthest side of the island counter after that, on silent and face-down just so she won’t hear any more of its buzz for the rest of the night.

.

The dish is cooling down when she lays two plates opposite each other on the dining table, and then two forks on each plate’s side. There are two empty glasses on top of purple coasters, but the spoon is only set on one side, because Seulgi remembered, and then forgets about dinner entirely.

She isn’t really feeling pasta tonight anyway.

.

In the end, she settles herself on the couch, long legs dangling at an arm’s edge. Her makeshift bed is a small fit, so Seulgi is forced to fold her legs by the knees and turn to her side, just so she can fit in this couch made for two.

Seulgi then flicks off the lamp that’s above her head, her lone source of light. The entire living room is plunged into complete darkness, and Seulgi can’t help but think how it’s such apropos to how her life is now.

Irene is her very own light, and now that she’s gone, Seulgi will forever be blind.

...

She wakes at the sound of keys jangling outside her door, and her heart slams in her chest when the knob shakes, her breath catching in as it turns the same way it does whenever Irene puts her key in.

The door cracks open, the light from the hallway seeping in through the gap. Seulgi still squints at the dim light that hits her eyes, and raises a hand to cover her face as the ample space widens and more light comes in.

She hears the squeak of shoes, followed by the brush heavy feet make against their doormat. But Seulgi can tell the patter of Irene’s feet from anywhere, and this is when her heart falls and the air she’s suppressing in her lungs rushes out because whoever it is standing by her doorway isn’t Irene.

“God, it’s so dark in here,” Seulgi hears the newcomer say; hardly voices out a protest when the flick of the switch echoes next and the living room is suddenly flooded with so much light.

“I was sleeping,” rasps her, voice slightly muffled by the pillow she buries her face into.

“Unnie, it’s seven pm,” Joy bluntly states. “Have you even had dinner?”

“I’m not hungry.” Seulgi burrows into her makeshift bed even deeper, silently cursing herself for forgetting that they actually left a set of spare keys with Irene’s sister, Yeri, and by extension, her girlfriend, Joy. “Also, if I remember correctly, the keys are strictly for emergencies only.”

Joy tsks, and then flicks the hems of her denim jacket behind her before plopping down the empty couch seat that’s nearest to Seulgi’s feet. “I thought it was an emergency, okay? You weren’t answering your phone.”

“I wasn’t because I’m fine, Sooyoung,” Seulgi replies dismissively. “As I have been telling you for the last ten days. You don’t have to worry.”

“Yeah,” Joy drawls, and then bites at her bottom lip; hard. It’s the only thing she can really do as she watches the other woman curl in on herself, clutching the pillow pressed against her chest impossibly closer. “Forgive me if I’m finding it quite hard to believe right now.”

“I’m not forcing you to.”

She clucks her tongue, pinches Seulgi’s big toe that the latter only shakes off. “Come on. Tell me what you want to eat.”

“Joy,” Seulgi sighs. She sounds terribly exhausted to Joy’s ears. But then again, who wouldn’t be with what she has been going through. “I’m not hungry. I’d rather just sleep.”

She’s met with silence. She would think that the other woman has left on her request, but she never really did hear her door creak, and Seulgi’s simply feeling too unbothered to check. So she says, “Right now, all I want is to be alone.”

“But Seulgi-unnie—”

“Please, Sooyoung,” Seulgi pleads. And just like that, the conversation is over. “Just leave me alone.”

...

Joy trudges inside their apartment with a weight she can feel on her shoulders. While tied to her feet are anchors, the grips of that feeling of helplessness sitting heavily on her chest.

It echoes on the floors like the clack of her boots, seeps from a vein and goes up to , lacing itself on her tone as she tells Yeri, “She wouldn’t let me stay.”

Yeri nods, understanding filling her features. She takes Joy’s hand and squeezes it. “It’s okay.” But there’s a worried look that dwells in her eyes as she turns to stare at the tightly shut door on their bedroom’s left.

She can’t quite understand how their lives ended up like this. It’s been Joohyun-unnie and Seulgi-unnie for as long as she’s known, and now it’s suddenly not, and Yeri is struggling to deal with that.

The urge to cry creeps up like a thief in the night—sadness and frustration has never really been a good mix—and she has to press both sets of her fingers on both her eyes to stave off the tears.

Because they're meant to be; Seulgi’s recent text sitting on her messages makes it clear, while the ultimate proof that her sister is the dumbest, most stubborn person on Earth is on Joy’s inbox.

“Unnie has—” Yeri starts to say. But her voice cracks halfway through, hurting as she swallows. “Unnie hasn’t come out of her room since she came back. I’ve knocked, I’ve called her name so many times. I’ve even tried calling her phone but it just goes to voicemail.”

Joy is the one who nods in understanding this time, knows that Yeri did everything she could to try and take care of her older sister. But, perhaps, it’s out of their hands.

“I think, right now,” she says as her free hand tucks Yeri’s hair behind her ear. “All we can do is wait.”

…

Joohyun-unnie [5:48 PM]

Sooyoung-ah, I have a favor to ask
And you have to promise me you won’t tell anyone
Even Yerim

Me [5:48 PM]

You know I can’t keep anything from her, unnie
I can only try
But, what is it?

Joohyun-unnie [5:50 PM]

Can you check on Seulgi later?
Make sure she eats something for dinner?

Me [5:50 PM]

Of course, Irene-unnie
I can do that!

Joohyun-unnie [5:51 PM]

Thank you, Sooyoung
Just, please, keep this between us

...

It takes about five minutes of waiting—three of which she spends trying to make sense of the sounds and the pictures flashing on their tv screen—before Yeri gives up on the pretense of caring for whatever trivial thing the young lead actor is bawling over about.

“I can’t take this,” she huffs, throwing the pillow she’s holding close away. She marches towards the closed room and bangs her fist against the door, with Joy—who lets out a sigh, because, well, so much for waiting—hot on her heels. “Joohyun-unnie, come on! Talk to me!”

She’s slapping a palm against the wood now, while her other hand continuously tries to shake the locked door knob open.

But her palm only turns red, the other sweaty, and it itches and it stings, and yet, there’s nothing.

“Yah, Yerim,” Joy gently chides, clucking her tongue as she snatches Yeri’s hand off the door and rubs the redness underneath away. “You won’t get her to talk to you if you keep yelling like this.”

“But she’s been there for hours!”

“I know,” she affirms. “And I know you know how Irene-unnie gets sometimes.”

“I just—” Yeri looks away, wiping a stubborn tear that escapes from the corner of her eye. She opens to speak, but the words are stuck behind , held by her need to hear that her sister is going to be fine.

She ends up explaining nothing to Joy at all; only pulls her hand back from Joy’s hold to once more slam it against the wooden door. “Unnie! At least let me know you’re still breathing in there, yeah?”

“I’m fine, Yerim,” Irene finally, finally answers. Yeri feels like she can breathe again, though the muffled, stuffy voice still chips at Yeri’s heart. “I just need a moment, okay?”

It’s not really what Yeri is hoping to hear, but she’d rather have that than nothing at all. And now that her sister is finally responding, Yeri can’t seem to stop. “Do you want me to make you tea, unnie? Or get you a bottle of water?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Okay.” She sighs out at the obvious dismissal. It takes another breath, and her fingers curling around the door frame she’s propped on for her to continue, “But whatever you need, unnie, I’m here, okay?”

Yeri doesn’t wait around for an answer she knows she isn’t going to get. She forces her feet to move, stomping inside the room she shares with Joy and heading straight towards their tiny balcony.

Joy follows her there too, because being Bae Joohyun’s sister means she’s bound to pick up a trait or two, and Yeri seems to have inherited Irene’s stubbornness. One that tends to surface when things don’t go her way.

She’s proven right when she sees the smaller woman digging her phone out of the pocket of her denim shorts, determined thumbs tapping away on the screen. The frown on her forehead creases with purpose, and all Joy can do is ask. “Who are you texting?”

Yeri fires about fifteen hundred messages before answering. “Backup.”

“Wha—who?”

But Yeri doesn’t speak. She doesn’t even take her eyes off the phone screen, even when it finally lights up and she feels it vibrate in her hand.

Joy can only sigh at this.

(Because when Yeri’s on a mission, she can hardly be stopped. And Joy has long figured out—after three years and counting—that it’s best to just let Yeri get it out of her system.

Or there’d be consequences. Some of them Joy really, really likes; most of them Joy absolutely hates.)

Yeri sends a quick reply to whoever she’s been corresponding with before tucking her phone back inside her pocket.

Then, she closes her eyes, taking a deep breath that fills her lungs. She hasn’t really given herself the chance to just pause and take in what has happened—given room to think about what it means for all of them—the moment Irene walked absentmindedly inside their apartment and straight to her room.

She feels a soft nudge, Joy’s fingers wrapping around her elbow. Though she only opens her eyes when she hears Joy ask, “So, who’s coming?”

Still, she remains silent. Yeri only studies Joy’s face, tracing the genuine worry that has settled in since they first heard Irene’s lock click.

Joy hasn’t left her side at all. Throughout the day, she has been the solid presence Yeri needed as she tried to comfort her sister, a supportive voice who tried to coax Irene out to talk to them when there was no response.

Yeri feels her own heart swell three folds, and ache at the next thought that passes her mind; of Joy no longer being at her side, just like how Seulgi is no longer a constant presence next to Irene.

It’s what lifts herself up on her toes, kissing Joy so hard it completely derails the taller woman’s thoughts.

And when she breaks away, she leaves Joy completely dazed. Though, the other woman still manages to ask, “Yeri?”

“You better not break up with me Park Sooyoung,” Yeri only warns her in response before cupping a hand at the back of Joy’s neck, pulling her down and kissing her again.

Joy, in turn, wraps her arms around Yeri’s slender waist, feeling like she’d honest to goodness float away if she doesn’t anchor herself on Yeri’s side.

And she really doesn’t know how she’s managed to speak, much less form a coherent sentence with Yeri catching her bottom lip in between her teeth. “Wh—what?”

“I said don’t you dare break up with me. Or I swear to God, I’m going to fill your new place with mirrors.”

...

Backup actually means Wendy, who takes almost half an hour to get to the apartment, and a few waddling steps to reach Irene’s door.

Eunji has driven her wife to Joy and Yeri’s place, and judging by the dress shirt and dress pants, Yeri has an inkling that the taller woman has probably just gotten home from work.

(And she knows she should feel guilty about that, intruding on someone else’s time for a favor that she draws the last minute. But Wendy is the only person who isn’t Seulgi that could get through to her sister, and Yeri is running out of options.)

She has explained it all in a single text message—or at least she tried to—brief and really just a halting strings of words, yet Wendy’s able to pick up on the unspoken worry underlying it.

Yeri then drags Joy towards their couch, plopping next to Eunji. Together, the three of them watch Wendy stand quietly in front of Irene’s door, her face pulling into one of Eunji’s absolute favorites.

(She calls it the pensive, a rare sight she treasures because her wife is smiles and laughs and giggles most of the time.)

“You heard from Seulgi-unnie yet, unnie?” Joy asks her, breaking her reverie.

“No,” answers Eunji. Though, her gaze is still fixed on her heavily pregnant wife, studiously looking out for the littlest sign of discomfort. “The last time we saw each other, I was hauling her drunk home.”

It’s Yeri who asks this time. “That day she got the papers?”

Eunji nods, and it’s stiff, with a dark look settling in on her face that scares both Joy and Yeri admittedly. “She didn’t even call anyone. The bartender had to call Wendy to come get her because she was the last person Seulgi missed a call from. And then she asked me to come get her.”

“God,” Yeri breathes out. She feels her strength suddenly be drained from her bones, and she finds herself dropping her weight against Joy.

They fall into silence, as if taking that scene in, so much so that they can even hear Wendy’s soft voice as she starts asking Irene to open the door.

Then, Yeri whispers. “I didn’t even see Joohyun-unnie that day. Or the next two.”

It was a messy three days—no, it was a messy three months. (As far as) Yeri knows Seulgi and her sister had hit a very rocky patch for the first two. But it still came as an unwanted surprise when her sister knocked on their door barely a week after the third month started, with her suitcase in tow and a stoic look on her face, asking if she can stay on their spare room for a little while.

Yeri will never forget the blank look on her sister’s eyes, like someone took her very soul away, and what’s left is a hollowed chest with a barely beating heart.

A week after that, the papers were served. Irene’s presence in their apartment started becoming scarce. By the time Yeri woke up, her sister had been long gone, and she still wasn’t back when it was time to sleep. She wasn’t even sure if Irene had come home at all.

And now, here they are.

(Yet, the worst part is, no one really knows the story. Irene has opted to keep it all to herself, and Seulgi seems to be doing the same; unanswered phone calls and seen messages, all under the guise of giving Irene a wide berth to move freely.

Yeri swears she’s heard this same old story in every break up song that ever existed.)

Eunji shifts on her seat, leaning on her toes the moment she sees Wendy wince and rub a soothing hand on her back. But her wife doesn’t call for her, so she sinks back, both onto the seat and into their conversation.

“I’ve never really seen Seulgi that drunk,” she continues, shaking her head. “In a stupor. I was practically carrying her to my car. And when we got to her place, I asked her if she wanted me to stay the night. She could barely even shake her head.”

“And?” Joy gently prods.

“She told me to just—to just please give her home back. And I—” There’s a pause that Eunji takes as the memory surfaces, feeling her own heart twinge for a second time. “I honestly didn’t know what to tell her.”

Yeri burrows deeper into Joy’s side upon hearing the words, seeking the kind of comfort only Joy can give. And Joy has to press her lips on the top of Yeri’s hair, to curb the urge to cry that forms itself on .

.

(It’s a separation that leaves them in ripples; a slab of rock thrown in their calm waters, and it hasn’t stopped rippling ever since.)

.

The three of them grow quiet, save for their deep, heavy breaths and Wendy’s soft voice coming from the short distance.

Eunji is the first one to startle upon hearing Wendy’s voice rise. Yeri pulls back a little to look, while Joy whips her head in surprise because Wendy never ever does that.

But the door stays closed and Wendy feels her patience run thin. “Yah, Irene-unnie! Are you really going to make me stand on my swollen ankles all night?!”

It works like magic, and Yeri can only sigh in relief.

...

The room is dark, so unlike Irene who loves sunshine and everything bright.

The well-lit laptop screen is the only source of light. So Wendy is forced to cautiously feel her way through as she follows Irene, ambling close to the older woman’s heels.

Irene merely slides back in on the bed, in the exact same spot where she has been nestled at for a while now. She doesn’t spare Wendy a glance, but Wendy’s close enough to see how red-rimmed Irene’s eyes really are.

(She’s only witnessed it four times in the entire span of their friendship, two of those being fights with Seulgi—on the verge of breaking up until one of them comes back crawling into the other’s arms and everything falls back into place.

This is the fifth. But what scares Wendy is how it’s starting to look like no one is crawling back and there are no arms to return to this time.)

Irene pulls her knees close to her chest and rests her chin on the crevice where they meet. She winds both her arms around her legs, letting her hands grasp on each elbow. And as her eyes fall on the laptop’s screen once more, her fingers sink on her skin, deep enough to leave marks.

Wendy follows Irene’s gaze, and she has to suppress a sigh when she finds a video playing in fullscreen at the end of it. She doesn’t really know how many exactly Irene has gone through, but from what Yeri has caught her up to, she can only assume a lot, after camping in this room for the remainder of the day.

The footage is a bit shaky, but they can see the camera focusing in on Seulgi’s back as she walked outside of what looked like a car dealer store.

And this is where Wendy’s heart starts to break, hearing a constrained sound escape Irene’s throat; one that she quickly muffles with small hands as Seulgi’s curious yet mellow voice wafts from the laptop’s speakers.

“Baby, is this really the car we’re going to test drive?”

“Yes,” they hear Irene’s voice say from behind the lens. The view pans to the car itself, and both Wendy and Irene see the sleek blue car the latter and Seulgi used to drive. “I was talking to Yongsun a few days ago and she said this is a good car. It’s crash proof and completely safe. Not to mention, it looks nice right?”

The focus is brought back to Seulgi, and it shows how her eyes grew confused given the camera’s proximity. “Yeah, but, Yongsun-unnie told you to get a BMW?”

The view shakes. Irene remembers throwing Seulgi a dismissive shrug; remembers even more than that—every second of the ten-minute video, and how happy she made Seulgi that day.

The camera goes around the car as Irene walked to the passenger side. She slid inside the leather seat, never losing focus even when she had to clip the seat belt on with just one hand.

All the while, the view shows Seulgi sliding in into the driver’s seat, and then marveling at the black elegant dashboard the car was equipped with.

She even ran her hands along the steering wheel in awe. “This is a really nice car, Hyun.”

“I know, right?” Irene’s voice replied. And even though Wendy and Irene can’t see her on the screen, they can both picture her satisfied grin. “Let’s give it a go?”

Seulgi nodded eagerly. She bent to start the engine, fingers grasping at the key when she finally realized something. “Wait, why are you filming me?”

“It’s so if we crash a car we haven’t paid for yet, I have proof that it was you on the driver’s seat.”

Seulgi made a show of heaving a deep breath, exhaling out loud as she tilted her head and threw Irene an unamused glare. “Sometimes I wonder what’s it like to have a supportive wife.”

She laughed at the playful shove she got from Irene, the smaller woman’s pale hand darting from somewhere behind and straight to the screen.

“Yah!” A still unseen Irene yelled. But she melted just as quick when Seulgi caught her hand and pressed a lingering kiss at the back of it.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. You’re the best. I couldn’t really ask for more.”

Wendy feels more than sees the way Irene shifts on the bed. She only hears the rustle of fabric against sheets, but she catches the way Irene tips her head back and forces her eyes to look anywhere else.

Irene’s vision blurs, but she’s quick to blink back the tears. She has managed not to cry again for the last five videos, and she refuses to start now.

Even though the soft smile adorning Seulgi’s face is a pain that she will never shake.

When she brings her head back down and looks at the screen once more, she has already steeled herself, reigning over the momentary loss of control in that particular way Wendy has always admired.

The video continues to roll. Seulgi had already pulled out of the dealer’s parking lot and was taking the route designated for the test drive. Irene watches herself—or at least her hands—fiddle with the various knobs and buttons that embellished the dashboard, while Seulgi only chuckled and laughed at every sound of discovery that Irene made.

They pulled into the one-way lane that was apt for trying out the automatic shifting gears. It was a long, wide, empty road, with hardly any other cars passing by. Seulgi’s eyes sparkled with excitement as the rev of the car’s engine echoed in the sunny afternoon.

The vision of trees and lamp posts they were passing by speeds up, signaling Seulgi’s shift on the car’s own speed. Though, it slows not long after, right when Irene asked, “What do you think of the car?”

“I feel like James Bond,” Seulgi answered truthfully. She threw Irene a fleeting yet elated glance, her eyes fixed back on the road right away.

“James Bond?” The Irene from the footage laughed; the Irene who’s watching does too, albeit softly.

“Yeah. You know, very… wait what does Yeri call it?” Seulgi paused, struggling to remember. “I got it! Posh!”

“Baby,” Irene hears her own voice coo. She feels a tug on her heartstrings, sharp enough that she knows the ache will linger for the rest of the night. “You really have to stop hanging out with my sister.”

“Whatever you say dear,” the taller woman quipped, in the same fake British accent that Yeri has a habit of doing.

“Oh my God, stop!”

Seulgi just laughed, and Irene has to close her eyes when the sound graces her ears. She hardly remembers the time when it didn’t hurt to hear it, hear what used to be her favorite sound, next to Seulgi’s heartbeat.

“But did you like it?”

“I did. It’s nice, and you said it’s safe. It’s pretty easy to drive too.”

“Yeah? You really liked it?”

Seulgi nodded earnestly; the grin on her face was its proof.

Irene’s voice hummed, and then said, “That’s good to know.” She still couldn’t be seen but it’s easy to picture her nodding. “Because it’s ours.”

The screech of tires followed her words, blasting through the speakers without any warning. Irene jumps and covers her ears, while Wendy’s face only pulls into a tight grimace as she waits for it to fade.

It’s next replaced by Seulgi’s high pitched voice, b with disbelief. “What do you mean it’s ours?!”

“Baby, we’re in the middle of the road!”

“Oh, sorry,” Seulgi mumbled. It snapped her back to attention and had her steering the car to the left, parking it on a spot where it didn’t block any car that would pass by. Then, she pressed the hazard button before facing Irene again. “What do you mean it’s ours?!”

“It means literally what it means.”

“Joohyun!”

Irene’s answering giggle was light. (Oh how she misses the feeling.) “We own it. We’re taking it home.”

“But—wh—how?” The view pans closer, the lens almost struggling to catch Seulgi’s incessant blinks. But it was there, and she looked just like the same person Irene has always been in love with, with her button nose, and her chapped lips gaping, her ears sticking out from underneath her hair.

“It just is.”

There was a quick click and a brief rustling before the camera is tilted sideways. It looks like it had been chucked somewhere in the center console, but, really, it was just Irene shuffling on her seat. Then, there, on Seulgi’s side of the screen, she finally appeared, leaning up to press the softest kiss at the space beneath Seulgi’s mouth where her dimple is. “Happy Anniversary, Mrs Bae-Kang.”

.

The footage has a minute or two left, but Irene knows what happens in those moments: a slew of I love yous and countless kisses that her heart isn’t prepared to see. So she hits escape, closing the video, and stares blankly at the wallpaper that her screen switches back to.

It’s a picture of Seulgi and her from their vacation in Pattaya. (Irene can’t really bring herself to change it yet.)

It’s in Wendy’s direct line of sight, but she pretends that it’s some mere abstract she doesn’t have enough knowledge to comment on. Instead, she tells Irene, “I remember that day you brought the car home. She called me and squealed on the phone for ten minutes straight. She was talking so fast, I didn’t understand a thing.”

She sounds nostalgic—so is her smile—like it’s a far-away memory as old as her childhood’s, and not something that was from just a few years ago.

(Maybe because she hasn’t really seen Seulgi do that in quite a while now; hasn’t heard her laugh a full blown laugh that has Wendy in stitches too, until there are tears in their eyes and their stomachs ache.)

“Yeah. She couldn’t even sleep,” Irene recalls, with a lopsided smile ensuing from the memory. Of Seulgi in a gray hoodie, dancing to her heart’s content in their kitchen while she could only watch, perpetually amused by her silly moves and ridiculously adorable faces.

(And then it was time to prepare dinner. But Seulgi stuck to her like glue, refusing to let even an inch of distance get in between them. So Irene had to move around with Seulgi clinging onto her waist, her smaller bare feet on top of Seulgi’s bigger ones, and Seulgi’s cheek pressed against hers.)

“She pulled me out of bed at four am, you know? And told me we had to go somewhere.”

Irene begins tracing a finger on the random patterns decorating her sheets; rolls the cloth in between her thumb and index finger just so she won’t have to meet Wendy’s gaze. “She drove us all the way to Daegu, just because I mentioned missing my mom’s cooking. Once.” There’s a laugh, but it’s a little too breathless, a little too in love, and a little too broken. “Gosh, she’s so stupid.”

Irene turns her head again, away from Wendy’s concerned gaze. She lifts her other hand, pressing a finger underneath her eye, but Wendy doesn’t miss the pooled tears trickling down from the corner.

Wendy swallows thickly. She’s admittedly afraid to ask, but she figures Irene has to talk about it at some point. And she knows that among all of them, she’s really the only one who has the guts—always have been. “Unnie, what happened between you and Seulgi?”

Irene tries really hard to not let anything on her face show, but it’s pain that hearing Seulgi’s name brings, piercing and searing at the same time that she suddenly feels being pulled in a hundred different directions all at once.

She’s quiet for a long second—fifteen pounding heartbeats that Wendy counts in her head—as if she’s gathering her thoughts and plotting them on a map that only she can see.

Then, Irene finally whispers. “Seungwan.”

Wendy finds herself swallowing a second time, pushing back a piece of her heart that the sound of her mere name has chipped away. It’s in the way Irene’s voice cracks, forcing the name out in the thick of a choked whimper.

“I broke her heart.”

She fights back the tears just because Irene is, too. “Unnie—”

“I saw it. I saw it on her face. How could I do that to her?” Irene folds in on herself, hiding behind her bent knees. Her hair becomes a curtain that shields the anguish marring her features, but Wendy can hear it distinctly.

She wants to say it’s gonna be okay, yet, she knows there’s really no way of telling if they ever will be. It would feel like a lie that will burn her tongue, a faux sympathy from someone who can’t fathom what it really feels like.

(Eunji had told her before—that time they broke up once and vowed to never do again; sealed it with an engagement and a kiss—that losing her felt like losing her big toes; the one thing that kept her balanced and hinged, anchored to the ground so that the gruesome reality of her job wouldn’t consume her.)

“I was so happy. God, she made me so happy. The happiest. But she looked like she wasn’t going to change her mind and I wasn’t going to change mine.” Irene wheezes, her shoulders shaking from the jagged breaths she takes. And it feels like at any moment, her chest is going to cave in from all the weight. “It wasn’t going to go anywhere, and we would just end up resenting each other. I don’t want that. I’d never want that.”

Despite the difficulty, Wendy shuffles on the bed, scooting closer towards Irene until they’re right next to each other. She stretches a hand out, hoping that the warmth of her palm will somehow soothe the other woman.

She can’t even imagine what it’s like, to tear off half of what has become as your own self for the sake of not losing each other completely.

“But I wanted this, didn’t I? I asked for this.”

“Oh unnie,” Wendy bleats, her own eyes shimmering with tears. She lets gentle fingers weave through Irene’s defenses to cup her face, slowly lifting Irene’s head up, and lets the pads of her thumbs brush the tears away. “It wasn’t just hers. You broke yours too.”

...

Seulgi bent down, eyeing the tray of food she left inside the oven over thirty minutes ago. It was some type of fancy meat that she couldn’t remember the name of, her wife’s favorite from that restaurant they love having dinner at on date nights.

It wasn’t date night—and if Seulgi thought about it, she couldn’t really remember the last time they had one—but the past two months had been arduous, the past few weeks uneasy, and Seulgi really wanted nothing but to rectify that.

She straightened up, proceeded to check the carrot cake resting on their fridge and the wine cooling on the chiller a third time. She wasn’t the type to splurge extra wons on gourmet meals, but Seulgi hardly saw even her wife’s shadow these days—though she knew she was partly to be blamed for that—so she wanted tonight to be just about the two of them.

They had been so utterly out of sync lately. Seulgi didn’t even have the faintest idea if Irene was still running the ER or if she had been relegated to something else. And she’d bet a month’s worth of spicy ramen that Irene didn’t know what was going on in the studio anymore either.

They were reduced to hastened his and byes, I love yous thrown over her shoulder on rare mornings when Irene also happened to be up, never knowing if the sentiment was ever returned because Seulgi had long dashed out of the house before Irene even got the chance to say it back.

And Seulgi missed that, terribly so. She missed lying on the bed right next to where her wife was, missed falling asleep in her eyes and to the sound of her even breaths, with her warmth tucked on Seulgi’s side. Missed not falling asleep at all, and instead spending the rest of the night talking about anything and everything, and what was it that they wanted to do next.

(She couldn’t wait to ask Irene that, even though she already knew the answer.)

She missed her so bad that she was determined to make up for it. For putting the rookie girl group she had been making choreographs for first, over her wife’s needs eighty percent of the time. For bailing out on a lot of weekend plans, falling asleep even before Irene got home, waking up at the crack of dawn to make it to their rehearsal call time in time.

For sweeping the one thing Irene wanted to talk about with her under the rug, promising that they’d get to it when she returned home, but never really doing so.

But now, Seulgi was ready. She was finally ready to have that talk, ready to make plans with her wife and slowly stop putting the life they shared together on hold.

Her rookie girl group was debuting in a few days, the food was warming up nicely, and Irene was coming home in fifteen minutes.

For once, Seulgi couldn’t wait to start that conversation.

.

Her heart jumped at the jangle of keys, the beats racing as she watched the knob twist and the door crack open. Seulgi didn’t really know why she was feeling nervous, and the sight of her wife trudging inside the foyer did nothing but send her heart into a frenzy.

She looked tired, and there were bags under her eyes. Her hair was pulled up into a messy bun, with a few locks escaping the hold and falling on the creased fabric that covered her shoulders. But she still was the most beautiful woman Seulgi had ever seen, and that was never going to change.

“Hey,” Seulgi called out softly, knowing how Irene was easily startled. She nervously slipped her hands at the back pocket of her denim shorts at Irene’s timid reply.

“Hi.”

“I uhm,” she bit her lip, inwardly berating herself for being at a loss for words. This was her wife—and, God, when did it start feeling like she had to scale a huge wall just to make small talk with her? “I made dinner! Well not me, me, but, I bought your favorite meal from Ristorante Siciliano. It’s… ah.” She jerked a thumb, pointing behind her shoulder to where their kitchen was. “It’s in the kitchen.”

“Oh.” Irene pulled back, looking genuinely surprised. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Do you want to have dinner now? Or do you want to change first? I already set the table.”

“I—”

“Oh,” Seulgi cut her off, as if suddenly remembering something. “I haven’t even properly said hello.”

She crossed the distance in three strides, and then pulled her wife into a hug. Her arms encircled around her tightly, her nose burying itself in the crook of Irene’s neck. She revelled in the warmth that Irene exuded, and her unique scent that aded her senses.

Irene responded to her in kind, returning the embrace. Granted it wasn’t as tight as Seulgi wanted it to be, but she could feel Irene’s hands running along her back, and really, it was the only thing that mattered.

Seulgi disentangled herself after planting a quick kiss on the spot that never failed to make Irene’s breath hitch. But it was only to right herself up. Her hands stayed where they were, her fingers laced on the small of Irene’s back.

Her eyes disappeared behind the mischief that shined in them. Irene’s brow arched at that, though it was a miniscule movement that Seulgi almost didn't catch.

She wondered what Seulgi was thinking now; got her answer from the kiss her wife stole a second later, Seulgi’s teeth nipping at her bottom lip teasingly.

Seulgi repeated the action two more times, each kiss getting sweeter and longer because she noticed how Irene’s eyes seemed to lack their usual sparkle. She chalked it off to her wife simply being tired, the thought almost forgotten when Irene’s hands slid from her shoulder blades and up to her neck.

Still, she was determined to bring the glimmer back, starting with what she had planned for them for this night.

At the fourth time, Seulgi felt a gentle pressure at the back of her neck. Irene’s fingers curled to keep her in place, while the smaller woman leaned up on her toes and fused their lips together in an almost bruising kiss.

Irene’s other hand traveled down, continuing on her journey. It glided from Seulgi’s collar to the topmost button of her plaid shirt, popped it off as well as the next.

But Seulgi broke the kiss when she felt Irene working on the third, then chuckled lowly. “I’m all for where this is headed, but the food’s probably getting cold, babe.”

She nuzzled her wife’s nose, smiling at the warm breath that hit her lips as Irene heaved a sigh.

“I… actually had a Sub before I left the hospital,” Irene answered hesitantly. “My last surgery took longer than planned and I felt too tired to cook.”

“Ah.” Seulgi forced out a smile. Sure it threw a small wrench in her plans, yet she refused to let the rest of their night go to waste. “But not dessert, right? ‘Coz I got us carrot cake.” She shot her wife a hopeful look, her inviting smile genuine this time. “And I was thinking we could talk over wine?”

It was probably a testament on how long Seulgi had been putting the conversation off, when Irene’s initial reaction was to scoff. “And what, you’d try to convince me that we can wait for another year?”

“What? No!” Seulgi strongly refuted. “I just—I mean I’m not sure how long the whole process takes but, maybe we can start planning?”

“Planning,” the smaller woman repeated. But her voice was flat, and she looked dubious, like she didn't trust Seulgi to say the right things.

(It had been the exact same conversation after all, just spread in different months and different moments, all with the same ending.)

“Yeah,” Seulgi affirmed. “Like, maybe I can start reading about the procedures. You—you said there was going to be a lot of reading, right?”

She tried to pass off a smile, but Irene’s expression remained inscrutable. Seulgi had no idea what she was thinking, which she absolutely loathed. How could she not? When she used to be able to read every single thing that was going on in her wife’s mind.

“Hyun? Say something?”

Irene’s jaw clenched tight as she wordlessly folded her arms over her chest. She only stared at Seulgi, who started nervously rocking on the balls of her feet. The dull thud of her shoes was the only sound in the silence, until finally, Irene spoke. “Let’s say we can skip that. What are we going to do next?”

Her gaze was sharp, piercing, and it stung Seulgi in ways that it hadn’t before. This wasn’t the first time Seulgi had been on the receiving end of Irene’s glares, but for some reason, it felt different that night. It was heavier, it was barbed, and it accused Seulgi of a crime she couldn’t remember committing.

“I…” Seulgi dipped her head down. She raised her left hand and fiddled with her ring, feeling like a berated child under her wife’s withering look.

Her lack of response made Irene bristle. Because she was right. It was going to be the same conversation again, and she was just so, so tired. “What if I told you that I want to start the shots tomorrow?” Irene fired again, armed with all the frustration that had been stewing in her gut. “What if I told you that two or three weeks from now, we can already be pregnant?”

Seulgi’s head snapped up, looking at Irene in shock. She felt entirely overwhelmed, because what she had in mind was to just really make a plan, with the actual thing taking place at least two months from now.

Irene watched her gape, and she had to resist the urge to just walk away and leave Seulgi alone.

“Th-that soon?” The taller woman stuttered. She swallowed hard, bobbing up at the motion. Then, “Are we—are we ready?”

“I am,” Irene answered, rather confidently. And she was. She had been ready for longer than her own wife thought. “I’ve been ready for two years. But are you?”

Seulgi held her breath, thinking. It was truly an inopportune time, what with her contract to the rookie girl group spanning up to eight months. She was already on her fifth, but even then, if Irene would suddenly become pregnant in the middle of it all, Seulgi wasn’t sure she’d be the best version of herself. She’d stick around, of course; Irene would never have to worry about that. But she might not be around on the times Irene would need her most, might be too tired to even ask about her and their future baby’s day, might feel the ache of exhaustion too deep in her bones that she’d hardly be able to move and wholly be unable to cater to her wife’s every whim.

These were the same worries that Seulgi had been trying to make her wife understand ever since the subject was first brought up. But her words never came out right, and Irene had somehow made up her mind, thinking that Seulgi didn’t—and never would—want an addition to their family.

But Seulgi did. She did want it. She just wasn’t completely ready, at least not yet. Still, Seulgi trusted herself that she was going to be, once she found the healthy balance between her blooming career and the prospective of her family growing.

Yet, in the end, she couldn’t lie to her wife. She couldn’t say yes when she knew that she just needed some more time. So she told Irene this. “I’m getting there, baby. I just… with the girls debuting in a few days and my contract still in effect—”

A derisive laugh bubbled out of Irene’s throat, and her hands threw up in surrender. She knew it. She damn knew it. “I’m not having this conversation with you, Seulgi.”

She turned around and started to walk back to their room, determined to just sleep it off and forget this night. Maybe even drink that wine straight from the bottle.

But Seulgi was quick on her feet, and her strides were longer than Irene’s so she was able to catch up to her swiftly. She held her by the wrist, gently turning her around to face her.

“Joohyun,” Seulgi started to say. “Come on. I don’t want to fight, okay?” She wrapped Irene in a hug, unable to stand the tears that were pooling in her wife’s eyes. Her face was crumpled, too, and it was a sight Seulgi couldn’t bear seeing. She cradled her head, planting the softest kisses all over Irene’s hair. And when Irene weakly pulled back as a sign of her resistance, Seulgi didn’t let her go.

“I’m tired, Seulgi. I’m so tired of trying to talk to you about it.”

“I know,” Seulgi whispered. She felt her own throat close up, with the way Irene kept on shaking her head and struggling away from Seulgi’s hold, which only tightened every time Irene tried to move. “I know. But I need more time, Hyun. All I’m asking for is some more time—”

Irene shook her head again, firmer this time. And her hands that pried the arms encircled around her were uncaring and rough. She backed one step away from Seulgi, holding a hand up so she wouldn’t follow. “I’ve given you that!” She snapped, her tone biting. “I’ve given you a lot of that.”

“Joohyun.” Seulgi looked pleadingly at her wife who kept on adding more distance in between them. It felt like they were oceans apart, with Irene drifting further away, and Seulgi hated it. “Please try to understand.”

“That’s all I ever do, Seulgi!” Irene spat out; the pain from having to put the only thing she ever wanted second to Seulgi’s wishes for so long pouring out of her all at once. “When you were starting out, when you had to cover four other classes every day because Sunmi just up and left.” She felt her eyes prickle, and for once, she didn’t bother blinking them away. “When you went to Japan for two months for a coaching stint that I only found out about barely two weeks before your scheduled flight.”

It was like a lid had been blown off, and what Seulgi was witnessing now was the overflow: bottled-up emotions that Irene had kept to herself for far too long.

“And I did it—I do it because I love you,” Irene continued, her voice quivering. Seulgi tried not to think anything of it when those three words came out almost breathless. “Because I meant what I said in my vows. I meant it when I promised to do everything to make you happy.”

Seulgi swallowed to push back the tight knot that had surged up in . Yet, she couldn’t fight the tears from streaming down her face. She wiped some of it away with her trembling hands, shaking with a desperate need to hold her wife again.

“You promised me that, too, remember? And yet,” the smaller woman paused and opened her arms, gesturing helplessly at everything around them, “here we are.”

“Joohyun,” Seulgi whimpered; her wife’s name a broken noise that rumbled from deep within her chest. “Joohyun, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“I know you are,” Irene answered with a lopsided smile. “I knew you would be. Because that’s you. That’s one of the things I loved most about you.”

Seulgi couldn’t bring herself to ask what she meant by “loved”, too afraid to know what the answer was. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t feel it coming. And now she couldn’t stop wondering where exactly their night had gone wrong.

She hoped she was wrong; hoped that the foreboding feeling pressing in on her chest was just a product of her life-long fear of Irene packing up her things and leaving her alone.

But she could see how Irene suddenly stopped heaving and began to ease, like her chest had been emptied now that she had said the things she’d been keeping to herself. Seulgi felt her very own heart clench right on the spot.

Though, Irene hadn’t stopped crying. She just felt numb and a lot weightless. She still was when she said, “I think we need a break.”

“No!” Seulgi vehemently refused. She treaded the distance between Irene and her, and held her wife by her face. “I’ll cut the contract short, okay? I’ll—I’ll even take a month off from work if that’s what you want.” She pressed her forehead against Irene’s, planted kisses all over her face that wiped the tears away. Though she could still taste them on Irene’s lips. “We can go to the hospital tomorrow, okay? I’ll call now, or drive to make the appointment, okay?”

She wasn’t kissing her back, but Seulgi refused to give up. “Baby please, take those words back. I can fix this.”

She took both of Irene’s hands and guided them to cup her cheeks, her own hands covering each to pin them in place. “Joohyun, let me fix this. Give me a chance to fix this.”

Irene only stared at her before withdrawing her hands, dropping them listlessly to her side as she shook her head. And in that simple motion, Seulgi felt everything crash down on her all at once, like a freight train she couldn’t stop.

“No, I don't think you can.”

...

Two weeks. Seulgi spent all of her time trying to convince Irene that she was completely onboard; that she wanted the very same thing Irene did.

“But why does it feel like you’re just saying it because you don’t want to lose me?” Irene had told her then. “That you’re only saying the things I want to hear?”

“But I do want it!” Seulgi defended. She ran a hand through her hair, feeling helpless at the way the love of her life seemed to be slipping further from her fingers no matter how tight she held on. “I do want a family with you, Joohyun.”

Irene smiled, but it was all teeth; too sharp to be genuine. “Just not now, right? Or the next three years?”

“Hyun,” Seulgi mumbled, pleading. “I meant what I said. I’ll cut the contract short if you want me to. You just need to tell me. Talk to me, please.”

“But would it make you happy if I did? Or would you grow to resent me when the time comes?” Irene fired back, challenging. Because it wasn’t even about timing anymore. It was now about Seulgi’s sincerity, and if she wholeheartedly meant it when she said she wanted to start a family with her now, or if she was just saying all the things she knew would make Irene stay.

When the taller woman didn’t answer, Irene pulled on the sling of her bag that was hooked on her shoulder, a telltale sign that she was done with the conversation. “Excuse me but I have to go.”

…

And then, it was permanent.

Seulgi was still reeling from it all when Irene merely pushed the untouched cup of tea she made for her during breakfast one morning; dropped the words that she was absolutely petrified to hear.

She was too frozen, feeling too numb and too hollow to sink on her knees and beg Irene not to take her whole world away.

“Seulgi, I want a divorce.”