It’s nothing short of a miracle, Jeongyeon thinks, as Mina’s laughter sounds over the steady beeping in the room. She can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of her lips, can’t help but make herself drunk on the simple sound, melting easily into the sight of her gummy smile, of her shining eyes.

“I was so young then,” Jeongyeon murmurs into the quiet that settles over the room, her hand tucked into Mina’s, her thumb brushing absently over the faint lines that criss-crossed over her pale skin. She matches the knowing smile on Mina’s face, feeling a swell of gratefulness for the time they’re allowed together, even now. “We both were.”

“Are you calling us old, Yoo Jeongyeon?” There is gentle playfulness in Mina’s tone, her voice tinged with the last of her laughter. Jeongyeon feels it then, the warmth that radiates from the woman sitting before her, the same warmth that has always soothed over the cracks of her mangled heart. Jeongyeon feels it then, the youth that blossoms from the woman sitting before her, slipping into the depth of Mina’s stare.

“Maybe,” Jeongyeon shoots back, mustering up a smile, trying not to let her eyes linger on the yellowing of Mina’s bruises. She cradles Mina’s hand a little closer, shifts in the hospital room she’s been perched in for hours, easing into the lull of Mina’s steady, teasing laughter. “Save your strength and let me finish , for once.”

(“Dad?” Jeongyeon’s voice is quiet against her dad’s shoulder, voice almost lost in the bustle of the party ending around them. She’s tucked neatly into the circle of his arms, her eyelids drooping despite her best efforts, almost lulled to sleep by the steady rhythm of his footsteps. She lets out a soft noise of protest, determined fingers curling into the soft fabric of his suit. “ Dad. ”

“ Yes, Jeongyeon?” Her dad indulges her with a light laugh and fond resignation, more than accustomed to Jeongyeon’s impatience. Her persistence. Jeongyeon lets out a pleased noise at finally being acknowledged, but her dad is quick to notice her hesitation, his hand broad against Jeongyeon’s back. She wonders, for a moment, if she’d get into trouble - if resolving her curiosities was worth the price of getting answers. “Have you changed your mind, my pretty girl?”

“No,” Jeongyeon murmurs in reply, shaking her head and pulling back to meet his gaze. Her dad exaggerates a low groan, and Jeongyeon huffs out a laugh, her tiny fist bouncing against his shoulder in protest. “Dad!”

“Okay, okay, you’re not that heavy.” Her dad grins, tucking her dark hair behind her ear and shifting her in his arms. They amble through another crowd of flashing lights, but Jeongyeon hardly notices them, shielded by the wall of towering guards shuffling along beside them. Her dad taps a finger against her nose, drawing her attention back towards him. “What did you want to ask me, Jeongyeon?”

“Well,” Jeongyeon starts, glancing towards her older sisters for a moment as she musters up her courage. Seungyeon sticks her tongue out at her, but Soojin offers a warm smile, easing the well of worry building in Jeongyeon’s tummy. Jeongyeon turns back to her dad at that, to this kind smile and warm eyes. “What’s an intended?”

Her dad laughs again - the kind of laugh that was Jeongyeon’s favourite. The one that came all the way up from his belly, rumbling through his chest, and only making his kind eyes shine even brighter. He soothes a hand over Jeongyeon’s hair, and laughs a little longer, sharing a fond look with her mom over Jeongyeon’s shoulder.

Jeongyeon pouts, especially as he tucks her back against his shoulder, Jeongyeon’s noise of protest lost in the low rumble of the song he begins humming, lulling her back into the sleepy state she’d found herself in only moments ago. Jeongyeon yawns despite herself, practically forgetting what she’d been asking about only seconds earlier.

“All in good time, my pretty girl,” She hears, a mere breath against the crown of her head. Jeongyeon can hardly feel the brush of his kiss, his hand cradling the back of her head as she sinks deeper into the clutches of sleep and the circle of his arms. “All in good time.”)

There is a quiet that settles after she’s spoken, and for a moment, Jeongyeon wonders if the limited time she has with Mina has already come to an end. Instead, she finds herself under the weight of Mina’s gaze, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her lips, urging her on.

“For a while, I didn’t know what Seungyeon had meant - why she had been so adamant in keeping me out of the loop,” Jeongyeon hums, over the rustle of the sterile sheets and Mina’s breath. The hand tucked into her own shifts, and for a moment, Jeongyeon lets herself believe that Mina is still hers. “I wish I had listened to her.”

(“I bet you can’t catch me!”

Seungyeon can only laugh at Jeongyeon’s boastful declaration, especially when Jeongyeon finds herself tripping over her own feet moments later. Their dogs swarm around her, yapping excitedly and kicking sand right over her. Seungyeon shoos them away gently, eyes swimming with amusement as she stands before her. Jeongyeon huffs as Seungyeon hauls her back up, squirming away from the hands brushing sand away from her ruddy cheeks, pouting and golden from soaking up the summer sun.

“Caught you,” Seungyeon is happy to tease, hitching a grumpy Jeongyeon into her arms as their mom calls them back for lunch.

Jeongyeon only gives another huff, almost too big for Seungyeon to carry now. Seungyeon walks a little slower, relishing in the few moments of quiet they could have, away from the public and their piercing gaze. “You tripped me.”

“How could I have tripped you?” Seungyeon asks, pinching Jeongyeon’s nose and grinning at the outraged cry she lets out. Jeongyeon squirms for a moment, but settles quickly against her sister, tired from their day out in the sun. Seungyeon only slows further, running a hand over Jeongyeon’s sea-tangled hair. “Jeongyeon?”

“Yeah?” Jeongyeon hums, cheek pressed against the red of Seungyeon’s shoulder, hair already curling from the water. 

“Don’t grow up too fast, okay?” Seungyeon starts walking again, then, at the sound of their mother’s second call, hitching Jeongyeon higher into her arms. There is a kiss to her head, too soft and too quick for Jeongyeon to wriggle away from. “You have to promise me.”

“I can grow up as fast as I want!” Jeongyeon exclaims, the smile on her face melting away as Seungyeon fails to mirror it. Jeongyeon only nods then, face awash with confusion as Seungyeon hooks their pinkies, pressing their thumbs together. “Okay,” She mumbles. “I promise.”

“Good.” Seungyeon lets her down then, urging Jeongyeon along with a light pat to her . “Go. Mom packed Dad’s special kimbap for you today.”

Jeongyeon lets out an excited whoop, earning a smothering of kisses from their mother when she almost slips again, talks of promises and growing up already forgotten. Seungyeon can only smile, and settle, and watch, and hope that of all their promises, Jeongyeon keeps this one.)

“You forgot,” Mina deadpans, earning a small whine as her hand slips away from Jeongyeon’s grasp for the first time that evening, pinching Jeongyeon’s warming cheeks. 

“I was young!” Jeongyeon defends sheepishly, leaning into the warmth of Mina’s touch as she relinquishes her hold, soothing her thumb over her skin, instead. She peers up at Mina’s face, like she has a million times before - at her sleepy smile and exasperated stare. “I wanted to know more about it. About you.”

(“Who’s that?”

Her mother’s head lifts at her words, a surprised smile crossing her face. Jeongyeon doesn’t protest when she’s brought up onto her lap, just high enough to see the pictures on the dining table before them. The pages set neatly beside the pictures are written in a language Jeongyeon hasn’t learned yet, signed with characters she doesn’t recognise. Jeongyeon doesn’t let it hold her attention longer than it has to, her eyes fixated on the photographs before her, of the same little girl, dark haired and ruddy cheeked and never smiling.

“That’s Mina,” Her mother tells her, a smile in the quiet of her voice as she soothes a hand through Jeongyeon’s hair, tousled from her riding class. It feels like a secret, almost, only piquing her attention even further. “She’s your intended.”

“My intended?” Jeongyeon echoes with a wrinkle of her nose, tilting her head at the pictures spread out on the table. They seem new, captioned neatly in permanent marker, all of the same little girl, probably the same age as her. She’s pretty, Jeongyeon supposes, but not prettier than any of the other girls at school. “What’s an intended?”

Her mother only laughs, the same laugh that her dad had laughed all those nights ago, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of her head. “I’ve already told you too much,” Her mother grins, dancing her fingers along Jeongyeon’s sides to make her squirm. “Run along. Your sisters are having lunch in the garden.”

“Can I take one?” Jeongyeon asks as she wriggles out of her mother’s lap, her fingers already closed around the corner of one of the many pictures displayed before her.

“Seems you already have,” Her mother sighs fondly, tipping down to press another kiss to her head. Jeongyeon only matches her grin with a cheeky smile of her own, running towards the garden doors and squeaking at the scolding in her mother’s tone, trailing like the dirt she’s tracking along behind her.

It’s only later than night, when she’s scrubbed clean and tucked in, that she takes the picture out again, tugged free from the pile of clothes she’d left by the foot of her bed. She traces her thumb over the letters of Mina’s name, taking in the sight of this Mina, blowing bubbles in the bright sunshine.

“What’s so special about you?” Jeongyeon mumbles into the quiet of her own room, curling into her covers and bathing in the warmth of her night light. The girl in the picture doesn’t answer, but Jeongyeon supposes she doesn’t have to. “Goodnight, Mina.”

As she tucks the picture into the pages of her favourite bedtime story, Jeongyeon can only sigh, and smile. They would meet soon enough. She just knew it.)

Jeongyeon finds herself drawn back to reality then, feeling Mina’s hand still as her fingers brush against the band on Jeongyeon’s finger. She looks, regardless, at the woman that she has lost so many times. At the woman she can’t help but love, even after all this time. 

Mina clears . Jeongyeon looks away, drawing her hand back and busying herself with a glass of water to give to Mina. She takes the moment to in a steadying breath, to soothe the swell of hurt that rises in her chest, holding the glass to Mina’s lips. Mina drinks, leaving Jeongyeon to gather her thoughts, her words.

“No one wanted to tell me about you,” Jeongyeon says, in lieu of the apology that’s always at the tip of her tongue. The glass thuds low against the table as she sets it back down, Mina letting out a low hum and offering her a thankful smile. Her hand slips back into Jeongyeon’s. Jeongyeon’s mind slips back into chaos.

“Except for Seungyeon,” Mina finishes with a knowing glint in her eye, her smile softening as she settles back against the pillows. “She was always Dahyun’s favourite. Never afraid to answer her questions.”

Jeongyeon can’t help but laugh at that, shaking her head at the memories that flood her mind, of the endless questions that sprouted from the simple answers her sister had given their daughter. She tuts. “She was never afraid to answer mine , either.”

(“What’s an intended?” Jeongyeon asks Seungyeon over breakfast one Sunday morning, when Seungyeon’s not being rushed off to classes and lessons by her tutors (unlike Soojin, her seat empty at the table). Jeongyeon likes it when Seungyeon finally has the time to sit down and listen. That doesn’t, of course, mean she will listen. “Seungyeon!”

“What is it, Jeongyeon?” Seungyeon grumbles, rubbing at her eyes and peering at her from across a table too big for just five people. Her chopsticks are poised, ready to pick off one of the dishes on her side of the table. Again .

“What’s an intended?” Jeongyeon repeats, shifting on the cushion she was seated on to see her older sister better. Seungyeon lets out a small sigh, seeming to regard her for a moment before lowering her chopsticks. Jeongyeon straightens in her seat under her sister’s gaze, the solemn seriousness that shone within them.

It’s the same look at the beach, the same one that had pierced right through her. Seungyeon’s promise echoes faintly in her mind.

“An intended,” Seungyeon starts, plainly and simply, as sure as she’s always been in Jeongyeon’s eyes. Her sister is quiet for a moment, a moment that seems to stretch into an eternity. Jeongyeon squirms. Seungyeon sighs. “An intended, Jeongyeon, is someone that has been chosen for you to marry in the future.”

“Marry?” Jeongyeon echoes in confusion, setting her own chopsticks down and wiggling a little closer to the table. Seungyeon seems to straighten in her seat as Jeongyeon comes closer, as if drawing her words back, but unable to - not anymore. “To someone I don’t know?”

“You do know her,” Seungyeon reassures, but it does very little to actually do so. Jeongyeon wrinkles her nose, and Seungyeon laughs, reaching over to tap it. “Her name is Mina. Her parents are the ones that send pictures and letters all the time.”

The picture she’s weathered with her own gaze flashes in her mind, and Jeongyeon rubs at her nose, slumping back into her seat. “But why would Mama and Papa do that?”

“Because of an old promise our grandpa and Mina’s grandpa made a long, long time ago.” Seungyeon scoffs at her own words and shakes her head, reaching over to ruffle Jeongyeon’s hair and offering a smile that settles the turmoil in Jeongyeon’s stomach. “Don’t worry about it too much, okay? It’s still a long while away.”

Seungyeon returns to her meal, returns to stealing Jeongyeon’s dishes, but Jeongyeon barely notices, too busy thinking about Mina and the old family promises her parents intended for her to keep.

Later, as she retires into a quiet corner of her room, Jeongyeon pulls the picture out again, from the heavy book of fairytales her mother had read to her a million times, now. 

The corners are bent and worried now, the writing smudged and worn away with the many times Jeongyeon has traced over the characters with her fingers. The photograph had become a place of comfort, almost, with all the stories she’s told Mina, with all the stories that she’s been told of Mina. Despite everything, a part of her already does know Mina. She knows the shape of her smile, and the things she liked to do, and how excited she was to meet her, too. 

Jeongyeon lets out a small breath, one that seemed heavier than the entire universe, and hesitates to place the picture back into the pages of the stories she loved.

Later, as her mother shuts her storybook and kisses her goodnight, Jeongyeon wonders if it will be the same for them. The same as the princes, the princesses, the lives they lived and their happily ever afters.

Later, as the glow of the moonlight spills into her room, Jeongyeon only smiles, tucking the photograph under the safety of her pillow, instead. “Goodnight Mina.”

I can’t wait to meet you. )

“I was really excited,” Jeongyeon admits, trailing her fingers across the rough material of Mina’s bandages, careful not to let her gaze linger over the crimson spots that stained it still. She wonders how much longer they have left to pretend, bathed in the yellow light of the bedside table, left to pretend that everything was still as it was. The clock ticks. Jeongyeon offers Mina a bashful grin. “And then we met in the hospital.”

Mina’s laughter is lighter now, coated with exhaustion, as if a single breath could carry her whole life away. Jeongyeon fusses over her stitches, and tries not to think about it. “I couldn’t understand a thing you said.”

“I couldn’t understand you either.” Jeongyeon wonders if Mina could hear it, the worry that tainted her own laughter. Mina only offers a kind smile and a faint squeeze, Jeongyeon catching the glint of her own ring when she shifts their hands against the sheets. She swallows thickly, forcing herself to meet Mina’s patient gaze. “I think it was better that way. I knew I liked you from the moment I saw you.”

(There had been many things in Jeongyeon’s life that had already been decided for her.

Her lessons and her schools and her extracurricular activity. The food she ate and the clothes she wore and the people she mingled with. Even her own future, even the person she would end up marrying. Everything had already been set into place, one box after another, simply waiting to be ticked off.

Everything except meeting Mina.

Jeongyeon always finds it funny that, with all of their meticulous planning and all of their tireless preparations, Jeongyeon meets Mina in the quiet of the hospital’s play area, Jeongyeon narrowly escaping Seungyeon’s busy hospital room.

“Hey,” Jeongyeon greets, glad her voice doesn’t let up in the nerves climbing into . She climbs into the toy house in the middle of the play area, staring down at the girl she’s only seen in countless photographs. “I know you.”

Mina startles at her words, dressed in a matching set of pyjamas entirely too thick for the warmth of the hospital. Jeongyeon can’t help but watch her, the way Mina’s eyes seem to light up in recognition, responding in a language Jeongyeon doesn’t fully understand.

Jeongyeon grows unsure, overwhelmed, sticking her hands in the pockets of her shorts before she musters up the nerves to speak again. “Can I sit beside you?”

Mina looks around before she answers, Jeongyeon taking in the way the tension melts away from her shoulders when she finds no one else outside the house. She speaks again, but Jeongyeon doesn’t move until Mina pats the space beside her.

“Thanks,” She says as she sinks down beside Mina, careful not to knock over the tower Mina was building. “I’m Jeongyeon.”

Mina seems as puzzled as her for a moment, before nodding in understanding. “Mina,” She hears. “Myoui Mina.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jeongyeon offers, along with her hand, which Mina takes with a hesitant smile. She pulls it back to scratch at the back of her neck, shoulder to shoulder with Mina in this tiny plastic home. She gestures around their small space. “Why are you here?”

Mina’s eyebrows only furrow, and Jeongyeon thinks she looks cute. - kind of. She looks a little different from her pictures. Paler, without the same roundness in her cheeks. Jeongyeon tries again, pointing at the bright pink band around Mina’s wrist.

Understanding flickers in Mina’s eyes. She turns back to the windows, peeking briefly though the pastel yellow shutters before directing her attention back to Jeongyeon.

Jeongyeon can only sit and watch as Mina lifts a single finger to her lips, shushing her, before pulling the neckline of her pyjamas down, just a little. She can’t help the gasp that escapes her, the beginnings of a pale pink scar greeting her, stark against the light of Mina’s skin.

Mina tugs her pyjamas back up at that, a small shiver rippling through her, and Jeongyeon wonders how much more it could hurt - to break your heart.

“That’s scary,” Jeongyeon murmurs, exaggerating a horrified face, and Mina can only laugh, cupping her hands over to muffle her giggles. Jeongyeon brightens, happy to have connected with the other girl, even just a little.

In the comfort of their tiny plastic home, they find themselves teaching each other simple things. Hello. Goodbye. How are yous and how to ask for someone’s name. Simple things like their ages, their favourite colours, how to call someone ‘ friend’ . After a while, Mina starts to quiet, head drooping and resting against her own.

Jeongyeon doesn’t mind.

She lets her eyes linger on their linked pinkies and their teetering tower of blocks, and considers that maybe being Mina’s intended wouldn’t be so bad after all. Not when they could make castles out of Lego’s and homes of tiny spaces.

They sit together in the warmth of their tiny plastic home, and fall asleep against each other, Mina’s head tucking in neatly against her shoulder. Jeongyeon wakes after what seems like hours, mouth dry and entirely too warm, but unwilling to move an inch away from the other girl.

Jeongyeon hears it then - the calls from her dad, the way his voice was ringing out through the hallways. The panic that tinges his tone. She rubs her eyes, hears another voice. Younger, higher, calling out for Mina.

Mina doesn’t say much else as she rubs at her own eyes, giving her a tired but pleased smile. Jeongyeon jolts at the sudden kiss Mina places on her cheek, gone as quickly as Jeongyeon had found her. Jeongyeon takes a moment to watch through the shutters, eyeing the two girls who come to Mina’s side, seeming to scold her as they start to pull her away.

Only then does Jeongyeon step out, and right into her dad’s line of sight as he rounds the corner. She hears the heave of his breath, of this relief, feels the tremble in his strong hands as he sweeps her out of the tiny space and into his arms.

“Bye,” She calls out, faint and hesitant, witnessing the chaos Mina is suddenly trapped in. Still, Mina hears her, offering a small smile and a wave before she’s tugged towards the other direction, away from her.

It’s only later in the car, as Jeongyeon drowns out the sound of her mother’s concerned lecture, that she gets a moment to think again. Think about what had happened in the hospital. About Mina. Jeongyeon sinks into the leather seats and wonders, wonders how long Mina has had to live like that. Wonder how long her own parents have known, wonders how she could even be the age, smiling girl in the photos after that.

Jeongyeon thinks and thinks and thinks, brushing her fingers against the cheek Mina had kissed.

How long had Mina known, too, that her life had been promised away, just like that?

Jeongyeon falls asleep again, to the rumble of the engine and the lull of her mother’s voice. She dreams of castles and kingdoms and Mina, ruling by her side. She manages a small smile.

Maybe marrying Mina really wouldn’t be so bad, after all.)

“I kissed you.” Mina’s exhaustion is plain in her voice, then, even with the smile she manages to give Jeongyeon, sinking into her pillows beneath her.

Jeongyeon brings Mina’s hands up to her lips, unable to help the way tightens, the way her chest aches, the way her eyes shimmer. She gives her a watery laugh, tightening her hold as Mina’s begins to slip out of hers. “You kissed me.”

“Thank you for spending time with me again today,” Mina murmurs, clearly on the brink of sleep, with Jeongyeon left to watch the faint rise and fall of her chest, just like she has for weeks, and weeks. “It’s great to spend some time together after everything. Just you and me.”

“Of course,” Jeongyeon whispers thickly as the first of her tears fall, Mina’s eyes fluttering to a complete close. In the shuddering silence of the room and Mina’s breaths, Jeongyeon closes her eyes and pleads with whatever high powers put Mina in this position in the first place. “You have to wake up again, okay? Please… wake up.”