“You’re new.”

(“You’re new,” Chaeyoung hears, lifting her head at the all too familiar words. She wonders if she’d ever get used to it, moving from school to school, moving from place to place. She was always meeting all of these new people, always the odd one out amongst them.

“I am,” Chaeyoung confirms with a toothy grin, setting down her crayons to give her new classmate her undivided attention. “I’m Chaeyoung!”

“I’m Donghan.” The boy standing by her table matches her grin, adjusting the ball tucked in his arm. A gaggle of kids wait by the door, watching with expectant smiles. “Wanna come play with us?”

Chaeyoung, stuffing her half-finished letter into her backpack, nods happily, rising to her feet. “Sure!”)

Chaeyoung lifts her head at those familiar words, shielding her sketchbook a little further away under this intruder’s unabashed inspection. She supposes she’ll never be used to it, to the sound of those words, to entering new worlds that people have already made homes of. There is a light chatter that rises in the room. Chaeyoung feels their lingering gazes on the back of her head.

“I am,” She confirms, for maybe the hundredth time in her life. She fiddles with her pencil, worrying at its worn eraser. “First year. Just like you.”

The pretty girl, perched on the edge of her desk, smiles down at her - one that glints in the light. One that makes her stomach turn and her heart shake, all at the same time. Chaeyoung feels a little bashful, uneasy under this stranger’s gaze. “You’re not from here, are you?”

(“You’re not from here, are you?”

Chaeyoung shoulders past the small crowd they’ve formed around her, shoulders past their quiet snickers and their not so hushed remarks. Her fingers curl just a little tighter around the straps of her backpack, ignoring the sticky sensation of the juice they’d tipped into the front of her shirt, wishing them all away.)

In that instant, Chaeyoung grows wary of this new classmate of hers, grows wary of what might follow. She casts a nervous gaze around the room, for anyone who might be waiting for a sign to mess with her again. Regardless of how hard they work, Chaeyoung knows that this school is far beyond what her parents can afford. She knows that her education, her uniform on her back, the textbooks in her desks - even the bag she carries around, they’re all gifts, given graciously by her godmother. A godmother she hasn’t even met.

Still, Chaeyoung musters up her courage and lifts her chin, gaze unwavering.

“No, I’m not,” Chaeyoung replies evenly, squashing the tremble in her voice and closing her sketchbook, closing her life away from those curious, prying eyes. She pries out the few truths she’s gotten from her mother. “I’m here on a scholarship.”

“That’s nice.” The girl hums, seeming to soften at the expression Chaeyoung has on her face. Chaeyoung watches cautiously when the girl lifts her hands in a surrendering motion, offering what Chaeyoung assumes is a friendly smile. She feels her own shoulders sink a little, eyeing the hand her classmate offers when she relaxes. “I’m Yeri. Bae Yeri. Do you want to go out for ice cream with me later?”

A part of Chaeyoung worries. A part of her is scared - terrified even, that Yeri will be just like the people who used to push her around at her old school. But a bigger part of her remembers her Mum’s words, the comfort of her touch, and Chaeyoung musters up a smile, taking Yeri’s hand into her own. The bright smile on Yeri’s face helps, too.

“I’m Chaeyoung. Son Chaeyoung.” Yeri’s hand squeezes happily around her own. “I’d love to.”

It’s easy to slip away, especially when Dahyun and Tzuyu are so caught up in each other.

Sana only catches the tail end of Tzuyu’s excited babble, telling Dahyun about the pretty teacher who helped her with her bag earlier. Sana’s lip curls at the mere mention of her, feeling a swell of anger that Tzuyu was in such close proximity to Jihyo. She wonders how small the world must be for their paths to cross like this, over and over again.

“Miss Park,” Sana calls as she reaches the door, catches Jihyo as she begins to flee, heels clicking against weathered wooden floors, echoing down the hallway. How could she have known? She couldn’t possibly have known. “Or is it Mrs. Son, now?”

Sana can’t take delight in it, the way Jihyo flinches at her voice, the way she hesitates, as if it aches her to even face her. She had loved Jihyo once, too. As a friend, as a sister. She had wished everything for her once, too. Perhaps it was naïve of her, especially when she knew the life Mina had laid out for her. Young and foolish.

“Sana,” Jihyo greets evenly, schooling her features in a way she’d seen a million times before. At shoots with Mina. At dinners with Jeongyeon. At the airport, just before-. “I wish I could say it’s nice to see you.”

“What are you doing here, Jihyo?” Sana asks, knowing they don’t have much time, knowing Dahyun will wonder where she’s gone soon enough. Jihyo had been a ghost, flitting from one place to another - a ghost, hiding behind the name and riches of the person she never expected to be connected to this. “Why here, Park Jihyo?”

“Believe me, this is the last place I want to be right now.” Jihyo’s voice is sharp, cutting, attempting to sever what little there is left between them. Her features begin to soften only moments later, lips curling up into a trembling smile. Sana feels a familiar figure tuck against her side, Sana’s hand immediately coming up to curl over Tzuyu’s head. “Tzuyu.”

“Ahma,” Tzuyu calls up to her gently. Sana’s jaw tenses at the flicker in Jihyo’s eyes, her hand soothing gently over Tzuyu’s dark hair. Of course Dahyun would send Tzuyu to fetch her. “Is everything okay? Dahyun unnie is ready to go.”

“I was just having a talk with Mrs. Son here.” Sana draws a smile onto her own face as she meets Tzuyu’s gaze, her anger melting away at the sight of Tzuyu’s wide, curious gaze. If there was anyone she was desperate to keep out of this mess, it was Tzuyu. She presses a small kiss to the top of Tzuyu’s head. “She was telling me that you were very respectful in class. Isn’t that right, Mrs. Son?”

“Yes,” Jihyo schools her features effortlessly, as brilliant of an actress now as she was years ago. She smiles kindly at Tzuyu, and Sana only holds her closer, almost shielding her away from Jihyo’s piercing view. “I was just telling your mom how wonderful you were in class today.”

Tzuyu only gives a bashful smile, ducking her head against Sana’s side. Her hand slips easily into Sana’s, murmuring her thanks as she begins to tug Sana away. Sana doesn’t blink at Jihyo’s words, mustering up the last of her patience for the woman before her. “I hope to only hear good things, Mrs. Son. If you’ll excuse us, we must be leaving.”

“Of course.” Jihyo’s own words grow thin, gaze piercing. Sana is sure she’s wondering the same thing. When will all of this be over? Will it ever be? “See you tomorrow, Tzuyu.”

“See you, Mrs. Son,” Tzuyu offers with a shy smile and pinks cheeks, finally succeeding in leading Sana away. Sana lets her gaze linger on Jihyo for as long as she can, only turning away when they reach the car, a curious Dahyun helping her sister up into the car.

“What was that all about?” Dahyun asks her as she buckles Tzuyu in, and Sana distracts herself for a moment, happy to see Dahyun dote so dearly over her baby sister. 

“Nothing.” Sana presses the lie through her teeth, hoping her reassurances sound genuine enough to make it past Dahyun’s keen senses. Dahyun’s silence is telling, especially as her hand stills over Tzuyu’s seatbelt. “I was just making sure that Tzuyu is settling well. Nothing to worry about.”

Dahyun hums, seeming to accept her words for now and settling back into her own seat, buckling herself in. Sana sits back against the passenger seat, nodding towards their driver, and wishing Tzuyu’s schooling was the worst of her worries. 

Sana’s phone buzzes, her breath catching in as Jihyo’s number flashes across the screen. 

‘I guess you finally got what you wanted.’

Sana’s fingers tighten around her phone, gazing past her words and drinking the sight of their sun-kissed smiling faces. If only it was true. If only it was that easy.

“Miss Yoo, please give us a few words!”

(“Please, give us a few words.”

The media is relentless, for days, for what seems like weeks, lingering on the edges of this new reality she must live in. In the new reality she’s made for herself.

They seem to be in a state of shock; that the perfect bubble that their family remained in popped right before their eyes. Mina doesn’t seem to understand, either, but she works graciously, effortlessly, attending shoots and events with her sad, solemn eyes. Jeongyeon is the one left to handle what is left behind, left to face what remains of her actions, of her own life slipping like sand through her fingers.

“Jeongyeon.” She hears Seungyeon’s voice, then, drawing her out of her thoughts, of Mina’s own brief interview, and the indefinite hiatus she would be taking once her ongoing projects come to an end. What more does she have to say? What more does she have to give to these vultures, picking at their lives when there is nothing left. 

How quickly everything left.

“Mina and I ended on amicable terms,” Jeongyeon starts, echoing the words Mina had spoken earlier that morning. Her name sounds foreign on her tongue, almost sacred, even in the heat of her own hurt, her own anger. “But, a separation is difficult, regardless of the situation. We hope you will respect our family’s wishes to speak no further on this issue.”)

It will always haunt her, it seems, the life she’s tried to leave behind. The life she’s tried to sever herself from in leaving.

“Mina is doing well.” Jeongyeon’s words are recycled, well practiced and rehearsed, drilled into her mind by the legal teams who insisted that she be the front for this. The front for something she had abandoned, years ago. “We hope that you will continue to respect our privacy during this time.”

“Ms. Yoo!” Another reporter calls as her driver opens the door to the car. Jeongyeon hesitates, fingers lingering on the frame of the van. “What does this mean for you two? Have you two rekindled your romance?”

The volume rises then. Jeongyeon feels lost, lost in the noise and her thoughts and the cruel wishes whispering at the back of her mind. She climbs into the van, the ring shimmering around her finger feeling the heaviest it’s been in so, so long.

“Mina and I are close friends, nothing more,” She offers with an easy smile, ignoring the old aches in her heart wishing that anything, that everything was different. How could anything be different, now? “Nothing will change.”

(“Sana, where are we going?”

Momo can’t help but whine a little as Sana pulls her along, pulls her away from the overflowing table of food and down long, quiet hallways. The low hum of the party only grows farther and farther away, and yet Sana doesn’t stop, not until they reach a simple sliding door at the end of the hallway, decorated with simple, blooming flowers.  

“I want you to meet somebody,” Sana whispers, eyes bright and smile eager. Momo can’t help but indulge her, especially when she looks at her like that. Sana moves with care, with familiarity. Momo can’t help but wonder what’s so special about this somebody, hidden away by her painted flowers and low, warm light. The door slides open, bathing Momo in a sterile scent masked by light lavender. “Momo, this is Mina.”

Momo will always remember it, the first time she sees Mina. Before their formal introductions, before her father had sat her down, had told her that this girl was the girl he would have to protect with his life. Momo will always remember the way Mina looks, then, gazing out upon the ocean waves. The way Sana’s hand tightens around her own, the way Mina’s head turns - the curious look in her eyes, the tilt of her head.

“Who’s this?” Momo hears, the words drifting faintly past the fishbowl that seems to be wrapped around her head. She hardly has the mind to squirm away from the wipes Sana scrubs against her face, her hands, only floating father away when Sana leaves her side, helping this Mina up from her seat by the window.

“This is Momo.” The clock ticks, her breath hitching when Mina’s hand slips into her own. “She can be your friend, too! Right, Momo?”)

“Right,” Momo murmurs to herself as she runs a thumb over the glossy picture, the first they’d taken together. It’s crooked and blurry and crowded with their smiling faces, having been laughing too hard to really hold onto Mina’s brand new camera. They had been so much younger then, younger than even Chaeyoung was now. But older than Dahyun had been when she’d left.

(“I don’t see why you have to fly ahead so early just to check on the shooting locations.”

Mina’s voice is soft, coated in playful petulance, eyes full of warmth as Momo bounces a giggling Dahyun in her arms. Dahyun’s little fingers curl tightly around the strings of Momo’s hoody, and Momo wishes she didn’t have to leave. Wishes that could look into Mina’s bright eyes and spill the truth resting on the tip of her tongue. Wishes that what could be her last words to Mina, to Dahyun, weren’t lies. Wishes that she could leave them with more than just a breezy, fading goodbye.

Momo wonders, as Dahyun burrows her face against the fabric of her clothes, if Dahyun will even remember her. Momo wonders if Mina will remind her, if Sana will recount their old stories. If Jeongyeon would be so kind to tell her about the woman threatening to ruin the very happiness she had in her hands. Momo only holds Dahyun closer, pressing a lingering kiss to her head and breathing her in, one more time. One last time.

“I won’t be long,” Momo promises with a smirk, drawing Mina into their embrace, pressing her cheek against the top of her head. Her words taste like ash as they leave , her stomach feeling heavier from more than just the secrets brewing inside. She wishes it could be easier. Wishes that she didn’t have to hide, didn’t have to lie, didn’t have to fear. She wishes and wishes, aching for impossible things even as she pulls back, swallowing down the lump of tears in . “I have to make sure you’re safe, right?”

“Of course.” Mina coos as a squirming Dahyun reaches for her, Momo drinking in the sight of Mina cradling Dahyun back against her chest, hiding her away from the lingering Summer crowds. Momo feels her heart crumble as Mina leans up to press plant a happy kiss against her cheek. “Don’t get into too much trouble over the next two days, okay?”

“Yes, Mrs. Myoui-Yoo,” Momo drawls out, dropping her hand to grip at the handle of her suitcase and mirroring Mina’s easy smile when Mina smacks a hand against her arm. She catches Mina’s hand, tipping her head to press a kiss to Mina’s forehead, to Dahyun’s. “I love you.”

“And we love you.” Mina’s smile softens, humming at the touch and only drawing back at the sound of the pilot’s voice, announcing that the plane was ready to go. Momo’s hand trembles when Mina’s slips from her own, grasping Dahyun’s to make her wave, the drowsy two-year old giggling at the action. “Say bye-bye to auntie Momo.”

“Bye-bye. Love you.” Dahyun gives a sleepy smile, earning a laugh from a delighted Mina as Dahyun’s hand flaps lazily in a wave goodbye. Momo etches the very moment in her mind, in her heart, Dahyun’s simple words ringing in her ears even when she finally leaves, even when she’s home, even when she’s safe.

“Do you think she’ll forget me?” Momo wonders if Jihyo even hears her, her voice almost lost to the monotone of the reporter’s on the news, the pictures of her destroyed plane plastered across the screen.

“No.” Jihyo presses a lingering kiss to her shaking shoulders, and holds her a little tighter, her breaths strong, steady against the tremble of her chest. “Never.”)

“I wish I didn’t have to leave,” Momo whispers into the heavy darkness of her and Jihyo’s bedroom, surrounded by the memories she couldn’t bear to part with, memories with Mina and Sana and Jeongyeon and Jihyo. The memories she could never bear to forget. Chaeyoung’s first smile, her first steps, her first words, kept safe for her, for Jihyo. For…

(Momo is quiet as she slides another picture into its slot, her breathing matching the slow, steady pace of her daughter‘s as she naps on the couch beside her. Jihyo is silent as she sidles up beside her, as she presses a tender kiss to her tense shoulders, fingers tracing gently over one of the few lines that decorate Momo’s stomach. 

It’s almost as if nothing has changed - as if Momo could simply stroll back into the lives she’s destroyed, the expense paid for her own newfound happiness. 

“You’ll wake her with all of your thinking.” Momo’s lips shift into a soft smile at Jihyo’s teasing words, shaking her head as she shuts the photo album beneath her fingers. Chaeyoung’s third now, one to commemorate every year of her life so far.

“We’ll tell her one day, won’t we?” Her eyes shift to look at Chaeyoung’s sleeping face, though she’s sure Jihyo knows Chaeyoung isn’t the only one she’s talking about. The memories flash within her mind as she watches the stuttering rise and fall of Chaeyoung’s breaths, flooded with the images she’d seen that day, of the days that followed.

“Of course.” Jihyo noses against her jawline, the sound of her voice drawing Momo back, back from the past that haunts her, even then. “I promise.”)

(Jeongyeon wants.

It’s a seed, one that blooms in the hollow chambers that Mina carves into her heart with every moment that she’s trickling out of her life - physically, at least. Play dates are replaced with visits to the hospital, with plentiful letters and photographs and calls. With texts, and emails, and gifts, always laden with promises to see each other soon. Always soon.

Never soon enough.

Jeongyeon wants, endlessly, irrevocably, left aching for every free moment Mina’s sickness has to spare for her. Left bearing witness over every moment stolen by Mina’s rising stardom. Mina’s face soon pops up in short commercials, countless magazines, soft and beautiful and unbroken - always with a girl that isn’t her. Always with this Park Jihyo, who is a model, an aspiring actress, a singer. (A ballerina , Mina tells her, whispered over the phone like a secret. Or, she had been, at least.)

Jeongyeon wants, and wants. Wants more than the letters Jeongyeon tucks away in books, creases worn and characters faded. Wants, and wants for other things - other people. Wants for glory, for triumph, for stolen kisses from faceless souls trying to fill the void of her yearning teenage heart.

Jeongyeon wants, even when Mina finally falls into her arms, even when Mina's hands find their place on her own. Even when Mina is there, and hers, finally.

The hardest thing that Jeongyeon learns, in years of wanting, is that Mina wants, too.

Mina wants, and wants, but it isn't always her.

Never just her.)

"Please, Jeongyeon."

(The hardest thing that Jeongyeon learns, in years of wanting, is that Momo wants, too.)

"This is what she wants!"

(Momo wants, and wants, more viciously than Jeongyeon ever could.)

"No." The simple word sends ice rippling down her own spine, her fingers curling tighter around the phone pressed against her ear. She nods politely at the staff that greets her as she makes her way down the hallway, her mind racing with the million other things she's worrying about.

A million other things other than this; the quiver of her hands, the sound of Momo's voice and the desperation sinking into her ribs the way they did all those years ago. Momo might as well have been standing before her, her presence - her loss, clinging to her like a sickness.

"Jeongyeon." Momo's voice trembles, soft and quiet and pleading. Momo wants, and wants, and has wanted so much that she'd thrown everything she knew away for a life, hidden away with the woman she loves and the daughter she would kill to keep. "Even just to see her."

Momo wants, fiercely, bravely.

Momo wants, selfishly. Recklessly.

Jeongyeon supposes she's selfish, too. "Not yet."

Jeongyeon ends the call as she reaches the door to Mina's room, in a breath to still the shakiness of her hand as it curls around the handle. The door is silent as Jeongyeon pushes it open, with the soft, steady beep of Mina's heart monitor greeting her like an old friend. 

It's a small reminder that Mina is here. That Mina is alive.

A familiar brush of relief settles over Jeongyeon as she steps into the warmth of the room and Mina's easy smile, happy that the news of her improving condition was more than Sana's cautious optimism. 

Jeongyeon takes in the sight of the open windows and its fluttering curtains as she shuts the door behind her, Mina's head turning to face her. She musters up a smile at the sight of Mina smiling and awake, fingers cradling the delicate petals of the fresh new flowers by her bedside. White gardenias.

Sana's favorite.

"Yoo Jeongyeon." Mina's voice is light, playful, her eyebrows furrowing in faux anger. Jeongyeon squashes the dread settling heavily in her stomach, raising her hands and ambling guiltily to her usual seat. Mina's laughter is bright, her eyes warm as Jeongyeon collapses into the seat, settling a hand into the one Jeongyeon rests upon the bed. "You're terribly late. I was worried you'd forgotten about me."

I'm sorry, Jeongyeon wants to spit out, her head swimming with how easily Mina's hand fits into hers even after all these years. For everything.

Instead, Jeongyeon joins her in her laughter, willing herself to forget about the weight of her phone in her pocket. Willing herself to fuss over Mina's wince as she continues laughing, rather than her phone's incessant buzzing. Rather than the ache dripping from Momo's voice. Please, Jeongyeon.

"I could never forget about you, Mina." Jeongyeon wills herself to sink into the easy quirk of Mina's lips, wishes it was so easy to brush away everything Mina had done, everything she had done. Jeongyeon wishes it was so easy to forgive the wrongs they had done to everyone else. To each other.

"And I, you." Mina's hand squeezes around her own, relenting and forgiving, even now. Jeongyeon wishes, and wishes, and loses herself in Mina's gentle touch, even just for now. "I made a promise, remember?"

(Jeongyeon wants, and wants.)

The haunted look in Momo's eyes flashes in the front of her mind, shattering the next breath she takes. "Of course."

(Maybe they are no different.)

“I’m home!”

(“I’m home!”

“Welcome home!” A voice rings out from their living room, a smile blossoming onto Jihyo’s face at the mere sound of Momo’s voice. She’s quick to set aside papers to be graded, quick to step out of her shoes, if only to see Momo that much faster. 

Jihyo finds her curled up on their two-person sofa, bundled up in too many blankets for her to count, and Jihyo loves her then, loves her so much more than she could have ever dreamed of. More than she ever thought she was capable of.

“Hi,” She greets warmly, padding along and leaning down to press happy kisses to her smiling face. One of her forehead, on her nose, on her lips, lingering for a moment as Momo reaches up to curl a hand against the nape of her neck.

“Hi,” Momo echoes softly, drawing her closer with a growing grin, another kiss. Jihyo is happy to get lost in her, in the way Momo’s other hand curls around her hip, shrugging away her mountain of blankets to settle Jihyo onto her lap. Jihyo is happy to comply, to drink in the sweet noises tumbling from Momo’s lips, her fingers creeping past the hem of Momo’s thin t-shirt.

Of course, they never get too far, not when a familiar cry pierces through their next shared breath. Jihyo finds herself smiling against Momo’s own before Momo’s head falls back, a breathless laugh tumbling past her lips. Jihyo can only join her, if only for a moment, pressing a tender kiss to the mole against Momo’s neck before sliding off her lap. “I’ve got her.”

“Are you sure?” Momo asks her, burning fingers lingering against her skin for just another moment. Jihyo smiles warmly, flinching as another cry echoes through their tiny apartment.

“I’m sure,” Jihyo hums, dropping another quick kiss to Momo’s lips before she starts padding off towards their room. “You’ve been watching her all day. I need some quality time with her too, you know.”

Momo only smiles, the same smile that Jihyo had fallen in love with, over and over again, the corners of her eyes crinkling. Jihyo feels her heart skip, even then. “I love you.”

Jihyo, with a lighter step and an even lighter heart, is happy to mirror it. “I love you too.”)

The phrase is comforting, familiar on her tongue as she steps into their quiet apartment. It’s a welcome habit, especially after everything that has happened that day. Jihyo wonders idly if Jeongyeon had done it on purpose, offering her a job in the very school that mysterious little Tzuyu was attending. She steps out of her shoes and shakes her head, trying to clear her thoughts. Jeongyeon wouldn’t do that. Jihyo listens out for Momo’s voice instead, wondering if she had fallen asleep after getting home from her weekly meet with Jeongyeon.

“Momo?” Jihyo calls out gently, settling her things down on their kitchen counter as she passes, padding down the short hallway in search for her missing girlfriend. She smiles at the sight of their bedroom door, open just a tad, just enough to tell Jihyo that Momo must be inside. She goes to open the door, voice soft as she speaks. “Hello love-.”

“Did you know?” Momo’s voice cuts through her soft greeting, cold, haunting. Only then does Jihyo pause to take her in, take their entire room in - the mess she’s unknowingly stepped into. The photographs, and albums, and memories she’s willed herself to forget.

Momo had told her that they’d been lost in another move.

Jihyo should have known better.

Jihyo swallows thickly, trying to calm the sudden storm in her own head, feeling as if the world might tip over, right at that second. Momo doesn’t even look at her, eyes glued to an old picture of Mina, on their first trip to Switzerland for their first movie. She looks cozy in her simple white sweater, an easy smile on her face, hair pushed back by her sunglasses. “Momo, I…”

“Did you know about Mina?” Momo speaks again. The quiet fills with chaos, now, trembling with the weight of the news she must know, now. Jihyo grows silent at her question, feeling her words jumble in , feeling her heart twist in her chest. “No lies, Jihyo. We promised.”

A scoff escapes her before she can help herself, eyeing the hurricane of memories that has swept over their room. “That’s rich.”

(“No lies.”

“No lies?” Jihyo echoes in mild amusement and boundless affection, tracing the characters of her own name against the skin of Momo’s chest, smiling at the constellation of marks she’s made. “What do you mean?”

Momo only shifts closer, pressing a light kiss to her bare shoulder. Jihyo melts into her embrace, into her words, the sound of her voice. “We’ve lived lies for as long as I can remember.” Momo’s words wash over her coldly, Jihyo hiding her shiver in the circle of Momo’s arms. “So that’s my one wish. No lies. Not between us. Not ever.”

“Okay,” Jihyo murmurs, content in the warmth of Momo’s embrace, closing her eyes at the touch of her lips against the top of her head. “I promise.”)

“Jihyo, please.” Momo’s voice trembles with the weight of their secrets, her fingers digging into the plush of their bedroom carpet. “I don’t want to fight. Please, I just… Did you? Did you know about Mina? About… Chaeyoung?”

“Yes,” Jihyo breathes out after a moment, dropping her gaze to the countless photographs that surrounded them. Jihyo is taunted by their own smiling faces, unburdened by the secrets they carried now, left with no place to set them down. “Momo, I was going to tell you-.”

“But you didn’t,” Momo finishes, finally lifting her head to look at her, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Jihyo swallows down the lump in her own throat at how Momo’s voice quivers, at how her shoulders sink, at how she looks at Jihyo - eyes swimming in disbelief. She grows pleading then, almost. Jihyo tries not to think about how Momo flinches away as she steps closer. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I knew that this is what would happen.” Jihyo drops to her knees beside Momo, curling a hand around her jaw and keeping her gaze, even for just that moment. “Because we were finally happy, Momo. Because we were finally free. ”

“She could have died, Jihyo.” Momo finally breaks under Jihyo’s tender touch, crumbling into the circle of Jihyo’s waiting embrace. Jihyo knows it probably never gets easier, even decades later, suffering through the almost deaths of the girl she’s sworn to protect with her own. The girl they’ve loved so, so deeply. The girl who loved them completely. “She could have died not knowing about this - about Chaeyoung.”

Jihyo doesn’t speak. She can’t find the words to, can’t find any more in her to give, not when they’ve taken so much from her already. Why? She wants to ask, to throw into the face of whatever higher power had handed her this rotten fate. Why does she deserve to know? After all this time, why is it still her ?

“I want to see her,” Momo whispers, and yet her words are deafening, piercing right through Jihyo’s skin, curling around the unsteady beat of her heart. Jihyo wonders why she’s still so afraid, still so afraid of the woman she had loved then, still so afraid of the woman she’d left behind, all those years ago. Why did it have to be her? Why now? “I want to tell her. About everything. About Chaeyoung.”

Jihyo knows then that there is now escape, not even then, not when they’ve been dead to the world for fifteen years. To think the day had come, to finally face all they’d run away from, one last time.

Even Jihyo should have known that they couldn’t run forever.

(‘Dear Chaeyoung,

Can you believe that we’ve been talking for five years now? It feels like it was just yesterday when Mrs Kim gave me your letter - 4 year old Chaeyoung, from all the way across the country, with two mommies - just like me. Or, kind of.

It feels like so long ago now.

There are so many things I want to tell you, Chaeyoung, and I don’t even know where to start. I guess this place is as good as any.

Chaeyoung, I’m a big sister now.

I’ve been a big sister for a while now, actually.

Mama finally let me see her, for the first time since she was born. She was so pretty, Chaeyoung. Her name is Tzuyu, she’s two years old and I just met her for the first time. Of course, I saw her on my auntie Sana’s Instagram, but this was the first time I saw her in person. My own sister. But you know what, Chae? She knew who I was. Even though I haven’t met her, even though I’ve barely seen her… She recognized me. Auntie Sana tells me that Mina tells her about me all the time, that Mina makes sure Tzuyu never forgets, that Tzuyu had been so excited to meet me.

It always feels like a dream, Chaeng. Like I’ve stepped into an entirely new world, where everything is the same, but different.

The worst thing is… I don’t know if I’m really even angry at Mina anymore. I know I probably shouldn’t talk to you about this kind of stuff, but I don’t know who else to tell. In a way, you’re like my sister too. I don’t know who else to believe but you.

Only you, Chaengie.

Yours truly,

Big Sister Dahyun.

P.S. Did you like your birthday present? Mina is the one who picked it out for you, after I told her that you liked art. She’s the one who wrapped it too, in the end. I know you’ll put it all to good use. Send me a picture with your next letter, okay? I’ll send you tickets to my new movie in mine.’)

There are still days that Dahyun can hardly believe it - that she’s somebody’s older sister.

It feels surreal, even now that Tzuyu is sleeping right next to her, breathing deep and slow - probably one of the better sleeps she’s had in the past few weeks. Dahyun can’t help but be in awe of her, her beautiful baby sister. A miracle, her aunt Sana had told her one night, as Dahyun carried Tzuyu to bed, legs trembling as Tzuyu’s pups ran around her. A miracle that she’s even alive. 

Dahyun supposes that it’s true. Her fingers comb through her sister’s dark hair, lulling her further into the heavy sleep she’s managed to slip into as they drove. A miracle, too, that she could sleep in the car after what happened. She soothes her thumb over the furrow of Tzuyu’s brow, in a soft breath.

“You were all she could talk about that day,” Her aunt tells her from the passenger seat, sending her a small smile through the rearview mirror. “When you first met.”

(“Hyun!”

Dahyun can’t help the smile that crosses her face at the sound of Tzuyu’s tiny voice, nodding along earnestly to Tzuyu’s eager attempts. Dahyun can’t help but wonder then, how much she’s already missed out on with her baby sister. How much more time she could have had if only… Her anger sears against the affection in her fingertips, avoiding Mina’s gentle look. Dahyun ignores her, keeping still and patient, seating a giggly Tzuyu on her lap.

“Dahyun,” She enunciates slowly, grinning at the way Tzuyu’s wide eyes followed , at the way Tzuyu pulled at the strings of the hoody she was wearing. She can barely contain her delight when Tzuyu repeats it correctly, eyes alight as she meets Mina’s across the room. “She said it!”

Her anger melts away, then. The resentment, the distance, the confusion and darkness - gone, at the simple sound of Tzuyu’s voice, if only for that little while.

If only for another little while.)

“Mina told me that that was her first word.” Dahyun runs her thumb over the intricate little braid woven into Tzuyu’s hair. Her aunt Sana must have taken the time to do it, to dress Tzuyu for the day, all before she had to spend the rest of it with Dahyun, following her around on her shoots. Dahyun regards the darkening circles under her aunt’s eyes. “She told me that Tzuyu wouldn't stop saying it, over and over and over again.”

“She wouldn’t.” Her aunt laughs, turning back towards the windows, seemingly lost in her own memories. Dahyun can only watch her, watch her get lost in her own thoughts, in her own versions of the past - wildly different from hers. Dahyun wonders how she can forgive so easily, so readily. The sound of her aunt’s soft, wishful voice cuts through her thoughts. “I wish you could have met sooner.”

“I know.” It’s Dahyun’s turn to look away, directing her gaze back to her back sister. Back to her steady, even breaths. Back to the curl of Tzuyu’s fingers into her hoody, head tucked against her shoulder. To think Tzuyu would be the light in her darkness - the single light she’s had in all of this. She presses a small kiss to the top of her head, holding her sister as close as she can, and wishes, wishes with her whole heart that she wouldn’t grow up so soon. “I’m sorry about that, too.”

“Don’t be.” Dahyun lifts her gaze to meet her aunt’s once more, soothed by the gentle smile on her tired face. “I’m just glad you’re both here. Let’s keep making the most of it.”

The walk to the ice cream store is quiet, but not uncomfortable, with Chaeyoung nodding along to things she couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

Chaeyoung always forgets that these other kids, these other students just like her, lived entirely different lives - lives on an entirely different plane than her own. Chaeyoung always forgets that they see differently, think differently - even walk differently, in a world Chaeyoung could barely see into.

“You looked kind of down earlier,” Yeri starts, hands squeezing around the straps of her bag. Her blazer is tied around her waist, now, scuffed leather shoes kicking about the tiny rocks in their path. Chaeyoung ducks her head at her words. “My mom takes me to this ice cream shop whenever I feel sad. I thought maybe we could carry on the tradition, as new friends.” Yeri’s face is earnest as she peers into Chaeyoung’s. “They have really good ice cream cake.”

“Ice cream cake?” Chaeyoung echoes with a wrinkle of her nose, hiding her rosy cheeks as she jolts away from Yeri’s sudden closeness. She hooks her thumbs against the straps of her backpack, her cheeks warming further at Yeri’s bright laughter.

Yeri only flashes a grin, the same one that glints in the light, wagging a finger at her. “Don’t knock it till you try it.”

Chaeyoung’s phone pings then, with a notification from Dahyun, her unnie from all the way across the country. Or, she had been, at least. Chaeyoung knows they must be much closer now, Chaeyoung braving the same streets of Seoul  that Dahyun grew up in. She’s greeted with a simple picture, one of heaping cups of chocolate ice cream, and almost laughs, her heart warmed at the idea that they could share this one thing - almost.

“Who’s that?” Yeri asks, startling Chaeyoung out of her thoughts, a cheeky smirk growing on her face as she nudged Chaeyoung with her elbow. “Boyfriend? Girlfriend?”

“Gross.” Chaeyoung sticks her tongue out at the thought, nudging Yeri back with a laugh and tucking her phone back into her uniform pocket. “She’s like an older sister. I guess they’re going out for ice cream, too. It’s her little sister’s first day.”

“Well, we might catch them. It looks like it’s the same ice cream place.” Chaeyoung’s head snaps towards Yeri at that, whose smirk only grows wider, her hand smacking against Chaeyoung’s as she takes it into her own. “Come on. Let’s make a run for it.”

Chaeyoung lets out a startled laugh as Yeri takes off, practically dragging her along with her. She can barely think about it, the warnings that flash in the back of her mind. All she can think about is the flutter of the wind in her hair, the aching burn of her lungs, and the exhilarating pump of her legs. Her Mom’s words ring through her mind then as her heart thuds wildly in her chest, words she’s heard too many times, yet clearly not enough.

“You need to exercise more,” Yeri teases breathlessly as they slow to a stop in front of a quaint ice cream store, almost hidden amongst the towering buildings surrounding it. Chaeyoung only pushes at her shoulder, flashing her a dimpled grin.

“Give a girl a warning next time.” She huffs out a breath, stumbling as Yeri pulls her along the last of the way, heaving the door open with an exaggerated grunt. The bell tinkles as they step inside, Chaeyoung’s joyous laughter fading away at the sight that welcomes her. 

Chaeyoung can hardly believe it as her gaze settles on the same woman she’d seen only a week before, the same woman glaring at her mother through the screen. The same woman who had turned her entire life upside down, laughing with the girl she’d seen in posters, on billboards, in magazines, on the big screen. The same girl she’d received sleepy selcas from, the same girl she’d treated as a sister - as a best friend. She opens to speak, but Yeri beats her to it, her hand squeezing around Chaeyoung’s.

“Tzuyu!” Yeri calls, another toothy grin spreading across her face. The name sends ice shivering down her spine, but Chaeyoung can’t take her eyes away from this woman, from Dahyun, and the recognition that flickers in Dahyun’s eyes when she finally, finally meets Chaeyoung’s gaze. 

“Chaeyoung?”

“Do you remember…” Jeongyeon’s voice is quiet as she traces her fingers over the deep lines of Mina’s palm. Her movements are slow, methodical, trailing over the same paths she’d followed for years, knowing them almost as well as her own. Jeongyeon wonders how much different her hands must be now, soaked and stained and weathered by a love that is not her own. “Our first dance? On our wedding day?”

“How could I forget?” Mina’s laughter is an infinitely welcome sound to the rattling of Jeongyeon’s mind, her smile kind as Jeongyeon laces their fingers, trying to keep her own hands from shaking. She’s grateful that Mina is willing to indulge her, even just for these few moments they had together. She knew her ex-wife had plenty of things to despise her for. “We had grand dreams, Yoo Jeongyeon.”

(Everything seems to melt away, then.

Their guests, the handful of people that had been allowed to attend, grow quiet as Mina extends a hand to her. Her smile is soft, bashful, and her touch is even more so, skin cool to the touch. Jeongyeon wonders if she would ever get used to it, the way Mina made her heart tremble, the way Mina drew her breath away with each step they took to the center of the floor, lost wholly in each other. 

It’s just the two of them, then.

There are no yelling cameramen, no prying eyes, no more worrying, nothing but the gentle touch of Mina’s hand against her waist, and the tender way she cradles Jeongyeon’s hand in the other. Jeongyeon can’t help herself, can’t help but be the one to draw herself closer, settling both arms around Mina’s neck instead. She has no worry about what others might think - not today.

Today, Mina is hers.

Hers only.

Hers for the rest of their lives.

“You look beautiful,” Mina tells her for the umpteenth time, and yet Jeongyeon doesn’t grow tired of it, the sound of Mina’s voice, the way her lips curl and the way her eyes look, sparkling even in the lowlights of the venue. To think, Mina had been so close to… Jeongyeon shakes her head, feeling her cheeks warm and laughing at the next words that leave Mina’s mouth. She won’t think about that today. “Have I told you that today?”

“Not in the last 5 seconds,” Jeongyeon teases, voice warm and full of affection. Today, she can pretend, pretend that this is the way it has always been. Today, she wonders when she had begun pretending for things that have always been hers. Always hers. She grows a little quieter, then, willing to lose herself in the steady counts of their feet. One, two. One, two. “Mina…”

“Thank you for having me, still.” Mina’s voice is soft, apologetic, the pink of her lips brushing against the skin of Jeongyeon’s cheek. Jeongyeon can’t help but love her, can’t help but melt into her words and the way her thumbs brush over the small of her back, holding her closer. Her touch burns, burns even through the silky fabric of Jeongyeon’s dress, burns her so strongly Jeongyeon can hardly breathe. “I know I don’t deserve you, Jeongyeon, but I…”

Jeongyeon shushes her with a gentle kiss, a hand curling around the nape of her neck. She knows she has her own secrets to be sorry for, but she refuses to let anything or anyone ruin their day. She tickles the nape of her wife’s neck, relishing in her surprised giggle. Jeongyeon sways them along, moving in tandem to the music, soft and slow - just as they’d practiced. “Where do you see us, Mrs Myoui Yoo, 50 years from now?”

Mina’s smile is bright, her eyes shimmering with hope, and relief, and easy unguarded adoration. Jeongyeon steals another kiss, a dozen more, earning the thunderous laughter and coos of the crowd watching them on their first dance as a married couple. Mina hums, nose brushing against Jeongyeon’s, a pleased smile on her face. “Celebrating our Golden anniversary.”

“I hope so.” Jeongyeon beams and kisses her once more, sinking into the certainty of Mina’s declaration, into the warmth of her embrace and the swing of the beat and the memory of Mina’s smile, burned into her heart for the rest of her life. She laughs, soft and happy and breathless, especially as the beat picks up, their guests and friends coming to join them. “I love you, Mrs Myoui Yoo.”

Mina kisses her sweetly, deeply, holding her close and ever closer. “And I love you, Mrs. Myoui Yoo.”)

“I’m sorry,” Jeongyeon whispers, a small smile on her face as she loses herself in the depths of their memories, in the warmth of Mina’s apologetic gaze, in the gentleness of her touch. It’s so easy to forget, always so easy to forget when it came to Mina. It was always, always Mina. “We didn’t even make it to 10.”

“It was worth it,” Mina tells her, voice firm and sincere, refusing to let go despite the tremble of her hand, despite the shimmer of her gaze. Despite the ache of her heart. “Every single day, every single moment that I spent by your side as your wife, as Dahyun’s mother… they were some of the happiest in my life, Jeongyeon.”

“And mine,” Jeongyeon promises, wills herself to convince the woman sitting before her, even just for this one moment. She wishes she could live in it, in the moments they’ve been granted in the crevices of this chaos. She feels it, then, the weight of her buzzing phone in her pocket, the ache of Momo’s words and the look in her eyes. Jeongyeon knows better. She knows that there is no more time. She knows that she’s running out of time. “Mina, there’s something that I-.”

“Knock knock.” A voice cuts through the room, through the shared beat of their breaths and their joined hands. Jeongyeon can only bear witness now, taking in the way Mina’s shoulders straighten and the way her face brightens, the beginnings of the smile already tugging at the corners of her lips. Jeongyeon can only bear witness, fingers grasping at straws that were no longer hers to hold. Nayeon pops her head into the room with a small, tender smile. “Is this a bad time?”

“I was beginning to think you were never going to pay me a visit, doctor.” Jeongyeon hardly hears the words, a sudden cloud surrounding her head, the steady click of Nayeon’s heels rattling through the ache in her ribs. She sinks into Nayeon’s brief but happy squeeze, but Jeongyeon can hardly bear to stay, excusing herself to the cafeteria. Mina only offers her a gentle smile before her attention is captured by Nayeon once more, the older woman sinking into the seat she’d once occupied, her fingers lacing through the ones hers used to fit neatly into. 

“Please,” She hears over the thud of her heart in her ears, Nayeon’s voice as bright as the way Mina looked right then. “I will always have time for you, Mrs. Im.”