It’s overwhelming, the moments that follow Yeri’s cheerful greeting.

The hand anchoring Chaeyoung down to reality slips away from her own, and Chaeyoung can only watch as the smile on Yeri’s face brightens, impossibly so, as she wraps her arms around a beaming Tzuyu’s shoulders. Dahyun shifts, too, pulling her mask down to reveal the delighted smile on her face, already pushing out of her seat. Chaeyoung can’t find it in her to return it, not at the astonished, piercing stare of the woman sitting just behind her.

The same woman who turned her entire life upside down, all with a few simple words, just the week before.

“Chaeyoung?” Dahyun calls, the smile slowly fading from her face as Chaeyoung stands still before her. Dahyun hesitates in her steps, and yet Chaeyoung can’t answer, can’t find her tongue, trembling before someone she thought she’d known her whole life.

Dahyun, 7 years old, with two mommies, just like her. Yoo Dahyun, 13 years old and at the top of the world, and yet so angry and confused. Yoo Dahyun, 17 years old and only daughter of renowned chef Yoo Jeongyeon and… Myoui Mina, the very woman this Sana, still gaping, had claimed to be her mother.

Yoo Dahyun, reaching out to her, offering a hand into a world she’s never ever dreamed of joining.

Yoo Dahyun, with her kind eyes and gentle smile and open arms.

Yoo Dahyun, her sister.

Chaeyoung runs.

Chaeyoung runs, despite the protest in Dahyun’s voice, runs despite the confusion in Yeri’s, runs despite the burn in her lungs and her legs and the thundering of her heart. Chaeyoung runs, and runs, even as darkness teases at the edges of her vision. She runs, and begs for her heart to hang on, just a little longer.

She runs, and runs, and runs, until there is nothing left but the deafening silence and the heave of her own breaths, her heart racing within her chest. She runs, until her world spins and her lungs ache and reality slips from her fingers, drowning her in cold, suffocating dark.

Infinite, infinite dark.

(It’s cold.

That’s the first thought that crosses Chaeyoung’s mind, her head throbbing in time with the slow, soft beeping that fills the room. All she can feel is the soreness of her head, along with the dryness of , the tightness of , the ache of her limbs. Everything feels foreign, then. From the touch of clothes against her skin, to the smell of the very room she was lying in.

Foreign, except for the warmth of her Mom’s hand in hers, strong and warm and gentle, always there to guide her back to the surface.

“Mom?” She calls out, the words scraping against , opening her heavy eyelids to the sight of her Mom’s relieved face, her bright eyes shimmering with tears. Chaeyoung doesn’t really understand, then, why her Mom sweeps her up into her arms, why she cradles her to her chest, pressing kisses to the crown of her head. Chaeyoung doesn’t really understand, the way her Mom’s voice trembles, the way her shoulders shake, the way her entire body seems to melt, now that Chaeyoung is awake.

“I’m here, sweetheart,” She hears as she clings to the fabric of her Mom’s shirt, soft and safe and warm in her embrace. “I’m right here.”)

(“Dahyun, slow down!”

Dahyun doesn’t listen. She hardly ever does, not when it comes to her Mom, a cheeky grin on her face as she speeds away. The gardens are vast but familiar, and Dahyun knows every tree and flower in her path like the back of her hand, waving easily away, away, away. Her Mom’s voice follows, growing only fainter and fainter, and it’s only when she can no longer hear it does Dahyun slow to a stop, turning back to where she last heard her.

“Mommy?” Dahyun calls out, a smile present on her face as she wanders through the towering trees, following the worn path her Mom and her aunties must have worn into the earth years before her. She muffles her giggles with her hands, wondering if her Mom was simply hiding, waiting to pounce out at her, like she did a million times before.

“Mommy?” Dahyun calls again when her Mom doesn’t answer, when she doesn’t even hear her Mom’s muffled laughter, or the sound of her shuffling about in one of her dozens of hiding places. Her hands fall away from when she finally finds her, lying against the grass, her dark hair hiding her face away. She beams, running over and pouncing on her back, hands grasping at her shoulders. “Found you!”

Only, her Mom doesn’t answer.

She doesn’t even flinch, even when Dahyun pushes against her shoulders. She doesn’t turn her head and smile like she always does, bright and sunny, doesn’t even try to tickle her, now that Dahyun is so close. Only then does fear start to settle into her heart, her Mama’s words ringing in her ears.

“Mommy, this isn’t funny.” Dahyun shakes her again before she starts to call out for her Mama, for her aunt Sana, voice growing thick with tears. She stays with her Mom until her Mama finds them, until her Mom is torn from her own grip, until she sits, sniffling through her tears in the hospital on aunt Sana's lap.

"It wasn't your fault," Dahyun hears, her aunt's lips pressed against the crown of her head. She can hardly hear her over the sound of her Mama's pacing, her worried footsteps clicking up and down the hallway. "Your Mom will wake up soon, okay? I promise.")

It's Dahyun that finds her, her chest heaving and her hands shaking, her cap lost in the wind.

She finds Chaeyoung in the middle of a small crowd already calling for ambulances, for help. She shoulders past the bystanders without a second thought, dropping to her knees beside her, brushing Chaeyoung's hair away from her face. Away from the blood from her split eyebrow.

Dahyun feels the same pang in her chest, then, the same pang she felt at the sight of Tzuyu through the glass, so impossibly small and broken in the wake of her accident.

It's Dahyun who sits with her in the ambulance, pressing lies through her teeth, claiming to be Chaeyoung's older sister. She sprouts out the things Chaeyoung has told her in her letters, in countless emails and texts, Chaeyoung's hand cold between her own. She had only seen it once before, Chaeyoung's scar, almost matching the one she knew her own mother had on her own chest.

"She's fine," The paramedics tell her. Their words feel hollow, ringing in her head, her hand only tightening around Chaeyoung's, feeling as if she might disappear if she lets go of her for even one second. All Dahyun can do is gaze upon her, upon Chaeyoung's flushed cheeks and shallow breathing, breath clouding against the oxygen mask. 

Why had she run away? Chaeyoung had even texted her that morning…

Dahyun is jolted out of her thoughts when they finally arrive at the hospital, the same one that housed her own mother. Her body moves mechanically as she follows them down the long hallways, ignoring her buzz of her phone for the mean time. Dahyun would bear the repercussions later, too busy to think, too busy to do anything but pace outside of the emergency room they had stolen Chaeyoung into.

Her phone rings again, now buzzing with Tzuyu's special tone, stilling her for a moment. It's only then that she answers, her breath trembling as deeply as her hands were at that very moment. "Tzuyu…"

"What were you thinking? You can't just run off like that." Her aunt's voice is the one that snaps through the line, as furious as it was filled with concern, Tzuyu piping up in the background. Sana is gentle as she hushes Tzuyu, but her anger spikes when she turns back to Dahyun, Dahyun almost flinching at her tone. She has half a mind to hang up, but knows her aunt won't let her hear the end of it if she does. "Dahyun, something could have happened to you."

"I had to go after her," Dahyun defends, her exhaustion only catching up to her then, avoiding the curious looks of recognition that the people in the waiting room were giving to her. She pulls her mask back up, running a hand through her wind-ruffled hair. "We're at the hospital."

"What?" Dahyun hears a clatter on the other side, Yerim's voice, soft and confused and apologetic. Dahyun curls a nervous hand into the fabric of her hoody, eyeing the dried blood on her fingertips. Maybe she had been a little rash, but who knows what would have happened if she hadn't chased after her. Who knows what might have happened if anyone else had found Chaeyoung, lying on the sidewalk like that? "Which hospital?"

"Mina's," Dahyun replies eventually, lifting her gaze and wondering if her Mama was up there, just like she had been for the past few weeks. She wonders if her Mom is awake, if her Mom would even want to see her. It had been her fault, after all. All her fault. Her fault, again. "Aunt Sana…"

"Stay there." Sana's voice grows quiet, softer. Dahyun's shoulders sink at the sound of the car door, the rumble of their driver's voice, the ever curious tone of Tzuyu's. Her aunt lets out a soft breath on the other line. "I'm glad you're safe, Dahyun."

"Me too," Dahyun murmurs, sinking down into an empty waiting chair, wishing to be as faceless as the other that surrounded her, waiting for their own news. "See you soon."

"How are you feeling?"

("Earth to Myoui."

Mina doesn't lift her head at the sound of Nayeon's voice, keeping her eyes trained on the moving hands of the watch wrapped around her wrist. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Nayeon calls her name again, voice soft, low. "Mina?"

"You're not this kind of doctor, Nayeon," Mina finally responds, running her finger over the delicate designs etched into her wedding ring, still ever present on her finger. As a sigh tumbles from Nayeon's lips, Mina wonders if Jeongyeon still wears hers. She didn't seem to be when she was out with… "I really wish you would stop acting like one."

"Mina," Nayeon tries again, scooting her seat closer to her, a hand reaching out to still her own. Mina flinches at the touch, drawing her hands back to herself, eyes snapping up to meet Nayeon's.

"Why are you still here, Nayeon?" Mina can't help but ask, her voice sharp, biting. Mina feels her exhaustion catching up to her once more, aching for a moment of peace in the whirlwind of activity that Jeongyeon's been swept up to, barely a week after she's left. "If this is about Jeongyeon…"

Her name still feels like acid in , burning down and through her soul, leaving her with endless questions. Despite Jeongyeon's denials, she couldn't deny the doubt that crept through Mina's mind. Is that why she had been so unhappy? Is that why she had asked for this?

"I'm not here because of anyone, or anything else, Mina." Nayeon's voice is firm, drawing Mina back into her dim reality, sitting in the corner of a cold coffee shop, held together by the fraying strings of her entire being. Nayeon holds her gaze, calm and unwavering. "We're friends too, Mina. Let me be here for you.")

Nayeon's voice is soft and low, still, Nayeon's hands cradling her own, just like Jeongyeon had been only moments ago. Mina can't help but sink into the touch, into the differences between their touch, with Nayeon's hands worn with different weather. Her ring - one they'd chosen together - is cool against Mina's skin, and Mina is happy to lose herself in her touch, happy to lose herself in her wife's mere presence. 

All Mina knows then is Nayeon, who's checking the cast wrapped around her other arm, her eyebrows pinched together in concern. She can't help but smile, but laugh, even as her ribs ache and her lungs burn, lifting her hand away from Nayeon's to soothe her wrinkled brow with her thumb. "I'm fine, Nayeon. You're worrying again."

("You'll melt her, Nayeon."

It isn't the first time, really, that Mina can hardly believe this quiet, new future with Nayeon and Sana.

It's a wondrous, incredible thing - a wondrous, incredible future that feels more and more concrete with every second, every minute and every day that this life has granted to her.

Nayeon's laughter shakes, but she smiles so brightly that the corners of her eyes wrinkle, looking so young and lovely and vibrant that Miina can hardly bear to bask in her light. The baby in her arms seems to agree, joining Nayeon in her delighted laughter with her own gurgles, tugging at the stray strands of Nayeon's hair. It is nearly golden, now, falling out of the messy bun Sana had tied earlier that morning.

"I'm sorry, I've held so many kids before but..." Nayeon offers, awed and breathless, fingers brushing softly over the fine hairs on their daughter's head. She lifts her head, Mina's cheeks warming in the light of Nayeon's tender gaze. "Tzuyu is just… so small. I don't know how you and Sana do it. I'm afraid I might break her."

Mina grins, feeling her heart swell with unadulterated bliss, tipping forward to press a reassuring kiss to Nayeon's shoulder. "Trust that your daughter is made of stronger stuff, Im Nayeon."

Nayeon's smile only brightens, eyes still swimming with affection as she turns her head, catching Mina's lips in a slow, tender kiss. "I love you, Im Mina. You've given me the greatest gift in the world."

"I love you, too." Mina's forehead settles lightly against Nayeon's, her crumbling world finally beginning to feel complete once more. "So, so much.")

"It's impossible not to." It's Nayeon's trembling breath that draws her back into the present, her eyes closing as she settles under Mina's gentle touch. She lifts her own to curl around Mina's once more, turning her head to press a kiss to her palm. "Sana and I… We were worried sick at the thought that we could have lost you and Tzuyu like that."

Nayeon only scoots closer, thumb running over the healing cuts and bruises left behind by the accident. Mina can only watch the storm brewing in Nayeon's eyes, drawing dark thoughts from the deepest corners of her mind. Mina gives her hand a squeeze, drawing her back to reality - back to her. "Nayeon."

"I read the reports… I saw our car," Nayeon whispers, a haunted look washing over her features. Her shoulders shudder with her next breath, rattling inside her chest. "If you hadn't done what you did with Tzuyu, she might not have-."

"But she did," Mina cuts her off, bumping her forehead against Nayeon's, thumb brushing away the beginnings of her tears. Nayeon's lips part with another trembling breath, shoulders sinking. "We both did, Nayeon. We're both here, and alive. With Sana. With you."

"Mina." Nayeon looks at her then, eyes wide and searching, shimmering with the fear and exhaustion she must have been grappling with for the past few weeks. Mina aches to take it all away, mustering up her strength to prove that she was here, that she would stay. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you. Either of you."

"You won't," Mina promises, drawing Nayeon in for a lingering kiss, feeling her breath quiver against her lips. "We won't be going anywhere. I promise."

('Dear Dahyun,

Do you think we'll ever get the chance to meet? I like to think about it sometimes, when Mum is busy working out her study plans for her students, when Mom is busy planning her next dance routine for hers. I know they both love me alot, but they're so busy sometimes, and with all the moving we do… Talking to you makes me feel like I have an older sister that I can just hang out with, you know?

Is that silly of me?

I'm going to be old enough to go to high school soon. I know it might just be wishful thinking, but I hope the next place we move to is a little closer to you. Maybe then, we can really meet. I hope you won't be too busy, Miss Superstar. I'm looking forward to your new movie! Save a seat for me, okay?

Yours truly,

Chaeng.

P.S. Thanks again for the art supplies. I included my own version of your movie poster with my letter. What do you think? You better keep it with the rest of the things I've sent you! I'll check!)

("I wish every night could be like this."

Mina's words are soft, b with affection, her lips a breath away from Jeongyeon's skin. Jeongyeon's fingers tighten around Mina's as her lips finally press against her shoulder, startled out of her own thoughts, out of the secrets clinging to her ribs. Her mind flashes to the papers she had lying in the drawer, the decision settling like a stone in her stomach.

"I know." Jeongyeon feels another sleepy kiss press against her shoulder, and she feels her heart skip, just like it did 5, 10 years ago. She feels Mina wriggle ever closer, chest moulding against Jeongyeon's back, and Jeongyeon is happy to be held, sinking into Mina's familiar touch. She runs her hand over the length of her arm - a wordless apology, one Mina has known for years, between harried phone calls and escaping from one place to the next. "I wish it could be like this all the time, too."

They settle in the quiet of their bedroom for the moment, settle into the sheets of a bed they'd chosen together, settle into the illusion Jeongyeon has built for so long that not even Jeongyeon knows what is true and what isn't, anymore. She curls tighter against Mina, wanting to be selfish for one more night, wanting nothing more than to quiet the whispers in her chest, in her mind. To silence the cruel, foul things they say.

They've grown louder recently, emboldened by the time she spends with Momo, Jihyo and Chaeyoung. 

"Mina," Jeongyeon finds herself saying into the darkness of their bedroom, in between Mina's slowing breaths and the warmth of her arms around her waist. "Did you ever love me?"

"What?" Mina startles from the beginnings of her sleep, the incredulity plain in her voice. The hurt. She feels Mina start to pull away, and suddenly Jeongyeon wishes she'd never spoken, turning to catch Mina's arm and keep her close, even for just another moment. Jeongyeon turns and sees her wife, sees her wide eyes and the way they shimmer, the way they always have, speaking volumes louder than anything she could actually say. "Why would you ask me that, Jeongyeon?"

"It was a stupid question." Jeongyeon shakes her head, because of course Mina loves her, because of course she means more to Mina than just her name, her reputation. Their legacy… right? "Let's just go to bed. We have to be up early for a shoot tomorrow."

"Is that what you think of me?" Mina's voice is quiet, almost lost in the rustle of the sheets, lost in the way Jeongyeon tries to draw her hands back into her own. "All these years, you don't think I loved you?"

Of course not, Jeongyeon wants to say. But she hears the whispers. She hears the rumors. She knows of the way people speak, of how it was never real. That what they had had, had never been real.

"Would it really be so far from the truth?" Jeongyeon stills, her fingers curled loosely around Mina's wrist as she speaks, voice thick with tears she hasn't dared to shed. "We met out of necessity and married out of responsibility. For God's sake, Mina, you almost left me at the altar! How would I know-?"

"If I really loved you?" Mina finishes for her, because Mina knows her, knows her better than anyone else on the entire planet. Has known her for years, and years, before all of this. Before any of this. Jeongyeon feels her slipping from her own grasp again. Only now, Jeongyeon has no one to blame but herself. "Do you really feel that after all this time, I don't love you? That I've never loved you?"

Mina sounds defeated, then. She draws herself up from their bed, and Jeongyeon can't bear to stop her. Jeongyeon can only watch as her hair spills over her shoulders, watch as her shoulders tremble, her weak laughter ringing through the hollow of Jeongyeon's chest.

"I guess she was right in the end," Mina whispers, lifting her head to meet Jeongyeon's gaze, cheeks stained with tears, smile painted with hurt. "I guess you're finally tired of me, too."

Jeongyeon rises in their bed, feeling the lump that rises in , the tightness in her chest, her tongue heavy with words that threatened to spill. Mina stops her with a shaking hand. "Mina, that's not-."

"I think I'll sleep in Dahyun's room tonight," Mina whispers, brushing at her cheeks and slipping completely off the bed, standing on shaking legs. Jeongyeon watches her shrink into herself, stiffening when her wife reaches into the drawer beside their bed, retrieving a small, simple box. 

Of course. How could she have forgotten? 

Jeongyeon swallows thickly at the soft smile Mina musters despite her tears, a shallow numbness ringing through her as Mina places the box on their bed, voice almost too weak to hear. "Happy anniversary, Jeongyeon. I'm sorry I couldn't do more for you."

Jeongyeon watches her go then, like she has a million times before. She watches her go, like she has for countless mornings, for countless nights. Only then does Jeongyeon feel like she's lost her - forever.) 

The bracelet twinkles on her wrist as she shuts the door behind her, its charms chiming gently as she rests against it. She tries not to think about it, everything she has lost, everything she's chosen to give up. Jeongyeon regards the charms that line the bracelet, feeling that old, familiar pang in her chest.

Even during their times of turmoil, even as Jeongyeon burnt the bridges between Mina and their daughter, Mina never failed to add to them - one for every year.

Jeongyeon feels a watery smile cross across her face as she knocks her fist lightly against her forehead. "Stupid."

("Stupid piece of-."

"Language." Seungyeon's voice is low, sleepy from her position on the couch, earning a glare from Jeongyeon. Her sister only gives her a lazy smirk, taunting her with a tip of her head. Jeongyeon would have kicked her out already, if not for the fact that Dahyun refused to let go of her, even after she'd fallen asleep.

"I wish you would stop showing her these." Her voice is quiet, but even. She goes about the living room, cleaning up the mess her sister and her daughter had left behind for the day. She shuts another worn photo album that's split open on the coffee table, tucking it under her arm as Seungyeon watches from the couch. Her arms shift around a sleeping Dahyun, looking sorry. For once.

"I've tried hiding them from her." Seungyeon has the mind to keep her voice low, soothing a stirring Dahyun back to sleep with the simple motion of running her hand up and down her back. Jeongyeon shuts another photo album. "But she isn't a kid anymore, Jeongyeon. They're all she wants to look at whenever you're not home."

"Why?" Jeongyeon lets out a small breath, thumb brushing over the glossy plastic of one of the open pages before she shuts the last album, shaking her head. An empty slot. Dahyun must have taken one. "Mina gets to see her every other week. She hasn't made a big deal out of them before."

"She's just met her younger sister, Jeongyeon," Seungyeon states, as if it's supposed to quell the storm brewing in Jeongyeon's mind. As if Tzuyu is supposed to flash within her mind before Chaeyoung does. "A sister that you've kept her from for two years. A mother you've kept her from for even longer. What's the harm in-?"

"Her parents are divorced, Seungyeon. Her mother remarried, Seungyeon, starting another family without her." Jeongyeon slams the albums in her arms down harder than she intends to, startling Dahyun awake - though Jeongyeon suspects she's already been awake for much longer. She closes her eyes as Dahyun excuses herself, the memory of Nayeon's face flashing in her mind. The sound of her voice, pleading for a chance. She lets out a shuddering breath, shoulders sinking at the weight of her sister's stare. "That's the harm in it.")

Jeongyeon pushes herself away from the door, brushing away the tears that have fallen despite herself.

This was not her place.

This was no longer her place.

"What a mess."

("I can't believe you've dragged me into this mess."

Jihyo's head lolls to the side at the sound of Jeongyeon's voice, soft, dripping with exhaustion. Jihyo takes the chance to really drink her in, then, Momo having left them by their lonesome to tend to a hungry Chaeyoung, barely a handful of weeks old. 

Jeongyeon fiddles with a near empty beer bottle in one hand, with her wedding band in the other, her eyes shimmering in the low light of Jihyo and Momo's quaint apartment. Jihyo thinks of the nights before this, the nights spent with Sana and Momo and Mina, the nights that stretched into the day, always fighting like little kids. 

If only it were that simple, now.

Jihyo feels her stomach turn at Jeongyeon's words, mulling over the sacrifices Jeongyeon has made - heavy, and thankless. She wishes she could have more to say, wishes she could muster up the courage to even apologize. "Jeongyeon…"

Jeongyeon only shakes her head and finishes her drink, slipping her ring back onto her finger and into the life she was risking just to save Chaeyoung's. "You've never apologised to me, Park Jihyo. I don't think you'll be starting now."

Jihyo finishes her drink, eyes locked onto Jeongyeon's back and the phone she holds tightly, flashing with a picture of a smiling Mina and Dahyun. "How about a thank you?"

Jeongyeon only laughs, lingering in the doorway for only a moment longer, already gone. "I guess I'll take it.")

Jihyo regards the scattered photographs, their scattered memories, spilling out on the bedroom floor. Her chest aches with the breath she heaves out, her shoulders aching with the weight of the secrets she carried for so long. They only serve as a cruel reminder, now, of all they had. Of all they lost.

Jihyo wonders just how much more there was left for them to lose.

Momo had fallen asleep only moments ago, after what felt like an eternity cradling her to her chest. Jihyo felt helpless against Momo's incoherent sobs, her strained pleas. Turning her head back towards Momo, the woman she has loved for almost half of her life, Jihyo wonders if she's been a fool for not seeing how terribly Momo had suffered in carrying this weight for so long. To have lost the people she had grown up with, to lose her family, her friends, her entire life - all in one fell swoop.

Jihyo can't help but wonder over how much Momo has sacrificed for her and Chaeyoung, for the chance at this quiet life they were leading, away from everyone and everything they had been.

She presses a trembling kiss to her head, brushing her bangs away from her eyes and lingering for just another minute, lingering on what might be the last moment of quiet they'll have in days, in weeks, in months. The peace they had sacrificed everything for seems so far away now, with the murky waters of their past seeping through the cracks of the walls they had built around their tiny kingdom.

They had taken for long enough.

Jihyo sinks, away from Momo and down to the floor, kneeling amongst the memories she'd tried to bury, that she's tried to replace with the warmth of her daughter's smiles, the light of Momo's love. It has worked for so long that Jihyo thought they might have gotten away with it. How silly of her.

"In the end," Jihyo murmurs to herself, fingers tracing over a photograph of the one person she's failed to forget, even after years and years. "It all comes back to you, doesn't it?"

("What are you doing?"

Jihyo startles at the sound of a young girl's voice behind her, turning as best she could without tangling her crutches. They clatter against the tiles as she falls to the ground, a gasp sounding in her ears, hands soon grasping around her own. A familiar face stands before her, a stuffed penguin abandoned on the floor as this girl helps her back up and onto her crutches.

"I'm sorry for scaring you." Jihyo draws herself up with a soft grunt, watching how delicately the girl brushes off her toy, how tightly she clutches it to her chest. She's only seen her a handful of times before, always surrounded by two older girls, or men as large as skyscrapers. It's the first time Jigyo has seen this mysterious Myoui Mina, truly alone. "You looked like you needed some help."

"I don't need anyone's help," Jihyo huffs out, face flushing with crimson. She ignores the pain gripping her knee as she tries to turn back around, ignores Mina's worried stare. "What are you even doing here?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Mina counters, hands soothing over the soft surface of the penguin in her arms. "We aren't allowed in the kitchen without adults."

"Cookies," Jihyo relents, stilling a curious Mina in her tracks, gesturing vaguely to the counter behind her with one crutch, leaning heavily on the other. She feels her arms screaming at the strain. "They had left over cookies."

Mina tilts her head, looking very much like a puppy as she comes closer, reaching over Jihyo's shoulder to grab the plate she'd been trying to juggle for the past ten minutes. Jihyo purses her lips as Mina cradles her penguin with one arm, the saran-wrapped plate in the other.

"I'm Myoui Mina," This strange, new intruder of hers says with a bashful smile, shifting the plate and the penguin in her arms. "Can we be friends?"

Jihyo regards her, this Mina who is so different to the rest of them. This Mina who never leaves her room without a half dozen people wandering after her. This Mina, whose heart is as broken as her legs are - for now. This Mina, who looks at her with earnest eyes and an even more earnest smile, looking as if she was giving her the world instead of a plate full of cookies. Jihyo looks at her and offers her own smile, giving a firm nod.

"Park Jihyo," She answers, wishing she'd known that this would be the moment that would turn her life upside down, forever. "Let's be friends.")

The memory draws a smile onto Jihyo’s face, soft and sad and wishful. They must have been around Tzuyu's age, then, and Jihyo wonders how they had gotten so far from a shared plate of cookies and holding hands under the starlight. She wonders how much of herself she's sacrificed, trying to forget these memories as much as she tried to forget the ones made of hurt.

She finds a dozen more photographs, drinking in the sight of their bright, smiling faces. Of her, and Mina and Momo, Sana and Jeongyeon. They had been so young, once. They had been so happy, once.

("Truce."

Jihyo regards the hand extended towards her suspiciously, knowing better than to keep Yoo Jeongyeon for her word - especially when it came to one Myoui Mina. Jeongyeon only rolls her eyes, grabbing her hand and shaking it forcefully, enough to rattle Jihyo's thoughts.

"Just for tonight," Jeongyeon says breezily, but her voice is the softest that Jihyo's ever heard, her grip loosening around hers. Her eyes are warm, gentle, and looking at someone else entirely. 

Jihyo knows that Momo is carrying Mina on her back just behind them, a squealing Sana trying to hunt them down for stealing her phone away - again. Jihyo watches her for that moment, hand still held loosely in Jeongyeon's, and Jihyo wonders what makes them so different.

Jihyo watches her, and wonders what chance she stands against someone who looks at Mina like that.

"Just for tonight," Jihyo agrees flippantly, giving Jeongyeon's hand a squeeze that leaves her yelping in pain, painting a smirk on Jihyo's face. They turn back to their friends together, leaving their petty feud behind for now. Tonight, there is no fighting, no bickering. No more than laughter that makes their bellies hurt, and warmth that Jihyo will carry for every moment left in her life.

Later that night, she meets Jeongyeon's gaze as Mina stumbles back into Jeongyeon's arms, dizzy with laughter. Jihyo supposes that even in times of peace, there are little victories, too.)

"God, Yoo Jeongyeon," Jihyo breathes out, resting her back against the edge of the bed and taking in Jeongyeon's easy smile, hair tousled, arms locked tightly around an equally beaming Mina. "We were so in over our heads, weren't we?"

She wonders, too, how much Jeongyeon has sacrificed. For a family that wasn't even her own. For a woman her own wife had loved, the very woman who had been so close to stealing her away. For a family she had resented for so, so long.

​​I can't let a child die , Jeongyeon had told her all those years ago, mind and grave made, standing beside her in front of the glass keeping them from Chaeyoung, ever fiddling with the ring around her finger. Not even yours.

Jihyo is drawn away from her thoughts by the sound of her phone ringing, her obnoxious ringtone piercing through the tense quiet of their room and the deafening noise of her mind. She checks the time, knowing Chaeyoung must be on her way home from her little ice cream trip with her new friend.

She makes a blind grab for her phone, grateful for the break from her thoughts,her voice filling with warmth as she catches the last ring of the call. Only, it isn't Chaeyoung that answers, her brow furrowing at the unfamiliar voice on the other end, at the words being spoken, a panic settling deeply in her heart. "No…"

("We can't stay much longer."

Momo doesn't turn at the sound of Jeongyeon's voice, her fingers tracing over the deep grooves of the characters etched into the stone before her, her eyes drinking in the sight of her own smiling face, framed by dark wood. Hirai Momo, it reads. Beloved daughter and friend. "I'm sorry."

"Are you?" Jeongyeon's question drives deeply into the gaping wound in her chest, Momo once again confronted with the memory of how violently Mina had cried over her empty grave, left without a body to bury. The thought of Sana, and her unwavering strength - the tears and prayers she'd offered, for a liar, a coward. "Is this all worth it, Momo?"

Momo thinks of Jihyo, of Chaeyoung, of the home they've started to build - the life and the future that was waiting for her, for them. A single chance, away from all of this. Away from everything they've known. 

"Yes," She whispers, limbs heavy and heart heavier, rising to her feet. "It's all worth it.")

“Momo!”

Momo jolts awake at the sound of Jihyo’s voice, springing up with a gasp, ripped abruptly from a moment she hadn’t thought about in so, so long. Jeongyeon’s question rings in her head, even now, Jihyo cupping her cheeks, trying to steady her gaze. She feels her chest heave as she sinks into Jihyo’s trembling touch, lifting a hand to cover Jihyo’s own, searching for some sort of tether to reality - to the sound of Jihyo’s voice.

“Momo,” Jihyo breathes out, her ever steady hands shaking, her eyes wide, fearful. Momo has only seen the same look a handful of times before, only ever with Chaeyoung. The world seems to collapse, then, with Jihyo’s voice the only thing to pierce through the sudden chaos of her mind. Please, she begs. Anyone but- “...Chaeyoung. It’s Chaeyoung. We have to go.”

Momo wonders, then, if any of it was truly worth it at all.

Sana wonders if the universe enjoys it, toying with her fate.

Sana wonders if the universe enjoys it, toying with all of their fates, with the quiet of their lives, especially now. The drive to the hospital is silent, a quiet Tzuyu tucked into her side. Her hands say a different story, one hand curled into Sana’s shirt, refusing to let go.

“Is Dahyun unnie okay?” Tzuyu asks her, the first words she’s spoken since they’ve gotten into the car. Sana can only attempt to soothe her, a hand running gently over her hair, a kiss pressed to the crown of her head. “Ahma, who was that strange girl?”

“I don’t know,” Sana breathes out her lies easily, as if she hadn’t been staring at Jihyo’s files even the night before - at Chaeyoung’s. She can hardly believe how closely their lines had been tangled before, how close they’d been for so long. Too long. This has all been going on for much too long. “I’ll be sure to find out, okay? You don’t have to worry. Ahma will take care of this.”

Tzuyu only hums, burying in further against her. Sana only holds her closer, letting Tzuyu’s head rest against her chest. She can only hope that Tzuyu doesn’t feel it, the violent storm brewing in the hollow of her chest, the secrets threatening to spill out at any moment. Tzuyu fiddles with one of the buttons on her shirt, peering up at her. “Can we visit Mommy too?”

Mina. Of course.

“Of course we can, baby.” Sana combs her fingers through Tzuyu’s hair, like she’s done for years, trying to soothe her worries and her fears.  “I’m sure she’ll be very happy to see you.”

“I miss her a lot, Ahma,” Tzuyu whispers, settling into her simple touch. She can’t imagine just how much Tzuyu must miss her, if her own longing feels like a gaping hole in her chest. Sana aches for the simple life they had wished for Tzuyu, for the quiet that her and Mina’s life with Nayeon had finally given them. “Do you miss her too?”

“I do.” Sana closes her eyes, holding Tzuyu ever closer, aching for another moment of peace, of silence. “She’ll be home with us soon. I promise.”