(It’s her Mama that wakes her, after what seems like hours of waiting, rousing her from the protective circle of her Aunt’s arms. 

It had been hard to resist sleep, the sound of her Aunt’s voice as gentle as the waves that kiss the shores of her Mom’s old home. She’s lulled deeper into her dreams, as easily as those same waters had engulfed her then, too.

“Mommy?” Dahyun asks immediately, as soon as she remembers where they are, her eyes landing on her Mama’s smile. It’s soft, and tired, and she hides away from Dahyun’s gaze as she’s lifted into her arms. She tries not to fall asleep again, but her Mama combs her fingers through her hair, from the roots down to the very end of each strand. Her voice is low, comforting.

“Dahyunie.” Dahyun is almost lost in the easy motion of her steps, the gentle rocking of her arms to soothe her. “Mommy is awake, but she’s very tired, okay? We’re going to see her for a little bit, but we have to go home straight after.”

“We can’t stay?” Dahyun asks her as her Mama continues to walk down endless hallways, her Aunt following quietly behind them, her phone glued to her ear. It must be her grandparents with the way Aunt Sana is speaking - always a touch too formal, too stiff.

“It’s not good for kids to stay here for too long.” Her Mama tucks her head in against her shoulder as they pass a familiar ward - Aunt Nayeon’s ward, where she always gives her a piece of candy whenever she drops by. She wonders if she’s working that night, and wonders if she has chocolate for her today, too. Maybe another time.

Dahyun only hums, too tired to do much else, too tired to even talk until they reach Mommy's room, all the way at the very top. Her Mommy is smiling when her Mama pushes the door open, but Dahyun can’t even think to return it, with how her Mommy looks right then.

“Hello, little one,” Her Mommy coos, reaching out to brush her hair out her eyes as soon as her Mama sets her down on the bed beside her.  Dahyun feels the way her hand trembles as it closes around hers, keeping her as close as she could. Dahyun tries not to see them, the wires tangled around her - these strange, beeping machines. Keeping Mommy alive. “Why do you look so sad?”

“I don’t want you to be here,” Dahyun whispers, voice thick with tears that are already threatening to spill over. She feels her Mama’s presence, warm and heavy as she presses a kiss to the top of her head. “I want you to come home.”

“Don’t cry, little one.” Her Mommy hushes her as best she can, trembling fingers brushing against her cheek. She refuses to let her gaze go, despite how much heavier her eyes must feel with every blink. “I’ll come home as soon as I’m feeling better, alright? It’ll only be one sleep.”

Dahyun hiccups through her tears, refusing to let her Mommy go even as her Mama tries to scoop her up again. “Promise?”

Her Mommy musters up a smile, giving her hand a faint squeeze, tired eyes never leaving her own. “I promise.”)

Dahyun shakes herself awake at the memory, shakes herself awake at the lead that settles into her stomach at the thought of her mother. She shifts in her chair, waiting and waiting - plagued by all that she’s said. All she’s done. Even now, weeks after the accident, she wonders if that had been her fault, too.

If only she had been a little more patient. If only she hadn’t asked her Mama to call her to ask her where she was. Would it still have happened? Would her mother have noticed the car speeding past the red light towards them? Would anything have changed? Would everything have changed?

Dahyun lets her head thud back against the wall as she continues to wait, picking at the dried blood on her hands.

She wonders how it’s all come to this. She wonders how she’s let her anger consume her so deeply, how she’s let it destroy what little she had had with her after the divorce. She wonders how much of it is true, now, her mind going back to her Mama’s conversation with Aunt Sana the night before. She wonders how much time they could have saved - how much would have remained had she not chosen to eavesdrop that night.

(“Is something wrong with me, Sana?”

Dahyun stills in her descent, almost jumping out of her skin at the thought of being caught on her search for the cookies they’d baked earlier that afternoon. She holds her breath, hands curling a little tighter around the polished railing of her Mommy’s house, waiting. One beat, two, until she can sink down onto the final step, the same steps she sits on to wait for her Mama, coming to collect her after a long day at the bakery.

“Where is this coming from, Mina?” Her aunt’s voice follows, in the same tone she always uses when it comes to her Mommy, and only her Mommy. Dahyun wraps her arms around her stomach, no longer hungry, knowing she was listening in on something she wasn’t supposed to be hearing. “Come on, look at me.”

“I mean it.” Her Mommy breathes out a breath that seems like it weighs a million souls, a breath that sends shivers tumbling down Dahyun’s spine. Why are you listening? She asks herself, pressing closer to the wall. Why are you still listening? “Is there something wrong with me?”

“Of course not.” Her aunt’s voice is gentle, almost lost in the rustle of fabric, almost lost in the ringing of Dahyun’s ears.

“They all left,” She hears. Dahyun feels her stomach turn, her fingers curling into the fabric of her pyjamas. Stop listening, she tells herself, eyes trained on the repeating pattern decorating her socks. You shouldn’t be listening. “Momo is gone. Jihyo left. Jeongyeon wants nothing to do with me.”

“Mina…” Her Mommy only laughs, her voice trembling with tears, caught in . Dahyun feels her own lip wobble, wondering if it was really too late to fix things between her moms.

“I deserve it, Sana. Whatever I had with Jihyo… That ridiculous affair…” Dahyun has heard enough, stilling in that moment, lost in her Mommy’s words. She remembers her Mama, then. Remembers her anger, the violent quiet of the nights she spent cooped up in her office, smelling of something as foul as her own Mommy’s words sounded, ringing through her ears. An affair.

The same words she’d heard, whispered in the halls when they thought she couldn’t hear. The same words she’d heard, when the news first broke out, now barely old enough to understand what they were saying. The same words she dared not to entertain, so plainly confirmed by her mother.

It was true. It had all been true.

“Tell me you’re lying.” Dahyun finds herself standing from her hiding spot, finds herself standing before her stunned mother, hands shaking as hard as her voice. “Tell me it’s not true.”

“Dahyun.” Her mother is clearly startled, seeming to be just as overwhelmed as she is, rising to her own feet to kneel before her. Dahyun can barely bear to stand there, can barely stand to look at this woman who claimed to love her, to love their family. This woman, unrecognisable even to her own eyes. “Dahyun, I can explain.”

“Tell me!” Dahyun demands, hardly able to see past the shimmer of tears in her eyes. She wishes she wouldn’t cry - that she wouldn’t waste tears for someone who hadn’t put them first. She remembers the evenings she’s spent in quiet corners of venues, nursing scuffed fists and scraped knees, defending a mother that hadn’t been worth defending. “Is it true? You had an affair?”

“Yes. I… It was shortly before your Mama and I got married, and lasted shortly after you were born.” Her mother speaks as if her words weren’t causing Dahyun’s entire world to crumble down around her, brick by tumbling brick, with every single breath she took. “Dahyun, I’m sorry . This is all my fault.”

“I hate you!” Dahyun yanks her hands away when she feels her mother’s own wrapping around them, watching her sink further onto her knees to look up at her. She only shakes her head and wishes for morning to come closer. Wishes for her to be gone - forever. “I never want to see you again!”

“Dahyun!” She hears her aunt’s voice, but Dahyun is beyond caring, ignoring the soft sob that tumbles from her mother’s lips as she races out of the room. She slams the door of her bedroom closed behind her, throwing herself onto the bed, ignoring the knocks she hears moments later.

Everything she had known was a lie. Every single thing she knew is now tainted - all of it, tainted.

When her Mama picks her up in the morning, she doesn’t say a word, even as her mother begs, even as her mother pleads. She turns away, away from everything she knows, curling further into the comfort of her Mama’s jacket. She is warm and strong, smelling faintly of bread as she always does.

“Please, Dahyun,” She hears as her Mama walks away, her hand clasped tightly over Dahyun’s ear, pressing her against her shoulder. She squeezes her own eyes shut, refusing to hear. “I’m sorry.”

It’s the last she hears from her, for a long, long time.)

“Stupid,” Dahyun whispers to herself, lost in the fabric of her mask. She presses the heel of hand against her eyelid, relishing in the darkness and the sting of feeling. It was refreshing, almost, feeling anything other than the way she had that night, feeling anything other than sick to her stomach at the thought of what her mother had done.

Of how her mother had hurt them.

Her anger feels like an old friend now. The kind of friends her Aunt Seungyeon always warns her about, the kind of friends she would spend the hours after shooting with, always willing to get lost in the taste of whatever foul drink they’d managed to get their hands on that evening. Always willing to get lost in the taste of whoever was willing, that evening.

It did her no good now.

She wonders if it ever did.

Dahyun turns the phone in her hands, coming to life with another message from her aunt, telling her to stay put, telling her not to act out of order. Again. She swipes it away with her thumb, eyes drawn to her own wallpaper of Tzuyu, skin golden and shining in the Summer sunshine. Dahyun can’t help the small smile that crosses her face at the sight - of Tzuyu’s toothy dimpled grin, of her crooked little hat, the melted ice cream, chocolate smothered all over her face.

She wonders how much it’s worth, the time she’s lost with Tzuyu - how much she’s sacrificed in her own anger, in the two aching years her mother had tried to reach out to her, to no avail.

She wonders if she’s been too transparent with Tzuyu. Wonders if she’s been too obvious in her anger, with the situation, with her mother - at her mother’s new life that seems to be beyond her, now. She wonders how long Tzuyu thought it had been directed towards her, closing her eyes again, thumping the side of her fist against her forehead. “Stupid, stupid, stupid. ”

(“Do you hate me, unnie?”

The words ring through her ears as Dahyun’s head snaps towards her sister, taken aback by her hesitant words, most certainly dropping the paintbrush in her hand. Her sister, her beautiful baby sister, looks up at her, looks up to her , and yet she hides, wide eyed and timid underneath a cap a few sizes too big for her. “What?”

“It’s my fault, right?” Tzuyu murmurs. Dahyun turns away from the half-painted walls of Tzuyu’s new bedroom, watching the way she wrings the towel in her hands. “My fault Auntie Jeongyeon and Mommy got broken up?”

Dahyun is shaking her head before her sister is even finished, drawing Tzuyu into her arms, tucking her head in against her shoulder. She hides her own anger, the anger she still had left for her mother, whose lies have seeped so deeply that even her baby sister is affected by them.

“Of course not,” She answers, voice firm, unwilling to let her baby sister walk down the same violent path she’s wandered down far too many times. She draws in a shaking breath to soothe her nerves, to soothe Tzuyu’s. “There were things that happened between them, before any of this. Before I was even born, Tzuyu.” She draws back just enough to search her sister’s face. “Who told you that?”

“One of the girls in class said it,” Tzuyu mumbles after a moment, fingers curling into the fabric of Dahyun’s stained overalls. “They told me that Mama was a… a homewrecker. That I was the one that ruined your family.”

“Of course not. It’s not your fault, Tzu. It was never your fault.” Dahyun reassures immediately, cupping Tzuyu’s cheeks, trying to keep her own jaw from tensing too tightly. To think, there were still people like that now, and at such young ages. She supposes the world never really changes - not for them. She brushes away the tears that have spilled from her sister’s eyes, feeling the prickle behind her own. “How could I ever hate you?”

Tzuyu only wriggles into her touch, burrowing back against her shoulder, refusing to let go, even for a minute. “I love you, unnie.”

Dahyun, with her weary heart and sinking shoulders, only holds Tzuyu closer, pressing a tender kiss to the top of her head. “I love you too.”)

“Miss Myoui-Yoo.”

Dahyun startles out of her thoughts at the familiar sound of one of the young doctors, standing before her, looking somewhere between amused and unimpressed. She straightens immediately under her piercing gaze, wondering just how long she’s been sitting there, wallowing in her own thoughts. In her own misery. “Soojung, is she-.”

“Please refrain from calling me that during work hours, Miss Myoui-Yoo. You shouldn’t lie to hospital staff, even if your parents own this place.” Doctor Jung’s voice is sharp, but her blossoming cheeks speak differently. Dahyun offers a sheepish look, feeling the warmth creeping up her own neck at her words, and even more at her laboured sigh. Her shoulders sink as Soojung’s gaze softens. “But, your friend is fine. Her room is the first of the private suites, just on this floor.”

Dahyun is quick to her feet, quick to escape lingering stares and her own thoughts, bowing her thanks to the weary doctor waving her along. It seems like ages ago now, as she hurries through the halls of her grandfather’s hospital. It’s as familiar as it is haunting, her mind ringing with the faces she’s seen in these halls. The faces she’s never seen again.

She hesitates suddenly as she reaches the door, her mind going back to what had happened in the ice cream shop, not too long ago. What if Chaeyoung didn’t want to see her? What if she only sparked off something worse? But.. it was the least she could do, checking up on Chaeyoung, right?

Dahyun in a deep breath, trying to muster up the courage to at least knock, to push the door open. That is until she hears her mother’s voice, calling out to her from down the hallway. She feels her breath and courage melting away at the simple sight of her mother, her fingers slipping away from the handle. She supposes this would have to wait, too. “Mama.”

(‘We could just leave, you know.”

“And what?” Momo turns her head towards her with an amused grin, hair whipping about in the wind as they drove and drove and drove, farther away from their responsibilities. From the lives waiting for them as soon as they stopped. When could they stop? Where could they stop? Momo lifts her brow as they reach a stop light, few and far between. “Just never come back?”

“Why not?” Jihyo counters, fingers drumming gently against the steering wheel as they push onward, mirroring her easy smile for the briefest of moments. She wishes that she could live in the sunshine of Momo’s smile, in the simple warmth of her being, for just a little longer. She wishes she could discard the ache in her heart that still yearned for someone who would never, ever be hers. Who had never been hers. She draws her eyes forward in the sudden quiet that envelopes them, in the sudden weight of Momo’s shaking hand around her own. “Just the two of us.”)

It’s different now, and yet, all the same.

They’re not children, not anymore. They’re not the same kids who used to hide away in tiny closets and corners of dressing rooms, stealing kisses and each other’s breath, losing themselves in the pleasures of their youth and the thrill of secrecy. They’re not the same kids they had been, years ago, yearning for each other over muted calls and nights lost in each other’s touch. They’re not the same, no longer the same, and yet here they are, back in the place they’d abandoned, so long ago.

Momo is quiet, pensive as Jihyo drives through the familiar streets of the city they used to know like the back of their hand, of the home they had left behind for a life where they could simply be. Just her, Momo and Chaeyoung, happy and content. She supposes the universe can’t even give them that.

Jihyo chances another glance as they reach what seems like the nth stoplight, reaching over to curl a hand over Momo’s to soothe her own nerves. To anchor herself back to this reality, regardless of how much she wanted to escape from it. “Chaeyoung is fine, love.”

“You don't know that,” Momo whispers, shaking her head. Still, she turns her hand over, lacing ice cold fingers through Jihyo’s. Jihyo stays quiet, because she doesn’t, the nurse’s calm voice still ringing in her head. You’re lucky, her sister got her to the hospital right on time. Momo’s voice shatters her thoughts. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this, Jihyo.”

“I know,” Jihyo breathes out, her heart rattling in her chest. A sister? There was no way… “I know, Momo.”

“What are you doing here?”

(“Mama,” Dahyun seems to jump at the sight of her, quick to hide her hands from Jeongyeon’s sight. Jeongyeon only lifts a brow, watching her daughter shrink under her gaze. “What are you doing here? I was expecting-.”

“Mina?” Jeongyeon finishes for her. Dahyun has the decency to look somewhat ashamed, turning her head away to stare at the wooden floors beneath their feet, worn away by hundreds of students over the ages. Worn by her own feet, and Mina’s. “Did you think you would get away with it this time, too?”

“She’s not letting me get away with anything. It’s her own fault that I-.” Dahyun cuts herself off, shrinking into herself and grabbing her backpack from the char beside her. Only then does Jeongyeon see them, the bandages wrapped around her daughter’s knuckles, seeping with crimson. “Can we just go home?”

“Dahyun, we’re not finished.” Jeongyeon’s shoulders sink, voice softening, but Dahyun only slips a hand into her own, hiding against her shoulder. She presses a soft kiss to the side of her head, closing her eyes at the tremble of Dahyun’s breath against her shirt. “Okay. Let’s go home.”)

Jeongyeon shakes her head as Dahyun stares up at her with those same eyes, as if she’d been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to be. She can only hope Dahyun hasn’t gotten herself into more serious trouble - that Dahyun hasn’t gotten caught up in things she couldn’t handle. “I’m watching over your Mom today, remember?”

“Right,” Dahyun murmurs, nodding far too quickly and trying to slide away from the door they were standing in front of. Jeongyeon lifts a brow in question, inspecting the name plate next to the door. Son Chaeyoung.

Jeongyeon wishes she could deny it, the way her stomach drops, turning her head back to Dahyun in question. Dahyun is tight-lipped, refusing to meet her gaze again. Jeongyeon wonders just how much has changed, between the conversation they had had just the night before, to right at this moment. It feels as if they’re standing on two entirely different planets, orbiting in opposite directions of each other.

“Dahyun,” She starts, but doesn’t get to say much more, not at the sound of Tzuyu’s voice ringing down the hallway, calling for her older sister. Jeongyeon in  a sharp breath, mustering up a smile and standing before the name plate as Tzuyu throws herself into Dahyun’s waiting arms. She focuses her attention on Sana, who only tilts her head in question. “I was just telling Dahyun that Mina was looking for her. It’s good that you’re all here. Nayeon is up there with her.”

“Is that so?” Jeongyeon tries not to think about it, the way Sana’s voice lifts and her eyes brighten, her hand tightening around the strap of her bag. She’s half glad that Sana is too distracted to question her, sinking into the one-armed hug Sana gives her. The tension in Jeongyeon’s shoulders return when she pulls back, a soft smile on her face. “Let’s go then. We wouldn’t want to keep your Mom waiting now, would we?”

Jeongyeon can only watch as Tzuyu brightens at the mere mention of Mina, feeling her own heart warm at the excited shimmer in her eyes. Whatever trouble was worrying Sana seems to melt away, too, as Tzuyu pulls back from her sister’s embrace, peering up to meet Sana’s fond gaze. “Ahma, can we go?”

“Let’s go.” Sana runs a hand over Tzuyu’s hair, casting Dahyun with a look that tells Jeongyeon that things were far from the picturesque scene she was putting up. Dahyun refuses to meet her gaze, too. “See you later, Jeong.”

Jeongyeon wrinkles her nose at the speedy kiss Sana drops against her cheek, waving them off and giving Tzuyu’s hair a light ruffle for good measure. Tzuyu only giggles, leaning up into the touch. “See you.”

Jeongyeon waits, waits until she can no longer see Tzuyu, can no longer see Dahyun, can no longer see Sana and the way her gaze lingers on the door just behind her, trying to strip it of the secrets hiding away behind it. She waits until she can wait no long, turning to face the door her own daughter was standing before, just moments ago. “What is going on here?”

“Jeongyeon, I’m sorry, I can’t talk right now-.”

“Momo,” Jeongyeon’s voice is soft, worried as Jihyo finally pulls into a parking spot, after what seemed like hours and hours of driving. Momo’s shoulders sink at the sound of her voice, putting her phone on loudspeaker at the questioning look Jihyo sends her way. “What the hell is going on here? Do you want to tell me why your daughter is here in my ex-wife’s hospital?”

“How do you know that?” Jihyo asks, voice urgent, and Momo can almost see it, the way Jeongyeon shakes her head, keeping her voice low. Momo’s heart skips a beat. She must be with Chaeyoung. How could she possibly be with Chaeyoung?

“Unless I’m sitting with a different Son Chaeyoung, I think you two should hurry and get your asses up here.” Momo soothes a hand over Jihyo’s tense arm, lowering her head to meet her gaze, thumb tracing over the fabric of her wrinkled shirt. She knew her girlfriend would climb through the phone to get there faster if she could. Jeongyeon lets out a sigh. “I’ve already moved her to a different private room. Just tell the receptionist your name and she’ll have someone lead you here.”

The line cuts before Momo or Jihyo can say anything more, and Jihyo’s hand is already on the door handle, shaking so deeply she can hardly pull it open. Momo slides her hand down to envelope Jihyo’s, meeting her gaze and urging her to match her slowing breaths. Jihyo offers a trembling smile, nudging her forehead against Momo’s. “I’m sorry. I’m just… Chaeyoung is waiting for us.”

“She’s okay. Jeongyeon is with her,” Momo murmurs, lifting her other hand to cradle Jihyo’s cheek, thumb following the sharp line of her cheekbone. She takes a moment, too, to soothe her own nerves, drawing Jihyo into a gentle kiss. “I love you.”

Ever closer. Here they were again, ever closer to the things, the people they’ve been trying to escape for their whole life.

It seems so small now, the very real chances that they will be discovered, metres away from the woman who thought them dead. It’s all so small in the light of what’s happening with their daughter. Jihyo can only smile, squeezing her hand and pressing another lingering kiss to her lips. “I love you too.”

Dahyun is quiet as they make their way up to Mina’s room, even quieter than she usually is when it comes to things in relation to her mother.

Sana supposes she can’t blame her, still. She wraps an arm around Dahyun’s sunken shoulders, watching Tzuyu run ahead, still dragging her left leg as she did. She calls after her daughter, to warn her to be careful, but she stays by Dahyun’s side, who only curls an arm around her waist, turning her head against her shoulder.

“You okay?” Dahyun feels like a child again, and Sana can’t help but hold her a little closer, in wonder at how much she has grown, in what feels like the blink of an eye. A hand soothes over tousled locks. “You weren’t hurt running after Chaeyoung, were you?”

Dahyun shakes her head, burying in closer, hiding away from her gaze. “My cap fell.”

“That’s ok.” She lets Dahyun hide for now. She would get her secrets, sooner or later. “You don’t have to be nervous, you know. Seeing your mom.”

“I’m not nervous.” Dahyun bristles, looking very much like the young girl she used to pick from school when she got into trouble, for one thing or another. Sana levels her with a knowing smile. “...Will she even want to see me?”

“Of course.” Sana is firm, pressing a kiss to the crown of Dahyun’s head. “She’s been asking for you since she woke up.”

Dahyun doesn’t answer, her fingers only tightening into her shirt. Sana can’t help but smile, soft and sad with the thought of the years they had lost - and for what? Sana was determined to find out, sooner or later. “I don’t know why she bothers.”

“You’re her daughter, Dahyun, and no matter how many times you try to push her away, she’ll be there. Always.” She gives Dahyun’s shoulders a gentle squeeze, feeling the responding squeeze she feels at her hip. A small smile pulls at her lips, dropping another kiss to the top of her head. “We’ll still be talking later.”

“Can’t wait.” Dahyun’s voice is dripping in sarcasm as she shrugs Sana away to join a clueless, excitable Tzuyu, who only reaches out to hold Dahyun’s hand as she pushes the door open. Sana shakes her head, but still she follows, like she always has. Like she always will. Her questions would simply have to wait.

Dahyun doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to it, the sight of her mother smiling so lovingly at someone other than her Mama.

She’s rooted in her place as Tzuyu pushes the door open, locked onto the sight of her Aunt Nayeon sitting beside her mother on the bed, seeming to be playing a silly game on her phone. Tzuyu doesn’t nearly have the same inhibitions, happy to run off to her parents, burrowing in against them.

Sana’s presence behind her feels comforting for only a moment, the urging hand on the small of her back fleeting.

Her hands curl into fists by her sides as she witnesses the soft kiss Sana presses to her mother’s temple, the way her eyes flutter to a close, and Dahyun has half a mind to leave, feeling her stomach roil at the sight. She turns to do just that, until she hears it.

“Dahyun.” It’s her mother’s voice, tender, yet hesitant - as if she was afraid that Dahyun would really turn and leave. She’s hardly able to stomach the sight of their happy family, wishing she didn’t feel so jealous.

She did.

And yet, she steps into her waiting embrace, steps into the warmth of her touch. The heavy cast wrapped around her mother’s arm feels like a shield against her back, keeping her close - keeping her protected.

“I’m so happy you came.” Her mother’s voice is barely a breath against her skin, lost in the light kisses to her temple, Dahyun feeling every tremble in her voice as she speaks. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

Dahyun swallows thickly, pressing in as close as she could dare, willing herself to forget, even for just a moment. “Me too.”

(Tiny.

It’s the first thought that crosses Jeongyeon’s mind when she first sees Chaeyoung, bundled up against a sleeping Momo’s chest, the first time Momo has been able to hold her since the operation. 

Jihyo had left her with strict instructions to watch over them while she went to grab more clothes from their downtown apartment, and Jeongyeon had been left with no choice but to stay, left with no choice but to feed Mina flimsy excuses, citing a last minute emergency with a supplier.

“You can hold her, you know.” Momo’s voice startles her from her thoughts, having finally woken and seeming to have noticed Jeongyeon’s staring. Jeongyeon shakes her head, crossing her arms and shifting in her seat across from Momo and Chaeyoung.

“I’m fine,” She mumbles, careful not to wake Chaeyoung. “I was just thinking about how much smaller she is, compared to Dahyun.”

Momo smiles, seemingly lost in her memories as her eyes fall to the steady rise and fall of Chaeyoung’s chest, brushing the pad of her finger over her closed little fists. “I guess she must have taken after Jihyo.”

“She won’t be happy to hear that.” At that moment, Jeongyeon sees herself in a different world. A world where they didn’t have to hide, a world where they all could have been happy, together. She can almost feel her, hear Mina over her shoulder, cooing over Chaeyoung’s round cheeks, introducing their wide eyed Dahyun to someone who would surely grow up to be her sister. 

Jeongyeon sits back in her seat. Had it really been so unachievable? Did things really have to go this far?

“Thank you, Jeongyeon.” Momo draws her from her thoughts once more, voice heavy and sincere, piercing through the sudden cloud that drapes over Jeongyeon, clinging to her shoulders and curling its thorny fingers into her heart. “For everything you’ve done for Chaeyoung. For Jihyo and I.”

Jeongyeon looks away, at Chaeyoung and her shaky little breaths, and wonders why her gratitude could feel so heavy. “Don’t mention it.”)

Still tiny, Jeongyeon muses as she settles beside Chaeyoung’s sleeping figure.

It was strange to think that technically, they’ve never even met - though it had been Jihyo’s choice more than Jeongyeon’s, insisting that the less Jeongyeon had to do with Chaeyoung’s life, the better. Jeongyeon hadn’t been inclined to disagree, not with the risk of Mina discovering her connections with her supposedly dead best friend and her ex lover.

It had been different, after the divorce, her phone often pinging with updates from a concerned Momo, attempting to brighten her day with the very reason she’d left Mina in the first place. Chaeyoung has managed to seep into every facet of her life, into the cracks that the strain of carrying this secret bore. She knows this tiny little girl, with achievements and hopes and dreams that could rival even her own daughter’s. Jeongyeon loves her, in some way or another. 

“What does Dahyun have to do with you?” She wonders aloud, brushing hair away from the bandage stuck to Chaeyoung’s forehead. Jeongyeon heaves out a sigh at the thought of her daughter tangling into this mess, even if it’s simply by coincidence. How cruel for God to toy with them so carelessly.

How cruel for her secrets to haunt her, even now.

Especially now.

Sana gives Tzuyu and Mina one last kiss before she strays towards the doorway, a smiling Nayeon coming to join her after planting her own. The three are far too occupied to notice their departure, both Tzuyu and Dahyun filling in a delighted Mina on their respective days.

She only smiles as Nayeon’s hand slips into her own, sinking into the warmth of her kiss as they leave a happy Mina in the comforts of her children. The door is cool against Sana’s back, a soft laugh bubbling out of her at the slew of excitable kisses Nayeon presses to her lips. “Doctor Im, this is hardly the place…”

“The tests came back today,” Nayeon breathes out, a bashful grin on her face, eyes sparkling with excitement. Sana’s breath catches in , hand tightening around Nayeon’s. “It’s positive.”

Sana’s forehead falls against Nayeon’s, searching her gaze, her heart thudding wildly in her chest. “It’s positive?”

“It’s positive!” Nayeon squeals as loudly as she dares with Mina and Tzuyu and Dahyun just beyond the door, throwing her arms around Sana’s shoulders. Sana squeezes Nayeon close, feeling her eyes shimmer.

To think, they could have this little slice of happiness, even after everything that’s happened. Mina and Tzuyu would be so delighted.

“Does Mina know?” Sana lets out a watery laugh at the sight of tears sparkling in the corners of Nayeon’s eyes, pulling back to soothe a hand over Nayeon’s side, thumb tracing over the still flat plain of her stomach. “I can’t believe this is really happening.”

“Not yet, I was waiting until she got back home,” Nayeon murmurs, pressing another lingering kiss to her lips, placing a hand over her own. Nayeon’s rings clink against hers at the touch. “I love you.”

Sana noses against her, unable to help the bright smile on her face. She was happy to forget the problems plaguing her mind, even for a moment, happy to relish in the thought of their beautiful, wonderful, growing family. “I love you, too.”

“It’s right here, Miss.”

“Thank you,” Jihyo breathes out, bowing her gratitude to the young nurse who was hopefully too young to recognise her - to recognise either of them. Momo had followed suit, until they’re left alone, pushing the door open to Chaeyoung’s room.

“Chaeyoung.” Momo melts at the mere sight of their daughter, and Jeongyeon is happy to vacate the chair for Momo, who immediately worries over the thick bandage taped to Chaeyoung’s forehead.

Jihyo takes a moment to fuss over Chaeyoung herself, before she turns back to Jeongyeon, nodding her head towards the bathroom to grant Momo a moment with their sleeping daughter. Jeongyeon only sighs before following her inside, the click of the door sounding thunderous in the sudden situation they’ve found themselves in. “This is why I didn’t want to move back here, Jeongyeon.”

“I never forced you to move back here,” Jeongyeon reminds her, arms crossed over her chest as she rests back against the sink. “Momo wanted some stability for Chaeyoung, somewhere familiar - this was as close I could get without sending you back to Japan.”

“I know that, Jeongyeon.” Jihyo manages to pace in the confined space of the bathroom, running a hand through her hair. Her voice is hushed. The last thing she wants to do is disturb Chaeyoung. “Everything's happening so quickly. First I saw Sana at the school, and now-.”

“Wait,” Jeongyeon cuts in, eyebrows furrowing at her words. Jihyo curses herself mentally.  She hadn’t told Jeongyeon about Sana’s call. About Sana’s discovery. “You saw Sana at the school? Tzuyu is enrolled at your school?”

Jihyo stills at that, eyes snapping towards Jeongyeon, her own arms crossing across her chest. “Yes, she is. She’s in my class , Jeongyeon.” She feels a spike of anger bubble in her chest, Jeongyeon straightening at the flash in her eyes. “For God’s sake, Jeongyeon, I thought you’d at least done your research before shipping us back over here.”

Jeongyeon scoffs, staring at her in incredulity. “I don’t know if you’ve been tuning me out during every conversation we have, but the intricacies of Tzuyu’s school enrollment is beyond the scope of things I’ve been talking to Nayeon or Sana about.”

Jihyo huffs out a humourless laugh, shaking her head at Jeongyeon’s carelessness. It was almost as if she was setting them up to get caught, almost two decades into their little ruse. “This is so like you.”

“Oh here we go.” Jeongyeon’s smile is biting, eyes sharp and taunting, only irking Jihyo further. Jihyo is the one to snap, stepping easily into the taller woman’s space, the flames of Jeongyeon’s glare at her skin. “Are you really doing this here?”

“Stop it.” The bathroom doors open, Momo’s voice shattering a tension so thick not even a chainsaw would have been able to cut through it. Only Momo, she supposes, and Jeongyeon seems to feel the same way, exhaling through her nose, shoulders sinking as she steps away. “Jihyo, please.”

Jeongyeon only shakes her head, Jihyo’s eyes landing on a concerned Momo, her girlfriend drawing the taller girl into a tight embrace. Jihyo feels her own anger melt away at the sight, her hands falling to her side. It was too easy to fall into her old habits, especially with Jeongyeon. “Jeongyeon…”

“Don’t,” Jeongyeon shakes her head, stepping out of the embrace and back into the hospital room, brushing her hair back, straightening her shirt. She steps back into the role Jihyo knows all too well, the very image she’d detested in her youth. “I know you’re worried about Chaeyoung, but she’s safe here. I wouldn’t let anything happen to her.”

“I know that.” Jihyo sinks into the brush of Momo’s hands over her own, letting her girlfriend lead her away from Jeongyeon and to their daughter’s bedside. She settles on the edge of Chaeyoung’s bed, focusing on the way her chest rose and fell, the same stuttering breaths she’s taken for years. “Thank you, Jeongyeon.”

Jeongyeon doesn’t turn to look at her, speaking directly to Momo. “I’ll come back later to see if we can move Chaeyoung to a different hospital, but I can’t stay here for long. Sana is bound to get suspicious if I’m not back in Mina’s room soon.”

Jihyo stiffens at the mere mention of her name, tightening her hold on Chaeyoung’s hand, cradled close to her chest. She wishes Momo didn’t react so brightly, wishes her eyes wouldn’t widen the way they always had, wishes that what they had left dead would stay dead. The promises they’ve made feel almost meaningless now.

“Mina’s here?” Momo breathes out, because of course Mina is here, because the world is cruel and the universe has made her its toy one too many times. “Jeongyeon, please, you know I-.”

“I meant what I said,” Jeongyeon cuts her off, and again, Jihyo is grateful towards her. Her heart rings hollow in her chest, the echoes of her sin calling ever louder to her. “I can’t let you see her. Not now. Not ever.”

Jeongyeon leaves then, the door clicking shut behind her. Momo grows silent, turning back towards Chaeyoung, her eyes swimming with her own secrets. With her own ghosts. Jihyo swallows down the words caught in , swallows down the fact that Sana has found her, has found Chaeyoung, and holds Momo’s hand instead, praying for forgiveness in the sacred silence that falls over them.

“I’m sorry,” Jihyo whispers and wishes she didn’t mean it, wishes she didn’t feel her heart ache at the thought of being so close to Mina again, even after all these years. Even after everything she’s done.

“I know.” Momo musters up a smile, lifting their joined hands to her lips and letting her shivering breath skate over her skin. “I’m sorry too.”

They sit together, in the crumbling remains of the kingdom they had ruled for so long, and wait.

All they can do is wait.

(The divorce is a quiet affair.

Mina is a sight to behold, even then, dressed neatly in a dark suit, her collar crisp and hair carefully tied. She can almost picture it, Sana gently prying the brush from Mina's shaking hands, her pale pink hair tie the only drop of colour in her entire ensemble.

Mina is dressed for mourning. Jeongyeon supposes it's only appropriate, dressed in a modest white dress, a reflection of her wife as the supposed aggrieved party in this entire affair.

Mina does not open once, expression carefully guarded behind a mask Jeongyeon cannot pick apart, only nodding in response to the lawyer's careful drawl, to Jeongyeon's ever growing demands.

Mina does not speak, not when Jeongyeon takes their home, not when Jeongyeon takes their cars, not when Jeongyeon strips her of every ounce of being her wife. She speaks, only once, when Jeongyeon dares to take away her visitation rights, Jeongyeon watching the curl of Mina's fist into the fabric of her trousers, voice steady despite the tremble of her lips.

"Once." Jeongyeon feels her breath hitch as Mina meets her gaze for the first time that day, as Mina's hollow, aching eyes bore into her own. "Let me see her, at least once a month."

Jeongyeon cannot bear to look, diverting her attention to their waiting lawyer and nodding, Mina's quivering breath overshadowed by the scratch of pen against paper.

It all feels so final, now.

The tap of the judge's gavel rings hollow in her chest, the last two decades of her life so neatly squared away on pen and paper - the woman she loves now shouldering the consequences of her indiscretions.

Jeongyeon doesn't think about her own, the very crosses she's willing to have Mina carry, even now.

Momo’s desperate gaze flashes briefly in her mind at the startling emptiness she sees in Mina's when they rise to stand, clenching her fists by her side to keep them from shaking. Mina looks at her only once, her elbow cradled in Sana's grasp, Jeongyeon pointedly avoiding Sana's scathing glare.

"Thank you," is all that leaves Mina's lips, bowing as deeply as she can in the space between them, despite the noise of protest that rises in Sana's throat. Despite the sob that rises in hers. "And I'm sorry. I hope you can find true happiness now."

Jeongyeon sets her jaw as Mina begins to walk away, mustering up every ounce of false confidence left in her to call her back, just once.

She tries not to think about how her stomach swoops, offering her outstretched hand to Mina, her wedding band sitting plainly on her palm. She tries desperately to keep her hand from shaking, to keep her voice from breaking, to keep herself from wishing to take it all back - to start over, one more time. "I… don't need this anymore."

The heartbreak is plain on Mina's face, now, twisting so softly into her gentle features. Mina lets out a soft breath. "I won't take it, Jeongyeon."

Her name sounds like an arrow through her own heart, but she powers forward, opening to speak once more. "Mina, I don't-."

"I know you don't want anything to do with me anymore," Mina cuts her off, voice feathery with the tears she can barely contain. "But I… I won't take it. You can do whatever else you want with it, but I won't take it. Not now. Not ever."

Mina hands her the paints, and the brushes, and lets her smear the image she has curated over years, and yet Jeongyeon can't paint over the memory of Mina's bashful smile, presenting her with the ring that was supposed to mark their forever.

The stones dig into the palm of her hand as Jeongyeon decides to brush past her, letting her own mask crumble only as they step through the court doors, the flicker of cameras aching to capture the shimmer of her tears just right.

When Jeongyeon reads the news the next morning, Mina is described only as 'cold', not a single tear shed for the cameras hounding them outside.

She turns her phone down against the kitchen table, swallowing down the fresh bout of tears that threaten to spoil her daughter's quiet morning. The last message Mina has sent her is fresh in her mind, Jeongyeon washing down her regrets with the bitterness of her lukewarm coffee.

Please tell Dahyun that I love her.

"Are you okay, Mommy?" Dahyun asks, soft, gentle, the hand slipping into hers only reminding her of the sweetness of coffees Mina would make her every morning without fail. Of Mina's tender smile, the lightest of kisses pressed to her temples as she sets down her lunch, Dahyun's.

"Fine, baby," Jeongyeon murmurs, mustering up the last of her strength and sanity as she presses a kiss to Dahyun's head, aching to believe the words leaving her own mouth. "We'll be just fine.")

“Everything will be fine,” Jeongyeon wills herself to believe as she closes the door behind her, as she manifests the masks that she hopes she’s perfected over the years, as she prays that her hands will stop shaking. That everything would stop shaking. “Everything will be just fine.”

“She’s asleep.” Her mother’s voice is lilting with laughter, and Dahyun feels her own lips quirk up at the sight of her baby sister, curled in against their mother’s side. She shifts as Tzuyu does, and tries not to think about the way her mother winces when Tzuyu’s arm wraps just a little tighter around her waist.

They’re quiet, but only for a moment. Dahyun ceases her picking at the hospital sheets to meet her mother’s gentle gaze, her stomach twisting once more. She had always loved her mother’s eyes, and everything she seemed to find in them, the words she wouldn't dare to speak. “What?”

“Seungyeon called me, actually.” Dahyun watches her fingers comb slowly through Tzuyu’s hair, tracing along the delicate braids Sana had made that morning. “Before your Mama got here. She told me you came to her last night.”

“That tattletale,” Dahyun gripes, jumping at her mother’s touch, having shifted her attention away from a sleeping Tzuyu to her. She works her jaw, tries to form the excuses in . “Mom-.”

She’s cut off by her mother’s light, rasping laughter, by her mother’s warm smile. “That’s the first time you’ve called me that in years.” Her mother’s eyes grow teasing, and Dahyun sees it, the echoes of her Mama’s grin in the tilt of her smile. “Why the sudden change of heart? You aren’t sick, are you?”

Dahyun can’t help but smile at the joking hand her mother presses against her forehead, brushing it away playfully. The gravity of everything that’s happened seems to settle, then, sobering whatever laughter was creeping into her chest. “…I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologise, Dahyun.” Her mother’s voice is firm, but gentle, the hand on her forehead finding its way to her cheek. Dahyun wishes she could meet her gaze, wishes she could take her words to heart - wishes it were that easy. “Whether this is about your drinking, or the accident…” Her mother still knows her, after all. “I’m sorry that you have to go through this.”

There is a beat, a beat that lasts an age, her fingers curled tightly into the blue of her mother’s shirt.

“Why did you do it?” Dahyun asks, voice low as she tries to keep it from trembling, reeling in the remnants of anger she’s felt for years, aching for the answers she didn’t want to hear. Her own voice, much younger, rings in her head, and yet she feels as broken now as she did then, shattered by the words of the woman that had destroyed what little was left of their family. Dahyun wonders if anything has really changed. “Tell me. Please.”

Her mother is quiet for a moment, the hand on her cheek slipping down to find the shaking fist of her own, a thumb soothing over the ridges of her knuckles. Her mother is patient, guiding their joint hands to settle warmly on Tzuyu’s back, following the rhythm of her steady breaths, and Dahyun is reminded of the only reason she had given her mother another chance at all.

“There is no excuse, really.” Her mother’s hand traces over her skin once more, the way she did when they were stuck in company vans and her mother thought she was asleep. “I had loved your Mama and your Aunt Jihyo for a long, long time, even before your Mama and I got married. I should have ended it when we did.” Dahyun watches her, watches the way her jaw trembles, hears the way her breath shakes. “I was selfish, naive to think that I could keep them both in my life. You… already know the rest.”

“Was it worth it?” Dahyun murmurs, trying not to let her anger best her like it always did, focusing her gaze on her sleeping sister’s face. 

“10 years ago, I might have answered you differently,” Her mother admits, and Dahyun catches her too, gazing upon Tzuyu. “But everything that’s happened has led to this very moment, and I… Dahyun, I couldn’t give you and Tzuyu up for the world. I hope you know that.”

Dahyun, swallowing down the tears lodged in , musters up a smile, tucking in against her mother, too. She settles into the embrace, into the arms she hasn’t felt in so, so long. In the deepest reaches of her heart, she can feel a part of herself mending, can feel her soul resting, just a little easier. “I love you. I hope you know that too.”

Dahyun tries not to think about the dampness in her hair, the watery kiss pressed to the crown of her head. “I know,” She hears as she closes her eyes, letting her heart heal, even just for now. “My little star, I’ve always known.”

“I’ll see you at home,” Nayeon murmurs against her lips in one final, lingering kiss, Sana giving her hips a gentle, delighted squeeze. Home. The word settles warmly in the spaces between her ribs, with Sana watching in amusement as Nayeon grumbles down the hallway, fiddling with the beeper at her hip. She wishes she could exist in that moment forever, in the joy of discovering her wife’s pregnancy, in the sheer serenity that surrounds Mina, Dahyun and Tzuyu when she peeks back in on them, her fingers lingering on the door handle.

Sana fishes her phone out with a tender smile and a lighter heart, hoping to capture the moment in one way or another - hoping to linger in the quiet of her life, even for just a little longer. 

In that moment, in the in-betweens of Nayeon’s kisses and the sight of her greatest gifts, Sana considers letting it all go. She considers stepping inside the room, stepping into the warmth of Mina’s waiting embrace and putting it all behind her, once and for all. She considers letting go, just this once.

Her smile drops the moment she closes the door behind her.

Despite everything, Sana knows that she must discover the truth. 

She thinks of Dahyun, and Jeongyeon, and Chaeyoung, who she’s never met yet knew so much about, sitting in the very same hospital, right at that very moment. She thinks of Mina, of their family - of the truth that she deserves to know, even if it could ruin the very happiness Sana was so desperately trying to protect.

If only the universe would leave them this peace, for just a little longer.

If only, if only, if only.

“I’m going to find Jeongyeon.”

Momo looks up at Jihyo’s sudden declaration, eyebrows furrowing in confusion and concern. Her hand remains in Chaeyoung’s grasp, waiting, wishing, for even the slightest of movements. “Why?”

“I… want to apologise,” Jihyo murmurs after a moment, almost too low to be heard over the steady beeping of Chaeyoung’s heart monitor. Momo’s gaze is heavy as she watches Jihyo smooth out the wrinkles of Chaeyoung’s blanket, witnessing the million and one thoughts racing through her mind. “Besides, the sooner we can sort out this mess, the better.”

Momo nods in understanding, agreeing with an uneasy smile and lingering fingers on the inside of her wrist. “Hurry back. Chaeyoung could wake up any minute.”

“I will,” Jihyo promises with a smile that never fails to make her heart stutter, with a kiss that never fails to make her heart stop completely. “She shouldn’t have gotten far yet. I’ll be right back.”

“Be careful.” The words leave before she can help herself, knowing they were treading through dangerous waters, now. It makes Momo ache, being so close and yet so far from the root of everything that’s happening. 

Jihyo only hums, leaving her with one last lingering touch before she leaves. “I always am.”

It’s curious, really, that the patient in room 23-B had been moved so suddenly, with the receptionist’s lips glued together so tightly that Sana’s worried she might not speak again.

Still, she was not without her own influence, the flash of her ring telling the poor woman just exactly who she was speaking to, wrenching out names, locations. Son Chaeyoung, room 11-A. Sana knows of only one other person that could have such influence as her over the hospital staff.

The thought of it settles like lead in the pits of her stomach, every step feeling as if she was wading  deeper into a maze she had no hopes of escaping.

She wishes absently that she wasn’t wearing heels, the sharp click against the squeaky clean hospital floors piercing through every coherent thought running through her mind. It was impossible for Dahyun to have switched the rooms so easily, so what did Jeongyeon have to do with this? What was Jeongyeon hiding from her?

She finds her answers soon enough, sooner than she’d like, rounding the corner to the sight of Jeongyeon and Jihyo in a quiet, but clearly very involved, discussion. Their heads are hunched low together, hands gesturing every so often to the room they were standing in front of. Room 11-A. She steels herself, hardly able to swallow down the thought of Jeongyeon having betrayed her trust like this. “You better have a good explanation as to why you’re talking to her, Yoo Jeongyeon.”

“Sana?” She can’t take any satisfaction in it, the way they both stiffen, in the sudden shimmer in Jihyo’s eyes and the horror in Jeongyeon’s when she turns to face her. She only steps closer as Jeongyeon holds up her hands, a futile attempt to placate her. “Sana. I can explain.”

“Oh, I’d love to hear what kind of horse ,” Sana starts, but is cut off by the sound of the door opening, revealing a face she’d seen only in her dreams. In nightmares. The world seems to tip upside down, then, and Sana wonders if she’s dreaming. She wonders if she’s fallen asleep with Mina and the kids, and this was just some sort of sick, sick nightmare.

It couldn’t be.

It couldn’t possibly be.

“Momo?”