Irene finds herself walking towards the playground under the first snowfall of the year. She’s been here plenty of times from way before she and her husband got married. They used to sit on a bench in front of the slides, planning their years ahead and imagining their future children.

Said children are now out and about. Jisoo pushes the swing Mina is sitting on, both laughing and squealing in delight. Minhyuk runs around throwing snowballs as Yeri dodges them. Their father, still handsome as ever, joins the snowball fight and calls Mina and Jisoo to play with him. He’s laughing and Irene wants to approach him, kiss him and comb her fingers through his soft brown hair, trail down his wide shoulders, and settle for a hug. But at the same time, she wants to keep this scene in her mind. She stands a few feet away from her loving family – all ecstatic as they play together – watching them until Minhyuk looks her way and shouts a loud “mom!” so she can join in the fun.

Sehun looks at her and the butterflies in her stomach flutter. They never really go away, even after being married for so long.

Something is odd, she realizes. As she steps closer, he steps back just as fast. His skin is much paler than the fair skin he’s always had. The longer she stares, the more his figure becomes transparent. But despite all this, he still sports the biggest smile she has ever seen on him – the same beam when they exchanged vows and every single time a child of theirs is born. Irene sprints but the few feet in between stretches farther. She runs but doesn’t get any closer even when he waves his hand, turns back, and leaves.

Nothing. No remnants of her husband. Nothing left.

“Mom?”

“Mom.”

“Mom!”

Irene stirs awake. Her eyes filled with tears causing a wet stain on her pillow.

A pair of arms encircle around her as she sits up from the bed. For a second she imagines her husband in front of her but realizes it wasn’t the case. She hugs Minhyuk tight and he rubs her back as she cries for another minute.

“Bad dream?” Minhyuk tentatively asks.

Irene twitches her lips to a smile as she shakes her head. She wipes her tears and takes a deep breath.

“Dad.” Minhyuk whispers and Irene nods.

It's never a bad dream if she can see him there.

---

“Wen!”

It was her dad, always the bubbly one. Wendy chuckles and waves at the screen with a sweet hello.

“Honey, how are you?”

Wendy smiles bigger when her mother speaks and sits beside her husband who promptly adjusts his phone to show both their faces to their youngest daughter.

Despite her current age, her parents look at her as their baby still. She grew up in a relatively permissive household with her parents supporting her passions, encouraging her with her studies, and empathizing with her problems.

She feels young again as she talks about her new job in the city and their conversation is reminiscent of her first week in university. She feels nostalgic as the couple on the screen in front of her still reacts similarly.

When it was Wendy’s turn to ask about them, the happy grandparents excitedly tell her about her infant niece, cute and chubby and lovely, just like her aunt.

“…And when I saw her lovely smile, I wondered if your own child would inherit your bubbly personality and beautiful smile.”

Wendy stills at hearing her mother’s words. To anyone else, it’s nothing but an affectionate remark. But no, not to Wendy.

Her father coughs, sending Wendy a quick glance before talking to his wife in a low voice – dear, we’ve already talked about this – as if it would have helped. The damage has been done anyway.

The woman only looked at the screen, donning the expression Wendy despised the most, always accompanied by a sentence, in all its variations, but still sending the same thought.

“You have so much love to give but no partner and children to give it to.”

There it is, the most direct hit yet. The laughter and the smiles slip away by the mere recall of her traumatic past. She visibly sighs, and her father looks away with concern and panic due to being entwined in this awkward conversation again.

Wendy wants to say that she has a girlfriend – one she had never introduced but seriously thought of marrying. But that wouldn’t make any sense and it’s now too late, considering they’re already at the brink of breaking-up. Besides, it probably wouldn’t matter. This is the very reason she never introduced Rosé. Nobody – not a woman, not even another man – had seemed to pass her mother’s standard no matter how great they are or how much they loved her daughter. Nobody. Except for one.

“Mom, Chanyeol and I are never getting back together.” She spits the truth without thinking. The sudden bluntness surprised them both but Wendy decides it needed to be said. The conversation will surely lead them to this one way or another so might as well get it over with.

It’s her mother’s turn to sigh. She believed – and obviously, still does – that he was the best for her. He is a son-in-law she longs to have and that’s why she was most affected when they broke off the engagement.

The man silently witnessing the tense conversation finally halts the exchange before it gets worse.

“We understand, honey. We just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy!” Wendy chirps defensively but it’s obvious her mother doesn't buy it.

She takes a deep breath and tried to be considerate. They are simply concerned for her wellbeing. She should be grateful.

But regardless, it is clear that her parents’ version of her happiness is greatly skewed from her own.

---

Yeri runs through the front door and calls out a quick “I’m home” before making a beeline to her bedroom.

Too late though, because Irene’s already waiting by the stairwell – arms crossed by her chest, eyebrows knitted together in displeasure.

The ten-year-old groans. Irene always catches her more often than her siblings whenever they did something wrong. Minhyuk always teases her and says it’s because he is not even half as naughty as her - lies, such lies - to which Yeri scoffs. It doesn’t help that Jisoo also chastises her a lot, saying she has never disappointed their mother - another blatant lie - although