“Taengoo? What are you doing? Cooking?”

              “No, I’m making tea,” I told her.

              Jessica nodded. “Ah, ok … can I take that as reflective of how the meeting went?” she surmised, itching to ask for specifics but at the same time hesitant.

              “Yeah, it didn’t go as well as I hoped,” I admitted, unwilling to reveal any more than what Tiffany might be comfortable with, trusting Jessica to pick up on this. “You should’ve been there though, the food was really fancy—oh wait, did you ever eat with Tiffany’s family before?” The inquiry spawned another pang of guilt, a reminder of my hard-working parents and their daughter who was just relaxing at home. I pushed it to the side, not wanting to show Jessica that side of me.

              “Yeah,” she replied simply, probably conscious due to the nature of the question. I could understand: I was asking an ex of my girlfriend, even if she was my best friend, about her past with said girlfriend.

              Actually, now that I thought about it, our whole situation was incredibly bizarre: Tiffany and I were best friends in our childhood, but we got separated after my family suddenly moved to Korea. Next, Tiffany and Jessica became friends and eventually a couple, but then they got separated when Tiffany suddenly moved to Korea. A few years later, I became friends with Jessica, both of us unknowingly having the common link of having known Tiffany. Some time afterwards, I was reunited with Tiffany and eventually became her girlfriend.

              It really was extraordinary, how things worked out: a situation like this seemed like a good plot line for a drama. Maybe I should get into creative writing…

              “We didn’t really eat out much since Tiffany’s dad was busy most of the time. I would eat out with her—uh, actually, never mind.”

              That piqued my interest. I wanted to press the subject, but judging from her tone, I knew Jessica wouldn’t want me to ask further questions. Still, that didn’t stop me from filling in the blanks for her: from context clues, it sounded like she was about to say, “with her mom”, but it would also make sense if she said, “with her siblings” or “with her friends”.

              “Did you eat yet?”

              “Uh-huh. I just made myself some ramen,” she said.

              Just as I was about to scold her, knowing from being her roommate how often she turned to that as her de-facto meal, Tiffany piped in. “Oh, is that Jessi?”

              Tiffany appeared behind me, looking at the phone I propped up against the wall. I was surprised to see Tiffany having recovered so quickly: the only trace of her crying just a few moments ago was her slightly red eyes that were only visible through close inspection.

              “Oh, hey Tiff,” she greeted, still sounding a bit awkward.

              Tiffany, noticing this, smiled. “What’s up, stranger? Why are you being so awkward?” Her smile had returned back to its radiant, beaming quality, again reminding me why I fell in love so quickly with this woman.

              Jessica grinned sheepishly. “Ah, so you noticed?”

              “It’s hard not to notice,” Tiffany retorted. I nodded in agreement: even I could tell.

              “Ah, I mean, I still feel a little bad, honestly,” she replied, “Especially since the meeting didn’t seem to go well.”

              “It’s ok, it’s not your fault,” she said dismissively, snaking her arms around my waist and resting her chin on my shoulder. I only jumped a little when she did so, a fact I was extremely proud of.

              “Well, actually, you could technically say that it was my—”

              “Jessi, I’m going to just say this one more time,” Tiffany cut Jessica off firmly, leaning forwards, inadvertently pressing her chest against my back. I held my breath, hoping that my embarrassment wasn’t showing on my face. “I won’t have you apologize for that—for my father.”

              Jessica chuckled, nodding her head obediently. “Alright, I won’t,” she recited, as if an elementary schooler to her teacher.

              Tiffany eased up, leaning back and reclaiming my shoulder with her head.

              “Uu-wah, look at you two lovebirds. I’m not going to intrude anymore, I’ll get going. See you Taeyeon, see you Tiffany!”

              She only permitted us a few seconds to return her farewell before hanging up.

              “Ah—why’d she hang up so quickly?” I murmured, checking up on the teapot again.

              “Do you really not know?” Tiffany inquired, leaning forward and around to look at me. I shook my head, frowning, searching Tiffany’s face for an answer, finding nothing indicative. “Well, I mean,” she continued, returning again to her previous state. Wow, Tiffany’s cheek was really soft … “isn’t she single? Who would want to talk to a couple when they’re like this?”

              “So it’s your fault,” I said accusingly, looking at her.

              Tiffany pouted. “What, am I not allowed to hug my girlfriend?”

              I sighed and looked away. “I mean … wait, did I ever tell you that she was single?”

              I honestly couldn’t remember; maybe I would’ve mentioned it in passing? It wasn’t that important—well, to Jessica personally it was probably important—but for whatever reason, I couldn’t get over it.

              “Oh, you wouldn’t have to tell me,” she said casually, stilling hugging me from behind, “Call it a gut feeling … a feeling that she has a specific reason to not have dated anyone, or maybe because she’s been waiting for someone.”

              “Wow, you two knew each other really well, huh?” I pondered.

              “I wouldn’t cite that as the reason behind my intuition,” she replied.

              “Why won’t you just tell me~” I whined, grabbing her hands and pouting at her.

              Tiffany giggled and just tapped my lips. “Even if you use your cuteness like that, I won’t tell you. It’s not for me to say.”

              I sighed. There were always times like this when I was talking about Jessica to Tiffany and she would always say something suspicious like that. Every time I would ask her to clarify, and every time she would just defer to Jessica; however, even if I asked Sica about it, she would either downplay it or give an answer that I felt wasn’t what Tiffany was hinting at.

              After the tea was ready, I poured it into two cups and brought it back into our living room. Tiffany eyed the door as we passed it, as if expecting someone; it happened for only a split second, but I just so happened to notice the action.

              “My parents said they wouldn’t be home—” I cut myself off, just now realizing why Tiffany would’ve been apprehensive at the beginning to meet my parents, “—until later today.”

              Tiffany nodded, sitting down on the couch. “Ah, ok. I wanted to ask them something, just for my own peace of mind,” she said, pausing briefly in contemplation before continuing, “Actually, honestly, I’ve sort of been scared to meet them for the fear that they would recognize me and put me in a situation where I would have to expose my lie unprepared. It feels nice to not have to worry about that anymore; in fact, I want to greet them again. Is it alright if I come by after work?”

              I nodded eagerly. “I’ll come pick you up,” I said, my excitement inadvertently causing me to rush in my speech. “Your question though … is it regarding the reason I suddenly left America?”

              Tiffany nodded. I figured that question was on her mind, and honestly, it was on mine as well since learning what Tiffany revealed to me: it was the impetus, of sorts, to all of this. “I don’t really know … the only thing I remember is waking up one day—I think it must have been a Saturday or something—and suddenly being told that we’re moving to Korea. I also remember being really shocked and sad; I asked my parents about it once when I was younger and they told me it was for their work, which by nature is very private, so that was really all I needed to hear.”

              Tiffany shifted next to me, grasping my hand, studying the back of it while tracing random patterns on it lightly with her index finger. “I’m pretty sure our parents were coworkers as well as good friends back then, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he was the one that pressured your parents to move out of the country. Your saying that your parents work is private sort of strengthens that idea to me, but I don’t just want to jump to conclusions.”

              Although the implications of her statement still hinted at animosity towards her dad, Tiffany’s unwillingness to make the leap of faith in logic to pin the blame on him reassured me. “Oh, so you’re making progress already!”

              Tiffany stopped, turning her head to look at me. “What? To what?”

              Admittedly, that cut me short. “To … um…” I became less and less sure of myself as I spoke, Tiffany’s face morphing into that of confusion, “…to forgiving your dad?” By the end of my sentence, it was evident on her face that she had no intentions of doing what I had just said. “Well, I mean, he’s family,” I stammered, now feeling guilty for having brought up the proposition.

              Tiffany smiled gently. “Taeyeon, you’re too nice. Maybe someone like you would be able to find it in yourself to forgive him, but not me. I don’t need him anyway, I just need you,” she said, clasping my left hand with both of hers.

              I felt a wave of embarrassment flare up. “Ah, don’t say cheesy things like that,” I said in fake disgust, tugging at my hand, my attempt to reclaim my hand failing, “my fingers are curling so much, look,” I presented Tiffany my free hand, fingers pressed against themselves.

              “Whaat? It’s true! After today, I can confidently say that I no longer have anything else to lie to you about,” she said, pulling my arm onto her stomach and leaning on me, resting her head on my shoulder.

              I looked away, hoping Tiffany would just chalk it up to embarrassment. In reality, it was another wave of guilt that caused me to do this, untrusting of my own face to not give it away. Was I a bad person for withholding my ‘truth’, my backstory to her? I had every intention to tell her, but … at that moment, sitting there with Tiffany who was resting on my shoulder with such content, and in addition to all the emotional stress she had to deal with already today … maybe today wasn’t the best time to tell her.

              Was that just an excuse to delay the inevitable? Even if it was a well-justified one? Well, Tiffany did say before that she could never be angry at me, but I had no intentions of testing her limits. Still, I should tell her soon. Tomorrow, maybe.

              “Taeyeon, why do you think I should forgive him?”

              I could just about feel her words vibrate against my throat, as if I was the one speaking them. “He’s your family. Above all else, your family is there to support you. I mean, there’s no guarantee—” I knew what I wanted to say, but I couldn’t say it. It wasn’t a problem of feeling bad for saying it or that I simply had trouble saying the words: it was physically impossible for me to say it. I stammered, starting and stopping tens of times, my mouth freezing every time. Tiffany looked up at me, which frankly caught me off guard considering that she was so close to my face we were almost kissing. “—w-well, I mean, in the end, our families are our backbones. You know? But also consider that your dad also cares about you and wants you back in his life; he can’t have become that wealthy without realizing how to learn from his failures and mistakes, right?”

              “So,” she replied, the breath from her speech brushing past my lips, causing a mini-panic attack in my body, “what if you just became my family? Then can I start prioritizing you over him?”

              “What? I-I mean, I think—I guess,” I stammered, unable to stop my face from erupting in a fit of pink.

              “Then let’s get married. Tomorrow.”

              “Wh-What?!”

              I knew Tiffany was joking—I knew Tiffany was joking—but something about the tone she used and her dead-serious facial expression induced panic inside me. It was always my eventual dream and goal of our relationship—or any of my relationships, after having spent over twenty years dreaming about my ideal boyfriend—but the key word was eventual. Right now, I was one-hundred percent sure that if Tiffany became my wife, then I would perish from a heart attack in under a month.

              “I can handle all the preparations: I can even pay for everything, since I should have enough money. What do you want the theme to be? Oh, I should probably greet your parents first before doing this, right?”

              I simply stared at her, having calmed down a bit, amazed at her ability to keep a straight face. “I-I guess,” I replied, “but do you know how expensive weddings are? How could you pay for everything?”

              “Do you remember back then, when I said something along the lines of ‘you would be surprised at how much money this bartender has’?” Tiffany’s voice, while still serious, was somehow different. It felt more thoughtful than before. “You know, it was only a year ago that I stopped doing that job. I didn’t tell you why I left, did I? I was bullied in my workplace as well,” I suddenly remembered that lady at the mall; although my brain had implicitly made the connection, hearing it from Tiffany’s lips was all the more heartbreaking, “and although I didn’t interact with my coworkers a lot, my popularity affected their income. I—sort of as a desperate act—tried to, um,” Tiffany’s speech had grown uneven, “insure myself financially as much as possible while enduring the bullying as much as possible before inevitably leaving.”

              I could see Tiffany’s issue with what she was saying: she was trying to employ euphemism to explain her tactic of securing her future’s finances, or more specifically, that she seduced her clients into giving her money, because she had experienced such poverty. I could surmise that Tiffany would be cautious revealing this to me due to the fear of me viewing her negatively, given that she was so prudent in keeping her backstory from me, but I felt a swell of sympathy for her. While a deep part of me was jealous that Tiffany acted how she did to me to other people, and a deeper part questioned the morality behind her actions, the majority of me was wondering how hard it must have been to put on a brave face under such scrutiny and stress from coworkers, how hard it must have been to constantly deal with the pressures of feeling trapped between terrible coworkers and the need to provide for herself.

              “Hm, that’s smart,” I noted, feeling the need to reassure her if indeed my conclusion regarding Tiffany’s prudence was correct, patting the back of her hand simultaneously. “I guess—” I stopped myself, realizing that relating her to her father in this sense was probably not the best idea.

              “Hm?” Tiffany said, looking over at me.

              I shook my head, grabbing my cup of tea. “It’s—um,” before I could shrug it off, I reminded myself how Tiffany hated liars, “It’s not something I should say, I think.” Tiffany didn’t respond and just watched me as I took of sip of the tea. When I placed the cup back down, I continued, “Still, I’m not your family yet, so I don’t count. If I help you, would you be willing to do it? I mean, even if you aren’t willing to forgive him, at least give him a chance; think about all that he did for you in the past.”

              Tiffany mused the point. “My mom took care of us more since he was always working, even though mom also worked with him,” she countered. I noticed something very particular though: the language and tone she used when talking about her mother vastly differed compared to when she was speaking about her father. “And after she passed away, it was the maid that took care of us. I don’t want to just play the devil’s advocate, but the only thing he’s done is worked at his office and build up his bank account. I would think a more present father in a poorer family would be preferable than a rich businessman who spends the weekends sleeping until noon, occasionally going on short family outings on Saturdays and church on Sundays. In fact, did I ever tell you this? I’ll give my father this much: he loved mom very much.” Perhaps it was childish of me, but the statement shocked me. This was the first positive quality, or even non-negative quality, Tiffany ever attributed her father since our reunion. “When she died, he blamed himself unnecessarily and took it really badly; more badly than any of us.”

              Tiffany’s voice had gotten softer, although I had a feeling it was more because of her mother than her father. “Even though he was a workaholic, he took two weeks off from work to grieve, but when he started working again, he worked even more tirelessly than before. We barely ever saw him on the weekdays and he even started missing Church; he tried to compensate by increasing our allowance, but that didn’t take away from the fact that without our mother, he stopped acting like our father and started acting more like a living bank account. I don’t blame you for not knowing this, Taeyeon, because you couldn’t have known, but he really hasn’t done much for me. I was born into wealth, but I never asked for it: all a child wants is her parents’ love and affection and care, not the newest toys I didn’t care for, the most technologically advanced car that I couldn’t even drive yet, or even an extravagant cruise trip mostly spent half of on his phone or laptop.”

              I found myself unable to respond to her. Tiffany never raised her voice, nor did her tone ever deviate from a warm, gentle, affectionate one, but I nonetheless felt like I was being scolded for my ignorance. My parents taught me the value of family, but to impose that onto someone who’s family was led by a mother who found the Pearly Gates in Heaven early … was I wrong? However, no matter how I thought about it, the idea of Tiffany just giving up on her father and shunning him for the rest of her life didn’t sit well with me.

              “Why don’t you give him one more chance? Just one more? After that, I promise I won’t ever bother you with this ever again,” I proposed.

              Tiffany thought about it, but before she could formulate an answer, the door opened.

              I stood up and turned around, confused. Why were my parents home already? Did something happen at their work?

              “Taeyeon~” my mom called out from the foyer.

              “Mom!” I called out, turning back around to see Tiffany paralyzed on the living room couch. “Fany, come on,” I urged, pulling her arm. She acquiesced eventually, following me to the doorway.

              “Oh, we finally get to meet her?”

              “Hey Taeyeon, why doesn’t your dad get a greeting?”

              I suspected their reactions to be that of surprise, but that wasn’t what happened at all. In the brief moment that we appeared in front of the doorway, my parents took two very different initial reactions: dad, who had already taken off his shoes, was making the face that signified him deep in thought while mom, who was still in the process of unstrapping her shoes, was obviously confused.

              “Stephanie?” mom said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. Taeyeon-ah, do you remember her from your childhood?”

              “Mom, she goes by ‘Tiffany’ now,” I corrected her. For some reason, those words triggered some kind of ‘a-ha’ moment to both of my parents. “I just made some tea for Tiffany and myself, but first, how was work? Did you just get let off early today? Did you eat yet? I can make something, you can just sit down and—”

              Dad’s hand landed on my head, abruptly cutting me off. “Taeyeon, you don’t have to work so hard,” he said, laughing boisterously, “More importantly, you should properly introduce us, or reintroduce us, to Tiffany.”

              “Taeyeon, I think you might have been too young to remember; you too, Tiffany. You two actually played as children before,” mom said, stopping as Tiffany started nodding her head.

              “Yes, actually we were just talking about it,” Tiffany replied, “It’s nice to meet you again, Mr. and Mrs. Kim,” she bowed. It was natural for their conversation to be this stiff after not having seen each other for so long, but that wasn’t even my primary concern. Weren’t they curious about Tiffany being in Korea?

              As if on cue, dad popped the question, “So Tiffany, what brings you to Korea? Are you doing a summer internship here?”

              “Oh, no … I’m, um, actually—”

              Sensing Tiffany’s unease, I jumped in. “Dad, I think Tiffany is uneasy talking about this topic,” I provided for her, figuring Tiffany might feel it rude to answer in this manner.

              “Oh!” dad reacted, guilt immediately clouding his eyes, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude.”

              “No, not at all,” Tiffany replied, chuckling graciously. However, as this was revealed, another curious thing happened: my parents, again, made had the same reaction as when I corrected ‘Stephanie’ to ‘Tiffany’. Despite the fact that they were my parents, despite the fact that their work was sensitive, despite the fact that I implicitly trusted them, I couldn’t help but be suspicious of that reaction, Tiffany’s words about a possible explanation regarding our sudden move to Korea strengthening that idea. Was there some connection between the Tiffany of the past and the Tiffany of now? Honestly, it seemed like Tiffany changed so much that the only connecting link would be her family. Apparently, my parents were good friends with Tiffany’s parents, right? Did they even know that Tiffany’s mother passed away? Now that I thought about it, if they had remained friends, wouldn’t they have gone to her funeral? I don’t ever remember such a trip happening; did our parents now have strained relationships? Was it because of whatever happened when we were young?

              “Ah, thank you Taeyeon,” mom said after I handed them their cups of tea.

              “Thank you, princess,” dad repeated after mom.

              “Mom, dad.”

              They both turned their heads to me as they settled down on the living room couch, me standing behind it, Tiffany at my side. Tiffany, perhaps sensing what I was about to say or having had a similar train of thought as me, murmured a few words in her attempt to get me to stop, but I refused. Ironically, it was her that taught me to be forthcoming regarding unveiling truth.

              “Is Tiffany, or her father, related to your work?”

Woo, there’s the end of that chapter. As promised, Tiffany and Taeyeon’s shared past isn’t just a convenient plot device I used to create suspicion. There’s a reason for it :3 What do you think? What’s your take on Taeyeon’s question?

Even though this whole week was Spring break for me, it still took me a while to write this chapter because 1) I admit, I was a bit lazy and got distracted by games and 2) this chapter was sorta hard for me to write in that I didn’t want to put too much information on here but also didn’t want to NOT put enough information to not have built the foundation for future chapters. So those are my excuses this time :3

In other news, the timing of these last few chapters is sorta spectacular, don’t you think? I can assure everyone that my initial plan for the story hasn’t changed, nor have I pushed these few chapters up because of the recent scandal involving Big Bang’s Seungri and Jung Joon Young, but damn, that’s sorta spooky.

You know, there are many fanfics about celebrities being a part of these types of /ion rings and being ual predators, using their fame and money as a free pass to do whatever they want. I get that these idols are busy and stressed and they face malicious comments every day, but don’t use innocent, helpless people as an outlet for your stress. Honestly, if you were realistic, you would’ve expected this type of activity to be happening to some extent, but for the ringmaster to be Seungri … this is all sorta unreal, isn’t it? It honestly scares me and makes me fear for newer girl groups like Red Velvet, Twice, Gfriend, or idols who are otherwise known to lonely like Taeyeon herself.

Welp, anyway, hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading! :D

P.S. check out my facebook page https://fb.me/affkesujo; if you want notifications as soon as something new gets uploaded or updates on my process on the newest chapter, then go ahead and give it a like/follow! :D