Everything is a white snowscape in June made of flowers, silk, and ribbons. If he turns around, friends and relatives pop out against the white like early spring flowers.

He’s nervous, entirely alone in front of a room full of people, and he considers leaving—just walking out the side door, through the manicured garden and going home—when the music starts.

An organ doesn’t sound like a happy instrument, and it’s a real shame, because when it plays the march, hearts swell with emotion. He believes it’s beautiful and an appropriate sound for such a moment. Fanfare announcing he most important person had entered and is walking down the aisle to stand beside him for their world to see.

Head-to-toe in white, she stands out against the snowy background because of her black hair, pink cheeks, and radiance.

They anxiously squeeze hands; she hands her bouquet aide to touch his cheek with her other hand. The lace of her glove is rough and drags against his skin. Sweat betrays her nerves, damp on his jaw, and he priest drops his book to the pulpit with a bang.

Minseok jumps, wide awake. With a groan, he rubs the inside corners of his eyes and leans back in his chair. He blearily notices the woman leaning over his sofa, stretching between it and the wall for something.

“Lu…?”

“I’m sorry, Minseok. My purse hit the door, and it slamming freaked out your poor cat.” Lu Hua pulls sits on her folded leg, letting her arm dangle behind the sofa. “Sleep well?”

“Not really. Did you need something?”

“No. Just dropping off some notes.” She nods towards his desk, and he looks down to see a pile of neatly clipped pages. “I’m also checking on you, because you wanted to know when Junghwa was done—if the photographer stays on schedule, they’ll be finished shortly.” She grins when he rubs as his jaw. “Tan Tan was trying to make you presentable. You must have drooled againt.”

“That’s what felt rough…”

Lu Hua hums, wiggling her fingers when she feels a cool nose in her palm.

“Nothing. I just had a dream where lace was touching my face. It felt strange.”

“Dreaming of lacy thing? I’ve got a really nice bodysuit you’d like, if you’re not doing anything later.”

“My brother wouldn’t like that.”

“I’m joking. Kinda. Jongdae’s been too busy, lately, anyway, so it’s not like he’d even know.” She pulls Tan the cat from behind the sofa, setting her on her lap. “I really do have a super cute bodysuit, though…”

“I’m sure it’s lovely. Didn’t you have a client today?”

“Choi Minjung. She came for a fitting and to see some options. We just finished.”She nods towards his desk. “Those are the notes on your desk.”

Minseok flips through them briefly. “Did she find anything she liked?” Lu Hua included a couple of photos from their session, as well. Her client is a stunning, modelesque woman.

Tan hops to the floor, barely making a sound. “A few somethings, actually. I suggested she think on it some more and then call to make an appointment with you.”

“Thank you…” He drops the papers and covers his yawn with a hand.

Lu Hua eyes him critically, drawing both of her hands along the sides of Tan’s face, pulling her whiskers back. “Are you okay? You look even more tired now than this morning.”

“I’m fine. I take it Jongdae’s not back, yet.”

“Nope. I texted him, but he’s ignoring me,” she sniffs.

“He’s not ignoring you.”

“He is to ignoring me.” Lu Hua and Jongdae have an interesting relationship in that they’re whole-heartedly in love with each other but seem to love teasing each other even more. It’s like a cat-and-mouse game of seeing who can hold out the longest. They’re whiny and difficult in the meantime.

“Have you eaten, yet? You’re welcome to join me and Junghwa for lunch.”

“I’ll take a rain check. I know it’s been a while since it was just the two of you. There’s a couple things I want to finish before tonight, anyway; I’ll order something and have it brought up. Thank you, though.” She stands and picks up her purse. “Remember you’re seeing Kim Yongsun from MooMoo Magazine this afternoon and are expecting a call from Bae Joohyun, too.”

He spreads his hands helplessly. “What would I do without you?”

“Probably still not fire your brother.”

“Probably not.”

“Well, one of these days I am going to get you good and drunk and ask for a raise.”

“I look forward to it.” They both know he’s not a lightweight.

Tan rubs around his ankles and jumps onto his desk to nudge at his arms.

“Oh, I fed her, too. Poor baby was starving.” Lu Hua wiggles her fingers at the cat, waves at Minseok, and leaves. She closes the door behind her, and Minseok slouches in his seat.

“Were you starving, waif?” Minseok runs a hand down the cat’s back. She stands up with a trill and arches with a purr. “Sure. You wouldn’t have such a gut, otherwise.” He drops a kiss atop her head as he stands and reaches his arms behind him until his vertebrae and shoulders pop.

The reception area is nearly empty; Jongdae’s desk phone is flashing with missed calls. A woman sits primly on one of the gray sofas, her dark velvet dress a sharp contrast.

He sits on one of the plush sofas in the reception area, across from the young woman reading a magazine. She glances up briefly when she notices someone but returns her attention to the glossy photos, just to bounce her head back up. “You’re Kim Minseok!”

“Oh, thank you. Sometimes I forget.”

Her cheeks flush red, and she ducks her head in an apologetic bow. “I’m sorry. It’s this magazine…” She holds it up, and Minseok sees his own image alongside his sister’s. “I don’t expect to find the person I’m reading about sitting right across from me.”

“Understandable. I don’t expect to find the person sitting across from me reading about me.” He leans forward and lifts a couple other emblazoned magazines. “My secretary keeps reading materials current; I think he purposely finds ones with articles on me or my company.”

“Well, they are relevant.”

“I find them gossipy—my personal life has no bearing on my work—which is just what Jongdae likes.” He shakes his head fondly. “I don’t know what I’d do without my him, although I am looking for a new one.”

“What’s happened to the one now?”

“My brother. He’s quitting on me to pursue music full-time. He’s a wedding singer.”

Her eyes curve with her smile. “You and your brother both work in weddings. I can’t imagine, but it must be nice to have someone you know you can rely on.”

“We enjoy it. And one of these days, I believe he’ll propose to his girlfriend; he’s been sending me ideas for her dress based off her closet and what she buys, but I keep telling him that this kind of decision really can’t be based off of that, you know?”

“It’s supposed to be a special, one-time wear type of thing.”

“Exactly. Very few people wear elegant gowns or princess dresses everyday.” He sighs and shrugs. “He won’t listen to me, though. I’m ready to ask if all the hints are for his own dress. I will make it, if he’ll wear it, but I just know he’d be an awful client. He whines a lot…”

She laughs behind her hand, looking daintily proper or maybe embarrassed by her teeth. The magazine flips shut. “He sounds fun.”

“He is. I love him a lot, and I will miss having him around once he leaves. I’m proud that he’s doing this, though...” He trails off, staring at the magazine in her hand.

She follows his narrowed gaze and flips the magazine in her hands to the cover. DESIGNER OF THE WEDDING DRESS OF YOUR DREAMS — ALSO THE SINGLE MAN OF YOUR DREAMS.

“Oh,” she sighs sympathetically.

“I don’t know how many more mothers of the bridge I can handle trying to set me up with their other daughters or nieces.” He shrugs. “Or themselves.”

“I would rather this title than one featuring your marriage history, if you had one. Divorcees aren’t as acceptable as single people, it seems. They’re used goods.” She closes the magazine, holding her finger between the pages she’s reading, and removes her glasses. “A single man has a unique perspective, though. You don’t have a bride bias, after seeing so many clients and their different styles and tastes. Someone married would have their own ideal bias, I think.”

“That’s exactly what I hope to express to my clients, and,” he tilts his head towards a shoulder, “I like to think I’ve been successful to the present.” Dropping his shoulder, he asks, “What university do you teach at?”

“The women’s university, sociology and social sciences. How did you know?”

“The way you speak is just like professors I’ve had in the past.”

Her cheeks turn a dusky pink. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be. I enjoyed it.” He leans forward, offering his hand. “I’m Kim Minseok.”

“I know. I mean—Dr. Kim Jooyeon.” Her hands are soft and pleasantly warm. Minseok catches a light scent of some kind of flower, maybe from her shampoo, when her short hair falls around her face.

“Are you married, Dr. Kim? If you don’t mind my asking,” he adds quickly.

“I was… Twice. Divorced both times. And you know? I didn’t wear a white wedding dress either time.” She shakes her head with a sigh, looking sorry or maybe regretful. “I wore my mom’s wedding hanbok for my first wedding. It was pink and white, and I still have it at home. Looking at photos side-by-side, I looked exactly like my mom. My second wedding, to an Indian man, I wore something more traditional and confusing to me, called a lehenga, dupatta, and choli—basically really a embellished skirt, scarf, and blouse—in a gorgeous crimson and gold.

“I honestly feel kind of...sad? I guess? That I never got to wear an actual wedding dress.” Her fingers play with the magazine pages, folding and unfolding the corners. “I’ve always loved how they look. White is just automatically elegant and kind of magical. With the men in tuxedos, it seems like a royal affair.”

Minseok nods. “That’s the feeling that got me into designing wedding dresses. I believe I told this in one of my interviews, but I was ringbearer in one of my aunt’s weddings, and it was seeing those photos when I was older that really influenced me. I think everyone deserves that special day to feel like they’re the most important person in the world. And we’ve all grown up with fairy tales and Disney movies; princes and princesses look best achieving their happily ever after.”

“If only that was true to life,” Jooyeon says.

“It still may. At those moments in your life, your ex-husbands may have been right for you.”

A wry smile chases her lips. “Maybe.”

There’s a story behind her response, but it would be rude to pry, Minseok thinks, and they’ve already spoken rather candidly for strangers as it is. “I heard the weather is supposed to take a turn for the worse this weekend.”

“Is it? Oh no, and I promised my Byul I’d take him to the park… He recently tore his ACL and had to have surgery, so our walks have been pretty light, lately. I can tell he’s restless.”

The double doors open soundlessly, and a slender woman in jeans and a large sweater enters the reception area, rubbing at her eyes beneath her glasses. She makes a slow beeline for Minseok and leans over him, hugging him from behind with a tired sigh.

He doesn’t seem to mind and takes her hands, although he scolds her. “Junghwa, please don’t hang on me.”

“I’m so tired.” She sets her chin on his shoulder. “And hungry.”

“I’ve been waiting on you. Are you ready to go.”

“I’ve been ready since I got here. Let’s go before he comes out.” She takes his hand, pulling him to his feet. She stands taller than him in her wedge heeled sneakers. “I kept trying to get Yixiao unnie to save me, but she just kept encouraging him!” Junghwa looks at Jooyeon over her shoulder. “Yixiao unnie said she should be out, soon.”

The older woman smiles, having watched the siblings’ exchange quietly, hands folded over the magazine on her lap. “Thank you.” Her posture is still straight, not showing any fatigue.

Minseok bows. “It was nice talking with you, Dr. Kim.”

“You, too. I hope you have a good lunch.”

Junghwa pulls him to walk, leading the way to the elevators. Once down the hall, she turns her head and breathes out a sigh. “Wow… She is really pretty. Yixiao unnie told me she’s gorgeous and owns a wine bar unnie plays at that allows dogs inside.” Her brother hums, not betraying his actual interest. “C’mon, I’m starving!” she whines at the elevator.

Finally, it arrives, and Minseok puts his hand out to keep the door from sliding shut.

“Junghwa, have you ever met someone and thought, This is the person I’m going to marry?”

His sister shakes her head slowly. “Not really, no…” She taps the button for the garage level. “Why; have you?”

“I think so, now...yeah.”

According to Snopes, an online fact-checker, Common usage of the phrase "Always a bridesmaid but never a bride" originated with an advertising campaign for Listerine mouthwash. Fun fact. It's been used in some variation for a long time even before then, though. Marriage was a huge weight of expectation on women, and being a bridesmaid too often was considered unlucky.