Some birds are not meant to be caged, that's all. Their feathers are too bright, their songs too sweet and wild. So you let them go, or else when you open the cage to feed them, they somehow fly out past you. And the part of you that knows it was wrong to imprison them in the first place rejoices, but still, the place where you live is that much more drab and empty for their departure.

Early morning, to Yoona, is the most romantic time of the day. It’s when the reborn sun kisses everything on earth in awakening shades of orange and gold, when the skies aren’t as harsh as they usually are.

She’s sitting in the spacious courtyard in front of the garden of pure white lilies, where the muted yellow sunlight is peeking through the brown branches. The idea of home is rather abstract to her, and it’s also kind of strange, she thinks, how Myungsoo’s large mansion, tinged with millions’ worth of antiques and china, is now referred as her haven, her home.

She carefully flips through the pages of a high-end fashion magazine and stops at a picture of a young man, coffee-skinned, strong and sharp jawlines, dark and sultry double-lidded eyes. The unfazed expression on his face makes her unable to decide if he was bored, sleepy or it was just his natural default face.

Son of a second wife.

Half-brother.

When she closes the magazine in a calm and relaxed manner, she lets out what sounds like a false laughter, and it comes and goes almost like an exhale. Murderer.

There are nights when Yoona had fallen asleep on the sofa in the living room after reading, and Myungsoo would be the one to pick up her book and put a blanket over her, gently brushing her hair past her face. She's not exactly sure if it was the blanket or his touches, but it was warmth she had felt. He’d then kiss her gently on the forehead, hoping that her dreams were as beautiful and peaceful.

(They were not.)

For some reason, she is stuck in this delusion that they just seem so destined, perfect together, like two halves of a whole. Sometimes she wonders about Myungsoo but she does understand. She understands the fact that Myungsoo loves her, and he loves her a lot.

You two are so perfect for each other.

You two are made for each other.

Of course, Yoona would laugh endearingly at these statements as if it was ignorant not to agree. Of course, she replies, the pair of bright, opalescent eyes being the windows for her vacant soul.

It does not matter, does it?

She steps on the soft green grass before bending down to take a whiff of the lilies. There are two pure white lilies, tentatively poking their heads up and dancing gracefully side by side in the warm breeze. She touches one of them and smiles a little as her finger wanders down the lovely blossom. Her bright eyes darken perceptibly as the grip on the stem gets so tight until it breaks with a soft snap.

Amidst the chirping of the birds and rustling sound of the leaves as they sway and twist in the wind, she walks on ahead. The sunlight pouring down gets tangled in her hair, turning it a beautiful shade of golden brown. She looks up at the sky, as if challenging the sun to be more blinding. Her eyes are ice cold and too bright, glittering with borrowed sunlight, and without even realizing it, she’s made it to the end.

It’s not difficult to see why Myungsoo is enamoured of her. Pale skin, vivid shining eyes, long ebony hair, delicately beautiful in white, and all kinds of flawless, she’s really just nothing more than an indistinguishable replica of Myungsoo’s late mother, being loved the way his mother never had the chance to be loved by his father.

Yoona turns around and observes the way the dead flower is now lying limply in the middle of the wide, wide greenery. 

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