++ Almost a month since the last update. Gomen ++

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DARA

Dara stared out at the heaving waves of the harbor. It was a crystal clear Incheon day, and the water was bright and inviting with reflected sunlight. It wasn't nearly as dark and choppy as usual; in fact, by harbor standards it was borderline tranquil.

Her stomach still revolted at the sight. Maybe agreeing to a tete-a-tete on Jiyong's boat hadn't been such a hot idea after all.

She hadn't been surprised when Jiyong rescheduled their "meeting". There wasn't a doubt in her mind that he hadn't returned to the Thirty Under Thirty party after taking her home and drank himself well past the legal limit at the news of her pregnancy. At least she trusted him to be responsible enough to call for a cab in the post-chivalrous hours of his night. She had seen firsthand the drunken mischief an intoxicated Jiyong could get up to...and what the earth-shattering consequences could be.

Not that she was off the hook by any stretch. Hell, when you got right down to it she put the "hook" in "ill-advised hookup". Dara cradled her stomach thoughtfully. It was a habit she had already formed, even though she wasn't showing any physical signs of pregnancy yet. Nothing aside from the nausea, anyway.

She keyed in the code Jiyong had texted her earlier and let herself into the private dock. No one came to meet her as she walked down the ramp alone. Maybe Jiyong was a no-show. A part of her hoped that he was. She was terrified of setting foot on his expensive ship and losing her lunch.

She tried not to imagine she was walking the plank as she approached the boat on the end. Jiyong's ship was small and sleek; it was named Giran, after his long-deceased mother. Dara's own memories of Giran were fuzzy, but she remembered that Jiyong's mother had always been a warm and caring presence, one that slipped fresh cookies to a visiting Dara and still commanded the respect of her houseful of rambunctious boys.

Just the sight of the boat rocking on the water now made Dara freeze mid-step. She hastily fished through her purse for the sleeve of saltines she had started to carry with her. Recently her bouts of morning sickness were hitting her during the day, and she was hoping to avoid causing a scene. She found that crackers always helped settle her stomach.

"Unforgettable...that's what you are...unforgettable..."

Nat King Cole's rich voice wafted to her. Dara glanced up, startled, and several crackers spilled from her hand. A seagull alighted on a nearby post and squawked eagerly, but came no closer as she strained her ears to listen.

"Like a song of love that clings to me...how the thought of you does things to me..."

She was five years old again. Giran's radio was on in the kitchen, and Jiyong was walking her down the "aisle"—the name that young Dara had given to the long hallway leading to the Kwons' back porch. Jiyong held her hand aloft in his, and gamely spun her around every time they reached the end of the hall to begin their wedding march anew. She had Giran's apron tied around her head and flowing down her back like a bridal veil.

When Nat King Cole's velvet crooning inevitably faded to commercial, they would pause and turn to one another, joining their hands with sober expressions. Sometimes Jiyong would keep a stolen twist tie in his pocket to wrap around her ring finger. "Dee," he would ask her, "will you marry me?"

"I do," she would confirm dutifully. It was just another game, a script memorized between them. Whenever they got to the only part of their wedding vows they knew well enough to recite—"you may now kiss the bride"—they would lean in with their lips puckered, then one another away before they could actually kiss, laughing uproariously at the narrowly avoided gross-out.

Dara blinked herself back to the present. She glanced up, and saw a broad-shouldered silhouette watching her from the prow of the ship. She shaded her eyes, and her thudding heart picked up the pace as every handsome detail of Kwon Jiyong materialized. He looked older, and oddly regal, standing so high above her. Either he was absurdly overdressed, or her sweatshirt and jeans weren't the casual boating attire she had thought they were. Jiyong was wearing a crisp black suit and long pants; no open shirt, no shorts. His black hair was slicked back, and even standing dockside, Dara could tell he was sporting the closest shave he had ever worn since picking up a razor in high school. It was the most she had ever seen him look to his older brother, Deuk. The resemblance was almost jarring.

Maybe he really did plan to treat this like a business meeting.

"You're late!" he called out down to her. He leaned forward to brace himself on the bulwark.

Dara checked her phone. She was exactly on time. She wondered if Jiyong had been driving himself crazy below deck all morning stewing on the exact words he would say to her, and wasn't sure how to take the mental image. Jiyong wasn't usually a planner. "You rescheduled on me first!" she called back. She tossed the rest of her crackers toward the waiting seagull and moved around the side of the boat.

Jiyong came to meet her. Dara mounted the stepstool, and he extended his hand down to her to help her up. She wished her heart didn't somersault at the gesture. She could still hear the radio playing in the galley, and it suddenly occurred to her that Jiyong might have made his music selection on purpose.

"You look well-rested," he mentioned as he hauled her up. Dara clutched her purse close to keep it from falling into the water below her. Don't look down, don't look down, she prayed. "Better than the last time I saw you."

"And you look like your brother," she pointed out. She glanced around Giran's deck in an effort to avoid noticing the rocking waves beneath them, and dropped open. "Jiyong...? What is this?"

The entire deck was carpeted with dark red rose petals, the exact colour of Dara's favourite sultry lipstick. A bottle of sparkling cider perched sweating in a bucket of ice on the outdoor table; twin crystalline wine glasses flashed in the light of the sun.

There was a teal blue Tiffany box sitting on the chair canted closest to her.

"That's why, darling, it's incredible...that someone so unforgettable...thinks that I am unforgettable too."

Dara's hand flew to . Jiyong came up behind her, but