– two years later –

She leans over the ledge, looking down five stories below at the yellow cab that pulled over on the side of the building complex. Her quaint, but modern, apartment perched perfectly over the City of Lights full in its glory under the pink-orange sunset. She smiles waving down an old friend that just arrived after a numbing thirteen-hour flight.

She walks back inside her apartment and buzzes her in. She tidies the couch and tosses the two-day old wine glass from her coffee table just in time before the doorbell to her studio rings.

She flings open the door and is met with an excited, “Jeongeyon-ah!!! Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god!”

Everything is just as she expected: familiar.

She wraps her arms around the long-haired, tan-skinned beauty in front of her before groaning, “I’m so happy you’re here, Jihyo!”

“I am the one who is overjoyed to finally see you after two years!” They break apart as Jihyo gives her a quick scan, jaw dropping as she’s amazed by how much Jeongyeon has looked the same but has matured at the same time.

“You look amazing!” Jihyo croons.

“And you look more stunning than the last time I saw you!” Jeongyeon returns the genuine compliment.

Jeongyeon helps her inside, gives her a tour of the place, though there’s not that much to see. She helps her get situated in the spare bedroom and hands her the necessities—a fresh towel, an unopened toothbrush, and new pair of slippers that she picked up this morning at the open market on her way from a coffee shop.

Jihyo spends the next hour going through her recovery regiment that includes a shower and a meticulous face cleansing routine, a must-do given the trade she’s in. After slipping into some comfortable pajamas, she follows the delicious scent that is coming from the kitchen-dining and finds her old friend placing the final touches on the spread before looking in her direction with a proud smile.

“Oh my gosh! This looks amazing!” The spread is nothing over the top. It is a simple steak dinner, fillet mignon, Hasselback potatoes, some greens, and, of course, a pair of wine glasses next to bottle of a vintage Parisian red.

“It’s nothing too fancy, but I hope good enough to welcome one my dearest friends,” Jeongyeon proudly smiles.

The two enjoy the meal over the light humming of jazz in the background. They catch up on the trivial things and laugh through some memories. They share their new inspirations, their newfound wisdom, and their new favorite records. A dull moment never makes an appearance, just a few long and easy silence only old dear friends could share.

After dinner, they make their way to the bistro-lit porch, on the comfortable lounge couch that Jeongyeon purchased on her third day of having moved in. The summer night could not be any more perfect, the temperature, the city lights, the quiet bustle below, and the perfect company on her side.

Jeongyeon snags two options and presents it to Jihyo.

“Another one of these?” She gently holds up a bottle of red, “Or one of these?” She brings forward a bottle of soju that she paid three times at markup from a small little Asian store that is more than twenty kilometers away.

“Ooooh,” Jihyo hesitates. She spends a few seconds debating the options. She then grabs the familiar green bottle and adds, “Let’s go with this one for old time sake. I know we’re in Paris but...come on! I can’t think of the last time I had one of these with you.”

“Very well,” Jeongyeon agrees with satisfaction. She runs inside and comes back within a minute with a pair of shot glasses on hand.

Jihyo twists the top and pours one for Jeongyeon and one for herself. They both grunt in chorus after taking the first shot.

Jihyo takes a peek at her friend who is simply mesmerized by the view before her. She makes a mental note of the profoundly relaxed expression she has not witnessed in a long time.

This Jeongyeon is definitely far from the tired Jeongyeon that left her with a tearful hug and a card that merely had one sentence handwritten in it: I only hope that you find it in your heart to trust me as much as I’ve trusted you all these years. It never crossed Jihyo’s mind in the duration of the last two years to do otherwise.

Jihyo shifts her body so as to focus her attention towards her. She deems the atmosphere and the timing just right.

“So...” Jihyo starts, “I read your letter.”

Jeongyeon turns her attention towards Jihyo in response.

A week ago, Jeongyeon published one of the most seminal letters to ever shake the industry. It was an open letter to her fans, but mainly for anyone who would care to listen. It contained her reasons for leaving, consequently throwing a very public invitation for the entire world to speculate her uality and opine its intended meaning. But more importantly, the paramount purpose for writing it in the first place was to simply hand over a candid letter that conveys the lessons she needed to learn, the lessons she wanted to pass on from one human being to another.

“I mean,” Jihyo backpedals and states the plain, “Everyone read it, of course.”

By everyone she meant everyone.

Jeongyeon just smirks as Jihyo adds, “Just when I thought Yoo Jeongyeon can’t get any cooler, there she is, breaking expectations, making more people fall in love with her.”

Jeongyeon modestly plays it off, “I don’t know about that.”

“Just because you choose to be ignorant to what people actually think about you doesn’t make it less true.”

It is true indeed. Other than her fans, other icons and figures who read her letter were equally inspired and astonished, praising her heartfelt words, and respecting it for its honesty. Jeongyeon would never know because she chooses to be off the grid as much as possible, making very limited engagement with the world of social media and its plethora of opinions. The open letter was that one-time exception.

“Anyways...I thought it was honest. It was eloquent. Heartbreaking for a second. Yet, it was beautiful,” Jihyo affirms her with a nod, “It was something we didn’t deserve but was the kind of honesty that we all needed to hear in this loud and noisy world.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that a lot coming from you,” Jeongyeon means it.

After a few seconds, Jihyo carefully tests the water, “In that letter...the girl you mentioned...that was about Nayeon unnie, huh?”

Jeongyeon grins sensing Jihyo’s trepidation in the question.

Trying to play it cool, Jihyo immediately adds, “I mean...you two didn’t exactly do a good job of keeping it a secret.”

Jeongyeon chuckles, furrowing her eyebrows, “What do you mean?”

“Oh come on...I’m not sure how many of our managers knew, but I’m pretty sure at least all of the members knew what was happening between you two,” Jihyo admits, “I mean...I can still remember that last night in Maldives vividly.”

“You heard all of that?” Jeongyeon is taken aback by the new information.

“You both weren’t exactly the most discreet with all the yelling and all the ‘You’re ed up!’ one-liners,” Jihyo giggles.

“I hope you don’t feel bad by what I’m about to say but...I remember crying too as I listened. To tell you the truth, I think we all did because somehow we knew in that moment, it was just a matter of time before you would leave.”

Jeongyeon presses her lips together in acknowledgement, feeling sorry for all the uncomfortable moments she must have placed them in.

“Would it be too late to offer my apology?”

Jihyo guffaws while reminiscing the turbulence of that particular part of the past. “Honestly, you don’t really need to apologize.”

Jeongyeon accepts the remission but can’t help feel a tinge of guilt for inadvertently putting the others in that position.

“I think your letter was sufficient,” Jihyo offers comfort, “And even without it, all of us have long understood already. And I know you may have probably felt guilty for what you had to do, for coming here, for leaving us for an extended period, but I can assure you…no one is mad or resentful. All of us really miss you but also hoped you’d just take your time because your happiness was far more important to all of us...including Nayeon unnie.”

Jihyo’s words provides the timely affirmation that Jeongyeon often wondered about. The confession squeezes her heart in the most endearing fashion that it fills her eyes with tears though she uses her sheer control to contain them.

In lightness and jest, in attempt to stifle the emotions, Jeongyeon quips, “You’re here as reinforcement, huh? You’re here to make sure that I do really come back in two weeks.”

Jihyo giggles, “Secretly, yes. I am Twice’s leader after all.”

Jeongyeon chuckles in agreement, “I wouldn’t have expected any less.”

Jihyo reaches for the green bottle and pours another shot in each glass and hands one to Jeongyeon, “Cheers to that!”

After downing the shot, they adjust themselves more comfortably on the couch, wrapping the thin cotton blankets available to them as they breathe in the brisk wind that visits their porch every few minutes.

Jihyo stares intently at Jeongyeon before making up her mind to ask this next question. “Do you hate her? Maybe not hate her, but maybe resent her?”

Jeongyeon lets her eyes wander into the distant light before her. If she stares long enough, she could see the glowing tower reflecting on the glass building next to it. She takes the next few moments to survey the last two years spent in this foreign city. She takes a minute to recollect all the emotions and all of the inner battles that she sought to unravel only to find the contentment and the satisfaction that all of her experience has afforded her leading up to this very moment.

She turns her face towards Jihyo and with conviction, she acknowledges, “These days I have realized that when it comes to Nayeon, I don’t think my heart is capable of ever resenting her let alone hate her. Even when I was the most angry, even then I couldn’t teach myself to properly do that. And believe me, I have tried.”

Jeongyeon shifts to a lighter tone once again, “Why? Are you afraid that when I see her I’ll relapse back to my old self and inflict more damage to the team, leader-nim?”

Jihyo mockingly rolls her eyes and playfully slaps Jeongyeon on the arm, “You know that’s not what I meant. I’m more concerned about you as a person, as my friend, and less about you as Twice’s Jeongyeon.”

“Then I want to reassure you, my friend, resentment towards her is impossible.”

Jihyo leans into the momentum, “So then...do you still love her?”

Jeongyeon couldn’t keep the smile from forming on her face as she is amazed by the bluntness of Jihyo’s unrelenting curiosity. And she knows that this would be the least she can do—to answer them truthfully, generously giving her friend the satisfaction of full disclosure.

She takes a calm deep breath and lays out her confident resolve, “To be honest, I think I will always deeply care about her and there’s nothing about that truth that I regret. In that sense, yes, I think I’ll always love her. I will always appreciate every moment spent with her, even the painful ones. But am I still in love with her? Perhaps, it’s a different kind of love now. To tell you the truth, I still find it difficult to translate the feeling into modern vernacular. I’ll attempt because I know how important honesty is to this present circumstance...”

Jeongyeon leans in, consequently pulling Jihyo closer, “If I have to describe it, it’s like...a kind of love that has aged through time and space, earning its independence from reciprocity, yet equally as potent as it was when I first discovered it within me.” Jeongyeon pauses, chuckles to herself as though she’s struck by an epiphany in the same breath, “That...or perhaps in the last two years, I must have just let myself outgrow it.”

– open letter –

To my family, friends, members, and...of course you, my fans. I imagine the confessional in the back of some coffee shop filled with mid-century antiques in the corner of some hidden back alley of a narrow street painted with bright colors somewhere. It could be in Seoul. Maybe in Paris. I would be sitting in front of you and you’d probably just stare at me blankly with a million question marks written all over. I’d take a sip of my coffee, then try to hold your hand if you’d let me, and give you the respect you deserve by letting you in on the story. Seeing that our circumstances are far from that daydream, I hope this letter will do. So here it goes...

I left for a bundle o