He was at the family’s patio, when he was interrupted by a familiarly loud voice coming in through the front doors.

“Ahjumma, let me pass,” the unexpected visitor said adamantly. “I need to see oppa!”

“But…” Bok Hee protested, blocking the taller, younger lady’s way. She didn’t really like this brat—beautiful as she might be—clinging to Chanyeol all these years. The nanny often wondered how Chanyeol could stand her. “Chanyeol might not want to see you. Let me just ask him first.”

“Ahjumma!” The visitor insisted. “Of course, he wants to see me! Why wouldn’t he?”

“Ahjumonie…” Chanyeol called, standing up from his seat, using his cane for support. “Uh… will you get Seolhee something to drink, please?”

Seolhee smirked at the elderly nanny as Bok Hee grudgingly obeyed.

Her facial expression was replaced with a tender one as she walked towards him. “Oppa… I came right after I heard from our friends what happened in Tokyo. Why didn’t you tell me? I would have come home from France earlier.”

She reached for his arm, and he stiffened beneath her touch. “Gwaenchanha.”

“But you can’t see,” she pointed out matter-of-factly, her eyes inspecting his cane and the way he stared blankly at her.

“Not yet,” he answered resentfully. She was the last person he wanted to get stuck with right now. “Why are you here?”

“Oppa…” she began, feeling a bit hurt by his tone. “I… wanted to see you… We spent half of our lives together. I still care about what happens to you.”

Everything was a little dramatic episode for Seolhee. This time was no exception.“Well, thanks for coming by. I’m really just fine.”

Seolhee sat down on one of the lounge chairs, looking at him. “Bogoshipuh.” (I miss you.)

Chanyeol closed his eyes, fast losing his patience.

“And... when I heard the story, I wanted to slap you in the face several times! That was stupid, oppa! Why would you risk your life like that? It’s not your responsibility to save that person!”

“What would you have me do?!” Chanyeol retaliated fervently, to which Seolhee shrunk back. “Stand there and watch as he gets hit?!”

“Oppa, I only meant…”

“For your information, that person took care of me when I was in the hospital,” he added, getting all riled up. “If it weren’t for him, I would have no way of contacting Omma, and I wouldn’t be home right now.”

“So? It was his way of thanking you. And he should do it, because he owed you his life and he still does!”

Before Chanyeol could lash out, his cell phone rang. He muttered a crisp curse, fetching it from his pocket. He always got so mad when arguing with Seolhee that it affected his interaction with other people afterwards. Well, he wasn’t going to let that happen now. “Yeobo-saeyo?” he answered, knowing which button to press to activate the call.

It was his mother, asking him how he was.

“Gwaenchanha, Omma,” he replied in that controlled manner of his. “De, I already took my medicine. And… Seolhee’s here,” he added ineffectually, as though it wasn’t of great importance.

It startled Chanyeol as Seolhee snuggled close from behind him, sticking her ear on the phone. “Yeobo-saeyo, eomonim!” she greeted brightly. “How are you?”

Chanyeol sulked and gave the phone to her, stepping away a short distance. Seolhee took it, chatting away with his mother.

After a few minutes, they were done. Chanyeol extended his hand in indication for her to give the phone back. Seolhee didn’t. Instead, she stared at its wallpaper on the home screen. “Yah... who’s this guy with you?” she remarked in, what seemed to Chanyeol, surprised approval. “He’s so, so, so cute! So tiny standing next to you!  Is he Korean?”

He sighed, his hand limply falling back to his side. Anyone who saw the picture, much to his unimaginable envy, told him Kyungsoo was indeed adorable. He would have to take their word for it. He had asked Changmin to make it into his home screen last night, much as the request sounded strange to the chauffer. “He’s the one who helped me.”

Seolhee narrowed her eyes analytically. “You mean the one you nearly got killed over for?”

Chanyeol couldn’t believe his ears. Any way he tried to explain it, she would never understand. “Seolhee-ah… if you don’t have anything better to do, just leave.” He rubbed his temples impatiently. A migraine was suddenly attacking him—and damn it!—he couldn’t see, which was so ironic. “Jebal.” (Please.)

Seolhee didn’t budge. Bok Hee was glaring at her as she set the orange juice in front of the girl, who downright ignored her as she stared straight at Chanyeol. “After you were discharged from the army a few months ago, you were so ready to take off. You had every potential to succeed, oppa… You’re brilliant, popular and talented. You’re a commander of a platoon in the army, you even set up a music production company and heir to the fastest rising entreprenueral empire in South Korea…” She histrionically flung the cell phone on the table. “Now, you’re—”

“Blind.”

Seolhee’s eyes misted over, her heart going o