Rue Montorgeuil is always busy, but even more so on Sunday afternoons when Parisians flock the street to eat out with family, catch up with friends over café au lait and sweets, or simply stroll through the quaint, marble-paved pedestrian area.

Félix greets you with a kind smile the moment you enter Stohrer like he always does, flashing his teeth at you as he leans over the counter. “What will it be today, Madame Oh?” he asks in his heavily-accented tone.

“The usual, s’il te plaît,” you answer. “Minseok still isn’t quite over your eclairs.”

The first time you met Félix was two years ago. You were in Paris to visit Sophie Dolfi, heiress apparent to the Dolfi Group who had just taken over Stohrer around that time. Sophie had the entire pâtisserie closed that day especially for your lunch date. This naturally made headlines as Stohrer is the oldest pâtisserie in Paris, which means that closing it down for even just a day is a big deal for the locals.

At first you thought Félix was being overly-nice to you just because you were friends with his boss, but Jeffrey, Stohrer’s pastry chef, assured you that being friendly has been Félix’s default setting ever since he started to work in the shop.

Now that you’ve been living here in Paris for almost two months and you’ve been seeing Félix almost every day, you’re quite certain that Jeffrey was telling the truth after all.

“Tell Monsieur Kim to try our Baba au Rhum!” Félix says rather excitedly. “He’s been eating eclairs since he got here. His palate is so American! Blasphemous.”

You can’t help but chuckle at Félix’s exaggeration. “We’re Korean, Félix.”

Félix goes on to prepare your order. As he picks out one of each flavor of eclair on the display stand, he asks, “How are you liking Paris, madame? You’ve been here for quite a while. I bet your bill at the Four Seasons is at millions now.”

It’s true that you’ve been in Paris for some time now, but even so, your stay at the Four Seasons was and will always be complementary, thanks to your family’s connections to the Saudi royal family as Prince Al-Waleed bin Talal is a majority owner of the hospitality company.

“Oh, that’s right. I forgot to tell you. We’ve moved out of the hotel. We’ve rented an apartment in the Sentier area in the 2nd arrondissement.”

“Elegant,” Félix remarks as he puts the eclairs into Stohrer’s iconic white paper box. “I can only dream of getting an apartment in the 2nd arrondissement.”

“You work in Stohrer, Félix,” you remind him. “You’re luckier than most.”

“Ah, you’re right, madame,” he says, nodding.

Just as Félix hands you the paper box over the counter, your phone rings from the back pocket of your jeans. You fish it out, only for your heart to drop at the caller ID.

“Is everything alright?” Félix asks, his tone heavy with concern. He can probably tell from the way you’re frowning at your phone that something’s wrong.

In a flash, you replace your scowl with a smile as you look back up and answer, “Yes, everything’s fine. It’s just my brother.” Félix nods, and you hand him your payment for the sweets while answering Sehun’s call.

“I told you not to contact me while I’m here,” is the first thing that comes out of your mouth when you bring your phone to your ear, speaking in Korean so that Félix won’t understand what you’re saying.

Sehun doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. You could tell that he’s hesitating, and that’s when you realize that he wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t something important. “Le Compas. Outside table,” he simply says, and you could’ve sworn that your heart just sank to your feet.

You thank Félix before exiting the pâtisserie. Sure enough, when you head outside, you see your brother sitting outside the restaurant just across from Stohrer. He has a baseball cap and sunglasses on, but you could recognize him in a heartbeat. You end the call and walk right up to him.

You don’t ask him how he found you because finding family members or even anyone at all is one of the easiest things one could do when you’re in a family-owned business conglomerate. In fact, you don’t say anything as you sit across from him.

You’re happy that you’ve finally seen him after so long, but he knows why you ran away to Paris. You expected him to honor your wish of being away from everyone else for a while and just be with Minseok, but perhaps that’s too much to ask, even from your brother. Then again, Sehun isn’t really the type to bother anyone unless it’s an emergency.

Your eyes fall on the brown envelope on the table. You look at it curiously, wondering if its contents are the reason why Sehun flew halfway across the globe just to see you.

“We miss you back home,” Sehun finally breaks the silence.

He sounds sincere enough, but still, you couldn’t help but scoff at how ludicrous what he just said sounds. “You mean you miss me back home,” you correct him. “I know dad doesn’t care about me disappearing off the face of the earth unless it affects him business-wise. Let me guess, he sent you to bring me back because he’s running out of things to say to Jongdae and his father.”

Sehun doesn’t look too impressed with your scathing words. He doesn’t say anything, simply sliding the brown envelope closer to you. “Everything you need to know is in here,” he says. “I’ll be at our usual hotel when you’re ready to come back home with me.”

Before you can say anything, Sehun stands up and walks away, the outline of his figure getting lost in the Parisian crowd before you can even make up your mind about following him. You stare at the brown envelope he left you with, your fingers trembling as you pull out what’s inside.

—

“What took you so long?” Minseok asks when you enter the apartment, enveloping you in a hug as he plants a soft kiss on your cheek. He takes the Stohrer box from your hands and opens it on the kitchen island, sitting on one of the stools as he prepares to eat the eclair.

Your mind is still reeling from what you just found out. You feel lightheaded, like you’re living a nightmare and everything doesn’t seem real, but the call log on your phone that has your brother’s name in it reminds you that you aren’t dreaming.

This is real. And you need to leave Minseok right now.

The funny thing is, the tears are just now starting to fall. You place the brown envelope on the kitchen island for Minseok to dissect, and you head back to the bedroom to start packing.

You’ve just taken out your luggage from the walk-in closet when Minseok rushes into the room, the papers from the envelope slightly crumpled in his hands.

“I can explain.”

You laugh. You were expecting to hear those three words from Minseok as you prepared yourself for this conversation during the walk back to your apartment but hearing it exactly as you had imagined it is a different kind of surreal.

You turn around to face him. You can barely see him through your tears, and you probably look like a hot mess right now, but none of that matters because all you can feel is hurt and anger and disgust and regret and it’s eating you up from the inside.

“What’s there to explain, Min?” you ask, your voice soft but heavy with pain. “Those are articles about you. Ready to be published for the whole world to see. And you used me so that it wouldn’t get out.”

It still doesn’t feel real even as the words roll off your tongue. It feels like you’re speaking a different language. But the evidence is in Minseok’s hands, clear as day: five different articles from five different news outlets and websites. It’s impossible that they’re all lying. Besides, why would your father use this as leverage for you to come home and leave Minseok if it isn’t real?

“Please,” Minseok begs. “Just hear me out.”

He’s crying now, too. But you can’t bring yourself to feel sorry for him, not when you felt like your heart was ripped into shreds the moment you read the contents of that godforsaken envelope. You can’t bring yourself to listen to anything that will come out of Minseok’s mouth.

Minseok tries to touch your arm, but you violently shake him off. “Don’t ing touch me,” you spit at him. You rip the the papers away from his clutch and you sift through them to find the photo that disgusted you the most, holding it out for Minseok to see. “Junmyeon went to see my father,” you say, pertaining to the photo. It’s a picture of them sitting at a restaurant you know all too well. “Your ing manager went to see my dad just to beg him to block the news from coming out because Junmyeon knows our family practically owns the country’s media.”

Minseok shakes his head, tears pouring from his eyes. “It was like that at first. Your father even asked me personally to stay away from you if I want it to remain a secret. That day… When I came home and you were sitting outside my door. The day you were suspended. I told you it was Minkyung’s birthday, but I lied. Your dad called me.”

“And I’m supposed to thank you for that? For lying to me again?”

“That’s not the point,” Minseok says in between sobs. “He told me to stay away from you unless I want the scandal to break out. But I didn’t. I’m here with you now. I’ve been with you ever since. Because I know that whatever’s written in those articles aren’t real.”

You crumple the papers in your hands with so much force and throw it against Minseok’s chest. “You honestly think I’m going to believe anything that comes out of your goddamn mouth?”

Minseok takes your hands in his as he continues to weep. “I love you. That isn’t a lie. I was with her just before I saw you in the press conference, just when I thought I’d never see you again.”

And that lights the shreds that your heart has been ripped into on fire, eating at it until it’s all ash and dust, until there’s nothing left. You yank your hands away from Minseok and slap him with all the energy that’s left inside of you.

“She’s pregnant, Min,” you say, your words and the echo of your slap hanging in the air. And that’s the most painful thing to say out loud, the one that you wish so badly to not turn out to be true. But it’s difficult to trust Minseok now, and it will probably stay that way forever. “Do me a favor, please. Stay away from me.”

You wipe the tears off your face hastily, stuff your bag with nothing but your passport, phone, and wallet, and storm out of the apartment, deciding that you could just ask someone to get the rest of your things for you.

You don’t need anything from there, really. All you need right now is to get away from Minseok. When you step out onto the street, you hail the first empty taxi that passes by and asks the driver to take you to the airport.

—

Three Months Later

“You look pretty,” Sehun says from behind you. He’s looking at you through the trifold body mirror, your white gown taking most of the space.

“Of course she looks pretty. She’s wearing my dress,” Monique scoffs from the other side of the room, rushing to you to fix nonexistent imperfections on your gown. She was friends with your mom and you’ve known her since you were a child, and ever since you were old enough to marry she’s been bugging you to choose her to make your wedding gown.

If you’re going to be completely honest, you’ve imagined yourself in a Monique Lhuillier wedding gown countless times before, but you’ve never thought that it would be in an instance like this one.

You’ve always dreamed of wearing a white gown as beautiful as the one you’re wearing right now, though it would’ve been better if you’re going to marry someone that you actually love. But that’s just one of the wonderful things that you can’t have just because you were born into this kind of family, the kind that doesn’t let anyone have what they want if it gets in the way of business interests.

Monique leaves when she’s finished straightening out the wrinkles in your pleats even if they’re not there, screaming at her assistants to get the Cartier necklace that will finish your look.

“Auntie Monique’s…”

“…gotten a bit crankier now that she’s nearing fifty,” you finish for Sehun, which earns a hearty laugh from him.

Sehun’s eyes meet yours through the mirror, and you can see that this pains him as much as it pains you. “I’d ask you if you’re happy, but I know you’re not. You look beautiful and all, but… What’s the point of all of this if you’re not happy? Isn’t that the whole point of marriage? To be happy with someone for the rest of your life?”

You don’t say anything and just throw your brother a reassuring smile. That’s when you realize how young he still is—still too young to realize that some people don’t marry for love, that some people do it out of necessity, just like what you’re doing right now.

And you’ve learned to deal with it, to accept that this is the life you were born into, because frankly speaking, there are worse things that could happen. Jongdae is a wonderful man. You’re luckier than most for having the chance to marry someone as amazing as he is.

He’s perfect, really. You could waste your life thinking about one bad thing about him and still come up with nothing, because that’s how unbelievably perfect he is. The only thing that isn’t right with him is that you don’t love him, but that’s not his fault.

“It’s okay, Sehun,” you say, intertwining your fingers with his. “It’s faster to get a divorce than the entire wedding ceremony.”

Sehun laughs at your joke, at least. But the regret in his eyes remains.

His laughter is cut short when someone enters the room. Your eyes flicker to the newcomer your brother is looking at, and the smile vanishes from your face as well when you realize that it’s your father.

“Give me a moment with your sister, please,” he asks Sehun, his voice still cold even when he’s trying to be polite.

In his hands rest a huge red Cartier box, which is what Monique was probably yelling about to her assistants just a few moments ago. He asks you to hold the box while he opens it, pulling out a stunning necklace that is made entirely out of diamonds. He then clasps it onto you, the square-shaped centerpiece falling perfectly just above where your gown begins.

Now that you’re seeing the jewelry more clearly, you notice that not all diamonds are white; the three that surround the centerpiece in a Y formation are pink, while the two that flank the centerpiece from the top and bottom are blue-white and olive-green, respectively, the former of which you could recognize anywhere as the infamous 136.25-carat Queen of Holland Diamond.

“My wedding gift,” your father says. “It looks beautiful on you.”

You’ve figured that out moments ago, but still you say, “Thank you.”

Your father steals a quick glance from his wristwatch, never failing to make you feel like you’re wasting his time, even on your own wedding day. “Jongdae’s starting to greet guests at the lobby with his parents. I told them I’ll be right out after giving you your present.” He plants his hands on your shoulders, looking straight at you through the mirror. “I’m sorry that it’s come to this.”

You try to look unfazed at your father’s words, because you know him well enough to know that he isn’t sorry at all.

He continues, “But this is what happens when you don’t set your priorities straight: I have to lay them out for you.”

“Thanks,” you say with as much sarcasm as you can.

A ghost of an unimpressed smile almost plays on your father’s lips, but his face remains stoic—heartless. “Business before pleasure. That’s what I’ve been telling you for so many years now, but you still didn’t listen. And look where that’s gotten you.” He pauses to fix his bow tie in front of the mirror. “I did warn you about Kim Minseok. And now I have the satisfaction of telling you I told you so.”

You use the pleats of your gown to hide your hands that are now balling into fists.

Your father begins to walk out, but stops at the last moment to say, “Guests are already in the bridal room. Don’t keep them waiting.”

That night, the iconic Yeong Bin Gwan hanok looks beautiful from your hotel room, with the skyline of Seoul glittering just behind it. It still hasn’t sunk in how you were married there just a few hours ago. But then again, nothing about the past few months feels real. It all seems like a nightmare, and you’re hoping that you’d wake up soon.

Jongdae’s arms snake around your waist from behind you, his warmth shielding you from the cold of the room. As far as nightmares go, this one’s tolerable. “The wedding’s over,” he says. “The worst part’s over.”

In a way, he’s right. The hype about marriage builds up a few months before the wedding and peaks on the day itself, and then immediately dies down right after. People move on and go back to their lives after months and months of annoying the bride and groom. The worst part is over. Now, you have the chance to be miserable in private.

But Jongdae doesn’t seem miserable. Or, at least, he’s good at hiding it.

“I can’t believe I’m married,” you say. Jongdae snuggles further into your neck and hums against it. “At twenty-eight. I always thought I’d get married when I’m pushing forty, if I ever get married at all. And now here I am, staring at the Yeong Bin Gwan from my hotel room at The Shilla, and I just had a wedding that most Korean women can only dream of. And the sad part is, I didn’t want any of it. I got married because my father wanted me to.”

Jongdae doesn’t say anything for a while and just holds you there while you both stare at the city that seems to have forsaken the two of you. The only silver lining that you can think of out of this entire mess is that it’s Jongdae you get to be stuck with, not some other rich heir who doesn’t know jack but to max their credit cards.

“I’m sorry,” Jongdae says after a while.

Your heart sinks to your stomach. Hearing Jongdae apologizing for something way beyond his control is painful to hear, because it just goes to show how perfect he truly is. “It’s not your fault,” you tell him. And that’s the truth. No matter where you look at it, none of this is his fault. You can take the blame for some parts of this, but Jongdae doesn’t deserve to take the blame for anything. “I should be the one who’s saying sorry.”

“You know, it’s our parents who should be apologizing to us,” Jongdae chuckles, and you could feel his chest vibrating from laughter through your back. He just radiates happiness from inside out, even in the most depressing situations.

“I wish my mom was still alive.” Jongdae falls silent at your words and hugs you even tighter. “She’d know what to say. Even if she couldn’t have changed dad’s mind about the marriage, she’d know how to comfort me.”

Jongdae lands a soft kiss on your cheek. “Am I doing a good job in comforting you right now?”

You can’t help but smile at that, because you know that Jongdae’s trying really hard to make this less painful for the both of you. “Well, you’re doing better than I expected.” You turn around and wrap your arms over Jongdae’s neck. “Jongdae… I know we’re married now, but… I don’t think I can consummate the marriage tonight. You’re great and all, but I can’t…” You heave a deep sigh. “I need time.”

Jongdae looks at you with wide eyes, his cheeks flushed red. “Oh. I wasn’t expecting us to… I wasn’t even going to ask you—but… Thanks for the heads up, I guess.”

“Oh my god,” you laugh, the first genuine one you’ve had in months. “Well, that’s humiliating. But I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

Jongdae giggles along and pulls you closer, kissing you again on the cheek. Perhaps this marriage isn’t half as bad as you thought it would be.

—

“Do you think he’s happy?” Sehun asks all of a sudden, his voice cutting through the silence.

The park is empty save for you and your brother, the only sounds that can be heard are the soft whistling of the wind through the trees and the chirping of the birds. Peaceful, just like how your heart has been for the past year—relative to the whirlwind of chaos that came before it.

It sounds horrible, how your peace of mind is tied to your father’s passing, but no one else better understands the hell that man put you through except for yourself and maybe Sehun. If that makes you a bad person, then so be it. You’d choose that over having to see your father again.

“I don’t think anything will make him happy,” you say truthfully. It’s true, how nothing ever satisfied your father, even if everything went his way. “It’s been well over a year, but still, I’m glad he’s gone. And I don’t feel bad for saying that.”

Sehun wordlessly holds your hand, squeezing it as if to say, ‘It’s okay. I’m here.’

You don’t know what kind of relationship Sehun had with your father since you were flying in and out of the country for so many years, but judging from what you’ve observed during the times when you were here, it’s safe to say that Sehun’s better off without him, too. Everyone else is.

“Has Jongdae signed the papers?” Sehun questions as you’re both getting into the car.

You hum in agreement as you adjust the rearview mirror to your liking. You pull out from the parking space and drive away from the park, promising yourself that you’ll never go back here unless your father’s death anniversary rolls onto the calendar once more. For all the he put you through, he doesn’t deserve to have his memory honored more than once every year.

“Bummer that you’re getting a divorce, though.”

You laugh. “It’s not that bad. Jongdae and I are still friends. Our companies are still on good terms. It’s all working out well, actually.”

“Yeah, but being divorced at twenty-nine… If I didn’t know you, I’d think you’re a loser for being divorced at such a young age,” Sehun teases. He’s well over his twenties, but you can’t help but think that he still thinks like a teenager at times.

You’d roll your eyes at him, but you’re kind of in the middle of driving. “People get divorced all the time, Sehun. It’s one of the great things about living in this country. Besides, you wouldn’t be saying that if you were in my shoes and dad made you marry someone who haven’t known for more than a year.”

“Fair point,” Sehun concedes. “But what are you going to do now? What about that house you and Jongdae just bought a couple of months ago?”

“We’re selling it,” you answer as you turn right onto the street where Sehun’s apartment is. “We don’t need the house, anyway. Both of us are too busy running our companies.”

“CEO of Oh E&M and chairwoman of Oh Corp,” Sehun says, letting out a low whistle right after doing so. “Those titles sound better on you than they ever did on dad.”

You finally pull over at the driveway of Sehun’s building. “Don’t patronize me,” you feign annoyance, but your brother simply laughs it off.

“You’re picking me up tomorrow, right?”

“Just get a driver, Sehun.”

“But I like riding shotgun in your G Wagon,” your brother says with the most pathetic imitation of a kid’s voice you’ve ever heard in your life. But still, you can’t help but crack a smile, because Sehun will always be Sehun and you love him by default. He then finally straps off his seatbelt and gets out of the passenger seat. “Everything worked out in the end, huh?” he asks with a smile before heading into his apartment building.

Sehun’s statement makes you laugh, because if someone told you a year ago that everything will turn out fine eventually, you wouldn’t have believed them. But thankfully, it did, and that’s more than you can ask for.

But there’s still one more thing that didn’t work out the way you wanted it to.

—

One Year Later

“You lost weight,” is the first thing that comes out of Jongdae’s mouth when he first sees you exiting the arrivals.

You frown at him as he hauls your luggage into the trunk of his car. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“It’s neither. You just lost weight. Does it have to be good or bad?” he asks, flashing you an ambiguous smile. You always hate it when he does that because it reminds you way too much of yourself.

As far as compatibility goes, Jongdae is perfect for you. In the short year that you’ve been married to him, you never once had a hard time. Jongdae just makes everything easy.

It’s not difficult to love him. That, you can say truthfully. It’s just that no matter how much you try, you never saw him past a friend, and that’s why you got a divorce in the first place, apart from the other obvious reason being your father not being around anymore, hence the lack of reason to stay together any longer.

“I’ve been gone for a while. Are you married again yet?” you ask playfully. You can see Jongdae blushing from the driver’s seat as he keeps his eyes on the road. “Oh my god. You didn’t even invite me.”

“I didn’t get married!” he complains. “I’m just seeing someone.”

“That’s nice,” you say, your lips curling into a smile. At least one of you is happy. “I’m really happy for you, Dae.”

Jongdae blushes even further. You haven’t seen him like this, so embarrassed of something so trivial like dating someone. You’ve always pegged him as this incredibly mature businessman, but you suppose that love does that even to the most sensible people.

“How long have you been seeing her?”

“I’ve been seeing him for just a couple of weeks now, actually.”

“That’s—” you begin to say, until what Jongdae said finally sinks in. “Oh. Oh.”

The two of you sit in silence for a few heartbeats before Jongdae cuts into the silence. “You seem… shocked.”

“I mean, yes, I’m kind of surprised that you’re actually gay, but it’s a good kind of surprised,” you explain yourself quickly. It’s the truth, and you hope that the way you worded it is enough to prove that to Jongdae. “I’m happy for you. I really am.”

Jongdae lets out a chuckle, and suddenly the atmosphere inside the car turns lighter. It’s his superpower, really. He dissolves all the tension in a room with just the sound of his laughter. It’s one of his most endearing qualities among the myriad that he has.

“The proper nomenclature for me is bi, but gay works in most contexts, too,” he clarifies. As he turns into a corner, he suddenly asks, “Hey, have you heard from Minseok?”

You freeze in your seat. You haven’t heard that name in almost two years. “No,” you say. “We haven’t really talked since… since Paris.”

Jongdae hums thoughtfully. “I guess I phrased my question wrongly,” he backtracks. “What I meant to ask was have you heard about Minseok?”

“What about him?”

“Oh boy. Alright, here we go.” Jongdae exhales, as if he’s preparing himself for what he’s about to say. You also brace yourself for it, your hands clutching the fabric of your skirt without you even realizing it. “About all that stuff you found out in Paris… Turns out, Minseok isn’t the father. He won the extortion lawsuit against the girl he slept with after a paternity test confirmed it. I figured you wouldn’t have known about it since you were so busy in the States, but I didn’t want to bother you with the news while you were working there.”

You stay quiet and look out the window as Seoul passes by in a blur of buildings, trying your best to take in what Jongdae just said one word at a time.

You weren’t mad about Minseok sleeping with someone else because that happened way before you saw each other again after five years. Hell, you weren’t even mad at him for asking your father not to leak the news because that’s more Junmyeon’s fault than his. You were mad at him because he kept seeing you even though he was responsible for someone else… Or so you thought.

“Should I… call him?” you ask Jongdae.

Jongdae thinks about it for a moment, and then says, “I think you should do what feels right.”

You smile. Jongdae does have an answer to everything.

You fish your phone out of your purse and unlock it, scrolling through your contacts until the name you’re looking for appears. Your thumb hovers above the call button as you mull over whether this feels like the right thing to do.

—

You jam your hands into the pockets of your hoodie as you weave through the walkway dotted with cabins and trees. Your breath fogs up every time you exhale, and you wonder if it was wise on your part to visit Jeju-do in the middle of winter.

Only one family is checked in aside from you because of the harsh weather. The quiet of the night is both harrowing and comforting at the same time, the rustling of leaves and the faint chirping of crickets filling up the cold air.

You half expect someone to burst out of the bushes and stab you to death, but that’s just your imagination conjuring horrific yet entertaining ideas to accompany you on your lonely walk back to your cabin. Nothing bad ever happens in Jeju-do. As a matter of fact, this is where one of the best things in your life has happened.

But that was years ago, a time when things were simpler relative to the madness that has happened in the last two years. You thought that by returning here you’d be able to recreate some sense of that uncomplicated time in your life, but so far, you’re just alone.

Minseok hasn’t returned your calls or responded to your messages. Perhaps it was wrong to suddenly hit him up after everything that happened, but even so, all you wanted was to make things right again.

You were in the right to feel hurt, especially when you found out that you were lied to and didn’t know who to believe. But you also know that Minseok’s entitled to feel wronged as well because he knew that he was innocent, and yet you didn’t believe him.

It’s a complicated situation. You’ve lost so much time thinking about wanting to go back in time to react differently now that you know what you didn’t before, but perhaps it was destiny for things to fall into place like this.

Your cabin finally comes into view, and your heart stops for a moment when you see a man sitting on one of the wooden chairs at the small porch in front of your cabin. You squint your eyes as you try to make out who it is, thinking at first that it’s just Old Mr. Kwon checking up on you, but as you get closer the silhouette looks more and more familiar.

Too familiar.

“Min?”

Minseok looks up, the tip of his nose and his cheeks red from the biting cold. He flashes you a smile. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

He scratches the back of his neck as he tries to come up with what to say. “I’m sorry if I seemed to be avoiding you. It’s just… I needed some time to think it over before deciding whether I should come here or not.”

You don’t say anything and just take a seat next to him, thankful that it’s cold enough for you to keep your hands in your jacket because you wouldn’t know what to do with them.

“There are a lot more things I should be apologizing for, really—”

“Stop,” you cut him off, smiling at you turn your head to look at him. “Most of it isn’t your fault, anyway. The rest is just a huge misunderstanding.”

Minseok nods. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but changes his mind at the last second and instead just stares straight ahead of him. The two of you sit in silence for a few seconds before Minseok speaks again. “I was happy when you called me. I thought I lost you forever.”

You let out a small laugh. “I was just hurt, Min.”

“As you should be.”

You nod, even if you know that he can’t see you. “But now I just… I want to start over. Wipe my slate clean. I want to fix everything that was ruined in Paris.”

Minseok thinks about it for a while. “I don’t think we can start over.” He turns his head to you, his face unreadable.

“Oh.”

But then he chuckles, which catches you off-guard. “I mean, we’ve known each other for more than a decade. I don’t think we’re in the best position to start over and forget that the last ten years happened.” He stands up and offers you his hand. “How about… we just pick up where we left off?”

You break into a smile and nod. You take his hand, the warmth from his skin immediately spreading throughout your body like the feeling of stepping into a room with the ondol after spending the day out in the cold.

“I’d like that.”