“Wendy, are you okay?”

Wendy hums at the direction of the sound, somewhere next to her on the right. “Yes, yes, I’m fine,” she mutters, voice betraying her intentions to keep it calm.

“You don’t look okay…”

She grits her teeth, clamps a hand over the other that is tirelessly tapping against the tablecloth to stop it with pursed lips.

“I’m sorry, I’m just so nervous right now.” Her knee starts to bob at an anxious rhythm under the table, making her grimace again. She can’t help it. Her nerves are literally over the roof right now. She doesn’t even know why. This isn’t the first time she has done this.

A hand rests over her bobbing kneecap gently under the table while she’s too busy stopping herself from getting even more anxious, giving it a small squeeze.

“Please, it’s just my sister. She adores you, Wendy. You’re like a big sister to her.”

“It’s not her I’m worried about…”

Discordant chatter fills the hallway as the front door opens, shoes and boots stepping into the household with laughter and more conversation.

Wendy stiffens in her seat, fingers getting clammy over the dining table. She isn’t all that worried about her girlfriend’s younger sister – the girl might just be the same age as Joy and they’ve bonded several times before over similar music tastes.

She’s more worried about the company that the sister has brought—her girlfriend’s elder sister cousin and the elder sister cousin’s husband. Cousin-in-law, if you will.

Wendy has heard about her cousin. The girl was practically her girlfriend’s placeholder sister figure during their younger years. That, in itself, is quite nice to think about. That just means her girlfriend didn’t grow up all alone without the support system of an older sister.

But that’s also kind of really nerve-wracking, because that would mean that the cousin would naturally feel a stronger sense of protection towards her “younger sister”. Like how her own bigger sister has for her.

Wendy shouldn’t be too nervous. This is fine! She has met her girlfriend’s family before—her parents, even, and they loved her. Surely a single cousin cannot be any scarier than the parents. Right?

Wendy hears her girlfriend’s younger sister chat brightly down the hallway, their footsteps and conversation getting louder and clearer. “They’re just in the dining room, I think. Wendy is really good at cooking and she said she wanted to do this for us…”

Her heart thumps hardly against her ribcage. She had to place a hand over the one that is already resting on her kneecap to feel a familiar touch.

She leans over to her girlfriend’s side. “What if they don’t like it?” she asks in a whisper, insecurity palpable in her voice. “W-What if… they’re actually vegan and don’t like meat? Or wine? Or, I don’t know, maybe they’re the beer type of people? What if?”

“Babe, I think I would have told you beforehand if any of my family were vegan.” The hand that was on her kneecap was turned around to capture hers on top of it, lacing their fingers together. “And please. Everybody loves steak and wine. Especially yours. This is probably the fanciest dinner you’ve ever made, and to think it isn’t for me…”

There was a slight but playful pout on rose-colored lips, and Wendy’s heart calms entirely at the side, momentarily. There was something about the way her girlfriend looked at that moment that beckoned for a quick kiss, so she did, leaning in even closer to capture the pout between her lips and give it a gentle peck.

She might have overdone it.

Because one moment they were just sharing a chaste kiss, and the next moment Wendy is jolting out of her seat at the sound of an intruder (or three) with slightly smudged lipstick on the side of .

“We haven’t even started the dinner yet and they’re already making out with each other.”

“I told you, unnie! This is why I can’t stand being around them for too long!” the younger sister exclaims, shaking her head and walking into the dining room with a lax that is entirely the opposite of Wendy’s.

Wendy just stands there, heart nearly jumping out of her chest in so much anxiety and shock, and will forever think that she could have made a better first impression on her girlfriend’s “elder sister” for the rest of the years to come.

-

“Well, that dinner definitely took a toll on me,” Wendy muses out loud with a shudder, clinking of utensils resonating in the kitchen as her girlfriend busies herself with the dishes. “Do you think I did well? And answer this in the perspective of an elder sister. Like, if I had been your sister's boyfriend or something, meeting you for the first time, do you think…”

“I think I would have somersaulted her .” Irene passes a wet plate to her. She receives it with a towel and starts drying it off.

“Why?” Wendy nearly laughs off as she sets down the plate in the rack and receives another one.

“Because I’d fall in love with the boyfriend too.” Irene grins. “Not that I’d ever be interested in men, but you know. You did well, sweetheart. Fret not.” She turns off the tap and reaches for the towel in Wendy’s hands after she’s done drying the last plate. “Boa unnie acts tough but she’s actually a big loser in the long run.”

“She is scary.” Wendy pouts, leaning her hip against the marble counter and resting her palms against the edges.

“Is she?” An amused laugh tickles her ears as hands find her waist to pull her close. “Probably runs in the family. I remember when you used to be scared of me, too.”

Wendy can’t help but release another sigh when she feels herself mesh into the other’s hold easily, the warmth very much appreciated and loved after a long, tiring day. She brings her arms around the other’s frame to reciprocate, perching her chin on top of a bony shoulder.

“You can’t blame me. You were like, super pretty and super smart, not to mention super intimidating,” Wendy responds pensively.

“Were? Past tense?” There seems to be a miscommunication. “So you don’t think I’m super pretty or super smart now?”

“What—no! Of course I think you’re still super pretty and super smart. What I’m trying to say is that you were super prettier back then, and super… smarter… because you were a new face. And intimidatinger! Wait, what am I saying?” Wendy is rambling at this point, her whole body tensed up at the prospect that she might have upset the other. “I mean… you know what I mean… I still think you’re gorgeous and smart and—”

There is a gleeful giggle in her ears that cuts off her rambling, a nose gingerly poking against the side of her neck to snuggle lightly, and it makes Wendy’s stomach flip and her cheeks flush a deep shade of red.

“Relax, babe.” Soft hands have now started rubbing soothing circles against her back—an action much appreciated by Wendy herself. “I think my cousin really got you good tonight. You don’t even know how to act in front of your own girlfriend anymore.”

Wendy pouts as she hugs the other tighter, burying her nose into the girl’s own shirt to take a whiff of her favorite scent. Lavender and cream. The scents that never failed to calm her down even in the most stressful days. Even wearing the girl’s clothes gave her a sense of comfort not even her own clothes did. It reminded Wendy of her girlfriend, all of her.

“Will you spend the night?”

Wendy twists her head so that her ear is resting against the shoulder and she is looking at her love, who looks at her right back with a smile. So beautiful. So warm and loving.

“Will your cousin be fine if I do?” she asks worriedly, burrows furrowed to a light crease. “I don’t want to get in trouble.”

“Jeez, Wendy, you’re such a baby.” The tease is lighthearted in nature and Wendy only pouts at it to further prove the point—she is a baby. Especially when she is tired. “We’re all grown women in this house. And well, a man, since my in-law’s here too, but honestly… I don’t think anyone gives a damn if you spend the night. We can handle ourselves just fine.”

“I give a damn. I’m trying to make a good impression on your family.”

“They already adore you, Wannie.” Wendy smiles when she is squeezed against the other’s side with an arm, snuggling up to her neck comfortably. “You shouldn’t worry? At this point, I’m honestly just wondering when they’ll kick me out so I can move in with you.”

Wendy laughs, amused despite her flushed cheeks. Moving in with her girlfriend sounds like a really nice idea. She has woken up to the view of the other still sleeping with the morning light caressing her face gently, and it is the most beautiful sight on Earth in her eyes. She wouldn’t mind waking up to that every day. It would be amazing.

“We can move in together after we settle out the logistics and how we’re going to split rent,” she jokes back with a grin. “And who’s driving who on different days and schedules.”

“And who’s going to wash the dishes and take out the trash.”

“And who’s gonna do the laundry.”

“Um, nope! That is my area, lady. You’re not touching my laundry items and clothes. You’re gonna wash the dishes.”

“Hey, that’s unfair!”

“I think we aren’t ready to move in together yet, don’t you think?”

Wendy laughs, hearty and full, before pressing a chaste kiss against the other’s cheek.

“Not sure about that. How about we test it by sleeping together for a night?” She grins cheekily when she pulls back.

“I like the sound of that. Let’s go.”

With hands clasped together and a small peck between grinning lips, Wendy allows herself to get dragged into a room she knows all too well by now. Purple walls, white sheets, and baby pictures in frames by the desk. A picture of the both of them beside the clock on the nightstand. It is her home away from home.

But then again, home is standing in purple pajamas and an oversized white shirt across the room, hand extended towards her with a knee on the bed. Home has brunette hair and round-rimmed glasses perched on top of a button nose. Home is wherever her heart is.

Wendy smiles, fate decided, and retires with weary limbs to the warm embrace of her lover.

-

Irene is like a beautifully painted mural.

Wendy watches with half-lidded eyes as the sun kisses white sheets, white shirt, and white skin. Irene is snoring lightly on top of her, arm flung over her torso tucked under her flank in a teddy-bear grip. It makes her heart swell even in her stupor.

Between the both of them, Irene has always been the lighter sleeper. Even the slightest sounds and movements woke her up. But whenever they’re together, the woman sleeps like a baby—it’s almost impossible to pry her away from Wendy when she’s already in deep sleep.

So more often than not, Wendy always wakes up first whenever they do.

It’s fine though. Wendy likes watching Irene sleep… as creepy and stalkerish as that sounds. She can though, right? Irene is her girlfriend.

Her beautiful, beautiful girlfriend.

Her beautiful girlfriend, with perfect brown hair that cascades down her shoulders in gorgeous waves, her fully arched eyebrows courtesy of disciplined pampering, her long eyelashes that rest over soft eyelids. Her button nose pokes out slightly between Wendy’s shirt and the blanket, bridge accentuated and chiseled like fine marble. They come to a stop where the lips meet—delicate roses of pink slightly parted and shaped almost like a pout. Wendy wants to kiss her.

But she settles, with a kiss to an unsuspecting forehead and her fingers gently caressing warm cheek.

Wendy falls in love several times a day. From the moment she wakes up to the second she sleeps.

She falls in love every time Irene looks at her, and falls in love even when she does not. She falls in love when Irene smiles, and even when she frowns; falls in love when Irene kisses her, and even when is not.

It has been six years since Wendy found the courage to ask her out during their sophomore year at university. It has been six blissful years since Irene kissed her and told her yes.

So in that moment, tangled in each other’s bodies and wrapped in cozy blankets over the cold December air, Wendy’s heart swells with something indecipherable. Something she has never felt before. An epiphany. A sudden revival.

She wants to marry Irene.

She wants to spend the rest of her days waking up to this view—a soundly sleeping Irene next to her, head on her chest. She wants to spend the rest of her months carrying groceries in fragile paper bags with Irene insisting they hold hands despite the struggle. She wants to spend the rest of her years holding Irene while she sleeps, and singing for her whenever she asks. She wants to spend a lifetime with Irene, irrevocably, permanently.

Irene stirs a bit in her sleep, hugs Wendy’s body tighter against her own, and Wendy decides.

Yes, she is going to marry Irene.

-

“Are you thinking, like, a bold 20-carat diamond ring?”

Wendy’s brows furrow over the glass panel of the jewelry display, fluorescent lights blaringly bright and casting uneven shimmers against her face from the several facets of gemstones below her.

They have it all—diamonds of different cuts, clarities, and colors. Rubies, emeralds, and sapphires. All authentic. She had known this place from her parents. They were more than eager to tell her the name of the place where they had gotten their own wedding rings made.

She still vividly remembers the excited squeal her mother made over the phone when she told them. She had to pull the device back from her ear or she would suffer from blasted eardrums.

Her father just laughed amiably, deep voice kind of sounding wet on the line, “I was wondering when you would, to be honest.”

Wendy has always known her parents were sort of pretentiously partial to anything expensive. They could afford it, of course. But it still made her purse her lips into a thin line when she stopped in front of Shilla Hotel and saw the blaring sign reading Graff in front of her.

Wendy blinks a few times, snapping herself out of the reverie when she is presented with a thick tri-fold brochure over the kiosk. Printed on it is a list of the diamond cuts and their corresponding sizes on a picture of a human hand.

“20 carats?” Wendy fixes her eyes on the line that indicates the size of it. They widen comically, a gulp caught in the middle of . Yeah, Irene wouldn’t want to wear that.

“Yes! You know people these days want to be like Jennifer Lopez… or Kim Kardashian when talking about engagement rings.”

Wendy chuckles wryly, eyeing the man behind the counter. “Yeah, um… we don’t,” she says as politely as she can and watches as the man’s face falters a bit. The wide grin is still on his face though, as weird as that looks.

“Well then, I guess we all have different preferences, right?” The man laughs obnoxiously—too obnoxiously with his round face, nearly bald head, and pink cheeks. They’re not supposed to do that in jewelry shops, right? Wendy thought they were supposed to be as quiet as they can.

Wendy laughs along anyways, slowly but unsurely, her laugh probably sounding like a call of help to anyone who heard her. Luckily, the awkward moment is cut short when the click-clack of running boot heels resonate suddenly in the luxurious shop.

Seulgi comes into view, scarf bouncing around her neck in sync with the messy bun at the top of her head as she runs in haste.

She stops, right next to Wendy, hunched over herself with her palms pressed against her knees while she catches her breath. She looks like she had just gotten off work and ran to the store right after, judging by the looks of it. Wendy sort of feels guilty for that; she did ring her best friend up on such a short notice and told her they were going ring shopping at once.

The man over the counter looks at Seulgi dubiously, his smile turning wry and cautious now, before Wendy gives him a reassuring smile of her own.

“Sorry, she’s with me,” she quickly tells the man to calm him down before looking at her still panting best friend. “Are you okay, Seul?” she asks softly, concerned.

“Am I… Am I okay?” Seulgi asks rhetorically in between short breaths, wiping away the beads of sweat away from her forehead. “You ring me up, didn’t even ask me, ‘Hey, Seulgi, are you free today?’ or ‘Hey, Seulgi, how are you?’. You ring me up and tell me, ‘Seulgi, help me look for diamond rings’ and hang up, and you think—you think—” The woman coughs loudly into a curled fist, before straightening herself back up. “You think I’m okay?”

“I—I… well,” Wendy stammers, tries to find any plausible excuse for the short notice and the hassle she had put Seulgi through but couldn’t come up with anything. She swallows the lump in her dry throat. “You’re… not… okay?” she slowly drawls out with an appeasing smile at the other, knowing full well that she has nothing else to say to that now.

After a good two minutes of Seulgi just scolding Wendy and ranting to her about how she had to catch the next bus immediately after getting out of work – and that the buses were all full and she couldn’t catch a cab so she had to run for streets until she found a vacant bus – the taller brunette calms down, closes her eyes, and takes a deep breath.

When she opens them back again, all the stress has faded out from her body, and she is once again back to being the best friend Wendy needed the most.

“Okay, so what kind of ring are we talking about here?” Seulgi chirps brightly as she takes the glossy piece into her own hands and scans through it with her eyes. “I can think of many things, but I’m afraid I might self-project. I’ve always wanted Joy to give me one of these.” She points to a round-cut diamond with a giddy smile.

Wendy looks at it briefly and shrugs. “Anything that would fit Irene. I was thinking something… not so brazen. She wouldn’t want to wear something that’s kind of a big slap to anyone who’s looking.”

“Mhm. Very Irene, yes.”

“So… an emerald cut?”

“You said something not so brazen.”

“Yeah, but a round brilliant is too common. I wanted the marquise but I figured it would look like a spade if I got a bigger version of it. Like, 10 carats or something.”

“10 carats?” Seulgi gasps, suddenly prying her eyes away from the sheet to look at Wendy incredulously. “Wendy, that’s awfully too big and too…” she lowers her voice a little bit, “expensive for a ring, don’t you think?”

Wendy blinks blankly, looking back at Seulgi’s untrusting eyes.

“Well, it’s an engagement ring, so I don’t see why I wouldn’t splurge on it.”

And in that moment, Wendy feared the security would ring the alarms because of the sudden shriek that escapes Seulgi’s lips.

She did tell Seulgi what kind of ring they were getting, right? She didn’t leave out any information about engagement rings, right?

“YOU ARE GOING TO PROPOSE?”

Seulgi has forgone the glossy brochure in her hands now, and has wrapped her arms around Wendy in a tight embrace. Bear hug-like, if you will. She squeals delightfully, even more delightful than Wendy’s mom, and proceeds to baby-talk the other when she has calmed down from her initial high.

“Oh, my Seungwan is going to propose! She is actually going to propose. Aren’t you a wittle grown up now, wittle Seungwannie—”

“Seulgi, the ring.”

“Oh right! The ring!”

They settled for the 7.5-carat cushion cut ring anyways, diamond stone sitting snugly over a silver band bespeckled with tinier gemstones around it. Seulgi had swooned even more than Wendy when the black velvet box was handed to her with its own paper bag. Wendy just felt sort of befuddled – like she should have asked Irene first before she went out and gotten her an engagement ring.

“You’re joking, right?” Seulgi asks her once they push past the glass doors of the Graff store. “That would ruin the entire purpose of a proposal, !”

“I know, I know… but I feel like this is something we should have done together. Decided together, or something.” Wendy rubs a free hand over her shoulder worriedly. “I feel… incomplete.”

“You’re lovesick. There is no other explanation for it.” Seulgi teases with a grin. “Leave it to Son Seungwan to think that she should consult her soon-to-be fiancée about what engagement ring she wants. It’s not the ring that she wants, Wannie.” Seulgi wraps an arm around her sulking best friend as she leads them to the Italian restaurant she had told Wendy earlier about wanting to try.

“Yeah?” Wendy lets out a worried sigh as they approach the doors.

“Yeah.” Seulgi just smiles, warmly and devoid of any mischievous motive, and squeezes her arm in comfort. “It’s you she wants. The implication behind a proposal. Marriage, Wannie, not the ring. Don’t forget that.”

And so Wendy doesn’t. She leaves the thought be to some other time, enjoys a peaceful and chatty dinner with her best friend over some dish they probably butchered the pronunciation of, and safely tucks the silver band of diamond where no one else but she and Seulgi can find it.

-

When Wendy thought of proposing to Irene, she had only thought about the basics.

One, she would go out and tell Irene (as normally as she could) that she needed to run some errands.

Two, she would drift off to the Shilla Hotel as fast as she could to look for a ring.

Three, she would buy the ring and take it home.

Four, she never really thought of what would happen after that. The meticulous logistics of the proposal... nope, she had never thought about it. She thought maybe after buying the ring then she can figure something out—like a light bulb going off after the ripping of the cheque.

Seulgi suggested that it happen over a romantic candlelight dinner by the beach at Jeju (“You’re self-projecting,” Wendy would singsong, and Seulgi would just pout. “I can’t help it, okay!”) but Wendy had thought about their clashing schedules recently—how Irene seems to be working more and more since it’s almost the end of the year.

She had thought about something grandiose. Maybe booking the next plane ticket to France and proposing over dinner in some fancy restaurant overlooking the Eiffel tower?

No, Irene wouldn’t want that. Wendy would be crazy to even think of that! She’s sure Irene would undoubtedly chide her when she finds out about the money the other had spent on the engagement ring, much more an impromptu trip to France.

Besides, this is not a honeymoon. This is still a proposal!

So no, Wendy is standing dumbfounded in her own house, watching over the skyline of Seoul from her twenty-first floor condominium with a Merlot in hand. Silent. Calculating. Worried for the most part. She hasn’t figured anything out yet.

“The way you’re looking out that window is brewing some really unpleasant thoughts in me, Wannie.” Irene chuckles somewhere distantly behind her, the clinking of utensils and plates resonating in the space as their dishes take shelter in the sink. “Get away from there. You’re drinking too.”

“It’s just wine, babe.” Wendy rolls her eyes in good nature as she turns away from the skyline. “It can hardly deter me.”

“Deters you enough to start talking like a pompous aristocrat.” Irene laughs charmingly as she saunters over to where Wendy stands, white cocktail dress hugging her proportions beautifully and making Wendy’s cheeks flush redder than they already are.

“Does not.” Wendy huffs out with another roll of her eyes. “Though, I am an aristocrat… essentially.” She grins cheekily at the other who has now placed herself in front of her. “Why do you think I can afford all this?”

“See? Pompous.” Irene rolls her eyes this time, but with a small smile on her face. “Remind me that we should work on that. Can’t have you thinking you own the world after having a few drinks here and there.”

“I don’t need the world.” Wendy downs the remaining contents of her glass before setting it down on the nearest surface.

She reaches out, arms snaking around Irene’s waist where the hourglass slopes meet, and pulls the other close. “I already have you,” she whispers lowly, as genuine as she could, despite her fluttering half-lidded gaze courtesy of the quintuple glasses of wine she has had that night.

Irene only smiles, reaching up to clasp her fingers