She should’ve known things could never get her way. Her dream to see the sunrise on the lake—although simple and not even that hard to fulfill—couldn’t come to life. Baekhyun had frantically shook her awake, saying her Mother demanded they come back right away. Mari didn’t have to think twice, her thoughts only filled with concern over her Mother.

They packed their bags and left as fast as they came, but not without writing down the name of the inn for a future sponsorship. Mari would remember the Grandma’s words for many years to come. She had to find a way to repay her wisdom and kindness to her somehow.

A part of her felt sorry she couldn’t properly say goodbye as they left a few minutes past the crack of dawn, boarding the earliest flight back to Seoul. The message had seemed urgent and Mari was unable to fall asleep the whole way back. Her leg bounced up and down and she nipped at her nails the whole time, only stopping when Baekhyun placed her hands in his lap and assured her she’d be fine.

She believed him—she always did—but now she couldn’t be so sure. Her heart was left in Japan, yearning to still explore and see the world awaiting her, but reality had not been kind. She doubted she’d be fine after this, not when her Mother desperately wanted to see her. Apparently, they had an announcement to make, something urgent that required their immediate return, but nothing could have prepared her for the words that came out of her Mother’s mouth followed by the agreement from Mrs. Park.

An hour later, Mari stood on the rooftop of their penthouse, standing stiffly beside her fiance. He’d been silent the whole time without moving a single muscle, his jaw clenched and his hands shoved deep in his pockets. He was handsome as usual, but Mari couldn’t mistake the redness of his eyes and the dark circles that lined under them.

They watched the sun rise from the skirts of Seoul before it stretched its golden arms all the way past the buildings and up into the sky, birthing light into the city that was once her dream. People began to move and start the day. In their minds, it was probably another day of work or perhaps the start of something new where they’d be faced with more opportunities and new things to learn, but for Mari and Chanyeol—their whole world ended that day.

Mari found it ironic. They stood at one of the grandest buildings in the country, the entirety of Seoul just beneath their fingertips. Her father would’ve once said the empire was all hers to take and that they both wielded the power to keep the world at the palm of their hands, but what did it all matter when they were both unhappy?

Wealth, power, influence—they only went so far. It never really made you happy, not when the best things in life are priceless, like love and contentment—all of the things Mari couldn’t have. Not when she wanted too much and received too little.

The Grandma back at the inn popped up in her head again, her words playing like a broken record in Mari’s head. Sometimes, loneliness can make us feel things a lot more strongly than usual. The things we see become a thousand times more beautiful, not because they actually are, but because we need to escape from our misery that we start painting things a different color.

Mari crushed her lips with contempt. She felt humiliated and ashamed out of all things, because she had been right. All along, she’d never loved Chanyeol. She was the one who allowed herself to be fooled, that only if she hadn’t covered her eyes with the film of love, then she’d have been able to see he never cared all along. The warning signs had always been there, all for her to take and heed warning of, but she never did. Because she was lonely—terrifyingly and heartbreakingly-so—that when the first person who showed her the slightest possibility of love, she fell for it.

She fell for it hard and deep until she eventually lost herself.

She was deceived by his beauty, the tenderness of his touch and the comfort he offered. Mari didn’t love him—she used him. She used him as some sort of distraction because running away from her demons was a lot easier than confronting them, and he’d always been there. He’d always been beautiful and warm and strong that he was everything she wanted from a savior, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t her savior—she used him as an escape.

Love was not selfish, and yet she was with him. She wanted him all for herself because she feared the voices in her head would grow louder again when his presence was absent. She wanted him to stay by her side the whole time because she didn’t want to be lonely anymore. Mari no longer wanted to be abandoned. She’d been so desperate of love and a place to call home that when he put his arms around her and whispered everything she wanted to hear, she broke the walls down, let him in, and made him the one who pushed her demons away.

Baekhyun, though? He didn’t push Mari’s demons away, he tamed them. He accepted them, allowed them to understand and cultivate its pain so it could have room for growth. He had always been careful, always wanting for Mari to talk about her feelings so she could let it out. He never wanted them to get under her skin until it buried itself so deep beneath their bones that she no longer had demons but rather became them.

Chanyeol never did that. He only offered a temporary pleasure and false sense of security, which she consumed greedily. Because it was easier. Faster to achieve. Much more believable to accept. Running away instead of confronting them had always been easier—and perhaps that was the only thing that made her similar to him.

In the end, they were both scared of the consequences of what facing your fears would be like, but where did that lead them?