CHAPTER 11

            Sana was standing across the window of her office. On an outside perspective, she seemed somber and composed. It was only on the outside, though. As of this moment, her emotions were crashing into each other. She couldn’t grasp them and ground herself after having seen Dahyun another time, and discovering that the girl was engaged to her best friend- of all people.

            A knock was heard against the door. This took Sana out of her own trance, snapping her head to look at the door. “You okay?” Jihyo’s voice resonated into the room from outside the door. Her voice was unclear, blurred. Sana shook her head and tried to regain her composure, clearing before she called Jihyo in, “Come in.”

            As she’s been told, her secretary came in. Her arms were empty, though. It didn’t seem like she came in for a work-related concern. Sana knew this, and looked at Jihyo. She was waiting for the girl to speak. “Who was that?”

            The question was exactly what Sana expected. Sighing, she then beckoned the woman to sit down to talk. It wasn’t exactly a long story, but it wasn’t short either. Jihyo followed and sat on the sofa, her legs crossed professionally. The girl was very prim and proper. She knew she didn’t have to keep up looks around Sana, though that was just the person she is; neat and organized. It was no wonder the men in the company gushed over her for her entire stay as a secretary.

            “The name’s Kim Dahyun.” Sana stated, the name was still branded into her mind. “She doesn’t seem like she’s from around here.” Jihyo added as she crossed her arms. “She’s not. She’s from Korea.” The older girl sighed as she walked back to the comfort of her swivel chair.

            “She was my first love.” Swaying the swivel chair to face the window, Sana breathed out heavily. Talking about her vulnerability was never easy. Jihyo, in turn, was in a state of shock. She knew that love never Sana’s rigid walls, the girl never let anybody in. “We met in high school, when I studied abroad. Dahyun was the girl the company sponsored and accelerated back then. She was smart, talented, and she deserved that grant more than anybody.” Sana explained, looking back at a young, naïve Dahyun’s bright smiles and unfading eyes. This brought her more melancholy than usual. There have been a few special nights where the girl would suddenly pop back in her mind. Similar to how a canary is let out of its cage once in a while, free to roam around. It was harder the first few months after she came back home, but eventually, she managed to suppress the thoughts. Along with the thoughts, the pain would slowly fade away. Unlike any other, though, it was as if the lashes never healed. It was a scar that was re-opened constantly, and it was being torn apart right now.

            “I might’ve overheard your Dad on the phone about a scholarship… Did that concern her?” Jihyo recalled. This statement made Sana smirk. An unreadable expression was plastered on her face. Spiraling back, she recalled the moment she was asked to leave Korea.

            “Sweetie, I’m sick.” Her father’s meek voice echoed in the phone against Sana’s ear. It was all so sudden to the high school girl. She left her hometown and her family while they were all so healthy, no signs or forewarnings of a severe illness like that. “I’m… dying, actually.” Sana could hear her mother’s helpless sobs in the background. The girl’s hands gripped the phone tighter, an imaginable strength squeezing her heart. She knew what her father was asking from her.

            She stayed silent for a few seconds. “Sweetie?,” her father asked. A room never felt so big so Sana. When she turned her head to glance back at a peaceful, sleeping Dahyun in the bed, it was as if she was suddenly 10 more feet away. In reality, she was nothing but two steps away from the edge of the bed. It was like she was pulled into an abyss, her arms flailing and reaching out up above, to the light that Dahyun was. “I’m here.” Sana replied, her voice cracking and threatening to break into tears. “Listen… You’re graduating, and I need you to come back home. Take over the company and continue my legacy.” Although her father sounded ever so gentle over the phone, his intentions wouldn’t say the same. Sana’s entire childhood up to this point was nothing but training her to be the next to take up the mantle of her family’s legacy. A curse to her, however. Generations of Minatozaki’s had arranged marriages, marrying into powerful companies and wealthy clans. She didn’t have much of a choice.

            But maybe she did.

            Turning her entire body this time, her back was lit by moonlight and created a shadow over the bed in which her lover was lying. The room was tinted a shade of raven blue, moonlight the only light resonating across the space from the window. She stared at Dahyun’s face. She looked so somber. In a flash, all of their memories together played in her mind.

            The entire time they were together, she was never pretending. She didn’t feel the need to put on her mask of invulnerability. She felt like it was okay to be herself. Putting away all of her responsibilities. She often forgets that she had a life that needed to be resumed back home. She wished it would go away several times. She waited for every meteor shower, every 11:11, every dandelion, every fortune cookie. She didn’t want to lose what she had. She wanted to fight, not just for their relationship, but for herself and her happiness.

            “Dad, I don’t think I want to inherit the company.” Shaky, she finally admitted the one thing that she kept hidden inside the depths of her heart; the only thought that hung above her entire identity. “…”

            The other line was silent.

            Slowly, anxiety crept up Sana’s legs, spreading across her body. She was starting to have cold sweats, and her palms felt clammy.

            “Why?”

            Sana smiled at the question. Maybe she could finally tell her father. She could break the boundary again. She could have the loving father that picked her up during picnics, again. “I met someone here, and we-“

            “Come home or I’m dropping Dahyun’s scholarship. It was a wrong decision to send you to study abroad, in the first place. You will inherit this company and become the next CEO, whether you like it or not.” Her father cut her off.

            Sana’s lips were shaking. A singular tear fell across her cheek. It was like her father helplessly strangled her. She had nowhere to go.

            “…Fine.” She answered hopelessly. “Come home after graduation. I’ll send you the flight details.” Her father’s voice was absolute, once again. She couldn’t fight again. She was reminded of the little girl who stood helplessly and sobbed while her parents fought in the next bedroom. The subtle echo of her beloved mother’s cries and her father’s terrifying shouts haunted her once again. She was too weak.

            A beep and a white noise indicated that her father hung up on her. Her arm dropped to the side so weakly. Looking back at Dahyun, she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

            “I don’t know.” Sana lied. Although she kept Jihyo close to her, she never let anybody in that deep. Her mind was her own sanctuary and her own battlefield at the same time. It was her choice to stay in that abyss of solidarity, chaining herself to the doors that stopped her emotions from clouding her priorities. Living up to her father’s expectations.

            “She’