“I am not sure of anything. But I am certain that I love[] you with a depth that stars cannot understand.”
— JM Storm

Spotting a wider opening, Kim Junmyeon carefully navigated the Yamaha through the gaps between the sea of cars stranded on the Gyeongbu Expressway. They managed to retrieve the precious cargo from a deeply apologetic driver rather quickly, but both knew that was the easiest part of their task. The worst of the traffic jam was still waiting some distance away and the sands falling down the hourglass was quickly running out.

And so, with a twist of the handle bars, Junmyeon propelled the metal horse as fast and as safely as he could towards the exit that led back to Hotel Rouge.

Ara instinctively held on tighter when they jolted from the sudden change in speed, but her conscious mind made sure to keep their bodies distant. It even prompted her to loosen her grip the second she adjusted to their new momentum—all out of respect for their respective spouses.

But with strands of her long raven hair dancing freely in the wind, the opposing force trying blow her off her seat, and the adrenaline rush taking over her senses, she eventually succumbed to nostalgia.

Every bump, every curve, every steep incline and downward slope, Ara effortlessly remembered them all.

And how could she not?

Whether it was for their well-thought-out adventures or spontaneous night drives with no destination in mind, she and Junmyeon had taken this long stretch of pavement, from one end to the other, countless of times before. They rode into the sunset, the sunrise, at dusk and at dawn, with just themselves, the Yamaha, and a pair of blissful, unknowing hearts looking forward to a future together—a future that once upon a time seemed set in stone.

Preventing her mind from plunging too deep into the past, Ara switched her gaze from the passing scenery to the road in front of them and called herself back to the present. The exit that marks the end to her short trip down memory lane was well within sight and she needed to organize her thoughts and make peace with her emotions.

Seeing the same view from the same seat, wearing the same helmet, holding on to the same black leather jacket, and travelling the same road together left her with a strong feeling of familiarity—yet somehow, there was something unfamiliar and unexpected about it all.

The memories and feelings she recalled only left traces of sentiments.

Small traces of bliss.

And traces of gratitude.

But ultimately, there was no sense of longing.

No sense of regret.

Nor desire to turn back time.

|| Hotel Rouge ||

The motorcycle halted to a full stop in front of the opened double doors that led to the hallway closest to the bridal suite, where, at the end of it, was a secretly anxious husband waiting patiently for his wife’s return.

After killing the engine and kicking the stand in place, Junmyeon and Ara removed their helmets in sync and got off the motorcycle in one quick rehearsed-like movement—every one of their actions recalled by muscle memory.

And while his passenger busied herself with fixing her hair and ironing out her clothes, Junmyeon carefully retrieved the bouquet from the semi-crumpled box securely fastened to the tail of his bike.
 

“Here,” he began as he exchanged the flowers for the personalized safety gear in her hand.

Peeling her lenses away from the helmet she just handed over, Ara cradled the arrangement closer and flashed a subtle smile. In his eyes lingered the same sense of nostalgia she felt earlier, but with every strike of the clock’s hand, a stronger force was hauling them back to their respective realities—hers with Baekhyun and his with Soojin.

“Thanks,” she replied before breaking from his gaze and directing hers to the concrete ground.

Similarly, Junmyeon nodded in response then set his dark lenses elsewhere to rein in the enduring feelings that had inadvertently resurfaced—the ones he thought he had already locked away. “Don’t mention it,” he added as he looked back at her, lips curved in a soft yet amicable smile.

There was no dialogue of indebtedness that followed—no “you owe me one” nor “I’ll make sure to return the favor”—and both understood why without question. For two people with such a past and a current present, there was no need to create additional opportunities that would entail spending more time together than they already had.

“I should probably go,” Ara began, ending the creeping silence brought by reliving the memories, accepting the present, and embracing the future.

“Uh yeah, yeah,” Junmyeon replied, momentarily flustered. “I’m gonna head out too,” he stated shortly after, once again summoning a cordial grin, “Good luck with the event Ara.”

“Drive safely Junmyeon,” she countered with a similar expression then her heels and headed up the short steps, not once glancing back.

“I will,” the lone man whispered to himself while the curve on his lips slowly disappeared.

Dressed in her ivory suit and the exquisite bouquet in hand, Ara looked like a modern bride. But instead of a bride walking towards him, as he once envisioned, she was a bride walking away—a lovely bride walking towards the individual waiting for her at the other end of the aisle.

Unable to watch any longer, Junmyeon lowered his gaze as his ex-fiancée approached her husband wearing what he could only imagine as that smile. That loving smile that was once exclusively his.  

And with a quiet breath, he switched his attention to the hard plastic in his hand, gave it two soft ta