When Bora was in college, cooking used to remind her of her mother. She had spent her youth by her mom’s side in the kitchen, helping her out and holding the pride of being her sous chef. Everything she knows, she learned from her mother—how to chop, what compliments what, how to prevent herself from crying no matter the onion. But, then came Minji. Minji who liked to help wherever Bora needed her, whenever she needed her—even if that only meant her being Bora’s extension and reaching for appliances she can’t reach on her own. 

Bora can manage on her own in the kitchen. She’s familiar enough with cooking that she doesn’t need help. But, cooking has never been so enjoyable until Minji was there with her. That much, she comes to understand as she busies herself around the stove. And as she cooks, she misses Minji’s jokes, her laughter warming her heart, the comfort of having the one she adores the most so close to her as she does something that she loves. 

Some part of her is used to sidestepping and checking over her shoulder as she moves to make sure that she won’t bump into her wife. Usually, Minji likes to fondly watch as Bora ambles around the kitchen at the dinner table, but sometimes, she likes to rest her hands on Bora’s waist and mold herself against her back to peer over her shoulder and press a kiss to her temple. Bora can almost hear her voice, a praise, a “It looks so delicious, baby,” a sound so reassuring and loving that she barely tilts her head to the ghost of what used to be. 

Right now, it’s a little past five in the evening and Minji should be getting home from work by now, tired from her day and dragging her feet. The house smells of malatang, a dish Bora remembers that Minji is currently infatuated with. Bora knows that malatang won’t solve all of their problems, wouldn’t be enough to close the distance between them, wouldn’t even be enough for Minji to spare her glance that wasn’t laden in disappointment and longing. 

But it’s a start and that’s what matters because more than anything, Bora wants to fix things—wants to be better, wants to sleep in Minji’s arms again, wants to laugh with her in the morning over coffee and kisses. 

When the door opens, Bora’s only company runs to it. Wagging her tail and circling around Minji, Cherry’s barks are high and excited as she welcomes Minji home. The fondness in Minji’s voice is loving and sweet, a sound that Bora misses desperately. Carrying the Pomeranian in her arms, Minji seems almost shocked when she smells the tantalizing aroma of malatang in the air, even more shell shocked when she finds Bora in the kitchen wearing the apron she got for her as a housewarming gift nine years ago. 

(It was white and cheesy with “Kiss the Chef” written in rainbow bubble letters and had a small bird wearing a chef’s hat on it. Even if their friends liked to make fun of Bora whenever she wore it, she couldn’t help but to wear it with pride because there’s something so distinctly Minji about it. And plus, it gave her an excuse to go and demand kisses while she cooked and Minji was never one to refuse her, especially in that apron).

“Hey, Minji. Welcome home.”

Smiling at her, somewhat awkwardly and tight-lipped, Minji is cautious as she approaches Bora, pressing a tentative kiss against the corner of her lips. It’s nothing like the nervous kisses Minji used to give when they first started dating, nothing like the comfort of the ones she used to give when they were happier in their marriage. It’s hesitant and wary, almost scared in a subtle way. And if Bora didn’t know Minji well, perhaps, the trepidation in her actions would be nonexistent. But, Bora knows Minji. Bora knows what Minji looks like when she’s happy and comfortable with where she is at, has felt it for years. 

This is far from that.

Minji feels so close, and yet, so terribly and heartachingly far, like she could extend her hands and touch her, feel the softness of her skin and warmth of her lips, but she could never hold her, couldn’t quite keep her in her arms. 

(And most times, Bora remembers that Minji would positively melt at her words, would nearly skip to Bora to kiss her because she couldn’t possibly go on with her day without doing so when they were happier, before life demanded Bora’s attention and she struggled to keep her love close).

“Work didn’t need you today?”

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