There is a lot to admire about Minji. There’s that smile, the one that makes her eyebrows dip and her nose scrunch—the one that Bora loves, probably, more than life because it makes the worries of her day disappear. Then, there’s her confidence—quiet but undeniable in how she carries herself. There’s Minji’s capacity to empathize and share her compassion with the world as if her heart is made to serve and save humanity from splintering into unrecoverable pieces. And if Bora were to make a list, it would never really end because there’s always something to admire about Minji—her laugh, her body, her positivity, her strength and will to see her goals through. 

But, most of all, all Bora can think about is Minji’s patience and her seemingly endless ability to wait and carry the burden of uncertainty. Because when Bora lies awake at night, it’s the torture of being so close yet so far to Minji that agonizes her. How can Minji shoulder these months of doubt and insecurity? How can she willingly endure all of this pain for someone who is terrified of confronting reality? (Bora knows that it could only be the infinite love that Minji has for her—her desire to stay by Bora’s side and to withstand the struggles of trying to survive. It makes her wonder how she could ever deserve her, could ever earn back Minji’s trust when she failed to reaffirm the same for her, how can she ever prove that she’s someone worth believing). 

Bora doesn’t come home late anymore, hasn’t for the past three months. Even if it’s getting harder to pay off the bills piling up on their countertop, it’s a problem that she’s willing to work around if that means proving to Minji that she wants to be better. And she tries to do little gestures that she might appreciate, like bathing Cherry, waking up early to make Minji's coffee, offering to massage her back—anything she can to show her wife that she wants to be there. But still, Minji is impenetrable and cold, a distant ghost.

Sometimes, they’ll cook dinner together. Yet, it’s different. Instead of waltzing around the kitchen, getting distracted way too many times because Minji’s simply irresistible, and laughing together over nothing and everything, it’s quiet and tense, awkward. It’s as if they both lost their way around each other. And it makes the cracks in Bora’s heart break into fractures that dig into her chest and press up against her lungs because how could life be so cruel to have two people who love each other so dearly but be so foreign with each other? (Bora thinks that being strangers would be better than this torment because she knows Minji—knows her laugh, knows the warmth of her affection and love, also knows that Minji is just waiting for something to go wrong with how she looks at Bora with hopeless eyes and tight-lipped smiles). 

Eating together used to be one of Bora’s favorite things to do with Minji. Because her wife loves food—loves eating—so much that she derives the greatest joy by simply dining with the woman she loves the most. And it shows in her cheesy grin and soft, brown eyes that beam at her when they talk. But, as they eat now, conversation is forced and so painfully superficial that Bora cringes whenever Minji has to look down to eat. 

She never imagined life to be like this, never ever associated Minji with cold conversation and unbearable tension.

In the silence, it’s as if Bora can feel her patience wane even thinner. Because life isn’t supposed to be like this. Sure, Bora already accepted that life was going to be tough—money is hard to come by, relaxing is never really an option because if it’s not the bills she has to worry about, it’s being a disposable dancer in a studio that thrives off of constant productivity and content. Being married to Minji, Bora hoped with everything in her, would be her safety and her peace. (But, Bora knows it’s ignorant of her to think that, to assume that responsibility on their relationship because, as splendid as Minji is and as much as they love each other, it takes work to maintain their connection). 

And Bora has always lived by this thought: as strong as her love and care can be, they are nothing without her effort. That, to love and to care, it takes applying herself to show it, to not allow herself to get lazy and assume that the people she loves, that Minji, will just automatically know that Bora would flip the world upside down for her if she wanted her to. Because Minji is human—just as susceptible to being dragged down by her skeletons like Bora. And like how Minji is her lifeline when the voices in her head persuade her she’s anything less than worthy, Bora is that for her too—willingly and lovingly shoulders that responsibility even when Minji never asked it of her. 

(Except, as Minji drowned in her doubts, in worries that only Bora could ever pull her away from, her hands are only left to desperately grasp at thin air and the absence of safety).

Bora hates failure, hates knowing that she failed to show that she cares, that she loves Minji with every bone in her body, with an infinite affection that shouldn’t be humanly possible. And when Minji’s spoon scrapes against the plate and the deafening silence between them makes Bora’s blood boil, it makes her drop her utensils to fix Minji in a determined stare.

“I can’t take this anymore, Ji.”

Minji pauses, tenses, and then relaxes. Regarding her with calm eyes, she is composed and nonchalant.

“Is the food not good?”

Bora knows Minji is avoiding her, knows that she knows exactly what this about—knows that this is a game she plays to hide her hurt and fear.

“I’m not talking about the food and you know it.”

Minji sighs, her eyes sullen and cold. “Then, what is this about, Bora?”

Minji says her name, spits it out like it leaves a sour taste in . (It’s so far from how she used to say it, used to utter it with adoration and love like Bora’s name itself was the key to heaven).

“We- we’re not okay. I’m tired of feeling like you’re a stranger to me. I’m tired of pretending like we’re fine. I hate sleeping beside you but feeling like there is a universe between us. I hate kissing you and knowing