A/N. Hi there, I know this is really slooooowwwww, but I promise the good parts are about to start, just be patient. I'm updating whenever I have time so if you see me updating 3 times every day, just mind your business lol and i know there's not a lot of Jiseul shippers but even if this only have 3 readers I'll upload the whole thing. Here's another chapter and probably another after this because i just can't stop.

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JISOO

For most of her life, Jisoo had wondered about her mother. What would she have been like, had she lived? What would Jisoo, herself, be like? Would she be different? Happier? Had her mother lived, would they have been a picture-perfect family? Or would her parents have grown tired of each other, argued, eventually divorced?

Jisoo had spent many hours of her life envisioning a different past. She couldn’t help but think that she’d be a better person, had she known her mother; the one that died when Jisoo was four, who lived on in Jisoo’s mind only through the stories her grandmother would tell her, through captured moments in time.

“She really loved photography,” her grandmother once said, when Jisoo was ten, and not at all sure where the subject had come from. They were sitting in the living room of her grandmother’s house, drinking hot chocolate, building a jigsaw puzzle. She remembered the way her grandmother leaned back in her chair, a wistful smile on her face. “Your mother, she loved taking pictures. She would take pictures of everything: animals, children, a ball of dust on the floor...”

Jisoo remembered trying to imagine her mother pointing a camera at something, hitting the button, waiting for the flash. She tried to conjure up a clear picture of her mother’s face, using the photographs she’d seen as guidance, but failed.

She didn’t remember much, had no conception at the time of life and death, of the idea of Heaven; no understanding that her mother was gone. She remembered, or thought she remembered, holding her father’s hand at the cemetery, watching him cry. She remembered him picking her up, holding her tight. She held that memory as the defining moment before her life began to change, as the moment when her life chose its path.

Backtracking through time became a hobby of Jisoo’s. She liked to revisit the history of her life, step backwards in the footsteps of past decisions. She didn’t remember everything, didn’t know if some of what she did remember actually happened or if her frequent thoughts had disrupted the frail boundaries of past reality.

She did remember telling her grandmother that she wished to be an actress. To Jisoo, it seemed the perfect way to be everything at once. Now, looking back, she recognized that it was also the perfect way to be nothing. But her grandmother had smiled, peered down at Jisoo and said, “You can be anything you want, Sooya. Anything at all.”

It was mostly luck, Jisoo conceded, which landed her in commercials. But it was her grandmother’s support, her father’s absence, his new marriage, the birth of her half sister that pushed Jisoo forward. Forward and into the spotlight. Somewhere along the way, with her father’s permission, and her grandmother’s approval, little Sooya became Kim Jisoo.

“How does it feel?” her grandmother had asked when all the papers were signed.

“A little like having a birthday,” Jisoo had answered. “You know something’s changed, but everything still feels the same.”

“Good,” her grandmother had said. “Good.”

~.~

“You know,” Janet Kim began, her voice breaking through the sounds of silverware on plates and muffled conversation, “I’m beginning to think this was a horrible choice for a restaurant.” Her gray-blue eyes regarded the menu with thinly veiled disgust. “There’s simply nothing to eat.”

Jisoo stifled a yawn from behind her own menu and stole a glance at her watch. She had been at the Guardian set for most of the day and had wanted nothing more than a long, hot bath after work. What she got instead was a reminder from Rosé not to miss her scheduled family time.

“It’s a shame,” Janet continued, “that you had to miss Jan’s play. She made a fabulous Juliet.”

“The director said I was the best she’d ever seen,” Jan added without an ounce of modesty. She pushed light brown curls behind her ear and smiled at Jisoo.

“Wow,” Jisoo said, peering up over the menu to glance at her half-sister. “I’m sorry I missed it.”

“Perhaps you could see about getting Jan set up with that agent of yours,” Janet said. “I hear he’s very good.”

“He is.” Jisoo returned her attention to the menu, hoping the subject would drop on its own. She had seen Jan’s acting, and it was certainly not something she planned to endorse.

“I don’t want Jisoo’s agent,” Jan said. “I’d rather get my own.” 

“Well, maybe Jisoo’s can suggest some people.”

“I’ll check with him,” Jisoo said, closing the menu. “So, where did Dad have to run to this time?”

“Paris,” Jan said with a sigh. “He was supposed to take me with him, but he got called out on some big 'emergency' during the play.”

“He’ll take you next time, honey. And you know you have school. Maybe for Christmas we can all go.” Janet looked at Jisoo. “You are, of course, invited.”

“Ah, well, I guess we’ll see.” Jisoo would have rather walked barefoot through a sea of lava. “I’m not sure what my schedule will be.”

Jan rolled her eyes. Then she smiled. “So, what’s the story with you and Jackson? I heard he dumped you for your assistant.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“It’s all over the Internet,” Jan said, as if it were common knowledge. “Someone at school said she read that you were heartbroken.”

“Yeah, well, it’s hard to get up in the mornings, but I manage.”

“He left you for your assistant?” Janet asked. “I had no idea. That doesn’t say a lot about your ability to keep men, Jisoo.”

“Did he cheat on you?” Jan’s eyes lit up at the prospect.

“Ah, no. We were long over before anything happened with Rosé.”

“That's not what I read. Do you mind if I tell people you're really upset about it? It'll give me something to discuss in homeroom tomorrow.”

“Your support is invaluable to me, Jan.” Jisoo glanced at her watch again. Had it only been half an hour since she’d arrived?

“Do you have your eyes on someone else?” It was Janet who asked. “Because if you don’t, Mary Jo Thornton’s son is finally single.”

“Finally? Was someone counting the days?”

“Oh, he was dating the most dreadful woman,” Janet said. “You should have heard the stories Mary Jo told me. The girl was one of those,” and here she lowered her voice, “Hispanics. Not only that, but she was their maid’s daughter! God, can you imagine?” Janet shook her head. “Anyway, her son’s name is Daniel. I’ll have him give you a call.”

“I’d rather you didn’t. I’m not really ... emotionally ready to jump into another relationship.” Jan snorted. "I knew you were heartbroken."

“Really, Jisoo, don’t be so dramatic. So, Jackson dumped you. Time to move on. I’ll have Daniel call you. Maybe you can take him to one of those celebrity parties you’re always attending. You’re going to need a date after all.”

Jisoo didn’t know what else to say to deter her stepmother. She knew once Janet made up her mind about something there was no going back. "Fine, but please don't give him my cell phone number. Have him call Rosé's."

"Aren't you afraid she's gonna steal him too?" Jan asked with a laugh.

"Speaking of the devil," Jisoo said, as the individualized ringtone she'd designated for Rosé's calls filled the air. She reached for the device as quickly as possible and answered with a cheerful, "Hello?"

"Sorry to bother you while you're having the time of your life with your family, but I just wanted to ask if it was okay if I brought a friend to dinner on Friday?"

Instead of replying, Jisoo said, "Wow, they need to reshoot that now? Right now? But I'm having dinner with my family..."

"Very smooth, Jisoo. No, but seriously, is it okay?" 

"Well, I guess it’s fine. Tell them I’m on my way." Rosé laughed. "Good luck with your escape."

"Thanks, Rosé. Talk to you later." Jisoo snapped the phone shut and regarded the two women at the table with what she hoped was a regretful expression. "Sorry, emergency at the set. I have to run."

"What, do they need you to perform open heart surgery or something?" Jan asked.

"You're funny tonight," Jisoo said, rising from the table.

"Don't forget about Daniel," Janet said, as Jisoo leaned down to kiss her cheek.

"I won't think of anything else." Jisoo waved to her sister and headed straight for the exit, breathing a sigh of relief the second she stepped outside.

~*~

Some time later, Jisoo lay in bed, feet on pillows, staring up at the picture an artist thousands of miles away had drawn. She’d been staring at it for what felt like hours, tracing each line, each curve with her mind’s eye, wondering what it was about those black lines on that white canvas paper that made her feel at peace.

The glow from the open laptop caught Jisoo’s attention and she turned to look at the email on the screen. She’d rewritten her reply to the artist’s email dozens of times throughout the course of her day. During filming, during breaks, during moments of silence her thoughts had invariably returned to the email she’d yet to write. Dear Seulgi, she would write across the pages of her mind, and then she’d pause to contemplate the million things she could say after that.

If she were honest with herself, which she seldom was, she’d admit that what she really wanted to write was a question: Why do you feel stuck? For reasons she couldn’t explain, Jisoo wanted to know. In truth, she wanted to know a lot more than just that.

She sighed, looking back up at the picture. If she was smart, she’d let it go. She’d forget about the email, she’d forget about the artist. She’d already said what she’d meant to say. She’d only meant to express her appreciation over the art piece. Anything further was crossing the line. She didn’t want to lie, but she couldn’t tell the truth. The best thing to do was to stop, not reply, move on.

And yet, she wanted to know. Why do you feel stuck? Jisoo wondered. Sometimes I feel stuck, she wanted to write, often, I feel scattered.

She let the sound of crashing waves fill the room as she stared at nothing in particular. After a moment, she pulled the laptop closer and clicked “reply.”

Dear Seulgi,

Let me first assure you that your email didn’t come across as pretentious at all. I know quite a lot of pretentious people, so you can trust me to know the difference. :)

If my email made you feel at all better, then I’m very glad that I wrote it. Especially if it made you feel better about selling something you didn’t mean to sell. Though, if you want me to send it back to you, I will. I’d hate to keep it if you miss it or if it’s something you were saving or anything like that.

Ever since I read your email there’s been something I’ve wanted to say, but have worried about crossing the line with you. I know that we don’t know each other at all, but I thought that maybe that very fact might actually make it easier. Anyway, you mentioned feeling scattered and stuck, and I just wanted to say that if you ever wanted to talk about it... well, my inbox is always open. Otherwise, you’re welcome to tell me to mind my own business. :)

Take care, Sooya.

~.~

SEULGI

“I’m glad we’re doing this,” Sehun said, lowering the volume of the music in the car.

Seulgi turned from the window to look at her boyfriend. “Doing what?”

“This. Going to your parents’ for dinner,” he said. He glanced at her briefly before returning his gaze to the road ahead. “I’ve missed us lately. I know I’ve been busy with some of those projects, but next semester should be smooth sailing until graduation.”

“Yeah,” Seulgi said, turning back to the window. Her mood had been sour all afternoon. It started with a last minute invitation to dinner that she’d wanted to get out of, but had been talked into, first by her mother, and then by Sehun. After finally agreeing, a fight erupted over whether or not to take Sehun’s car. Seulgi thought it was ridiculous to drive when her family lived near the subway stop, but Sehun wanted to show off his brand new stereo system and a few other “goodies” she didn’t quite understand. So, she’d given in to that, too.

Now, naturally, they were stuck in traffic, and Seulgi was too busy weighing the pros and cons of jumping out of the car and meeting him at her family’s to care whether or not he was glad they were doing this.

“Do you think the car will be okay on your parents’ street?” Seulgi turned her head slowly in his direction. “What?”

“Well,” Sehun shifted in his seat, “it just occurred to me that your family doesn’t live in the nicest of areas. “ He shrugged. “But hey, that’s why I invested in that great security system, right? I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Seulgi rolled her eyes and looked away.

“Seul, are you okay?”

“Fine.”

“Are you still upset about me taking the car? C’mon, don’t be like that. You know how I hate taking the subway. Isn’t this nicer?”

“You call sitting in traffic nice?”

“It’ll clear up soon. Besides, this gives us a chance to talk. I’ve been thinking, you know, about what will happen after I graduate. I was wondering what you thought about it?” 

“About what?”

“Us. I’ll be at Harvard. You’ll be here ...”

“Yeah...?”

“Well, I thought maybe— Hold on.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew his ringing cell phone. “Hey, man, what’s up? ... Nah, I’m just out with my girl. What’s going on? ... Tonight? Yeah, I guess... sure, sure... after dinner, okay? ... Okay, catch you later.”

Seulgi waited expectantly for an explanation after Sehun clicked off the phone. Though the one-sided conversation didn’t paint a full picture, past experience did.

“That was Jason. He invited us over to the pub tonight.”

“And?”

“I told him we’d stop by after dinner. That cool?”

“No, it’s not ‘cool’. Why do you always do that? Is it so difficult to ask me first if I even want to go anywhere else tonight?”

“Do you?”

“No!”

Sehun frowned. “Why not? I thought you had nothing to do tonight?” 

“That’s not the point. I just don’t want to go.”

“Yeah, but why? I thought you liked the guys. It’ll be a few quick drinks and then we’ll be off, I promise. I thought I’d stay over your place tonight, anyway.”

Seulgi breathed deeply and counted to ten. Two seconds later, they were moving again, and Seulgi lost her steam. Later, she promised herself. We’ll talk about this later.

~*~

Dinner began pleasantly enough. Seulgi’s mood improved considerably upon arriving at her family’s apartment, and she started to believe that perhaps she’d overreacted about not wanting to go. After all, they were her family. Why wouldn’t she want to see them?

“Is that all you’re eating?” Dara said, staring at Seulgi’s plate with a look of horror. “White rice?”

“I’ll have some tostones,” Seulgi said, grabbing the fried plantains from the plate near her. “But what about the chicken?”

Seulgi sighed. “Mom, I’ve told you, I’m a vegetarian. I don’t eat meat.”

“God, give me patience.” She turned to Sehun and smiled, lifting the plate of chicken. “How about you, Sehun?”

“Oh, I’d love some, thank you.” Sehun lifted his plate and accepted the food with his usual charming smile. “I always miss your food, Mrs. Kang.”

“Doesn’t Seulgi cook for you?” Dara regarded Seulgi with a look of disappointment.

“Ah, sure she does,” Sehun said, winking at Seulgi. “A few weeks ago she made me ... ah, what was that you made me?”

“Eggplant parmesan,” Seulgi said, not looking up.

Hyunsuk laughed. “I bet anything cooked by Seul tastes like a science experiment.”

“It was actually pretty good,” Sehun said, surprising Seulgi. She’d been certain he’d hated it.

“Ay, Seulgi, why don’t you make him something I’ve taught you to make?” Dara said, frowning deeply. “Soup, shrimps...”

Seulgi gritted her teeth.

“So,” Seunghyun said, turning to Sehun, “congratulations on getting into Harvard.”

“Thank you, Mr. Kang.”

“Your parents must be so proud,” Dara said, smiling.

Sehun grinned. “Yeah, they are.”

“I guess you’ll be taking a lot of trips over there,” Dara said to Seulgi. “It will be tough being apart after all of these years together.”

Sehun was nodding, moving food around with his fork. “Yeah, actually, I was thinking maybe, if Seulgi keeps up her grades, she might be able to transfer next year.”

Seulgi looked at Sehun sharply. “What?”

“Well, I just hope you can convince her to study something more practical,” Seunghyun said. “All this art business is fine for a hobby, but spending money for an education on it ...” He shook his head.

“With all due respect, Sir, I support Seul’s decision to study art. I mean, if that’s what she wants.” He smiled taking Seulgi’s hand in his. She was too stunned to comment. “If all goes well, we’ll be married by the time I graduate Law School, anyway. I’d love to start a family.”

“Just as long as she finishes school first,” Dari said. “Absolutely,” Sehun agreed. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Seulgi opened to speak but sound wouldn’t come out. Transfer? Marriage? A family? Her life was flashing before her eyes and she hadn’t even finished dinner yet.

“So, I guess Chanyeol won’t be stopping by? I wanted to show him the new goodies on the car.” Silence fell like a blanket across the table.

Seunghyun cleared his throat. “We’re not speaking about him today.”

“Turns out the Almighty Chanyeol is a big ,” Hyunsuk said with a snort.

“Hyunsuk!” Dara cried.

“What? It’s true,” Hyunsuk said. “He’s probably off somewhere trying on dresses.”

“Enough!” Seunghyun slammed his hand on the table so loud that the silverware rattled. “This is not a subject to be discussed at the dinner table.”

Seulgi bit her lip and slipped her hand out from beneath Sehun’s. How could they be so cruel as to dismiss Chanyeol like that? And how could they sit there and discuss her future as if she weren’t there? But most importantly, why did she let them?

Suddenly, and quite clearly, she remembered why she hadn’t wanted to come tonight. 

~*~

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” Sehun yelled, his fists hitting the steering wheel. “I wouldn’t have brought up the subject if I’d known!”

“It was none of your business!”

“None of my business? You made me look like a jerk back there, Seul. Seunghyun was all pissed off...”

“This may come as a shock to you, Sehun, but the whole world does not revolve around you, okay? And my family’s personal issues are not your concern.”

“Not my concern? Not my concern, Seul? We’re practically engaged!”

“No, we’re not! And that’s another thing! Where do you get off telling my family that I might transfer to Harvard? I’m not transferring to Harvard.”

Sehun shrugged, glancing at the rearview mirror before cutting someone off. “You might get in. I mean, I know it’s a bit of a long shot, but I figure with Affirmative Action and all that...”

“What?!”

“Sorry, it’s just that as a minority you’ve got a better shot than the rest of us. That’s all I meant.”

“Okay. Stop the car, Sehun.”

“What?”

“Stop the ing car, or I swear I’m going to jump out of it and into oncoming traffic.”

Sehun obliged, pulling over into the nearest available spot. “Let’s talk about this.”

Seulgi was halfway out the door. “There’s nothing to talk about. As far as I’m concerned, you and I are over.” She let the sound of the door slamming closed punctuate her sentence.

~.~

Seulgi knew it wasn’t over; a two and a half year relationship didn’t end with a five word proclamation and a hasty exit. She knew he would call, and if he didn’t call, then she would call. It wasn’t over, but it was close. It was almost over, which, in some way, was good enough. It was enough to feel relieved that she’d had the guts to stand up for herself that half a second before she’d fled.

She wished she weren’t such a coward. For all of Chanyeol’s hiding, at least he’d been brave enough, eventually, to come clean, to be honest, to face his fears. She wished she saw herself being that brave someday. Perhaps, tonight, had been a step in that direction.

The apartment was dark, empty, when Seulgi stepped inside. She was relieved not to have to face her roommate and the bombardment of questions that would surely follow. Yet the stillness unsettled her; she didn’t want to be alone.

From the fridge, she grabbed a bottle of grape juice and took it with her to her room. She dropped her messenger bag – the closest thing to a purse she carried – by the door. Outside, a car passed by, horns blaring, kids yelling. She sat at the edge of the bed and uncapped her drink.

Mozart’s “The Turkish March” began to play from somewhere in her bag, and Seulgi stared, but made no move to answer the cell phone. It was Sehun, and it was too soon. She needed more time to prepare her closing argument, to build a better defense against his case.

She sighed against the silence, held her breath against the chance that it might ring again. When it didn’t, she relaxed, looking around the room, sipping her juice. She needed new posters, she decided after a moment of reflection, or maybe just more of them. The ones she had were starting to wear at the edges, and they did little to cover the ugly walls behind.

Her laptop, which she’d forgotten to turn off before she’d left, whirred softly behind her, and she turned to look at it. Had her email been answered? she wondered, having forgotten all about it until that moment. Dali’s Swans Reflecting Elephants stared back at her from her desktop wallpaper and she clicked into her email client. While her email loaded, the cell phone began to chime again. Seulgi rolled off the bed and picked up the bag. She dug her cell phone from its depths and glanced at the screen for a moment before shutting it off. Back on the bed, she looked at the monitor. The name ‘Sooya Kim’ stared back at her from the inbox. She smiled as she clicked on the email.

When she was done reading, she clicked ‘reply’ and bit her lip thoughtfully as she began to type.

Dear Sooya,

I’m glad to know that I pass the non-pretentious test. Since you’re such an expert and all, I guess I’ll have to trust your judgment. :)

Please don’t ever think that I regret you buying my artwork or that I want it back. I couldn’t think of anyone I’d rather have it, honestly. It’s just a strange thing, I think, selling art. There’s really just the one, you know? And when it’s gone, you have no idea where it is, or who has it, or if they even appreciate having it. Perhaps, they just gave it to someone as a gift (a just-got-back-from-NY memento) and that person hated it and threw it away. Sometimes I worry that’s what happens. And so, when it comes to a piece that really matters to me – like ‘Shadow’ – I can’t bear the thought of someone, somewhere, tossing it in the trash.

It means a lot to know you like it. Not because it’s flattering to my ego (though it is) and not because it gives me some self-confidence (though it does), but because I know it’s safe and appreciated, and not sitting in a landfill somewhere.

About the scattered/stuck question, I don’t know how to answer it. I’m really bad at self- analysis. The past few months I’ve mainly just felt like everything I create is entirely lackluster. It’s been a long time since I’ve done anything I really cared about.

The truth is, I’ve been feeling really numb. Not just in my artwork, but in general. My relationship is in a nearly-over status (as of like, two hours ago), and my family drives me insane. But I really don’t want to bore you with the details. It’s sweet of you to ask, but I imagine you have better things to do than read about my problems.

There is, however, a question I have for you, that I’ve held back on for fear of crossing that line you mentioned. I really hope I don’t offend you in any way. It’s just that, well, you said you bought ‘Shadow’ and the day you bought it, it was my best friend at the table selling it. She said, though, that the person who bought it was a guy, whom she gave her number to. And... well... I hope the nature of my confusion is clear enough.

I probably sound like a jerk saying anything. But, since you were brave enough to ask me a somewhat personal question, I figured I’d take that chance too.

It’s now your turn to tell me to mind my own business. :)

Until later, Seulgi

“She’s going to think I’m such an ,” Seulgi muttered, reading over her email. Regardless, she hit send. When the message disappeared from the screen, she glanced through the rest of the messages in her inbox. Her father hadn’t replied, but the GAP was having a sale. Absently, she spent the next half an hour surfing the Internet, visiting her usual websites, though little held her attention. The Internet, she found, was only interesting when she was procrastinating on something. Otherwise, it was an endless source of pointlessness.

A ‘new message received’ flag popped up on her task bar, and Seulgi clicked back over to her email client. She was surprised to find that Sooya had written back.

Dear Seulgi,

You know, it never occurred to me that it might be hard for an artist to part with their work. I mean a musician can listen to their own music whenever he or she wants and still share it with the world. A writer can always make copies. But an artist creates one beautiful thing at a time and then parts with it. It’s sad to think about. I’m not sure I could do it (assuming I had any artistic talent whatsoever – which I assure you I don’t). I think I’d end up hoarding all my own work. How’s that for mature?

I’m glad, though, that you feel your work is safe with me. Would you like me to take a picture of it so you can rest easy at night knowing that it’s in a nice home, with a nice person that promises to clothe it, and feed it daily? ;)

Seriously, though, I do love it. I spent most of last night staring at it. Is that weird?

Before I go on, let me answer that question of yours since I’m a little worried about what you’ve come up with to justify my seeming dual-gendered existence. I didn’t buy the picture myself. I was with my friend and he’s the one who did the actual purchasing.

Now you’re probably wondering why my friend didn’t call your friend after getting her number, and all I can say to that is that he’s an idiot. I apologize on his behalf. I told him to call, but we were leaving New York the following morning and he thought it was pointless. Male logic. Hopefully that clears up any confusion you may have had on the matter. I’m sorry for confusing you in the first place. :)

Regarding my ‘having better things to do than read about your problems’ comment, the truth is, I don’t. Not really. I mean, there was a very good book I was in the middle of reading when your email popped up on my screen, but I think it will keep. The truth is, if you want to tell me more about your ‘nearly-over’ relationship or your insanity-inducing family, I’d be happy to listen (read?)

On the other hand, I don’t want to pry, and if you were simply trying to be polite because you really didn’t want to get into your personal life with me, I completely understand. I just didn’t want it to be because you thought I didn’t really mean what I said about wanting to know.

I’m not in any kind of relationship, so I can’t relate to your situation, but if it makes you feel any better, my family drives me insane, too. :)

Until next time, Sooya

Seulgi found herself smiling, and hit ‘reply’ again, wondering if it would seem strange to reply so quickly. She decided against caring. If Sooya didn’t feel weird about it, why should she?

~.~

JISOO

Jisoo knew that refreshing her inbox every few minutes bordered on pathetic. She’d felt self-conscious for replying immediately after reading Seulgi’s email, not wishing to give off the impression that she had nothing else to do; but the thought that the artist might reply just as quickly encouraged her. As time passed, however, Jisoo began to feel uncomfortable with her own impatience.

She pushed the laptop away and tried to concentrate on the book she was reading, but after a while the words swam together and her thoughts wandered back to the matter at hand. She’d promised herself that she would stop replying, and yet she found she couldn’t. With every email sent and every email received, the opportunity for a casual disappearance grew dimmer. Where before it might have seemed natural not to reply, now it seemed impossible.

Maybe she’ll stop writing to me, Jisoo considered, though the thought bothered her more than she cared to admit.

Anonymity was a luxury she had given up on long ago, but now that she was experiencing a small taste of it – however wrong it felt – she couldn’t let go. It was the reason why, against all common sense, she couldn’t help but email the artist. She was curious about Kang Seulgi. A part of her, however small and seemingly illogical, wanted to be her friend.

Jisoo sighed and put the book on her nightstand. After a few minutes of staring at the wall, trying to think about anything but her email, she finally gave up and grabbed the laptop. The inbox took a several seconds to reload, but when it did, Jisoo was surprised to find an email waiting for her.

Dear Sooya,

Allow me to admit that I’m rather relieved by your ‘dual-gendered existence’ explanation, as my friend and I had come up with quite the creative take on the subject. I don’t think you want to know.

Anyway, whether staring at my art piece for a long time is weird or not I can’t say. I’ve been known to stare at art for long periods of time (though not usually my own, unless I’m in the process of creating it). Weird or not, it’s nice to know. You do amazing things to my self- confidence, just so you know.

I never really thought as parting with my art work as a sad thing, really. Usually I’m so pleased when someone likes it enough to buy it that I don’t care that I won’t have it any longer. It’s when I start to think about what they may be doing with it that I worry a bit. Generally, though, I try to think of all my sold art as framed somewhere beautiful. With the proper lighting, of course. It’s all about lighting.

I think I trust you to be taking proper care of my piece without the picture evidence to prove it. You don’t seem like the art abusing type. :)

So, about my life... My boyfriend and I have been on a bumpy road for a while. I’m not sure if it’s his fault, or mine, or both of ours together. He’s ambitious in a Harvard Law School kind of way, and I’m ambitious in a Dreams Happen kind of way, and I guess we don’t see eye-to-eye on most things. He values ‘the proper career’ and money above all other things, and I’m just not sure I can go along with that forever.

Tonight, we went to dinner at my parents’ and he basically told my family that we were engaged (which we aren’t) and that he didn’t mind me being an artist because we’d be married by the time he finished Law School anyway. My parents were all thrilled with the idea, like we were living in the 1950s or something.

I just sat there in shock. Do you ever find yourself thinking, “What the hell is going on here?” One second I was amazed because he actually said he supported my art studies (something he had never done before!) and the next he was dragging me down the isle while our kids yelled, “Mommy! Mommy!” in the background. I had a moment of sheer terror right there in my parents’ dining room. On the drive home we had a horrible fight which concluded with me yelling that we were over. I’ve been sitting in my room ignoring all of his phone calls since.

And you know, I just keep thinking, “Where did we go wrong?” We were so good together once. He was so sweet and supportive at the beginning and slowly he transformed into this other person I no longer recognize. Is it me that changed? Did we both change? I don’t know ...

I’m not even sure what to say when he calls. Are we really over? Is that what I want?

I know you said you couldn’t relate because you’re not in a relationship, but maybe any of your past experiences can help me out. As an impartial observer, what do you think? My best friend, my usual confidante, is entirely too biased to be of any use to me. She’s been bugging me to break up with Sehun from the start, but the thing is ... I loved him once. I keep thinking that that feeling will come back. Love doesn’t just vanish into thin air, does it?

Until soon, Seulgi.

Jisoo stared at the email for a long time. Instead of replying, she shut the computer and rolled out of bed. She crossed her bedroom and stepped out into the balcony. The breeze scattered her hair the second she walked outside and she smiled briefly against the wind. It felt good to be outside, she decided, and leaned against the railing.

Below, her pool glowed turquoise in the increasing darkness. She stared out at the ocean, at the fading colors in the sky. She’d missed most of the sunset, she realized, and felt annoyed with herself for letting the time slip by unnoticed. She never missed a sunset if she could help it.

“Look for me in the clouds at sunset,” her grandmother had said in the moments before she died. “I’ll be waving.” Jisoo didn’t like to think of that moment, avoided the memory and the pain of losing her grandmother at all costs, but she did turn to the clouds at sunset, when she could. It made her feel less alone.

Love doesn’t just vanish into thin air... Does it? Jisoo wondered. She didn’t know. There were few people Jisoo could claim to love, and she didn’t imagine that it was the same kind of love that Seulgi felt for her boyfriend. How could she help Seulgi? She had no past experiences to go on, only fictional ones. She sighed deeply, the sound carried away by the wind. What was she doing with her life? A twenty-five year old with no past relationships, no true prospects. Was her career really worth it? Was there really that much to lose? And even if she were open to love, to the idea of a relationship, how would she ever find someone to love? How would she find someone to love her for her?

If love did in fact just vanished into thin air... why bother?