The garden they had grown together had died. The little blossoms had left when she did. She had forgot to water the damn things. She was always the one to water them, but she was now standing in the garden trying not to cry, looking at all the dried up flowers they had so lovingly placed in the ground, nurturing them for years. The pit in her stomach grew, threatening to swallow her whole. Nothing left of the life she had with Bora.

The day she left; she took her whole world with her. Bora had been the one to hold her together for 7 years. She felt like her seams were loosening day by day without her constant care. The thought of living without her had never crossed her mind before that day in December. Bora felt like a stain imprinted in Siyeon’s skin, the impression of her still ever present in her life.

“Siyeon I think we need a break,” Bora had said eyes filling with tears. Still beautiful, even then.

She had said no, begged her not to leave. Nothing had worked, she had left. Siyeon wasn’t sure how a person could do that, how she had physically brought herself to pack up and leave her behind in the place they had picked out together, on the couch they bought together. They had been breathing for each other for years, now Siyeon still didn’t remember how to breath properly without her.

Traces of Bora still littered the place they had inhabited together. Her books still on the shelf, her raincoat still in the closet, her artwork still on the walls. Siyeon couldn’t bring herself to get rid of them. She had thought that this was just a temporary pause, that they would find each other again, that she would come back.

Why hadn’t she come back? Who was going to water the garden?

All of her best and worst memories were saturated with Bora’s presence. Her brilliant reds coloring all of her darkest days. When her mother had died, when they had graduated university, when their best friends got married in a little ceremony in the park where they all had met.  Funerals, graduations, every celebration reminded her of Bora.

“Siyeon you need to free yourself. You have to, you are drowning,” her best friend had said earlier that day.

She was right. Yubin was always right.  But how do you extricate yourself from someone so intrinsic to your survival. There’s not a manual for this. The songs never tell you the next steps. You fall in love, you live happily ever after. What was next? What is after the after.

The sight of the dead garden overwhelmed her. She was angry. Angry that she didn’t want her, angry that she still wanted her so badly. She could scream. She would scream. She found herself ripping out the dead flowers, tearing them up in large clumps.

She smelled her perfume in crowded places. The one that smelled of daisies and musk. She hadn’t noticed how popular it was until after she was gone. It followed her everywhere, like a ghost. She smelled it that night, three months ago when she had showed up at her door, at their door, with tears in her eyes. She knew letting her in would be a mistake, but she was useless to stop it.

She had once again let he inside her heart for a night, let her inside her bed. She was gone before she woke in the morning, the only evidence she had ever been there the extra wine glass in her sink, with her shade of lipstick on the edge. Bora wasn’t hers anymore. But Siyeon was still hers.

She had never told Yubin about that night, knowing what she would say, knowing what she said would be correct. She wondered if Bora had told Yoohyeon. It seemed likely they were the ones who talked even when it would be better to stay silent. Yubin and Yoohyeon shared everything since they were kids so it was likely Yubin knew and was letting her preserve her dignity, the way she had always done. She was glad she had kept Yubin in the separation. Though it was terribly unfair to separate the two wives like that, they had still done it, divvying them up like old furniture.

The rain came slowly, then all at once. It felt like the end of everything. It was hard slowly watching the woman you love fall out of love with you. Feeling the terror of her pulling away from you every day, not knowing how to stop it. Harder still in retrospect. Cracks had formed without her knowing. Her new job, the distance between them, the long nights spent apart. They had started to feel like strangers when they were together. Then came the fighting. It was about everything and nothing. Big, little, any sort of problem would find them shouting at each other.

The rain continued to cover her as she pulled at the dry, gray looking plants. Nearly finished now. She would start over. She had to. She would fill the garden with all the things that she loved. Dahlias and Daisies, Peonies, Pansies, and Poppies. Maybe she would finally get that rose bush she’d always wanted but never had the commitment to tend to.

“You know it’s raining?” Yubin’s deep voice startled her. She had forgotten she had invited the woman over for after work drinks. That seemed like something another person did.

“Yeah.” She answered plainly. Yubin squatted across from her, her expensive looking shoes sloshing in the muddy flood under them. She looked at her in the way she always did, as if checking in on her stability, seeing right through her.

“You feel better?” Yubin asked.

“Not yet. But I will.” Siyeon said, for the first time feeling like she was being honest with herself. She could be mended.

At that Yubin smiled her supportive smile and she grabbed a bag, starting to shove the dead flowers and foliage inside, ignoring the rain soaking her clean white shirt. They fall into comfortable silence, as they often did. Yubin’s silence was a gift, never pushing, never forcing her to talk, but forever there to listen when she was ready.

“What do you think about Daffodils, for new beginnings?” Yubin said standing up after they had cleared all the beds of the dead flowers. The rain had slowed to a light drizzle, but they were already soaked to the bone. She surveyed her friend still kneeling in the mud, her sense of comfort secondary at this point.

“Maybe some yellow roses too… For friendship.” Siyeon said reaching out a hand to get help standing up. She watched the faintest glimmer of emotion cross Yubin’s face, hoping that she knew how much she loved her, how she truly wouldn’t be able to breath without her. She held her hand, finding comfort in the familiarity of her closest friend’s delicate hands.

“Lets go inside. I’m freezing.”

“You are okay right?” Yubin asked, one more time, pushing her wet hair out her face, accidently smearing some dirt right above her brow.

“Yeah. I think I finally feel clean.”