“What the is wrong with you?!”

“Wha-...me?! What’s wrong with you?!”

“Hey newsflash - I’m not the one hounding after a married woman!”

“For the last time, Sana, they’re engaged. Not married,” Momo said slowly, her hands raised in the hopes of getting the words through to her friend’s head. “They haven’t said any vows, haven’t discussed a date, haven’t picked the-”

“That’s not the point Momo!” Sana threw her arms as she stood at her open doorway at one in the afternoon. When Momo told her about Nayeon and her predicament through a phone call, all she got in reply was a loud ‘What?!’ shouted directly at her ear, followed by a seething ‘Where the are you right now?’. She should’ve guessed the woman would storm her place the second she hung up. “Don’t you get it? They might not be married yet but an engagement is just as real as-”

“An engagement built on politics that enforces the objectification of women enabled by the social exchange theory is-”

“An engagement nonetheless! Look.” Sana whipped out her phone and began typing. “Here. See? Engagement according to Oxford Languages; ‘a formal agreement to get married.’”

“Yeah but-”

“An agreement” - Sana pointed a menacing finger at her - “to get married. They agreed to this. Both of them. There was consent. She said yes and he said yes and they both knew exactly what they were getting into.”

She hated it when Sana turned to Google.

“Okay. Fine. Since we’re letting Google get a say in this, here.” Momo pushed her phone over to Sana.

Sana squinted as she read the title of the article aloud. “...’8 Valid Reasons To Break Off An Engage-’ Momo that’s a blog site.”

“Which has some merit, alright? But okay, here, look. Cosmopolitan.”

“...’14 signs your engagement isn’t meant to-’ Okay this is ridiculous!” Sana threw her hands up in exasperation.

“Oh, so it’s ridiculous when I cite valid points?” Momo gave her a look and attempted a sassy finger wag. “Real mature, Sana.”

Sana simply scoffed then trudged past her, opening her fridge to grab a carton of orange juice. “I don’t condone this,” she said, then drank directly from the box opening. “This is wrong and you know it.”

Momo flinched. She closed the door, dragged her feet over to the couch then plopped down with a defeated sigh. Sana followed and sat beside her, sympathy peeking through her eyes. “If there’s no love between them, is it really wrong to try?” Momo asked in a hushed tone.

“Look...there’s no law preventing you from fishing someone else’s fiancée. Just like there’s no law stopping s from parking their cars across two parking spaces. Or cutting in line during an 80% off Christmas sale,” she said, the last one with a bit more edge. “But that doesn’t make any of it less unethical.”

“Sana, I’ve been stuck in the same spot for years," she said. "I wake up, go to work, sit inside a box within a box, phone people who hang up before I can even talk, go home, try to finish a piece, then sleep. Stuck in the same rhythm and motions for years now. And the worst part is that I’d somehow convinced myself to be content with all of it. Never taking risks, never taking chances.”

Sana reached out and held her hands firmly as if to keep her from floating away. “I get that you're upset. I really do. But this is too big of a risk, Momo. And considering her fiancé’s in the city council and planning to run next term, who knows what dirty tactics he’ll use if he finds out you’ve been making grabby hands on his woman?”

“I’m not scared of him.”

“Yeah well I am,” Sana held her hand tighter, genuine concern wrinkling her forehead. “I’m scared for you. If it was anyone other than a politician with an agenda, I might’ve been on-board with this maybe. But the things these people are capable of…”

“Hey, it’s gonna be fine, alright? I’m well aware I’m poking a hornet’s nest. And it’s not like everything’s been set in stone. I mean for all we know, this’ll probably just be a huge waste of time and I promise I’ll drop it at the first sign of trouble.”

Sana let her hands go with a huff, crossing her arms as she looked out the small window. “Why her? I mean you could’ve chosen anyone, but you chose to go with a prospect you dialed that told you she liked your voice. What are you, 14?”

Momo smiled then bumped her shoulder playfully like the 28-year-old she was before letting Sana continue. “An engaged alcoholic who probably has a DUI history; takes you out for some crappy lunch at a pretentious restaurant so she can brag about its design that she made; proceeds to invite you out of the city to an actual construction site where she leaves you unattended; tries to make up for the first lunch with another one at a nondescript diner she thought was McDonald’s; drives you out to the middle of nowhere for an empty gallery on life support. And whiskey? Really?”

“Hey it's not so bad once you get used to it."

"Yeah so is my dad's cologne but you don't see me drinking it."

Momo shot her an impassive look.

“Oh c’mon. You know deep down you’re a beer person. I’m a beer person. We’re beer people born and raised in the dank, sweaty, yet timeless bowels of decrepit bar establishments. And she’s a...a whiskey-soda person...on a rock...or whatever the hell it’s called.”

“Your point?”

“That beer and whiskey never ever, ever...mix well,” she said with a critical finger like one of those old raggedy cartoon prophets who foretold someone’s doom.

“Actually, some of them do.”

“...That beer and whiskey almost always never ever, ever...mix well.”

She shrugged and got up, grabbing her red coat that hung from the backrest of the couch. “Yet with enough of one kind, both can still lead to the same happy ending.”

Sana leaned in with another ominous finger and a shrewd look in her eyes. “But can they really?...”

Momo simply smiled at her friend and shook her finger like how a baby would. “Lock up, grandma.” She slung her handbag on then started for the door.

“Wait where are you going?”

Momo turned to her, a growing warmth on her cheeks. “Nayeon.”

There had been a shift between them. Nothing too outright or bold to notice in a glance, but instead made itself evident like the subtle change of coolness in a passing breeze carried by the gradual change in seasons. A type of change you never really notice until you check the calendar after so long and find out Summer was creeping in but won’t make too much of a deal out of it because it came so naturally.

Maybe it started last week when they visited a butterfly garden uptown where she laughed and squealed like a pig the whole time because the butterflies kept landing on her. Momo expected Nayeon to shoo them away but turned out to be just as squeamish about them as she was. Every other person there glared daggers at them and by the end of the day, they were both trying to figure out who suggested the idea in the first place. Nayeon immediately saw through her lies and excuses with a smirk. Truth be told, she really just wanted to take a picture of them both surrounded by those beautiful butterflies.

“Oh, we were surrounded alright,” Nayeon said when Momo confessed. “Just...a much closer type of ‘surrounded’...a bit too ‘surrounded’ for comfort,” she shuddered.

Or maybe it started last month when they went to the park for the first time on that Friday afternoon. Momo sent her a message she spent thirty minutes writing just to tell her that she had the whole afternoon off and that the cherry trees were supposed to be in full bloom. The message itself was indirect and instead carried on an embarrassingly obvious subtext that spelled: 'You. Me. I'm free. Beautiful scenery.'

"Should we check it out?" was Nayeon's reply as if she sensed the question Momo was too embarrassed to ask.

"Only if you're free."

"I'll come pick you up."

She smiled and said it in her head. “I’ll come pick you up.” There was something so warm about it. So secure and reassuring that reminded her of those children’s fairy tales where a brave knight would come to the girl’s rescue. It was the simple joy of knowing that - for a very brief period of time - she was a destination in someone else’s life, not counting Mrs. Baek’s occasional trips to her cubicle for photocopying favors.

Friday afternoons were always hectic after 5. Ignore time long enough and one might suddenly find themselves stuck in a four-hour deadlock with car horns blaring profanities at each other. The park would be flooded with commuters walking home, taking detours while enjoying their well-earned scenery for the last workday of the week. That’s why Momo suggested they visit around 2:30, a sweet spot that catches the right type of afternoon sunlight while still keeping the serene silence of the park.

“Baek again?” Nayeon asked and pinched off a bit of Momo’s cotton candy as they strolled along the pink shaded pathway that ran through the whole area.

“Yeah. I mean I can’t just say no to her cause obviously she’s older than me. And by now, everybody in our department knows that the only time I’m too busy to turn down a favor is when I’m out for lunch or...not there at all,” she replied, her voice diminishing as the realization slowly crept in.

“That’s the saddest thing I’ve heard all week.” Nayeon tried her best to hold in a laugh.

“Congratulations on beating ‘oh my god there's a mustard stain on my Cashmere suit. Oh god the council meeting is in 5 minutes. Hell no I’m not changing, this is my lucky suit.'"

“Wow. A tragedy. And the council’s conclusion?”

“He wouldn’t tell me. But I’m guessing they liked how it complemented the other stain on his pants.” They both burst out laughing, Nayeon’s laugh ringing as the afternoon glow sifted through the canopies of cherry trees, dying the lush pink a shade deeper like the cotton candy she held. “Okay but seriously, why are you letting her do that to you?”

She scoffed, then took a generous bite of her cotton candy. “So I like being kind to others. Sue me.”

“There's a difference between being kind and being a pushover, Momo. You can't just let people take advantage of you like that and you need to start learning how to say no.”

“Hey I can say no, alright? I can say no to lame karaoke nights, no to cucumbers and melons, no to pollution, no to illegal foresting, no to- ”

“Okay first off, those last two had the moral equivalent of saying no to murder and child abuse. Anyone sane enough would reject both. And didn’t you say you asked your friend to bail you out of that karaoke night with Mrs. Baek?”

“Yeah I made up an excuse,” she said.

“To which you actually pushed through with executing so as not to feel bad about turning down karaoke night?” Nayeon gave her shrewd smirk.

Momo shrugged and took another bite. “It clears my conscience, okay? I don’t see how that’s a problem.”

Nayeon snickered good-naturedly. “Honest-to-god you are too kind for your own good,” she said, more like a sigh as a cool breeze swept along the stoned pathway, rustling the blooms above their heads and sweeping the fallen petals off the ground, almost drowning out the next few whispered words that slipped her lips. “That’s why you worry me sometimes.”

She didn’t ask about it. Asking would ruin the spell cast upon them that afternoon. These were enough, she thought. These whispered words that would sometimes sneak past their lips with every intention of being let out but no intentions of being picked up. Like a quiet rhetoric that demanded no attention but prayed to be heard just enough to instill something. Maybe a subtle change; a slight shift no one notices until someone points it out. Maybe worry her some more and see what might happen, she thought. No, this is fine. This is enough.

Summer came with these little changes. The once budding Gingko trees that lined sidewalks flourished with its vibrant leaves that fanned out, shading the streets once again from oppressive rays of the sun. Sweaters and extra layers became obsolete during the day and Momo rejoiced at the drop in laundry costs until she realized that it was more or less the same as before because of how often she now had to cycle through her wardrobe going out with Nayeon.

Sana and Tzuyu finally met her on the third Saturday of June after Sana insisted that it was necessary for them to “assess this woman called Nayeon”. Momo wasn’t so keen on introducing the two with Sana’s sentiments about their whole dynamic. She let up when Sana threatened to profile the woman on her own, knowing how thorough her searches could reach. Thankfully, due to her years of experience in taking care of one drunk Sana, she figured out a way to steer any conversation the girl fired to a safer topic. Even better, Nayeon could only drink one bottle because she was driving. Over dinner, Momo taught Nayeon the technique before going to Doore’s to meet with the two who had miraculously secured a table for the four of them.

“So,” Sana flashed Nayeon her “good cop” smile. “What do you do for a living, Nayeon?”

“Well, as an architect, I design buildings. Residential mostly,” Nayeon replied with a smile of her own, casual with a cool air of mystery hanging over her eyes and just a hint of sarcasm.

“A firm we might’ve heard of?”

“No firms. I’m a sole-practitioner. Gives me the needed freedom to-”

“Sole-practitioner?” Sana intoned and Momo could’ve sworn she heard a gasp after it. “Sounds lonely. Do you ever get lonely? What does your husband think abou- Ow!” Momo kicked her friend’s leg under the table before she could ruin the night any further.

“Oh, no. Not married yet,” Nayeon laughed. “And no, working solo rarely gets-”

“Yet?” Sana caught the word. “Wow. Sounds like this wedding is pretty certain,” she said facing Momo.

“We haven’t laid out any plans. Actually, if I may ask, I’ve been wondering...you two aren’t married yet?” Nayeon glanced between Sana and Tzuyu. “I’m sorry, you two just seem such a lovely couple and you seem so comfortable together. I honestly thought you guys were already married. I mean how’d you two meet anyway?”

Sana slowly leaned back onto her seat, a coy smile curling her lips as she tucked in a lock of hair behind her ear like a shy pre-teen on a first date with her friends and her girlfriend. Tzuyu rolled her eyes and took a swig but couldn’t fight a similar smile from forming. This was it. The tell-tale signs that a cheesy all-nighter was brewing; Sana and Tzuyu’s “how we met” story to save anyone from Sana’s nosy questions. And it all starts with a drawn out, “Well…”

3 bottles in…

“Y’know...I’ve never said this to my parents but...I like you, Nabong...you’re a real cool person…y’know that? You’re just so chill with everything and your hair is so cool and I love your boujie blouse. I think it suits me better but I’m not rich enough to make it fit...anyway, who wants whiskey?” Sana waved her empty bottle high up in the air as she laid her head down on the table.

“No boujie drinks for you tonight, babe,” Tzuyu whispered against her ear.

“But I hate beeeer! It always gets me drunk...I want whiskey and rocks.”

All three of them snickered.

Momo slowly pried the empty bottle away from her hand. “We can get you some rocks later outside, okay?”

“Okay...okay...just...wake me up when we get there…”

“Aaand that’s our cue,” Tzuyu slung her bag over her shoulder.

“Wait, you should catch a ride with us,” Nayeon offered as they all got up. “I’ll drive you guys home.”

Tzuyu said a quick thanks then helped a drowsy Sana up her seat. Momo took her other side as the trio walked out to the parking lot.

“Just so we’re clear, we are all in agreement that you offered us - and by ‘us’ I mean me and my wasted girlfriend - a ride home, correct?” Tzuyu asked as they stood by the open door of Nayeon’s Maserati. “I’m not taking responsibility for any sort of stains on your leather car seat, so…”

Nayeon opened , letting a few seconds of silence hang. “Uh...yeah. Yeah, of course. No prob,” she smiled and Momo held in a laugh, detecting the slight tremble in her voice.

As soon as Sana got in, as if suddenly possessed by the meddlesome ghost of all things unspoken, she said, “Betcha guys can’t guess who likes Nabong more than me though.”

All three of them snapped to attention.

Sana you stupid-

“I’ll give ya a hint. Starts with the letter-”

“Okay!” Momo lunged into the back seat, shoving Sana to the side. “Y’know what, Tzuyu, why don’t you take a break at the front. I’ll keep an eye on Sana back here, alright? You deserve a rest.”

Tzuyu nodded slowly, her lips pursed in amusement. “Sure. I’ll uh, I’ll let you two bond for the rest of the ride.”

Nayeon paid it no mind and started the engine, driving slowly out the lot and into the streets which Momo hoped to be empty by then. For a few minutes, a comfortable silence settled on them as the relaxing strums of the guitar playing from the radio waved away the dead air. Momo took one deep breath and eased onto the seat.

“Hey are you still living with your ex?” Sana asked her all of a sudden and she caught Nayeon’s glance through the rearview mirror.

“For the last time Sana, no. She moved out a long time ago, remember?”

“Huh...but she still lives next door to you, right?”

It was her turn to glance at Nayeon but saw no reaction. “...Yeah. Right across the room.”

“Ughhh. You should tell her to move out already! That’s like, so creepy. Like why the hell is she still there anyway?”

“Yeah well that’s out of my hands,” she said, looking out the window.

“Then you move out,” Sana poked her cheek.

“Well I would if it was that easy to look for a nice, cheap place that’s close to work.”

“Then get a girlfriend already! Sheesh. You can just move in to her place after your honeymoon phase. Eezee peezee.”

Tzuyu snorted then shook her head. “Yep. Moving in. Eezee peezee.”

Momo smiled to herself. “For some weird and totally absurd reason, I think that plan’s a bit harder, Sana.”

“No it isn’t! You just need to find the right woman whom you’ll love and cherish and would want to spend the rest of your life together with within the whole population of this city. Like Nabong for example!”

Momo coughed in reflex then gave her precious friend a critical look.

Sana looked up at her from her shoulder and replied with a drunken grin. “What, you don’t like her?”

“Actually!” Momo tried to cut her off. “I found a nice place near our office so, yeah, I’ll probably look in-”

“Why don’t you two just go out together?” Sana asked and Momo swore the whole atmosphere suddenly shifted. As if the air conditioning had taken in a weird breeze from outside and delivered it into the car.

She gave an awkward laugh then felt a sudden urge to duct tape her friend’s mouth for the rest of the ride, but realized that the question didn’t need to be answered so she left it hanging in the air, praying it would be the last sentence to leave the girl’s mouth.

Please shut up please shut up please shut up please shut-

“Hey why don’t you two just go out togeth-”

“Oh my god!” Momo snapped, prompting the two at the front to look back at them. “Uh...look! Look at that cute baby!” She pointed outside towards an ordinary-looking baby in a stroller.

Sana gasped and planted her face against the window, squishing Momo against the door in the process. “Oh. My. God...that is the cutest baby I have ever seen in my life.”

Momo let out the breath she was holding, pressing a hand over her beating heart as they both settled back down.

“I feel like my eyes have been blessed, and in extension, my soul. You don’t get to see a baby that cute very often. Good eye, Momo.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. I’ll keep an eye out for-”

“So why don’t you and Nabong just go out together?”

She heard a suppressed laugh escape from Tzuyu, barely noticeable from the constant throbbing in her head. Momo took in a lung-full before slowly answering. “Because, Sana...Nabong is engaged...remember? Engaged to be married? Oxford dictionary? A formal agreement to get married?” She turned to face her wonderful friend, a tight smile on her lips that twitched at the corners.

Sana looked back at her with vacant eyes on the verge of passing out. “...Sooo? It’s not like she’s married yet, right Nabong?”

Nayeon glanced at both of them from the rearview mirror, her face unreadable. “Not married yet,” she said.

“See? You still have a chance!” Sana slurred as she kept poking Momo’s shoulder again and again. “You just have to fish her outta there and tell her you-”

“You can stop by that building,” Tzuyu finally cut in as she unbuckled her seatbelt.

Nayeon pulled over at the spot as Tzuyu and Momo helped Sana out of the car. She switched back to the front seat with a sense of dread on whatever conversation was to come. Tzuyu thanked them for the ride and apologized for Sana who was by then half-asleep. Before Momo could pull up the window, Sana shouted, “Don’t forget to use protection!”

The rest of the ride was pure torture. Neither of them said anything for a while and the music playing on the radio suddenly wasn’t enough to blur out the silence that hung between them. Momo kept her gaze outside, staring blankly at the evening scene they were passing.

“She seems fun,” Nayeon broke out.

“Hm? Oh. Yeah I uh...sorry about Sana. I should’ve expected that.”

“Don’t be,” Nayeon smiled. “She’s a good friend. You don’t come across someone like that very often.”

She thought about it and smiled. “Yeah. She is.”

Before long, the silence came back. She tried to recall if this was normal between them and if it was then what did it say about their relationship now? Was this burden carried by her alone?

“I didn’t know you were planning to move out,” Nayeon said which confused her for a second.

“Oh you mean the- No, no. I just uh...well I just thought about looking for a new place. Haven’t really found one yet.”

Nayeon gave a nod as they stopped at an intersection. “Is the ex thing true though? Your ex lives right across the hall?”

She in a sharp breath then drew out a long, “Yeah…been a weird situation for the past few years.”

“I’d say. Must be awkward.”

“At first, definitely. Like, I had to look through my door’s peephole every time I got out and I had to scan the hall and prepare my keys before rushing back in.”

“Jesus. How long did that last?”

“About a year after we split. Took a while for me to realize that she’s in the same spot as me so there was no reason to bother with all the dodging,” she said. It must’ve been the booze hindering her senses that she had failed to see what was coming next.

“What exactly happened between you two?” Nayeon asked, one hand on the wheel, her eyes straight as if avoiding the discomfort in the question.

But Momo had rehearsed this too. Ever since she broke up with Dahyun, all her friends and her friends’ friends asked the same question: “Why?” Their reactions were divided into three; those who sympathized with her, those who hated her; and those who just nodded in-between, spacing out for a minute as they assessed their own troubled relationships. The question always bothered her before but throughout the years of getting the same three responses from anyone who ever asked, she slowly learned that the only reaction that ever mattered was her own.

“It took me a while to realize it,” she said. “I just dropped out of college back then. Found that cheap apartment and a few months later, she moved in across the hall so we’d run into each often. Told her about my unemployed situation, about my mom and about dad who was just as dead to me back then. Basically, she helped me get back up on my feet. Helped me with odd jobs at first before pushing me to apply at Peach Cosmetics while she went to university.

“You worked odd jobs?”

“Mostly as a pet sitter; dog walker. I took some woodwork commissions too but it wasn’t much of a hit.” She stared at the glaring red light in the middle of the intersection, feeling a sudden hesitation to say the things that she had already told to countless others before. Nayeon asked her to continue and she took one shaky breath before uttering the words she had to burden ever since that night; like a scar that had completely healed but never forgotten. “I didn’t love her back.”

Nayeon turned to face her. She kept her gaze on the light, too afraid to know what expression Nayeon was making. Disgust? Pity? Relief? Bewilderment? When Momo took her silence for offence, she continued on. “Think of a cheesy way to ask someone out.”

Nayeon thought for a moment. “At a public park in front of a marbled fountain; down on one knee with a bouquet of red roses for everyone to see as he pops the question while the crowd keeps chanting, ‘say yes, say yes, say yes.’”

“Wow...must’ve been awkward-”

“The worst.”

They shared a laugh which eased a bit of her nerves but knew she had to continue. “Well, she asked me out with a block of wood.” Momo smiled at the memory but quickly waved it away. “One afternoon, she accompanied me to walk her friend’s dog. I told her to hold the leash for a while because I had to go to the restroom, and when I came back, the dog was biting onto a suspiciously smooth block of Cedar. When I pried it off, there was an engraving at the back that said, ‘Will you go out with me?’” She laughed, thinking how cheesy it was.

Nayeon held back a smile right after she swung her head down, most likely from the embarrassment. “That’s uh...very creative,” she said, holding back a laugh. “Very romantic.”

“Not as creative as the public-park-and-roses though, I mean that’s pretty hard to beat,” she said with sarcastic challenge.

“Hm, I think it’s pretty cliché. But wood engravings on Cedar? The ol’ dog delivery service? Don’t sell her short. Let me guess, was the whole thing written in some ribbony, word-art cursive font?”

“...Bellucia font in italic.”

“Ooof. Yeah now that’s hard to beat. Such a classic move. I mean I would’ve swooned right away.”

She elbowed Nayeon playfully as they laughed about it. “Yeah well as creative as it was, at that time, it worked on me. Like I had to stop myself from giggling like a ten-year-old while jumping around with the dog leash in-hand just to answer her.”

“Did you engrave your answer on the other side or?...”

“Ha-ha. No, I actually just said yes...via text saying ‘k.’ after three months.”

“You what?!”

“Kidding.”

It was Nayeon’s turn to elbow her. When they both calmed down, she continued. “Anyway, we went through the whole honeymoon phase. Then the ‘moving in’ phase. First fights, first real fights, first makeups. We’d been together for three years then and my birthday was coming up, so she arranged a candle-lit dinner in our apartment that night. She gave me some flowers and a customized necklace which I lost shortly after. For dinner, a whole roast chicken with rosemary and thyme and a bottle of champagne ready.”

“The whole package huh?”

She smiled, not quite meeting her ears. “Basically. Then she took me to my eternally cramped living room and we slow-danced. I don’t remember what song we danced to but at some point, she pulled me in close and whispered ‘I love you’ like the many times she’d said it over the years.” Momo breathed in deep, feeling an odd tightness in her chest as the light finally turned green. “I couldn’t say it back.”

She could feel Nayeon’s gaze on her again, leaving as the car slowly eased forward.

“I used to say it back,” she said. “That night, I thought about why I didn’t and came to realize I’ve only been saying it in reply to her for the past three years. That I’ve never once said it to her first. It was always in reply to her like some sort of courtesy. Like it was the right thing to say to someone you’ve been dating.” She paused to breathe, remembering that night as she stared outside the car. “After that, everything slowly changed. I was probably depressed at that time. I’m not sure, but I remember tubs of ice cream, two weeks without stepping out of the apartment, and a constant gnawing fear that kept me up until 4 in the morning when she sleeps next to me in bed. Probably has something to do with the possibility of the last three years of our relationship being a sham and I was the one conning her but I had no idea. And once that small flicker of doubt caught on, it took everything I had to try and put it out. But then eventually, everything she did and everything she gave me suddenly felt so…” Momo swallowed the words she couldn’t bring herself to say.

“Empty?” Nayeon finished and Momo glanced at her then, seeing a familiar vacancy in her eyes.

“...I tried looking for something there. I gave it time and I looked for something to cling onto and I thought maybe this was how it was supposed to be, y'know? You search for that one thing that would validate your love for someone and everything would fix itself. But I realized then that it was already over the moment I began looking for it. So one night we got into an argument - god knows what it was about; but at the end of it she asked me if I still loved her.” The car stopped in front of her apartment but neither of them seemed to have realized it as the hum of the air conditioning filled the silence. Momo turned and gave Nayeon a small smile, thinking it would reassure her and herself that she was over this. “So I gave her the easiest answer I could say,” she said, her smile slowly shying away until she had to purse her lips. “Funny thing is - to this day, it’s still one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to say to anyone.”

“Hey.” Nayeon placed a hand over her shoulder and she melted at the touch. “We all make mistakes. It’s unfair, but what matters is how we choose to live after making them.”

Momo bowed her head, trying her best to take her voice in while shutting out the unwanted whispers in her head that have surfaced from a time long ago. “I just wish I-...I wish I’d admitted it to myself sooner.”

Nayeon nodded, pressing her thumb soothingly over her shoulder. “You wanted to make it work,” she said, her voice softer now. “No one can ever blame you for trying.”

They stayed in the car for a few more minutes until Nayeon pulled her hand back, effectively snapping Momo out of the comfort it provided. She stepped out onto the curb and closed the door behind her.

“Do you want me to walk you up?” Nayeon suddenly offered.

Momo took a while to answer. “I’d like that.”

Nayeon turned the engine off, stepping out onto the road as they both entered her apartment once more. They said nothing throughout the fairly short walk and when Momo opened the door, an insane idea, much like the ones she’s had before, popped in her head. And just like before, without any kind of proper contemplation done beforehand; heeding instead the seductive albeit alcoholic whispers of wrong choices and repressed , Momo asked, “Do you want to come in and have some coffee?”

Regret came instantly as she noticed the surprise in Nayeon’s face, and then it came back around to smack her in the head when Nayeon answered, “I’d love to but, I really should head back. I still have to work on some models.” The smile that followed was like some sort of consolation prize handed to her so she wouldn’t cry about it in bed while she whined and reassessed herself on how she makes life decisions that may or may not start with addressing some repressed . Thank god for the smile, she thought.

But this wasn’t her first rejection. Every other night when the two of them go out somewhere to stay up late, Nayeon would drive her back here. No matter how far they were to the apartment, no matter how late it got, without fail, Nayeon would insist on taking her home but always stopped just outside her door like a vampire in one of those movies, kept out by some supernatural law which states that they needed to be invited in first in to enter someone’s home. Momo didn’t believe it because she was too scared to think of vampires in general, but tried to invite her nonetheless, only to be met with a ‘No thanks’. Momo tried everything. A cup of coffee, tea, cookies, pesto, beer. One time, she asked Nayeon to wait inside while she looked for the handkerchief she lent her at the construction site which she forgot to return. The truth was, Momo knew exactly where she kept it because she had rehearsed the act a few times before they left that day. She would ask Nayeon to come in, make herself comfortable and then maybe comfortable enough to stay a few minutes until they would completely forget the handkerchief and instead talk about things. Anything. Talk about nothing. Just talk, and if a of luck would hit, they’d find something to laugh at because she loved Nayeon’s laugh and she wished she could make her laugh more often. Then they’d run out of things to talk about and the silence would prove too heavy to ignore so Nayeon would ask about her handkerchief again; and only then will she return it to her like the borrowed time she stole. That was the plan. But just like all her other plans, it soon fell through with a cold ‘No thanks, I’ll wait here’ and that harsh consolation smile.

Momo started noticing these warm-cold shifts in the middle of summer around late July. Sana invited them over for dinner at her place to celebrate Tzuyu’s birthday on the 14th. She sculpted two small replicas of her dogs, Kaya and Butter a week before as a gift while Nayeon bought her a white chocolate cake from an expensive bakery. The ride there went as usual with Momo asking Nayeon about her latest client; a family of four who commissioned her to design their house east of the city on top of a hill overlooking a river. Nayeon always stopped herself from ranting too much because she knew how chatty she could get when talking about architecture. And as usual, Momo couldn’t help but feel inadequate about this. She started watching documentaries about architecture just so she could understand some of the terms Nayeon would sometimes mention. That night, Momo egged her on to talk about it some more because she found it interesting. Maybe not architecture itself but instead how Nayeon talks about it with a glint in her eyes that she rarely sees because of how often she hides it from her. Always shying away like a kid who grew up surrounded by people who told her to shut up about it. Nayeon shot her an embarrassed smile before talking again as Momo listened, her gaze fixed on her face that lit up.

When they arrived at Sana’s place, Nayeon’s demeanor seemed to have shifted. It wasn’t anything drastic and Momo doubted if it was even real or if she had imagined it because neither Sana nor Tzuyu noticed when she asked about it after the party. They didn’t notice how quiet she had been the whole night, giving single-word replies and abruptly ending conversations with ‘I see’. They didn’t notice how her smile went from happy to melancholic in the blink of an eye or the fact that her dinner was a plate of nicotine and beer with a side of cake. They left early that night because of work the next day. Back in her car when they both calmed down from the festive mood, Momo gathered the courage to ask, “Is something wrong?”

Nayeon glanced at her with obvious surprise. She didn’t know if it was from being caught or from her baseless question. “Wrong? What do you mean?”

“I dunno,” she said, already attempting to backpedal. “You just seemed a bit out of it back there.”

“Out of it, how?”

“Like you seemed occupied with something else.”

SIlence.

Nayeon gave a light chuckle. “I guess this whole project’s been taking more out from me. I’m sorry for spacing out.”

Momo forgave her in a heartbeat and she never thought more of it until they reached her apartment. She got out of the car, half-expecting Nayeon to walk her up like she always does, but was met instead with an abrupt ‘Goodnight’ and that all-too-familiar consolation smile peering from the slit of the tinted window. That night as she tried to drown her thoughts with TV, Momo recalled their past few days together, combing every moment for clues that might shed some light on this sudden aversion. Was it something she said? Something she did? Something she didn’t do? And as her mind spiraled down with the guilt of a sin she couldn’t remember but was certain she had done, Momo soon fell asleep on the couch with the TV running the whole night.

The very next day at work, Nayeon sent her a message that afternoon asking if she wanted to accompany her that Saturday to the site of her project. That single message managed to both save and kill her. Just like that, her dilemma last night that kept haunting her till morning was thrown out the window and she never bothered to think where the hostility came from again. All was forgiven and with one long breath of stuffy office air, she began looking forward to Saturday again.

But it didn’t occur to her until much later that day that the same message spelled out her naivety over this whole matter. How quickly she blamed herself at the first sign of Nayeon’s discomfort and how easily she swooned back to her feet. But what was probably the worst part about it was that when she tried to convince herself to stop being so “easy”, Momo realized that she didn’t actually care if she was. That whatever relationship they had was complicated enough as it is, tragic enough as it is to bother chaining herself to all these pushes and pulls. All she ever wanted was Nayeon and for Nayeon to want her just the same and that she’d even settle for less because she was certain she’d always want her more than anyone else. Certain that Nayeon could never want her more than she wanted Nayeon. And for this, Momo was more than willing to become “easy”. She’d make it easy for her. Skip the complications, all the drama, the delirious dance between hot and cold.

Just tell me some small part of you yearns for me like how every part of me yearns for you so I could tell you just how easy we could be.

Summer was always going to be divided into two eras: before and after her mother’s funeral. The ‘before years’ had long since faded from her memory. Reduced to nothing more than fragments that would surface whenever someone asked anything about her childhood or when she recognizes certain things that belonged in that era. She’d see an old brand of ice cream and think of a hot afternoon in July 2002, her mother’s hand wrapped around her own as they walked along the riverside, trying their best not to let a single drop of the popsicle they were eating go to waste. She’d recognize an old song about summer and the beach with the guitar tune reminiscent of Hawaii Five-O’s theme and she’d think of their living room back in her hometown where her parents danced every other night after dinner. All she remembers was how their feet moved to the beat; her mother’s red heels clacking against hardwood and her father’s brown moccasins shuffling along, both of them tired from work but still danced like it was nobody’s business.

The ‘after years’ was made up of only one memory she had bothered to ingrain in her mind; June 2011 when she spent a month with her aunt in a cottage in the middle of a pine forest. She remembers the lake beside it where they’d swim in the mornings just after a hearty breakfast of eggs and bacon, sometimes pancakes or waffles drizzled with honey, all washed down by a warm cup of chocolate. Her aunt would teach her how to carve wood all afternoon so when they finished, the smell of wood shavings and sawdust would never leave her nose. Come evening, they’d light a fire pit and roast marshmallows and sliced hotdogs on a stick as her aunt played the guitar on the porch and she’d hum along to a tune that was still stuck in her head. She remembers this more vividly than all the rest because that June had been the happiest she’d ever been after the day of the funeral.

Nayeon smiled fondly at her when she told her about her aunt one afternoon in August. “You’re very lucky to have someone like her,” she said, leaning back against the island counter in her kitchen.

Momo sat stiffly on the bar stool beside her, still a bit nervous being in her luxury unit. This was only the second time she’d stepped foot inside Nayeon’s flat throughout the months they’ve known each other. That’s why earlier that morning when Nayeon invited her over, Momo thought there was some special occasion happening. Not to say that what was happening right then wasn’t special, but a bit less formal than what she expected. She’d dressed up in her yellow lacy blouse and mid-length skirt with smooth frills that made her look like an old-fashioned teacher.

“Do you plan on visiting her soon?” Nayeon asked, stirring a cup of coffee, her fingers holding the teaspoon delicately as she moved her wrist around.

“I’m not sure,” Momo replied as she watched. “Maybe when I’m not too busy.”

“Like right now?”

“I’m too busy being your guest, aren’t I?” She gave a cheeky smile.

“You’re free to leave anytime,” Nayeon challenged her with a smirk that was just about enough to earn her surrender.

“I’d rather stay here,” she said, keeping her gaze down on the marbled countertop to avoid detection. The clinking of Nayeon’s spoon stopped and she immediately tensed up.

“I’d rather you did too.”

Momo lifted her head to look at her but Nayeon had already turned around and was making her way to her bedroom. So once again, she was left hanging by her words. A curse bestowed by the sin of wanting an engaged woman. A curse that would leave her forever confused about these little clues Nayeon would drop. A curse that would force her to say, “This is enough” when in truth, the woman’s vagueness and timely exits that denied her inquiry on what Nayeon meant, killed her every time. Like a fish caught by her hook, but for some cruel reason wasn’t reeled in to the definitiveness of land and so she was stuck fumbling about in the water not knowing what to do.

Nayeon called to her from the room and so she followed with a hook in . As she suspected, it was Nayeon’s bedroom and as Momo scanned the red-painted walls and beige carpet, she saw no traces of anything that didn’t belong to her. Everywhere she looked there were clutters of architecture tools. From the large drafting table beside a wide glass window that overlooked the city, to the rolls of blueprint papers tucked in a tall basket in the corner of the room. On the side opposite of the windows, tucked in another corner, was her computer placed on an L-shaped desk with a large printer beside it. A black Eames chair and ottoman were in the center of the room, facing a large flatscreen TV. The room smelled of her cedarwood perfume with a faint hint of peppermint from what she gathered to be from the reed diffuser on the desk. But what drew her in was the table Nayeon was at, where a diorama of the house she was working on was placed.

“This looks amazing,” Momo said in awe as she walked towards her.

“That’s usually the case with final models, but thank you,” Nayeon shot her a smile then returned her attention to the table. “I just hope the expected costs hold up. We had to redo the drywall cause the whole installation was shoddy. Too many joints, too many gaps. Then we had to talk some sense into that damn contractor. Can you believe he managed to delay the whole thing by three days waiting for some ‘quality wood’ from his supplier? He didn’t even have any backup contacts. And not to mention the lead carpenter with his pompous just decided to ignore-” Nayeon snapped out of it and looked at Momo as if she just remembered she was still there. Momo offered her a smile because she loved hearing all about Nayeon’s work, yet the woman seemed to take it as a sign of ridicule and replied instead with an embarrassed apology.

“You don’t have to be so reserved around me y’know.” Momo slid next to her and leaned in on the model to take a closer look.

“I’m not,” Nayeon answered with a huff that tried to cover her hesitation. “But I know well enough how boring I can be with all this work talk.”

“I like your work talk.”

“No you don’t,” Nayeon scoffed with a perceptible snicker in her tone.

Momo looked at her then, her gaze resolute and with a firmer tone said, “I do. I really do. And I wish you’d stop cutting yourself off like that. At the very least, not with me. You can tell me everything.”

There was a look in Nayeon’s face that lasted for a split-second before she turned her head away. A look Momo recognized on herself whenever Nayeon would drop these little clues she picked up but never addressed.

“Did you even understand what I was rambling on about?”

“ty drywall, ty contractor, ty carpenter,” Momo gave her a sassy grin because this was all she understood but knew her summation was correct.

Nayeon laughed and gave an impressed nod. “Pretty much.”

Momo ambled around the room, hands clasped behind her back to show respect for her privacy while keeping a sharp eye for signs of her fiancé’s occupancy whom she knew so little about because she never cared to know and would refuse to be reminded that he existed. She pictured him as any other suit-wearing politician with an extra wide smile to hide all the extra money he didn’t want to show. He’d always have a mustard stain on his suit in her mind and a matching stain on his pants in parts better off not specified. She’d laugh a little at the image before getting back to sulking over the fact that this mustard-stained -up douchebag was engaged to Nayeon. And yet for the months that she’d known her, nothing could’ve prepared her for seeing the queen-sized bed lying in the room. It stared back at her with its deep blue duvet that fitted every corner so perfectly and its two red pillows that reminded her of a ketchup stain. Momo swallowed a lump in and took a step back. It was downright foolish to think she could avoid this forever. Her head had begun pounding and a queasiness had settled in the pits of her stomach. And so with a shaky voice, Momo asked Nayeon, “Hey do you um...live with him?”

Nayeon looked up from the diorama on the table, her gaze inquiring. “No, we live separately.”

A small exhale for a small triumph. It lessened the blow but could never stave off the disturbing reality that was in front of her. She couldn’t unthink it and she feared that if she laid eyes on that bed again it would haunt her for the rest of her life. Staying in that room certainly didn’t help so Momo made a beeline out the door then to the kitchen bartop where she leaned with her elbows on the marbled surface to catch her breath.

“Hey, are you okay?” Nayeon’s concerned voice came from behind but sounded muffled in her head.

This was just like the last time she was here. Momo breathed in deep three times before answering. “Yeah. Yeah I just...got a bit dizzy all of a sudden.”

She felt Nayeon’s hand on her back and her muscles instantly eased. “Lie down on the couch for a while. I’ll get you some water.”

Momo nodded and plopped down on the couch with her back against the light of the glass windows in the living room. Nayeon followed shortly, holding a tall glass of water she handed to her. When she finished drinking, Nayeon asked, “Does your head hurt?”

“No, no. Just heavy. It’ll pass in a minute.” Or so she hoped. With the lingering anxiety from earlier still fresh in her mind, she debated once again if it was time to leave.

“I’m starting to think you’re allergic to this place,” Nayeon snickered as she pulled a nearby armchair and sat beside her, a bit too close for proper comfort.

Momo laughed to hide just how much the statement rang true. Maybe she really was allergic to Nayeon’s unit. Something about the place that told her mind and body that she shouldn’t be here. That she didn’t belong here. And that maybe she should listen again for the second time and just leave.

Just before she could say anything, Nayeon moved the armchair directly behind her. “Lie down,” she said.

No questions asked, Momo lay down on the sofa, the back of her head resting on a pillow against the arm rest. As her head was still swirling from unwanted thoughts, she was surprised to feel Nayeon’s hands against her head, her thumbs slowly massaging her nape in small circular motions as her fingers pressed against her temples. She tensed up at first but soon melted to the touch, closing her eyes as Nayeon massaged some other areas of her head and neck.

“How’s that? Feel any better?” Nayeon’s voice grew soft.

“Yeah.”

“My mother used to do this to me when I was a kid. Her work required her to travel a lot. Always flying off to some other country. And so back then, I’d always get into a fit before she leaves. I’d bawl my eyes out and basically throw a huge tantrum for hours,” she chuckled. “So every night, before the morning of her departure, I’d lie down in bed before we go to sleep, and she’d place my head on her lap while she did this, humming a tune to help me fall asleep. Then eventually I’d wake up the next morning and find her gone.”

“That must’ve been hard for you,” Momo mumbled with her eyes still closed, the firmness of Nayeon’s hands mixed with the softness of her touch working a little too well.

“One of the many things I had to get over quickly,” she said, her fingers slowing down to a relaxing rhythm.

“Are you two still close?”

Nayeon took a while to reply. “I’m not even sure if we were close to begin with. Aside from this, I can hardly recall any other good memories we had together. Probably because we weren’t together for most of my childhood in the first place.”

A situation Momo knew a bit too well. The only difference was that her mother had no choice but to leave. No choice but to succumb to whatever cruel act of god took her away from them. No choice but to leave her 10-year-old daughter and her husband who couldn’t be bothered raising a kid because he had to work day and night to cope for a loss he didn’t know how to handle while she was left to fend for herself until her aunt came along. And it was then that Momo, without opening her eyes, reached out for Nayeon’s hand and held it gently in place, letting the warmth seep against her skin. Neither of them said anything because both of them already understood what the other meant.

She must’ve fallen asleep at some point because the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was Nayeon, standing by the kitchen counter, talking to her blonde friend she hadn’t seen since her last visit here. Momo rubbed her eyes and sat up, then once her vision cleared, proceeded to shoot up from the couch as she realized they weren’t alone anymore.

“Hey, how’s your head?” Nayeon asked as she turned to her.

“Better,” she said, still wary of the woman standing next to Nayeon, wearing a loose white mini dress with floral patterns that stopped mid-thighs, her blonde hair down and wavy on her shoulders that slouched a bit as she leaned on the counter top.

“You two have met right?” Nayeon asked the woman.

“Hirai Momo,” the woman answered and Momo immediately felt embarrassed that she couldn’t remember her name. “You know, oddly enough, even if we haven’t, I’m pretty sure I’ve already learned quite a bit from all the things you’ve mentioned about her,” she told Nayeon but kept her smirk pointed at Momo.

Nayeon gave her a stern look and a tight smile. “Surely not that much, yes?”

The woman raised one shapely brow before sauntering over to sit on one of the armchairs “Whatever you say, Nayeon.”

“...Anyway, I actually wanted to give you these,” Nayeon handed Momo two invitation slips for what looked to be a ball. “It’s for the 164th Metropolitan Architects’ Association Ball. I’ve been chosen as a guest speaker for this year so I’ll be attending this coming Saturday with my fiancé.” She paused, her gaze darting between Momo and the floor as if unsure what to say next. “I thought it’d be nice if you could attend. It would mean so much to me if you could.”

Momo stared at the fancy slip, unsure how to react. On one hand, she had never been to a ball. The closest thing to a ball she could think of was their office’s annual gala held in their building’s event hall at the top floor. She wouldn’t know a thing about proper decorum in a ball. Much less know anyone else there besides Nayeon who’d be walking around with her fiancé. Oh god her fiancé’s there. But would it really mean that much to her if she attended? Why would it? Did it even matter why?

“I...I’d love to, but Sana’s away on a business trip till next week and Tzuyu’s...well we’re not really at the ‘plus-one’ level of invite yet so...I don’t have anyone to go with.”

“I’ll go with you,” the woman spoke up again, her legs crossed as she offered a small smile.

‘Wait, what?” Nayeon asked with apprehension.

“Do you want me to accompany you there?”

“Of course she doesn’t, she-”

“Let the girl speak for herself, Nayeon,” she snapped then gave Momo a coy, heavy-lidded look that made her blush a little. “Just say the word and I’ll come pick you up Saturday night. It’s the cream-coloured apartment behind the theatre, right? The one right next to Mrs. Son’s confectionery?”

Momo remembered she lived near her apartment and soon after, her name came to light. “Mina…” she whispered accidentally and the woman’s smile grew wider having caught it.

“Is that a yes?” Mina asked.

“O-oh um, I don't know I mean I don’t want to-”

“Mina, you barely know her. I’m not letting you take her there just so you could ditch her while you go wandering off collecting numbers again.” Nayeon placed a hand over her hip.

Mina scoffed, flipping her hair behind one shoulder. “An architect’s number? No thanks. The only thing I’d be collecting there are champagne flutes and skeevy glances from those old coots. Maybe some Caviar spoons if they offer.”

“So your plan is to get wasted?”

“Plan?” Mina snickered. “Nayeon, are you really this crude to suggest I have a ‘plan’? My ‘plan’ is to let Momo decide on her own if she wants my company or not at the ball so I could save her the trouble of getting lost in the sea of snobby cheek-kissers while you and your boyfriend parade around them and - what, collect their numbers? I guess?” She shot Nayeon a sly look.

“Oh please.” Nayeon rolled her eyes. “Don’t act all high and mighty on me as if you’re not part of this whole deranged . Because if I recall correctly, you said something back at that Charity Ball in Paris a few months ago. Something about hosting your own private ‘charity ball’ in your hotel room for the newly widowed wife of one of the councilors.”

Momo shot Mina a look and was met with a furtive wink that Nayeon didn’t seem to catch.

“Say what you will about my own charity balls. At least I don’t let the people I invite to be left alone to fend for themselves,” she said, stretching a hand out to inspect her manicured nails. “Hold on, why are you so against me being her plus one anyway?”

Both Nayeon and Momo snapped to attention, one of them obviously stiff from the question.

Nayeon breathed in slow and deep. "Because, Mina. I don't trust you with keeping an eye on her while you drink away with your champagne flutes and-"

"I'm not a child," Momo snapped all of a sudden, her frustration stemming from all the times she'd been treated like one by countless others. “I can stand up for myself, remember?”

Nayeon blinked out from her surprise and nodded slowly. “Right. You’re right I-...I’m sorry. For even thinking that you couldn’t,” she smiled, her expression softening.

“So?” Mina looked at her then from her chair with a sort of curious interest, her chin propped on one hand over the armrest. “Shall I pick you up this Saturday, Momo?”

Momo felt a strange perilous excitement fill her. “Yes please.”

She called Sana that night as got home.

“So do you have a dress ready?”

“Well no, not yet. But that’s why I-”

“Good. Forget about it.”

“...Sana.”

“Forget about it!” Sana pointed a finger at her phone’s camera and resumed eating her cup noodles.

“Hey c’mon. I could really use your help here.”

“My help with what? Seducing Miss Architect in front of her fiancé?” Sana put her chopsticks down on the table with a snap.

“Aren’t you the one who kept pushing me to go for it the other night?”

“Uh no, that was drunk Sana, remember? That was 3-bottles-gone Sana. You should know better than to listen to that .”

Momo shrugged because she knew it was partly true. “Hey I listened to drunk Sana when she just broke up with her college roommate. I listened to drunk Sana when she was having a tough first night on her job. I listened to drunk Sana when she told me she loved me that night in the cab.”

Sana huffed out a sigh as she ran a hand through her disheveled hair. “Okay yes, drunk Sana thanks you for listening but I need you to listen to sober Sana right now when she tells you that this ball will destroy you. It’s a ing metaphorical wrecking ball and it will destroy you by the end of the night. And it will destroy you when you meet Mr. Mayor-Candidate; it will destroy you when you see them kiss again and again; it will destroy you once you realize this crush you have for her is as hopeless as you ever listening to any of my advice.”

Momo couldn’t help but laugh as she laid out her dress options on her bed. “I’ll take my chances. So, which one of these do you think I should-”

“No!” Sana snapped, a bit louder than usual which startled Momo. “Momo, I can’t do this! I-...I can’t do this. I’m sorry but I can’t, alright?” She let her head lean on one hand as she rubbed her eyes with annoyance. “I mean have you ever actually considered how I feel about you breaking someone’s engagement?”

She hadn’t. And having just realized this now felt like a punch to the gut. As if she was punched by one of those machines that had a coil spring behind it, each time she talked to Sana about Nayeon only wound the coil tighter and tighter. Now, as she stared in front of her mirror by the bed, she saw nothing but a monster. Yet despite this, Momo knew that what Sana and Tzuyu had was completely different, and that not all interventions are unethical. “I...I’m so sorry, Sana. I really am. And I swear I never meant to hurt you like this. But...what you have with Tzuyu is far from what Nayeon and that guy has right now.”

“I know, I know. But you can’t blame me for being uncomfortable with what you’re doing to them,” she mumbled with a heavy voice.

“I get that. I do. But just think of it this way; a marriage is just as much of a contract as any business partnership agreement. Like if you take out all the emotions between two people, minus of course the familial institution formed, add in some cost-benefit charts of a business model, some legally binding stuff, and they’re pretty much the same.”

“Why the hell are you suddenly so shrewd about this?” Sana leaned back onto her chair, crossing her arms.

“Because that’s exactly what they have right now. A business agreement built upon each other’s personal interests. Nayeon is engaged because he has connections and obviously his filthy mustard- is sitting in city council. And he’s just using her as a trophy wife when he rubs elbows for his upcoming campaign.”

Sana looked pensive for a moment and Momo took the opportunity to continue. “There’s no love between them, Sana. Nothing that even remotely resembles the feeling.” Momo sat down on the bedside and heaved a sigh. “Look...I won’t ask you to help me anymore. I’m not asking you to be on-board with this. I just want you to know that I never meant to hurt you. And I apologize if I did.”

Sana groaned. “Momo I…”

“I have to try,” she said, feeling so sure of it now having said it aloud. “I need to know where this takes me. For once, I don’t want to be stuck in some place where I’m content with how things are despite knowing that the grass is so much greener on the other side.” She looked at her friend through the small static screen of her phone and with conviction, said, “I want to try and be happy again.”

“...You’re gonna get hurt,” Sana said with difficulty, her brows stitched with worry.

Momo smiled and nodded, having been told something she had already known since the beginning. “And it’ll be worth it.”

The two of them stayed silent for a while until Sana changed her mind to help her pick a dress. There was a red one-shoulder dress that looked more semi than formal; an old and faded black wrap dress that knotted at the side - her go-to “formal wear” for office events and dinner parties throughout her career; and a bright yellow sundress she took out just to help ease the grief of realizing she only had two barely-usable dresses for semi-formal occasions.

“Okay seriously, when I get back, we have to buy you a new dress. Unless you want to attend their wedding wearing denim and a sweater.”

Momo gave her a pointed look.

“I’m kidding!” Sana forced a laugh. “But you really do need to buy a new one.”

She groaned then crashed down on the bed on top of her dresses. “I’ll look for one tomorrow. If I can’t find anything, I’ll probably go for the black.”

“Or y’know...not go at all?”

“Sana.”

“Kidding!”

The next day as she was about to leave for the mall, her doorbell rang. A rush of giddy excitement flooded her because there could’ve only been one person who’d visit her on a bright Sunday morning while Sana was away. Momo rushed to the door and was met instead by the last person she would’ve expected to show up.

“Mina?” Her smile dropped as she eyed the blonde woman standing at her doorstep, wearing ruffled peach-coloured shorts that went up to her waist, tucking in her loose grey shirt.

“Hi,” Mina said with a curious smile she recognized back at Nayeon’s place yesterday. “Going somewhere?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah I was actually on my way out.” Momo stepped outside and closed the door behind her.

“Let me guess.” Mina pinched her chin between her thumb and index as she gave Momo a once-over. “Off to buy a dress for the ball?”

Momo took half a step back and cast her a wary look. “How do you know that?”

Her laugh was quiet and short unlike Nayeon’s, giving off a hint of sophistication. “You’re wearing full make-up on a bright Sunday morning; sparkly earrings and a heavy necklace under your shirt; loose pants, impressive heels, and it’s about 45 minutes till stores open which gives you ample time to catch the weekend morning sale.”

Momo opened to say something but couldn’t process how someone could make such an accurate deduction just from the clothes she was wearing.

“Actually, I caught you at the perfect time,” Mina continued. “I was supposed to meet with my client this morning when I realized that today was too beautiful of a day to waste on dull meetings. So I thought I’d drop by and help you pick an outfit for Saturday instead.” The wide grin she gave disarmed her. Something about her childish recklessness in dodging a work meeting because she thought it was too boring, only to then drop by her apartment instead to help pick out a dress.

“So...you want to spend this beautiful Sunday...helping me pick a dress?”

“Don’t make me spell it out, Momo. It’s too early in the morning for you to make a girl blush,” she said, her demeanor suddenly like a shy schoolgirl who just asked someone out for a date with her eyes fluttering between Momo and the floor.

And it worked, embarrassingly enough. They went outside where Mina’s white convertible was parked. Momo - once again - gawked at the luxury vehicle for a good two seconds before getting in, careful not to touch anything but the door handle and seat. Mina steered their conversations towards Momo, asking what her job was like, when did she move in to their neighbourhood, how did she meet Nayeon, although later on Mina admitted that Nayeon already told her the whole story and that she found it “ridiculously cute.” The only information Momo had acquired from her was that she also met Nayeon in her line of work as a real estate agent for Park Group Real Estate, the largest brokerage name in the capital which explains the convertible and her disregard for upholding work schedules.

She laughed easily at everything but kept her tone modest and light with an air of subtle playfulness that seemed genuine enough to make one feel instantly at ease opening up about themselves. As if you’ve already known her for a long time and yet still know absolutely nothing about her except the way she looks and what car she drives. And Momo kept falling into this illusion as she soon found herself talking and talking until she realized she hadn't even told Mina what mall she was supposed to go to.

“Wait, where are we?” Momo peered outside as they parked somewhere hidden beneath a group of palm trees and trimmed hedgerows.

“The one place you go to for formal dresses,” Mina gave her a wink before stepping out.

The place was plain-looking from the outside. Beige painted with two columns stuck to the wall beside the entrance. There were no showcase windows at the front where sample dresses would usually be, nor was there any shop name displayed and Momo wondered if this was even a shop to begin with. She stepped inside and her jaw fell to the floor. The whole place seemed to sparkle. From the black marbled floor tiles and white walls with full-body mirrors, to the long elegant gowns and dresses studded with diamonds and all things that glitter. One look at any dressed mannequin and it was obvious these were all meant for the runway. It smelled of old-woman perfume but not the stuffy kind. More like an aged glass of sweetened scotch, refined throughout the years. She felt instantly poorer just standing there as she folded like a dried leaf, an arm crossed in front that desperately tried to hide her outfit.

“I don’t think there’s any weekend morning sale here,” Momo whispered to Mina which made the woman laugh.

“There’s never any harm in fitting,” Mina whispered back as she led her further in where a younger-looking Tim Gunn lookalike wearing a sharp burgundy suit with small rose prints approached them with a smile.

“Miss Myoui,” he said with a tone of familiarity before greeting her with two quick cheek kisses. “So wonderful to see you again.”

“Likewise. How was the housewarming party?”

The man rolled his eyes. “Ugh, the caterer was a no show so we had to phone one in at the last minute. Thankfully they arrived before my parents did or else the whole house might’ve blown up,” he chuckled. “But what can I do for you two? Cocktail parties? Office shindigs? Royal ball?”

“Just for my friend please,” Mina stepped aside to present Momo who smiled politely at him. “For the Architects’ Ball this Saturday.”

The man scanned her from head to toe, his eyes narrowed as he circled around like a vulture. “Favorite romance book?” He suddenly asked.

Momo glanced at Mina who just motioned for her to go along with it. “Um...Her Name in the Sky by Kelly Quindlen?”

“First kiss, who and when?”

“Wh-...why do I have to-”

“Who and when?” He pushed.

“...Freshman year college...my best friend.”

Mina gave a low hoot as she sat herself on a leather armchair, crossing her legs like she was the CEO of this place.

“Season you hate the most?

“Winter.”

“Country you’d want to travel to?”

“Italy.”

“Qual è il tuo film preferito?”

“I...don’t really speak italian,” she murmured.

The guy raised one brow in scrutiny. “I asked what your favorite movie is.”

“Oh! Um, Battle Royale.”

He gave her a shrewd look before continuing. “So you’re at the ball, slow-dancing with the person you want to sleep with; what’s the song playing, go.” He snapped his fingers twice.

She thought for a moment, imagining it in her head. “Un Anno D’Amore by Mina”

He turned to Mina. “You didn’t tell me you wrote italian songs Miss Myoui.”

Mina shrugged casually.. “Guess I haven’t told myself either.”

She rolled her eyes before clarifying. “Mina Mazzini.”

“Oooh,” both of them intoned.

“Last question.” He stopped in front of her.

Thank god.

“This person you’re dancing with...who is it?”
 

Momo swallowed hard and gave a nervous glance over to Mina who had a neutral smile on her face. “I honestly don’t know why I should-”

“Who. Is. It.” He said, sounding more like a demand than an inquiry.

She avoided his gaze as she answered and thought of the only other person who seemed safe enough to answer. “...Minatozaki Sana.”

The silence stretched on and she couldn’t help but feel his gaze peering into her soul as he searched for the truth that was somehow needed to pick a stupid dress. After a full minute, he finally spoke. “Be right back.” He flashed a pearly white smile before doing a snappy turn, walking away towards what looked to be a backroom.

Momo crashed onto the armchair beside Mina, letting out an exhausted huff, feeling drained all of a sudden. “...I have a good reason to believe that what just transpired here was extortion.”

Mina laughed just like she always does, innocent and light, effectively wiping away all doubts Momo had that she had a part to play in this. “And I have a good reason to believe that I just lost 50 bucks on you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, we had a bet to see if you were going to lie or admit it was Nayeon on that last question,” she confessed in such a casual way that made it seem like a joke at first.

Momo snorted a laugh, but turned serious when Mina didn’t laugh with her. “Wait...you knew?”

She watched Mina’s smile slowly curve into a devilish smirk. “No, but thanks for confirming.”

She blinked a couple of times before it finally hit her. “....” Momo melted into her seat, heat quickly rising up to her cheeks as she squirmed in agony over her stupidity.

“Hey relax,” Mina held her arm and gave it a little shake. “I’m not in the business of tattling, alright? Whatever you have for her is yours to keep,” she said.

Momo peeked from her between her fingers. “...Really? You won’t tell?”

“Not if you don’t want me to.”

“Please don’t.”

“Then I promise I won’t,” Mina said, her smile like a stamp of agreement.

The guy from earlier returned, holding up a long plastic garment bag. “I do believe we have a match,” he said then motioned for Momo to follow him towards the spacious fitting room. He handed her the bag and said, “You’re welcome” before disappearing outside the curtains.

She didn’t know what any of his questions meant in picking a dress; how knowing who and when her first kiss transpired could possibly help her search for a dress to wear at a formal ball. He didn’t even ask for her size or what type of style she was looking for. Or more importantly, her price range. But as she put on that long, black dress and stared at the mirror, everything suddenly seemed to make sense. How this dress was all tied to a bunch of seemingly random and excessively personal questions. How it seemed to morph into her body’s exact shape like it was tailored-made for her and her alone. How it looked so personal on her and how it seemed to embody everything that she was. It was her own personal dress chosen from her own personal answers. The dress itself was a midnight black Bardot style with an off-shoulder V-neckline that showed just enough to earn some glances. The rest of it had a sleek and elegant fit with a maxi-length lower-half that skimmed the floor but parted at the side for a generous slit that went up just above her left knee.

Momo parted the fitting room curtain and watched as Mina’s eyes grew wide.

Mina’s initial shock slowly melted into a coy look as she cracked a smile under her hand.

“That bad?” Momo chuckled as she did a slow twirl.

“It’s perfect,” Mina said, her voice a bit lower as she gave her another once-over.

“I couldn’t agree more,” the suited man nodded in contentment.

“It is,” Momo mumbled, letting a hint of disappointment echo through her voice. This was too perfect, she thought. Anything this perfect would cost too much for her and asking for the price would just be a slap in the face. “But I don’t think I can-”

“We’ll take it,” Mina cut her off.

“Wait no I-...” She leaned in closer so that only Mina could hear. “I’m pretty sure this is out of my budget range.”

Mina looked surprised for a moment before breaking into a grin. “You really thought I insisted on coming along just to let you buy your own dress?” She stood up and whispered, “You are cute.” Mina turned to the man and opened her long leather purse. She handed him a shiny black card and the man bowed curtly as he took it, striding over to the counter as he carried the large black box of her dress.

It all happened too quickly that she didn’t get a chance to refuse. “Wh- No! No wait, I can’t let you buy that for me that’s too much! I can’t accept-”

Mina stepped in front of her, letting a hand rest against her exposed shoulder. “Momo, I’m afraid you don’t have a choice in the matter,” Mina said. “I’m buying you that dress and you’ll accept it with a quick thank you, then you’ll wear it at the ball and break everyone’s neck while I watch all of it with a front row seat beside you.” She gave her a small impish smile and Momo wondered then if ‘everyone’ included Nayeon.

“But it must cost a lot. I don’t want to-”

Mina caught her off-guard as she suddenly pressed a finger against her lips, silencing her with a look she’d given her that night at Nayeon’s unit, her eyes heavy-lidded as her gaze roamed her face, dropping down to her lips that now quivered a little, then to her own eyes that darted everywhere but straight. She was close now. Too close for comfort. So close that Momo could breathe in Mina’s perfume that smells minty and sweet like eucalyptus after a cold shower. Then, before her mind could float away any farther and begin associating the word ‘shower’ with ‘Mina’, the woman spoke with a low, almost airy voice. “Just take that dress off and say thank you.”

She wasn’t sure how long their faces remained that close together, but as soon as Mina lifted her finger and left for the counter, Momo breathed out a long exhale. She rushed back into the fitting room and closed the curtain, making sure every noose it had was hooked securely in place. She leaned back against the wall as her chest rose and fell trying to catch her breath. Was this the reason Nayeon was so wary of Mina? Because she knew just how dangerous the woman could be? Or had this all just been another sad demonstration of how weak-willed she was? Momo slapped her cheeks together and played it off as Mina just being incredibly gorgeous and that anyone with eyes would’ve reacted the same. She put her regular clothes back on and caught up with Mina at the counter where she whispered a quick thank you. Mina winked in reply and handed her the black box that said “Cigno Nero” in gold letters.

Mina insisted they have lunch at a fancy seafood restaurant called The Corsair which looked a little less impressive than Lapin et Pêche. Everything was heavily varnished; the tables, the chairs, the floorboards and even the circular columns, giving everything a redder look than their natural wood color. The theme was loosely nautical with ship parts adorning the walls and antique novelties displayed on glass cabinets. They sat by a window seat that had a view of the small square garden outside. Mina ordered a plate of fried calamari, shrimp salad with hot mustard sauce, and a bowl of fish cake soup for the both of them and everything tasted undoubtedly better than the pesto from Lapin et Pêche. Everything except their fudge ice cream which could never hold a candle to the chocolate soufflé Nayeon ordered. No, nothing could beat Nayeon’s chocolate soufflé, she thought with a smug look over the clean plate of fudge in front of her.

“It’s no soufflé,” Mina suddenly said with a knowing look.

“...Just how much did she tell you?”

“More than enough. But nothing incriminating if that’s what you’re worried about,” she gave another award-winning smile as she the cream off her lips.

Momo thought for a moment. “So the park?”

“Cotton candy.”

“The Grain Box?”

“That one bust of a woman you loved so much.”

Momo stopped asking in fear that she might embarrass herself. Then a sudden thought surfaced from the first night Nayeon surprised her with a visit. An important question regarding Nayeon's relationship with Mina. “She tells you a lot of things,” Momo said casually, playing with the empty cup of fudge. This had always been her way of asking difficult questions. Always in a roundabout way. Questions that were too barefaced to let out openly. Questions that could potentially bite her back when the other person realizes the underlying question beneath it. Dahyun hated that about her.

She glanced up at Mina who was staring intently at her and almost immediately, she regretted asking. “I’d sure hope so,” Mina answered then turned her gaze to the garden, a pensive look in her eyes. “I don’t think she has anyone else to tell afterall.”

Momo felt stupid all of a sudden. Ashamed to have been so consumed by her own selfishness that she failed to even consider Nayeon’s own well-being living with that type of relationship.

“I’m guessing she doesn’t talk much to her fiancé?”

Mina’s scoff was sharp and so uncharacteristic that she wondered if the question hit a nerve. “The only thing he talks to her about is his scummy work. Always demanding updates on a project, making sure his well-to-do pals from up above are thoroughly satisfied with the houses they commission. And if he wasn’t checking up on her, he’d be too busy with his own shady business.” she said. “He wouldn’t give her the time of day if it concerned anything else.”

“Shady business?”

Mina took a sip of her water, letting a pause carry through as if she was debating whether to answer the question. “I don’t know much about it. Mostly because Nayeon doesn’t know that much either. But apparently, she’d seen him meet with some suspicious guys a couple of times after some of their evening parties. She said they’d occupy a closed room in wherever venue they were at for an hour. Always with the same guys.”

Momo leaned in. “Did she ask him about it?”

Mina nodded. “She did once. All he told her was that they were representatives of some foreign industrial supply company. But what’s suspicious about it was that when Nayeon asked the other guests who were there, not a single one knew what company they represented.”

“That’s...suspicious alright.” She pondered over it.

“I keep telling her to be more careful around him. God knows what that son of a is up to,” Mina drummed her fingers against the table.

“...But why does she put up with it? I mean she can probably do just fine on her own, right?”

Mina shook her head and steepled her fingers together. “Being a sole-practitioner is expensive. Too much resources to manage on your own. Not to mention the funds you need to acquire said resources.”

“Then maybe she could join a firm. I’m sure tons of companies would love to have her on-board.”

“I’ve suggested that a million times and her answer has always been the same; that it was too constricting and that she needed as much freedom as possible to work on her own designs.” Mina huffed out a laugh. “And yet she designs houses almost exclusively for her fiancé’s clients. Some freedom. I mean it’s the only reason she’s getting into this engagement. That scumbag’s long list of big-shot clients.”

Momo leaned back onto the seat and stared at her empty plate, mumbling to herself, “She’d really give up love, for work?”

A long silence followed with nothing but the clatter of plates and the murmured voices of people talking over the soft guitar melody playing in the background.

She brought her eyes up and saw Mina staring at her with a curious sort of smile, her chin resting on one palm over the table as her blonde hair glowed faintly from the afternoon light that seeped through the squares of glass on the window.

“What?” Momo asked.

“What do you think?” She said.

“If she’d give it up for work?”

“I mean what do you think she should choose?”

“...I don’t know,” Momo answered, letting her gaze drift outside the window where Summer was. Where rows of white lilies faced the sun; where a small fountain shimmered quietly in the noon; where the deep pink leaves of a climbing bougainvillea reached for the blue sky. “But I think she deserves to be with someone who can make her happy. And that she deserves to know how equally happy she can make that someone feel.”

Mina’s smile grew wider. “Then I guess that means we need to find out.”

“How?”

She leaned in and placed both elbows on the table, her eyes hiding a glint of mischief. “By letting me be your date this Saturday.”