Chapter 7

“You’re really not going?”

“Nope.”

“What if I told you Mr. Choi’s gonna be there?”

“Nope.”

“...Jeongyeon’s gonna be there?”

“Good for her.”

“So you’ll come?”

“Nope.”

“Argh! Why not?!”

Momo pointed at her half-finished sculpture of a group of Koi fish jumping out of water. “Client wants this done by the weekend.”

“But that’s almost done, right? Just need to hammer in the scales, finish sanding, then slather that lacquer.”

“Client wanted some adjustments to the fins. I’ll have to chip them a little smaller,” she said, pointing at them with her chisel. “You go on ahead, Jihyo. I’ll see if I can catch up later.”

Jihyo gave her a scrutinizing look as she sat on top of the table next to her. “You know you always say that, right? Which is totally fine if you didn’t have a reputation for not showing up at all.”

Momo laughed it off, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind her ear before getting back to hammering. “Fine. I promise I’ll catch up. Better?”

She can see Jihyo’s wide grin from the corner of her eyes. “Much,” she said, swinging her legs back and forth as they dangled off the ground. “You know who else is going to be happy seeing you there.”

“Nanan and Bbosong?”

“What- No. They’re not even gonna be there.”

She already knew who Jihyo was going to mention but decided to continue playing the clueless card. “Dunno. Could you grab that for me?”

“Yes you do,” Jihyo intoned, handing her the gouge on the table.

She quickly went back to hammering, hoping her senses could focus well enough to afford not answering.

“I don’t get why you don’t like her honestly, I mean she’s like the prettiest face around here besides you and me and I know she seems a bit rugged and cold sometimes, but everyone in town can attest to her kindness,” Jihyo said, inspecting one of her pieces that was laid on the table.

“I never said I didn’t like her.”

“So you do like her?” She pointed comically with her wooden hand sculpture.

“Not in the way you’re insinuating.” She scooted closer towards the edge of her stool to lean in while she carved the scales carefully. “I mean I like her, and I like you, and Mr. Choi and Mrs. Jung.”

“...But nothing romantic?”

“With Mrs. Jung?”

Jihyo let out a frustrated huff, her shoulders slumping. “With Jeongyeon, Momo. You and I both know she’s into you.”

Momo laughed easily. “I do?”

“Uh, yeah, you do. You didn’t see her give anyone else here a hand-crafted mug coaster with their initials during Valentine’s, did you?” Jihyo waved a thin block of wood at her. “Call me presumptuous but if that type of special treatment doesn’t raise any flags then I don’t know what will.”

“Well, I’m not going to assume anything, ok? I’m just not the type. If she has something to tell me, I’d rather let her go about it in her own way and let her be the one to tell me herself,” she said, grabbing a small sheet of sandpaper to smoothen the cuts.

“...You’re going to turn her down, aren’t you?” Jihyo said amidst the noise of scraping.

Momo paused to let out a sigh, pausing to look out the small slit of a window above the wall where the afternoon sunlight illuminated the dust particles floating around the room. “Look, I’m-...I’m just not interested in dating anyone yet. I have my commissions, my unfinished pieces for the J.Y.Park Museum exhibit that’s coming up, my unfinished pieces in my portfolio for that scholarship application. I don’t think I have the time to-”

“Didn’t you say you were almost done with those? The ones drying outside near the mill are yours, right?”

“Yeah,” she paused. “But as I said, I’m not interested in anyone yet,” she leaned back to her work and resumed sanding, hoping her tone was convincing enough.

Jihyo hiked one leg up on the table to let her chin rest on her knee. “It’s been two years since you moved here, y’know. I’m not sure you’ll meet anyone new anytime soon.”

Momo shrugged. “I’m fine with that.”

Jihyo went ahead after reminding her of her promise to attend Mr. Choi’s going-away barbeque party this evening even though she was barely acquainted with him. He was the brother of the town’s local grocer who managed the sales in the backroom while his brother manned the counter. Apparently, he was leaving the day after tomorrow to the nearby city for his new job in a small firm. She’d only spoken to him twice or thrice throughout the two years she’d stayed there. Twice when he greeted her for each Christmas, and the other she couldn’t remember. Something about a special discount on potatoes that clearly wasn’t important enough to ease the awkwardness of attending his farewell party in his backyard. If it was any other person she was fairly close with having it, then she wouldn’t be so graceless about the whole thing.

Momo straightened up from her stool and wiped the sweat from her forehead, the smell of sawdust and pine chips coming from her worn-out gloves. She stood up and stretched her arms up and back with a grunt before maneuvering in-between the absolute clutter of her workstation, dodging dusty shelves and logs of different sizes, mixed with all the different pieces that have piled up on each other, both finished and unfinished. The company was kind enough to provide her with a large room of her own, but somehow, the space still wasn’t enough thanks to her complete disregard for cleanliness in their work environment. How was it that she could maintain a clean and tidy home environment but throw it all out the window when it came to work? Jihyo’s area was incomparably cleaner which seemed much worse knowing that she’s been doing just as many commissions as her.

She lifted the tub of wood preserver from the floor and brought it back to her piece, dipping her brush to start the first coating. The light filtering from the dusty window above head had been dyed an intense orange when the layer had completely dried. When she finally finished the final coat, it was already dark. Momo checked her watch. 7:20. If she went back home to freshen up, she’d most likely miss whatever they were barbequing which was frankly her only incentive. She dumped her tools on the table and slid the tub of preserver under it before hanging her apron behind the door. Outside, there was only Mr. Lim, the security guard at the gate who calls her Miss Peach every morning when she checks in at the gate.

Momo got into her car, a red 90s Cherokee Jeep that has survived a whole generation. Mr. Kwon was kind enough to sell it to her at a pitiable price last year when she mentioned she was looking at cheap second-hands in a city dealership. The mere mention of “city” started his whole spiel about his conspiracy theory that cars bought from those greedy skeevy dealers were planted with a microchip that lets them spy on people. When he was asked where he bought the Cherokee in the first place, he’d say it was owned by his father. When asked further where his father bought it, he’d say it was a gift from the president. Momo never questioned him further and signed the deal.

What she had failed to expect was the condition it was in. It was a rolling, heaving pile of assorted metals ready to be scrapped with problems too big for any insurance to cover. Paintless patches around the body, tattered rags that’ve been sewn to the seats, eternally muddied side windows, a taped-up side-view mirror on the right, multiple dents at the back probably from a fight that happened in the Triassic period. She wouldn’t have minded most of it if the car itself didn’t need a prayer every time she turned the engine on. Some days it’d turn on without a hiccup; other times it would need two or three tries. Most of the time it would need one Hail Mary; half an ounce of her blood, sweat, and tears; a good kick against the wheel; and a heartfelt apology right after. Thankfully, it chose to cooperate tonight.

She arrived at Mr. Choi’s house just a little after they'd grilled everything, which threw her plan of covering her lacquer and sweat smell with smoke out the window. They all stayed outside in the square backyard, illuminated by a single lamp pole and a few garden lights. Jihyo was laughing with Mrs. Jung and her colleagues from the town hall when she spotted her. She waved an ecstatic hand and motioned for her to grab a plate, which she was already on her way to get. Fearing for the safety and well-being of people with sensitive noses, Momo stood in the far corner where the light from the lamp waned as she ate like a raccoon scavenging for food at night.

“Didn’t think you’d come.”

Momo turned with a barbeque stick still in and saw the familiar hue of red hair against the light with the familiar denim jacket over her black top. Jeongyeon’s smile was faint but noticeable enough with the glow of the garden light.

“That makes two of us,” she said, chewing unbothered.

Jeongyeon seemed to think for a minute. “Jihyo?”

“Jihyo.”

Jeongyeon snickered, taking a step closer with one hand buried in the pocket of her jeans and the other, holding a bottle of beer. From this distance, she could pick up her perfume that always made her smell like she just got out of a really cold and aromatic shower. “Aren’t you gonna give the host a few pointers on how to survive the city life?”

Momo chuckled, putting her plate down on one of the nearby tables. “If I had any, I imagine they wouldn’t be so helpful if I had to haul out of there.”

“To your credit, eight years is a helluva long time,” she said, taking a swig of her beer.

“Hm, first tip: Don’t stay there for eight years,” they laughed.

“That bad?”

She paused and took a sip of her own bottle, watching as the familiar groups of people mull around with plates and bottles in their hands. “Not all bad.”

Jeongyeon looked as if she picked up what she unconsciously intoned and seemed to pull back a bit. As if a tall fence between them had been suddenly erected. “Courtesy of your ex?”

Momo shifted her weight to the other side and smiled vaguely. “Courtesy of my friends.”

“Ah,” she nodded. “The two who visited last Christmas? The tall woman and that orange-haired girl?”

“Yup. The shorter one’s my best friend and the other one’s her girlfriend.”

Jeongyeon made a low whistle. “Don’t let Jihyo hear about this other best friend,” she snickered.

She glanced at her. “Why not? You can’t have two best friends?”

“Well say you want to invite one of them to a movie but neither of them wants to go if the other’s tagging along. Who would you pick then?”

“Neither of them. I’ll watch it by myself if they can’t get along,” she answered readily.

“Okay, but what if you had to choose one?”

Momo gave her a shrewd look, trying to figure why she was pushing the question. “Then I’d rather face whatever consequence you can think of.”

Jeongyeon’s laugh was infectious. When she first heard it, she couldn’t believe how much more childish it sounded compared to the girl’s normal speaking tone. “Whatever consequence huh?”

“Do your worst,” she shrugged, wiping with a napkin.

Jeongyeon seemed to think for a moment as she ran a hand through her hair. “Then either choose one of them to go with you, or go see one with me?”

Momo glanced at her, expecting it to be a joke but was met instead with a meaningful smile that seemed to ask exactly what it asked but was said with a degree of seriousness that rattled her. But again, as if her conscience had sensed a disturbance in her head, it laid out the very rule she had said to Jihyo time and time again: Never assume.

She swallowed and drew her eyes back to the crowd. “I’d have to think about it.”

“What’s there to think about?”

“My schedule. My commissions.”

“And if you’re free?”

She huffed out a laugh, glancing at her from the corner of her eyes. “Is this all still hypothetical?”

“Of course,” she said, but her tight smirk told otherwise.

“Then sure, if they won’t cooperate, and you ask me out, sure; I’d go with you,” she said casually.

Jeongyeon gave a deep nod and took another swig of her drink, effectively dropping the subject. Momo supposed that this was always her way. Always approaching with a plan in mind, ready to insinuate and ready to drop these hints she purposefully ignores in the hopes that the woman might give up on her. Despite her best efforts, it was impossible not to notice. One can only dumb oneself down too much before the other party notices and gets hurt. Thankfully, Jeongyeon never pushed it too far. She’d always fall silent whenever the hint she carried had been laid out. As if her only mission was to make her assume something, then retreat as soon as she got some form of answer.

Jihyo approached them with an all too suspicious smile. “Hey,” she dragged the word, waving at Jeongyeon while she kept glancing at Momo. “You two enjoying yourselves?”

“To the fullest,” Jeongyeon replied with her usual tone of nonchalance. She seemed to sense where the incoming conversation was destined to go and so she excused herself when Jihyo got there.

“...Did I say something?” Jihyo whispered as she watched Jeongyeon leave.

Momo snickered, finishing her bottle. “No. Not yet at least.”

Jihyo crossed her arms and huffed. “And here I was, ready to give her a helping hand.”

“With what?”

“Scoring points with you obviously,” she said a bit too smugly.

Momo scoffed, giving her a blank look. “Seriously? After knowing my stance on this? Really Jihyo?”

“Fine, fine,” Jihyo groaned. “I’ll just stay on the sidelines and watch you burn someone alive, hm?”

“Yeah glad to know you’re on my side, Park.”

After a few more round trips to the buffet table, she finally decided to reveal herself to the host. They exchanged a few pleasantries for a minute before she offered some actual tips for the city life, hoping they were enough to cover her dinner fee. Not a minute after, she bid Jihyo - who was still talking with the other guests - a good night, and sneaked away towards the front of the house where her car was parked. And of course, the only other person who’d catch her leaving so early was Jeongyeon who was standing underneath the light of a lamp post with her phone in hand and a smoke between her lips.

“Done with your rounds?” The woman smiled at her before returning her attention to her phone.

“Pretty much. Just told him not to do drugs.” She unlocked the door and stepped inside her car.

“Well , there goes my regular,” she laughed, the light of the post highlighting a few strands of her deep red hair.

Momo grinned and gave a haughty shrug. “Tough luck.” She turned her keys once. Then twice. Then thrice. . After the tenth attempt, she feared for the worst. ! Not now you stupid wagon! Every failed attempt just made her feel more like a fugitive struggling to execute her eat-and-run scheme.

“Open the hood for a sec.,” Jeongyeon called out as she walked towards the front of the car.

Momo pulled the hood lever underneath.

“Try again?” Jeongyeon instructed her a couple of more times, asking her to turn the headlights on and off. Before long, she called her outside, pointing out that the battery might be the problem. She then ran over to her pickup truck and parked it closer, grabbing a pair of cables to try and jump start the damned thing. No luck. “Might need a complete recharge down by the auto. The battery’s flat-out dead,” she diagnosed.

“How long will that take?”

Jeongyeon gave a low whistle. “With your car’s battery type, I reckon ten hours at least.”

“Wh-...how the hell am I supposed to go home?” She stammered.

The silence that followed seemed to answer the question. Momo glanced at Jeongyeon who gave a shrug as she put away her equipment. “I’ll phone in Mr. Jung at the auto to tow this away. I can drive it back to your place early morning so at least by then you can take it to work,” she explained. “In the meantime, if you want, I can give you a lift home. Or you could always ask Jihyo.”

The answer was obvious. “I’ll probably hitch a ride with Jihyo. But I can take my bike down at the auto tomorrow. No need to drive it back to my place.”

Jeongyeon raised a brow. “Don’t be stupid, that’s too much of a hassle. I’ll just bring it over.”

She straightened up and crossed her arms. “I’m sorry, how is that stupid? It’s my car.”

Jeongyeon let the hood drop with a clank, putting both palms flat against the top. “Because from what I can tell, you’re a busy woman, Hirai Momo. With commissions to finish and schedules to follow.” She knew this to be true but somehow, being told about it now by someone wearing a smirk on her face just irked her completely. “Look, I know you don’t trust me too well, but I swear I’m not gonna do anything to it. I wouldn’t even know what to do with it in the first place. I’ll just bring it over early tomorrow before you go off to work; leave it outside if you’re still sleeping; take my bike packed inside the car and hightail out of there before you even see my hideous face. Deal?”

She thought for a moment, giving her a scrutinizing look. “...Fine.”

“You’re welcome.” She said with all the smugness dripping from the corners of her lips.

Before she could give her a piece of her mind, Momo turned heel and walked back to the party to look for her ticket out. She saw Jihyo still laughing with a bunch of people, talking animatedly with her usual hand motions. She’d have to wait the entire party out before she could get home. A total of at least three more hours. . Momo turned to look back at Jeongyeon who was putting the cables away in her pickup. Taking a deep breath, she started walking back, steeling herself for whatever awkwardness awaited.

“Hey, are you leaving now?” She called out.

Jeongyeon looked at her in surprise. “Well I’m waiting on Mr. Jung to arrive to tow this away, but I’ll be leaving right after.”

“How long till he gets here?”

“Ten minutes? He’s on his way.”

Momo breathed in deep, looking around to see if anyone else was there. “You still offering that lift?”

Her surprise melted into a smile. They waited for Mr. Jung on the sidewalk. Separately, like two high school lovers who just had a fight and were giving each other the needed space; too stubborn to apologize but too scared to walk away. Mr. Jung arrived with the promised tow truck and quickly hooked her car onto it. Momo saw him handing Jeongyeon a receipt slip and quickly asked how much she would have to pay. “Free of charge,” the man smiled. Before Momo could ask why, he drove off with her car in tow, leaving the both of them alone again.

The ride was just as she expected. Nothing but dead air breathing onto the back of her neck as they drove into the night. At some point, Jeongyeon the radio and played a song she didn’t know in her Spotify playlist which helped dispel some of the awkwardness. She kept her eyes fixed outside through the tinted window, her thoughts drifting but never really leaving the enclosed space of the car; just enough to keep her mind off of their situation.

“Can I ask you something?” Jeongyeon suddenly spoke up.

“What?”

“Just to make sure, you’re aware that I like you, right?”

Momo snapped her head towards her, eyes wide in shock.

Jeongyeon gave a quick glance. “What? You are aware of that, right?” She said, as if she’d confessed it before.

She didn’t know what to answer. On one hand, she could admit to knowing to some degree. On the other, she could maybe lie and play aloof. But Jeongyeon was no fool. Momo knew she had a sixth sense for seeing through a weak lie like that. If she had already assumed that she was aware, then denying it would be too cruel.

Momo swallowed the lump in . “Like...as in…”

“Like - as in what Jihyo would’ve probably explained to you by now,” she smiled, still as casual as ever.

“...To some degree, yes.” She slowly turned her head back towards the window, hoping she’d match the level of casualness.

“And?”

Momo breathed in, her palms beginning to sweat despite the air conditioning. It would’ve come to this sooner or later. Better now than later, she supposed.

“...I can’t. I’m sorry,” she stuttered, steeling herself to face Jeongyeon as she said it.

Silence.

Jeongyeon nodded slowly, her eyes still glued to the road. No sign of sadness, no sign of disappointment. She pursed her lips for a minute but retained the same neutral expression she always has.

“May I know why?”

Momo cleared . “I mean, you said it yourself. My schedule’s packed; I have my commissions; I still have to take care of my scholarship application. And if I get accepted, I’ll be even more busy.”

“And...that’s it?”

“Yeah?”

Jeongyeon snickered, immediately transforming her nervousness to annoyance.

Her brows furrowed at the laugh as she asked in a lower tone, “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. Sorry, it’s just that I never thought I’d actually prefer to hear you say that I wasn’t your type, or something along those lines.”

“You’d prefer to hear that over the truth?”

Jeongyeon kept her smile that was becoming more and more annoying as the seconds went by. “I’d prefer to hear that over excuses.”

She crossed her arms, her fists curling into balls. “So you think being genuinely busy and pursuing my goals are excuses?”

“Before I answer that, let me ask you - would you go out with me after you’re done with commissions? After the museum exhibit, after you get your degree. Don’t tell me you’re gonna be too busy for the rest of your life because that is just sad,” she glanced over to her. “But when the time comes where your schedule frees up and everything in your hectic life simmers down...would you say yes if I asked you out?”

She paused to think. “I-...I guess I...”

“I’d be willing to wait, y’know?” She flashed her a quick smile, her eyes determined. When the silence stretched on, she continued. “Or...is there another reason I should know?”

Momo swallowed hard, dry and rugged as she cast her eyes down on her arms. She didn’t want to remember. She didn’t want her face, her smile, her eyes, her hair, to resurface like an old photograph carrying the memories of Spring and Summer two years ago. At least, not right now.

“It’s your ex, isn’t it?”

“Nayeon,” Momo replied in reflex, uncomfortable about labeling her as such even though it was true.

Jeongyeon’s smile was gone, replaced by her neutral blank stare on the road. “You’re still not over her?”

She looked back outside where it was impossible to see anything in the tinted night. “...I’m trying,” she whispered to herself, knowing the degree of effort she was putting on it.

“That’s all you need to tell me,” Jeongyeon replied, nudging her arm with an elbow. “So...is it still a no, or are you gonna grant me permission to wait for as long as I want?”

Momo smiled at that and faced her in earnest. “...I’ll still have to deny that permission...I’m sorry, Jeongyeon.”

Jeongyeon breathed in deep and gave a slow nod. She flashed another smile, but seemed sadder now than before. “That’s that,” she said. “I’ll stop making things awkward, but...I’ll be here if you change your mind, Hirai.”

They arrived at her cottage a quarter past nine. Up above, a crescent moon was smiling among the stars, its light too weak to reach the lake’s surface.

“Hey thanks for doing all this,” Momo told Jeongyeon. “Seriously owe you big time.”

Jeongyeon shrugged with her hand on the wheel, her smile still burdened but seemed as genuine as ever. “Seriously, don’t mention it,” she said. “Although I’d appreciate it if you don’t act all weird around me after tonight. I kinda like what we have right now, so…if it’s not too much to ask...” This was the most she'd seen Jeongyeon embarrassed.

“Of course,” Momo smiled, stepping out of the car.

“I’ll leave your car here if you’re still asleep later this morning.”

“That’s fine. Thank you,” she closed the door.

Jeongyeon bid her a good night and drove off back to the main road. Momo unlocked the front door and stepped in, switching the lights for the kitchen and living room on. She reached inside the pockets of her jeans but remembered where her keys were. She made a beeline for the refrigerator and drank water directly from one of the large bottle reserves she stored. The cushions of her couch welcomed her in as she crashed down, her head heavy as if it worked overtime for the entire duration of that ride. She closed her eyes for a few minutes, ready to be taken in by sleep, when her phone vibrated with a message from Jihyo.

Just read your message, where are you guys now?

Got home a few minutes ago.

Is Jeongyeon still there?

No.

Booooo!

She tossed her phone onto the coffee table and tried to sleep, but saw only her image in the blackness, her smile like a ray of sunshine piercing the void but was too bright to look at for too long. Momo opened her eyes and got up, making her way towards her work station in the room adjacent to her bedroom. She switched the lights on and unscrolled her other tool bag, grabbing her chisel and a gouge along with her mallet. Momo tied her apron around her and sat on the stool as she stared at her unfinished bust of a woman; her head shape almost done with the rest still undefined. She tied her hair up to a long ponytail and began hammering with the image still fresh in her mind.

When her arms became too sore, she paused and glanced at the wall clock, noting the time. 12:30. She looked back at the figure, her jaws more rounded now and her eyes looking back at her, carrying only a flicker of the flame she saw in her mind. She didn’t know how long she’d been staring at it, but at some point, the next intake of air she breathed came up short and so she looked away with her heart hammering against her chest. She stood up abruptly and left her tools at her work bench, closing the lights as she made her way towards the shower. The water scalded her skin and she endured every second of it as steam rose up towards the ceiling. Momo bathed until she could no longer face the showerhead because the heat was too much on her face, so she turned around and let it redden her back. The ache was still there. A phantom pain in her chest like a bruise that refused to heal despite the years. Despite her attempts to ignore it in the hopes that she’ll wake up one day and discover it had disappeared like all bruises do. Like the bruise she had before with Dahyun which disappeared just after a few months. And even though her memories of that time persisted, the pain had at least stopped.

This was worse. Much, much worse. So much worse that even when she consciously tried not to think back, tried to shut it down every time she orders whiskey down at the local bar or every time she happens upon an architectural magazine in a waiting room, or every time she sees something related to Italy, or when she opens the drawer where the tools she bought for her were tucked away; she’d still see her face, smiling or laughing, or sometimes with that smoldering look that never failed to draw her in, to leave her breathless and so mesmerized that she once swore she’d do anything for her. To follow her to the ends of the earth and beyond.

The ache was still there as she stepped out of the shower. Thumping like the unnatural clank of a broken machinery who’s missing a crucial piece. Maybe this wasn’t a bruise, but rather, a scar that had been cut so deep that it still stings when touched. And that when applied enough pressure to, would bleed again just as before.

The stupidest idea started one afternoon in late February. Momo had just finished her last commission piece and was getting it moved outside to dry out for delivery. She’d asked the company to put her slots on hold for a week because of the upcoming exhibit she had to prepare for, but didn’t expect to be done with all her pieces this early that she’d end up with a five-day vacation in her hands. That afternoon, she went back inside the company warehouse and visited Jihyo’s station.

“So,” Momo greeted Jihyo who was busy hammering her horse sculpture. “Guess who has a five-day vaca,” she hummed.

“Wow,” Jihyo started, her eyes never leaving the wooden piece. “You must be so bummed getting a vacation. Can’t imagine how horrifying that must be for you, I mean, five days of doing nothing?” She her teeth.

“Ha-ha. Comedy.” Momo walked over to her and stood behind as she watched her work. “Are you free this week?”

“Why? You asking me out?”

“For a picnic, yeah. We could take the boat out and find a spot around the lake,” she offered.

Jihyo turned to give her a quick smile. “As much as I’d absolutely love that, I actually already made plans with my folks back home. I said I’d take them out for a drive out of town. Booked a spa hotel for us too, so.”

Her reason dampened the dejection and Momo offered an easy smile. “That sounds lovely,” she said.

“They’ve been wanting to go outside for some time. Like, out of their daily routines I guess. I dunno, they’re at that age I suppose,” she said and brought her mallet down as she inspected the grain of the wood. “Too old to drive far, but too young to stay put.”

She chuckled, walking over to her work bench to lean back on the edge. “God, that’s actually terrifying. I mean, who do you even call to ease that kind of itch? Besides your kids of course.”

Jihyo shrugged, flicking a few loose strands of her dark hair away from her face with a chisel. “It’s scary, but that’s why I take them out from time to time.” There was a minute of silence between them and she could see a familiar gentleness in Jihyo’s eyes. The one she’d often give her whenever the stress from her commissions piled up and she’d offer a short coffee break by the bench outside under the large oak tree. “I kinda get how they feel, with me and my sisters having less and less time to visit. They try hard not to show it, but it’s there every time they wave goodbye just before I leave them again.”

Momo smiled at this, and despite being completely alienated from the notion, she said to her, “They’re lucky to have you.”

Jihyo took in a sharp breath of air, snapping her back to work. “That’s why I’m saving up enough money to hire a driver when I get old. So my kids will have it easy and they can have picnics with their friends by the lake or wherever,” she gave her a wink before hammering.

“I think any kids of yours would still want to visit you just as often either way.”

“Then I’ll be lucky to have them,” she said.

Her words stuck to her that night as she ate dinner alone again out on the porch. Despite the goodness of her conscience telling her that it was a bad idea, she couldn’t help but think about him, her father, and how he was and how has life treated him for the past ten years since she last saw him that morning when she moved to the city. She couldn’t remember how he looked back when her mother was still alive. Couldn’t remember the last time she saw him smile at her. All she could remember was his voice after their loss, cold and lifeless as he talked in a slow, monotonous pace, seemingly disinterested in everything except work parties and the two women who came after her mother. And then she’d remember the emptiness of the house that no amount of people he invited could fill; the sleepless nights she endured as her father passed out drunk on the couch; the high school graduation ceremony he missed because of work and his sad attempt to make up for it by treating her to a family diner.

She had buried these memories deep with every intention of forgetting. When her aunt first took her here during that summer so long ago, she wanted to bury him underneath completely. To bury the anguish in the hopes that one day she’ll forget about him completely. If anyone ever asks her about him, she’d tell them the truth; that she didn’t know anything about him except his name and how his voice sounded when he said goodbye to her.

It was a stupid idea. One that would most likely bring about more regrets than relief. An idea that might dig up everything she’d tried so hard to bury and would leave it out in the open to cast its repugnant stench that would stick to her skin and would leave a bad taste in . It won’t end well. She knew this and went back inside to wash the dishes.

But then a small, almost primal voice inside her whispered: “He’s still your father. Whether you choose to accept him or not. Maybe ten years is enough to warrant a quick visit.” Either way, she knew she had to visit the town. And if she wasn’t going to visit her father, then she’d go to her mother. Momo let her hands drop to the sink, her eyes cast outside on the light of the post. Ten years, she repeated in her head.

The next day, Momo packed for a day trip with her sunglasses, some snacks, her water jug, powerbank and a small block of wood along with her carving knife if she gets bored. The forecast predicted a Spring shower that morning, so she bought an umbrella as well. She loaded everything onto the back of her car and set off early morning, eastward; miles away from town. When she finally crossed the familiar Welcome sign arching across the highway, everything that she passed began invoking vague memories from a time long ago. The stretch of river they used to walk along on; the ice cream parlor she used to to go to after school; the small park near her school with the rusted monkey bars and the swing set with ropes on the verge of snapping; Mrs. Lim’s house where her mother would take her to visit every new year; the oaks by the road; the street humps; the stores. Then, there was the hospital. White and square and bleak with its motto: “Cherish one’s life”, written in gold at the entrance like some sort of epitaph on a large tombstone. Momo pried her eyes away and sped past it, making her way along the familiar circuit of one-way streets as if riding back in time to her childhood. The closer she got to her destination, the clearer the memories returned and soon it was like going home after another long school day. She had memorized that stretch of road before. Every utility pole and how their wires crisscrossed with each other, every inch of their neighbour’s moss-covered walls, that one crack in the asphalted roadside, the lone Magnolia tree she’d see from across her room. Momo slowed down and swerved to park by the familiar curb where her father would always park as he'd wait on her to get ready for school. She saw the familiar iron gate with spots of rust where her mother would wave goodbye; and then she saw the house.

It looked the same as it had ten years ago. The grass along the short pathway leading to the front door had grown unmaintained. She turned the engine off and looked away, trying to steady her breathing, her hands tight around the wheel. Her heart thumped so hard that she could hear it in her head in the silence that stretched on for what felt like an hour. She didn’t know what it was. Guilt? Frustration? Excitement? A combination of the three? Momo grabbed her jug of water and quenched her dry throat as she laid back against her seat for another minute. Her wristwatch read 9:30. He was probably at work. There’d probably be no one in there right now, she thought with a reassuring nod. She got out of the car and walked slowly over to the doorbell, her knees shaking. The murky pond water to the side was visible from outside the gate, its dark green hue complementing the two large moss-covered rocks at the edge and the unkempt lawn where once hydrangeas and tulips and orchids had grown were now overrun by weeds. There was something red further to the side, partially hidden by the stone fence. Momo moved further to the opposite side of the gate to peer in, and what she saw nearly made her throw up. A toddler’s car, the one they put their kids in to play outside was stationed at the far right, it’s bright red and yellow plastic like a stark contrast to the mangled lawn. She swung away from the gate with a hand over , her heart beating in that wanted to wretch it out onto the pavement.

This was her fault, she chanted in her head. It should’ve been obvious. It should’ve been the first thing she warned herself of. The idea had been so far flung from her mind, so ridiculous to even think that this was her reality, that it had completely escaped her. The idea that she now might have step-siblings she knew nothing of; that were living in the same halls and same rooms she once grew up in. Momo felt sick all of a sudden and had to lean against the side of her car. She felt more of an outcast now than she had ever felt before. As if he had thrown her and her mother out of this house like the failed first try of a painting and had replaced them with a new one. Something more resilient and less broken. Something more picture-perfect that he could show to his drunk co-workers when they ask him about his family. And when someone asks her about her family, she’d show them the only picture she had of her mother that she kept before leaving this house.

This was a stupid idea. A complete waste of time. Momo slammed her fist on top of the hood and started back towards the driver’s seat.

“Momo?”

She froze.

“Momo...is that you?”

She heard the gate clanging to unlock as she took in a lung-full. Momo turned around to face her father. “Hey.”

His arms were around her before she could even react. He smelled of rubbing alcohol mixed in with the familiar aftershave he’d use before going to work. His arms felt thinner, weaker and somehow she couldn’t remember him being this small and light. Their height had now almost matched and she was certain she’d outgrow him in a couple more years; or he’d grow even smaller.

“Thank god,” he sniffled as he hugged her, his voice unsteady and sounding genuinely sad. “Oh thank god…”

She couldn’t move. Couldn’t say anything, and, for a while, couldn’t breathe.

Finally, he let go and stepped back, enabling her to recover from the shock. He brought his palms up to cup her face and for a second she felt like a child again. Momo turned away and took a shaky step back to escape.

He wiped his cheeks and gave a weak smile, the first she’d seen him give her since her mom died. “I thought I’d-...I thought I’d never see you again.”

She couldn’t look at him. “Me neither.”

Silence.

“Well come on in, come in, don’t be shy,” he laughed and opened the gate for her like she was some guest in his house.

Every bone and muscle in her body screamed to walk away. To get in her car and drive back without a word. But she’d come this far. If this would be the last time she’d see him again, then what’s a few more minutes inside? She stepped past the gates, avoiding the red toy car in her peripheral. Inside, everything looked different. Except for the layout of the rooms, she couldn’t recognize anything from her past. The walls were painted green and white. Her mother hated green. Everywhere, there were small toys that littered the floor and the counters. In the dining area, there was a high stool for toddlers and a half-empty bowl of baby food in front of it.

“Sorry it’s such a mess,” he said, frantically clearing whatever mess he could find and shoving them out of view like he always does. “They left for school with their mother a few minutes ago.” He directed her to the living area with a brand new flat-screen T.V. and a longer sofa that could seat four.

“You don’t have work?” She sat herself straight in the middle of the sofa, eyeing the backyard from the floor-to-ceiling glass windows. Her mother’s garden was gone. Overgrown with weeds just like the rest of the house. What sat there now was a large sandbox with toy buckets and shovels.

“Uh no, not today,” he said, turning on the fan. She glanced at the necktie hanging behind one of the dining chairs but didn’t say anything. Of course, she thought. “You want a cup of tea kiddo? Some coffee?”

“Coffee.”

He snapped his fingers with a nod and went back to the kitchen.

“You still live in the capital?” He called out.

“No.”

He turned to look at her for a moment. “You moved out? Since when?”

“A while back.”

“Well where are you staying now?”

She cast her gaze outside again where the predicted rain cloud was passing above, painting everything a shade darker. “...Somewhere.”

He returned with the promised coffee in hand. Bitter, and acidic. She took one sip and made a face before putting it back down on the coffee table. He put the tray beside it and sat on an armchair beside her.

“Somewhere near the city? Somewhere near here? Somewhere...what?” He chuckled.

“Somewhere in the country.”

He laughed again “Well kiddo you gotta be more specific than-”

“No, I don’t think I want to tell you.” She gave him a hard look.

His eyes widened but slowly fell back down into the sad droopy look she knew so well. “Look I-...” He hung his head and slouched forward, making him seem even smaller now than earlier. “I want to apologize...for what I did wrong back then.”

"I don't want to talk about it."

"I think we have to, kiddo. I want to apologize properly."

She huffed, feeling her jaws tighten. “Okay. For what? The graduation? Missed birthdays? Your nightly booze parties? You gotta be more specific.”

He closed his eyes and breathed in deep as he clasped his hands together. “All of those. Everything.”

“‘Everything’...” she repeated, her lips screwed tightly up to one side. “That’s too many all at once, don’t you think?”

He breathed out a tired sigh. “I want you to understand. Back then, I was in a very dark spot on my own. I had no idea what to do-”

“And you thought your kid knew any better?”

“No of course not! But at that time, all I could think of was to get you through school. To earn enough for the both of us so we can have food on the table and-and buy you new clothes and pay for the lights and the bills and everything. I wanted you to have a comfortable life, kiddo. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”

Her vision darkened. “...That’s your excuse?” She seethed through her jaws that’ve started to hurt, her voice low and unhinged. “You seriously think all of that justifies for everything else you did?”

He huffed and shrugged his shoulders. “I...I honestly don’t know what else to tell you, kiddo-”

“Don’t ing call me that,” she snapped. “I’m not a kid. And if I ever was, then I certainly don’t remember being your kid.”

“Hey, that’s too-”

“What? Ungrateful?” She huffed out a sharp laugh. “You’re right. I should be grateful, shouldn’t I? Thank you, mister. For paying my tuition, my clothes, our food, our bills, and everything else. Really. I’m grateful for that. Without your money, we probably wouldn’t be here. So thank you.”

She took in a lung-full and looked him down in contempt, squeezing out the next few words between her grated teeth. “But don’t you ever - think for a minute, that all the money you spent on me can buy your role as a father.”

He inched backwards, his face taken aback.

She felt something burst inside her and suddenly all the words stormed out. “You have no clue. Not one single ing clue how it feels to lose both your parents on the same ing day!”

“Momo, I-”

“No shut up!” She cut in, her chest heaving. “You left me in that room. Both of you. The only difference is that you had a ing choice.”

“Now that’s not fair! Your mother’s passing devastated both of us and I needed time to-”

“I needed you!” She screamed, her lungs squeezing in pain as she clutched her chest. “I needed you to be my father! And you-...” The next intake of air became a desperate gasp that she almost choked on. Her voice was cracking and she swallowed the sob in , burying it back into her stomach as she whispered breathlessly, “You weren’t there. You never were.” Momo stood up from the couch and looked down on the man. “What I got was this empty ing house and some clothes and some food and a school that became much more of a home to me than this place ever was after she died.” She willed her legs to walk outside where the rain was already falling, through the sliding doors leading to the shaded part of the backyard.

The air was cool on her face as she wiped her eyes and nose with a napkin. It was raining back then too. Back when she left this place ten years ago by herself. Momo watched the rain fall against the weeds, against the muddied sandbox, against the fence, against the roof of Mr. and Mrs. Chun’s house on the other side. Then the memory came to her again as it did back in Italy two years ago. She heard Nayeon’s voice in the rain, clear and bright as it was in the ball when she said her speech. A house should be able to bring people together. To serve as a warm, comforting embrace when you return home.

This wasn’t her house anymore. And just as it did its job bringing people together, it also brought them apart.

When the rain finally died down, her breathing had calmed. She heard the door slide open but kept her gaze across the backyard, her arms crossed as a minute of silence passed between them.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice quiet and frail like a child’s. “I know it doesn’t mean much to you. I know I’ve let you down as a father. I know that. I-...I wasn’t there for you back then. You’re right. I think I’ve known that for a long time but was too scared to admit it to myself. And somehow I knew you still hated me. I didn’t have the courage to call you back then. So when I saw you earlier by the driveway, I just thought...I thought I was given a chance to make it up to you. To make up for all the years I’ve missed. I thought I could finally have that chance again.”

His words sounded like they came from somewhere far away. Muffled, and hard to hear, but was half-delivered so she could understand a quarter of his sentiment even though she didn’t want any of it. Not anymore at least.

“I-...I’m not asking you to forgive me right now. I don’t know if you ever will and that’s...that’s fine. I’d understand that,” his voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “But please...visit your mother from time to time.”

Her heart plummeted.

“You don’t have to visit me anymore,” he said. “I wouldn’t want you to carry that burden. But please visit your mother. I know she misses you dearly.”

The air between them suddenly shifted. She felt it ease out with the calm pattering of raindrops above the shade of the roof. The tension dissipated and her shoulders slackened as she lowered her guard. And she knew this was the only time it was possible between them because this was the only thing they had left to share and the only thing that could quite possibly bring them together for an hour or two; that is, an identical hole in their hearts.

“I’ll stop by before I leave,” she said solemnly, making her way back inside.

“Wait,” he called out. “I want you to have this.” He handed her a photograph of them. Her family. Her mother and father on either side, their cheeks pressed against hers like a completely normal and happy family. This was her family, she thought, staring at the picture. This was what her family looked like back in a time where everything was perfectly fine. Back when she could still dance with her mom and feel her hand holding her own and she could still smile as bright as she had in this picture. Back when she could still talk to her dad, ask him about his work, ask him if she could ride on his shoulders whenever it was his turn to pick her up at school. This was their life before. Momo ran her thumb against the spots that have begun to deteriorate and fade, against the curve of her mother’s smile, against the small recorded date from the camera that read ‘1998’. Her life twenty-four years ago when she was six.

“You don’t have to put it in a frame or anything. You can even just hide if you want,” he said, his thin chapped lips pressed against each other. “Just keep it with you.”

She managed a weak nod and went her way back to the front. He tailed behind her, conscious of their distance and stopped at the gate.

She didn’t know what it was that gave her pause as she was about to open her car door. Pity was the first suspect. Pity for this man standing behind the gate, watching his first child walk away. But then she looked back at the house and everything he had now, and almost immediately the feeling evaporated. It wasn’t pity. Definitely not love. Definitely not regret. Momo raised her eyes, and for the first time that day, she looked at him clearly. His hair, as grey as the clouds, receding above his hairline; his cheeks, still as round but more defined now as his skin drooped; his eyes, slanted down, traces of sadness still glistening in their corners that have cracked. He noticed her looking, and immediately his lips upturned to a gentle smile and his eyes arched with it. He raised one hand weakly and waved goodbye, knowing, believing that this was the last time he’d do this for her.

And then she saw it. What Jihyo might’ve seen with her parents whenever they bid her goodbye. The quiet surrender that came with the wisdom to accept the things they can’t change, and a sort of graciousness embedded in their smiles as if to thank them for visiting. To thank them for spending a day or two in the impossibly busy life they’ve built around themselves.

It was forgiveness that stopped her. Far from whole, and to such a small degree that her resentment still boiled at her fingertips. But it was forgiveness nonetheless. Maybe for the graduation. Maybe for missing her thirteenth birthday. Maybe for the few nights where he wasn’t at the house. Maybe for lying that he didn’t have work today. Momo pulled her keys out from the car door and walked back to him. “You have your phone?” She asked, her voice still low.

He looked at her curiously for a second before taking his phone out of his pocket and giving it to her through the steel bars of the gate. She typed in her number and gave it back wordlessly, walking away back to her car. She got in and started the engine, thankfully cooperative now with the battery fully charged. Before she could catch a glimpse of his face again, Momo drove out of their street and back to the circuit, back to the main road, on her way to visit her mother.

It was still cloudy when she reached the town cemetery. The sun was still hiding but thankfully the rain had fully stopped, leaving small puddles in the parking lot and damp grass that brushed at her feet. The maple tree was still there. Leafless from last year’s winter, but had already begun budding. Her gaze wandered across the empty field, trying to see if anything had changed over the last two decades but couldn’t recognize anything she hadn’t already seen in her memory. The maple forest encircling the area, the masoned pathway from the large black entrance gate that sectioned the field, the octagonal fountain at the center, the little splashes of colors from flowers above the depressing lawn. Twenty years had passed since the funeral, yet upon looking at everything that stood there now, it seemed like it only happened yesterday.

If she closed her eyes right then, she would’ve been able to tell where everyone who attended stood when they lowered her casket. She could still point out who was crying and who wasn’t. Who was looking at the casket, and who was staring off into the distance looking like they wanted to be anywhere but there. She remembers what flowers were thrown. Most of them, roses, some of them lilies, and a few were carnations.

But she knew none of those were her mother’s favorite. None of them threw in daffodils. Bright yellow ones were her favorite amongst all the colors. Like the one in her vase right now. Bright and yellow and fresh like a herald of Spring, standing tall and humble like the woman it was meant for.

Momo sat down on the grass beside the black marbled gravestone, breathing in a passing breeze that swayed the branches above her head. The grass pricked at her palms but she paid it no mind as she closed her eyes, the swirl of emotions beginning to rise from some place she hadn’t gotten in touch with in a long while. Her thoughts then mixed in with everything, the words she wanted to say, the words she couldn’t. But with everything now flooding her head, she didn’t know where to begin. Eventually, they all got jumbled around like a pile of tiny jigsaw puzzles and she didn’t know which one to place first and which one comes next.

“Whatcha doin?”

Momo opened her eyes and saw a little girl wearing a yellow jacket over her white frilly sundress, standing just as tall as her when sitting down on the ground. She looked to be around six or seven years old, with short black hair that had been pinned to one side, and curious eyes that showed no signs of caution towards a stranger like her.

Momo gave a polite smile and said, “Just talking to my mom.”

The girl tilted her head. “With your eyes closed?

She nodded.

“Is she ugly?”

Momo blinked at the question, almost laughing. “No,” she said. “No, she was very, very pretty.”

The girl looked even more confused. “Then why don’t you wanna see her?”

She smiled and brought her gaze onto the gravestone. She knew what she was asking, yet somehow it echoed on in her head until she was left asking the same question. “I do see her,” she answered. “I see her when I close my eyes because she’s in here,” Momo tapped her temple.

“Your mom’s inside your head?”

She laughed. “In a way, yeah. That’s why I always get to see her.”

The girl scrunched up her face as if she couldn’t get any weirder in her eyes. “My mom’s over there,” she pointed over to the woman who was talking animatedly with two other women she figured to be her close friends. “I don’t think she can fit inside a head. Unless maybe it’s a whale head.”

“That’s true.”

“She talks to dad all the time when we visit him over there,” she pointed at a spot in the open field. “She doesn’t close her eyes though.”

“How does she talk to him?”

The girl shrugged and knelt on the grass beside the daffodils. “She told me this was a magic stone,” she pointed at the gravestone. “And you talk to it like a telephone and dad would hear the message on the other side.”

She smiled and nodded, running her fingers against her mother’s name etched in gold. “Yeah. I guess that’s one way to talk to him.”

“He hasn’t replied to me though,” she pouted, pulling off some of the grass. “I talk to him every time we’re here, but I haven’t heard him say anything to me.”

Momo nodded thoughtfully and thought of her words. “You know, I tried that too when I was your age. I talked to my mom using this,” she knocked against the marble. “But I never got any replies.”

The girl looked at her all worried. “How come it works for momma?”

She straightened up. “I never got any replies at first. But as I grew older, whenever I’d close my eyes and talk to her, she’d start replying sometimes. And now, I can just talk to her whenever I want.”

“Does that mean I should close my eyes?” She leaned forward.

Momo smiled again. “It means you should just keep talking to him. Just keep talking to him with your eyes closed or use this magic stone right here. He’ll reply to you someday.”

She looked down at the grass, seemingly in thought. “But what if he doesn’t?”

“Do you love your dad?”

She nodded.

Momo pulled out a single stem of daffodil from the vase and handed it to her. “Then he’ll talk to you,” she beamed.

As if on cue, the girl’s mother called out. She bounced back up and waved goodbye, running along across the field. Momo watched as they walked away towards the gates, her little hand holding the stem while the other held by her mother. And then she wondered, since when had talking to her mother become so complicated? And why should it be, when it was already impossible enough to communicate as it was? She sat up straight and crossed her legs, suddenly feeling like a child again. She placed a hand over the “magic stone” and let her words come out. “It’s been a while, mom.”

She told her everything. Her job at Peach Cosmetics; how she met the love of her life; how they traveled to Italy for a week; how she lost her; why she moved to Aunt’s cottage; about her job now and about the upcoming exhibit at the end of the week; about her father; and about how she misses her everyday but promise she’d keep dancing - she’d keep moving. By the end of it, the clouds had already parted for the orange sun floating above the horizon. Momo stood up and patted the grass off, leaving a small wooden carving of a daffodil from the block of wood she brought that morning. She smiled goodbye one last time and made her way back home, promising she’d come visit again next month when the buds of the maple tree flourish in green.

The next few days of her short vacation were spent polishing her pieces that haven’t been varnished and varnishing the pieces that have been polished. She spent a whole day finishing the bust of the woman in her work room and decided to enter it last-minute in the exhibit. When she wasn’t working, she’d hang out with the other sculptors in the company besides Jihyo who was out of town to visit her parents. Jeongyeon would drop by from time to time as she made deliveries to the city and back. Thankfully, nothing changed between them too much. She stopped making advances, but was still undoubtedly the same wise-crack smarty pants woman who’d still about that eat-and-run agenda she had at Mr. Choi’s party.

“Says the one who was waiting at the curb before I got there,” Momo retorted when Jeongyeon brought the topic up again one afternoon as she stopped by their workshop mid-delivery.

“And how do you know I wasn’t just being considerate of where I smoke?” She raised a brow with that smirk of hers like she was so smooth, gulping on her can of Cola.

“Uh, because when I asked you if you were about to leave, you said yes?”

Jeongyeon froze, the aluminum rim still pressed on her lips. “...Alright yeah I did say that.” They laughed. “In my defence, I got there way earlier than you did and spent more time there before leaving. You can’t classify that as an eat-and-run.”

Momo shrugged, taking a sip of her Dr. Pepper. “And in my defence, I barely knew the guy.”

Jeonyeon threw her head back and laughed. “Okay true. Savage as , but true.” She leaned off the wall and threw her can into the trash. “I’ll be heading out first,” she said, walking away back to her pickup. “Catch you later, accomplice.”

“Say hi to Nan and Bbosong for me.”

“Will do.”

She couldn’t explain how she was feeling when the day of the exhibit arrived. It was her first time being invited to participate in one and she never thought the day would come. Back then, all she saw in her hobby was taking online commissions at most for small pieces as gifts of gratitude or because they thought she could make something cute like small animals they could turn into keychains. Now, people come to her, mostly in person to ask if she could make something to go with their living room or bed room or garden. Some ask for small arches that would be placed at pathways leading up to their house and others ask for big sculpted animals with her “artistic flare” to be placed inside their homes, visible to these people’s lives and to anyone who’d walk in. The thought of creating something that would become a part of someone’s home for decades to come filled her with a frightening sense of pride and responsibility she never felt before. She kept this in mind every time she’d work on a piece. Any piece. Be it a keychain, a decorative add-on in homes, a bust work, a full body sculpture, or a piece that’s bigger than her. Everything she made, she made carefully, knowing they’d become a part of someone’s life no matter how insignificant they may turn out to be. In this, she found herself connected, in an indistinct kind of way to all these people, as if through the hard work she put in and the skill she honed, a part of her had somehow become a part of other people’s lives. She knew then after submitting her first ever commission two years ago, that she’d stepped into something bigger. Bigger than her life in that apartment, bigger than her cubicle, bigger than that city. Before she realized it, she was already putting more of herself out there through these pieces, made in a small room in a small town. And so Momo knew that this exhibit, even though it was only a small one held in the town’s local museum, was her first big step forward.

The crowd was small and scattered, but expected. There were no speeches given other than the introduction the head of the company - Miss Son, gave to the artists. After that, everyone was free to roam around in the halls, mulling about and pointing at the pieces displayed. Momo stood in an unlit corner of the hall, hands going in and out of the pocket of her maroon blazer, unsure what to do with them as she eyed every person who stepped within five feet of her pieces. She had endured the butterflies in her stomach since the introduction but it only got worse every time someone approached her corner of the exhibit. She’d watch them closely from a safe distance, noting every twitch their body made as they looked at her sculptures. Every wave of their finger, every nod, every indiscernible tilt of their head. All of which just made her chew her lip and sweat in place like a constipated raccoon waiting in the dark.

The reactions were mixed, so far in a good way that none of them had shaken their head sideways or leaked blood from any of their orifices. She watched a young woman walk up to her piece that showed a mother holding her child up in the air with glee in their faces. The woman took about two minutes staring at it intently before she placed a hand over her chest. Momo wanted to walk up to her right then and explain it better than what she wrote in the description card with the display. She wanted to tell her the story of how it came to be and what it meant to her, hoping it would resonate with what the woman was probably feeling. Then she figured she was probably just fixing a button on her blouse, so she let the woman leave in peace. The urge kept resurfacing throughout the rest of the afternoon. Her, biting on her nails whilst trying to make up her mind about whether or not she’d explain a piece to someone, all the while fearing that she might come off as some sort of religious cult member asking if they have a moment to talk.

A sharp nudge to her side jolted her up. “Can you stop scaring these people away? You look like a serial stalker.” Jihyo whispered, looking fresh and not nervous at all in her purple button up and belted pencil skirt.

She huffed out a sigh she’d been holding. “How the hell do you do these things? Like do I just walk up to people and start explaining like a saleswoman in a mall, or do I stand there like a nodding statue and explain if someone asks, or should I just not give a and hang outside for the rest of the day?” She asked, genuinely considering the last option.

Jihyo laughed at her dilemma as she placed a hand on her shoulder. “First step, breathe in deep.”

She followed, holding it in for a slow second.

“...Then out,” Jhyo instructed. “Second step, let’s take a breather outside for a sec.”

“Oh thank god.”

Outside was dyed in yellow on its way to a light orange as the afternoon hit 3. They sat on the steps leading up to the backdoor, near the driveway where trucks would park to deliver museum pieces. Further back at the edge of the parking lot was a pine forest, one of many, stretching out towards the warm glow of the sunlight, filtering it like beams shining in-between trunks that formed shapes on their skin. Jihyo bought her a bottle of water which she finished in two gulps, taking only a single cycle of breath between. They tried talking about the exhibit, but couldn’t keep the topic rolling because both of them already knew enough about each other’s pieces but hardly had any clue what people thought of them. It was clear that Jihyo had a lot more experience with these.

“How are you not nervous about all this?” She asked, chin on her hand.

Jihyo had splayed her legs two or three steps down and was leaning back, both elbows resting on a step without a care for her purple sleeves. “How come you are?”

“Uh, because they’re putting up my pieces in a museum for people to see? And I don’t know if they like it? And I don’t know if my pieces even deserve to be in there?”

“They were picked for a reason, Momo. Don’t take the Chief Son’s assessment too lightly,” she said. “And what do you mean ‘if they like it’? Other than the level of craftsmanship put into your work, which, may I remind you, the chief already certified, you shouldn’t even be thinking if people like your work or not.”

She sighed, ducking her head against her knees. “Easy for you to say. You’ve been participating in these exhibits for years.”

“While the experience definitely helps, I never once got nervous about people not liking my work.”

“Bull,” she mumbled.

Jihyo scoffed. “Momo, why do you think people make art?”

She thought for a moment and turned her head to face Jihyo. “To express themselves? Or to express things in their own perception.”

“Exactly,” she said. “We don’t make these pieces for people to just ‘like’ it. That’s like saying you can’t be yourself because you want others to like you. If you’re so worried about people liking or disliking what you make, how do you expect to express yourself freely?”

She kept silent in thought, her eyes squinting against the soft sunlight filtering through the woods.

“What you should be concerned about is whether or not your pieces can evoke emotions.”

“Like disgust?” She joked.

“Yes, actually,” Jihyo answered matter-of-factly. “Disgust, repulsion, queasiness. Something so horrifying that’ll make them throw up right there.”

Momo gave her an incredulous look. “Seriously?”

“The whole point of this is to make them feel something. Whether it’s disgust from a beautiful rose, or joy from like, a post-apocalyptic scene of total chaos. What’s important is that it evokes something from them. And those placards? The ones you wrote as a description to your pieces? That’s just your interpretation of your own pieces. Not everyone will see it the way you do and that’s perfectly normal.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, letting Jihyo’s words seep into her as they listened to birds chirp from the forest and the pines whisper with the wind. Her thoughts went back to her highschool days. Quiet, shy, always on her guard, always ready to walk away from people who’d mention her mother, or worse, her father. And if she couldn’t escape from them, she’d simply offer a tight smile and answer their questions with a nod or a small ‘no’. Once she’d gotten her first odd-job in the city, her memories of highschool had been ebbed away like a soft, fragile sandcastle weathering a high tide. In the city, no one knew her. No one knew about her parents and the ones that asked, asked briefly. And for a while, it was like her whole life had hit a reset point which eventually led to her becoming so open to work as a telemarketer. She didn’t have to hide too much of herself anymore.

“Oh christ there you are.” One of their acquaintances from the company popped her head from the back door and was looking at Momo. “Why the hell aren’t you at your post? People have been asking about your pieces.”

Momo glanced at Jihyo, waiting to see if she had anything to say about it.

Jihyo snorted and stood up, dusting her skirt and elbows. “What, they can’t read the description? It’s there for a reason, y’know.”

The girl rolled her eyes. “It’s there to explain the gist of what the piece is about. That doesn’t cover all questions about it - y’know."

Momo saw Jihyo’s brows furrow, her eyes raring to fire back. “Yeah I’ll be there in a sec.,” Momo cut in.

The woman ducked back inside, safely dodging the bullet.

Jihyo huffed, placing a hand over her hip. “I swear, it’s like she’s keeping all those carving blocks up her .”

Momo chuckled as she got up. “I’ll catch you after closing,” she said. “Thanks, by the way,” she smiled and held up her empty plastic bottle before throwing it in the trash.

She made her way through a dimmed corridor leading to the main hall where the light of the orange sun pierced through panels of sunroofs in the ceiling, casting its otherworldly glow on the sculptures. Momo walked back to her own corner of the hall, looking around because she was expecting to find a group of people like the woman had said but instead found it deserted, most likely because the exhibit would be ending soon. Everyone had left for the exit and she had a strong urge to give that woman a piece of hers and Jihyo’s minds. She could’ve walked straight ahead because she knew all the other artists would be at the entrance by now and the woman seemed like a stickler for rules. But instead, she turned heel and walked back to her area, wanting to find Jihyo instead, wanting to apologize for saving that woman’s from her lashing.

She must’ve missed her on her first pass through that hall. Must’ve been so frustrated thinking the place was deserted, when it actually wasn’t.

She slowed her steps and began to recall a few of her already practiced speeches earlier that morning as she approached the woman. She felt the butterflies in her stomach wake up once again but she summoned Jihyo’s words to calm them down.

Momo breathed in to greet her, then froze as the faintest sigh of a spring breeze passed through the meter of space between them. Cedarwood.

An immediate numbness spread through her body. Everything around her vanished. The spaces caught in her peripheral vision became blurred and out of focus like someone splashed water on her face and all she could see now was everything in front of her, and everything in front of her she knew belonged to a dream she woke up from two years ago. She didn’t know what hit her then, but it came with the sudden jolt and almost nauseating pulse of fear as if someone opened the hatch of a plane and she was peering down on the mass of land below, impossibly far from reach but would only take one more step to start the inevitable collision. And what came after fear was something bordering on bliss that shook her core and awoke every nerve in her body all at the same time. She felt it start inside her chest that had all at once tightened like the condensed sun, expanding through her lungs that couldn’t keep up with the demand for air, paralyzing her muscles like a jolt from a stun gun, before prickling at the very ends of her skin.

She couldn’t move for what seemed like hours as the seconds stretched on infinitely through the space between them. And then something, almost like the beckoning call of reality pulled her back in terror. What if this wasn’t her? What if this was just another cruel act of a grander being, playing with her life just like they used to because everything was falling into place again? Just when she had finally started to settle down with her life again and had decided to move forward, what if they pulled this horrible trick to drag her back down and cut open the scar? What then if this wasn’t her?

The mere thought of it struck something deep inside of her that let out an aching, almost desperate gasp from like a prayer to God and to whoever saint they visited in that little chapel in Italy two years ago.

The woman turned. Momo breathed out.

It was Nayeon.

They both looked at each other with the same stunned expression, Nayeon’s eyes wide and shimmering that she could almost see her own reflection in them. Momo watched them soften, her heart melting under her gaze. Nayeon pressed her lips together and smiled, sending her back to that night two years ago in her apartment where they shared a cup of coffee in that small kitchen.

“Momo.”

She felt something finally burst with the tension, followed by a sob, then her tears. And so Momo cried in front of her, desperately trying to wipe her cheeks dry, relieved that they were alone in that section. She willed herself not to look away. To not bow or turn her head in any other direction, because even now, she was scared that if she did, this might all disappear again. Because the fear of Nayeon vanishing in front of her was still too real and too painful not to consider that she cried these out as well. But then she felt the familiar embrace and the familiar warmth envelope her, and the scent from a time long ago that whispered a promise that this was real. A promise that everything right in front of her wasn’t a cruel dream, and that she was there, and that they were there, and that everything was alright in the world again.

They stayed motionless for what felt like an eternity. Nothing but Nayeon’s arms wrapped tightly around her; warm and soft but with a firmness that attested the reality of it all. And with the same firmness, Momo wrapped her arms around Nayeon’s waist, settling her palms against her back, gripping onto her top like it was the most important thing in the world.

“You’re here…" Momo managed to say between the sobs. “You’re here.”

“I’m here,” Nayeon promised, her voice just as shaky.

The silence stretched on, and it’s as if time itself had slowed down like it owed this exact moment to the both of them. When Momo finally calmed down a bit, she took a half-step back and held Nayeon’s face against her palms, feeling the heat from her wet cheeks that crinkled with a smile.

Then, as if gravity had finally dropped them back to earth, Momo remembered. “Wait...if you’re here, does that mean…” She looked at her tentatively, heart beating in .

Nayeon held both her hands and the seconds it took to lower them felt so painfully slow that she had already begun to lean away. Before she could, Nayeon gave her a smile that carried everything she wanted to hear for the past two years. “We won,” she said. “He won’t bother us any longer.”

Momo blinked, still in disbelief. “How-..how’d you-...”

“I’ll tell you everything later,” she said, her smile not leaving as her eyes seemed to take her in. “I missed you.”

She felt a lump start to form in . She didn’t know how to reply. Slowly, her vision was returning and she saw the museum again and saw her pieces displayed behind Nayeon. One of them, the bust that resembled the woman in front her. The one she carved throughout those nights alone in her work room, recalling her image that had already begun to rust, thinking she’d never see her again and that the worst had already happened without her knowing. It took her a moment to realize and it was like looking back at the ground after staring directly at the sun for too long.

“Momo?”

She took one shaky breath, stepping back as she wrapped her arms around her herself. “I missed you too,” she said, looking away.

Nayeon seemed to realize where the sudden coldness came from. She hung her head and didn’t press for an explanation. “Can we talk somewhere?”

Momo nodded and motioned for Nayeon to follow her outside to the parking lot. Jihyo wasn't there anymore and so she made a note to send a message telling she'd be going home earlier. Nayeon said she’d follow in her own car which saved Momo the trouble of getting into any conversations on the way back to the cottage. By the time they got there, the sun had turned into a deep, vibrant orange that settled onto the lush green of the pine forest and had scattered its light across the placid lake that reflected the cloudless sky. They parked their cars side by side and got out, Momo, still avoiding eye contact as she welcomed Nayeon in through the front door.

“We can sit out there if you want,” Momo offered, noticing that Nayeon was looking out towards the lake through the glass door.

“It’s a lovely view,” Nayeon said.

Momo shrugged her blazer off and flung it onto the couch as she made her way over to the kitchen. She opened the cupboards and found herself smiling at the question she was about to ask.

“Coffee or tea?”

Nayeon turned to look at her and for a brief moment, they shared the same knowing smile that had survived a lifetime ago. 

“Coffee please,” Nayeon answered, but she was already putting in the teaspoons into the mug.

A while later, Momo stepped outside to the porch with their coffee in hand. Nayeon took the seat facing the lake and she pulled up the chair opposite. Before she could stop herself, her mind had already put a label on it. ‘Nayeon’s Chair’. They sat in cautious silence for a while, sipping on their mugs until Nayeon opened up.

“You grew your hair,” Nayeon said, her lips curved to an easy smile which of course made her smile as well.

“You cut yours.”

Nayeon ran a casual hand through her hair with a familiar confidence but with a faint air of bashfulness she often sees during first dates in movies. “I hope you’re not too weirded out.”

“Just a bit much,” she said and got the laugh she wanted from Nayeon; still bright and carefree.

“I’ll take that over ‘too much’.”

She chuckled. “No, I’m kidding, it suits you,” she said, looking at her unabashed because she had an excuse now.

Nayeon smiled and looked back at her. The same look she remembers back when they first met in Lapin et Pêche. “Thank you,” she said and let a pause hover over them. “How’ve you been?”

“Good, good,” she nodded but lowered her gaze on the table. “Been doing well in the company.”

“So I heard from Mina,” she said. “I actually didn’t hear about your exhibit until yesterday.”

“It’s more of the company’s exhibit,” Momo corrected. “I’m just one of seven.”

When she didn’t hear a reply, she took a chance and glanced up, catching Nayeon looking at her with a smile on her face. “I’m proud of you, Momo. I really am.”

She gave a small smile despite herself. Before they could venture to the hundreds of questions they had in store, Momo asked the question from earlier. “So...what happened with…”

Nayeon took a large sip as if wetting for a long story. She stared pensively at her mug, her thumb moving idly against the handle. She took a deep breath, and started from the beginning.

She told her about hiring a P.I. to gather evidence against him. Their plan of recording audio of his threats and uncovering the more shadier business she’d suspected for a while. After months of covert intel gathering, they finally found the key piece of evidence that linked him to a drug trafficking ring. And although he only had a small hand to play, the amount of evidence was more than enough to strip his mayoral candidacy and his seat in the city council. This then of course, was brought up to a higher court where none of his “buddies” presided. Everything that had happened for the last two years seemed to have culminated just last week when the district court sentenced him to ten years in prison for violating the Narcotics Control Act plus another two for extortion and another one for criminal intimidation, all three adding up to millions of fines Nayeon was sure he couldn’t pay. Needless to say, the prenup contract they signed before had been nullified immediately.

“Holy …” Momo felt her head ache at the mere thought of Nayeon almost marrying the devil himself. “You...God you almost married-...ing hell…” She said breathlessly.

Nayeon looked down at her mug, her face brooding, trying her best not to let the fear she kept for two years show.

Momo placed a hand over Nayeon’s on the table, feeling it tremble for a second but quickly eased as she held her. Nayeon looked up, her eyes lighting up with a calm smile. “I should’ve suspected him sooner,” she said, looking away.

“Hey, you couldn’t have known he did all those things. He kept you out of that loop, remember? And it’s far too dangerous to poke around on your own anyway.”

Nayeon shook her head, staring far off towards the lake. “I was so...blinded by my own career. So desperate to keep it alive that I was actually ready to pay with a loveless marriage,” she scoffed but Momo could see her hazel eyes shimmering against the soft light. “...And I was so scared to lose those stupid connections and clients of his that I didn’t realize they might’ve just been as corrupt and dangerous as that . Christ- I was building their own ing houses. Their own villas and summer getaways. I’m surprised I wasn’t thrown in with him.”

“Hey don’t say that,” Momo squeezed her hand and stared at her long enough so Nayeon could notice. “Listen, you did nothing wrong, alright? You worked hard to earn your degree and get your license and you worked your way up like everyone does. That’s all on you. That’s your own effort and no one can fault you for wanting to climb higher in your career. No can fault you for being passionate about a job you’ve dreamed of for years.” Her lips quirked up to a smile. “Didn’t I say it before? That’s one of the things I like about you.”

Nayeon bowed her head again but she could see her smile forming. She cleared after a while and raised her chin to look at Momo. “But that’s the end of him,” she said firmly. “I may need to take a break from work for a while to let things settle down. And I mean, I’ve lost a good portion of my clients but that’s more of a relief now that I know they’re all somehow tied to that prick.” She took a sip. “I still have a few clean ones situated back in the capital so maybe I can work from there,” her voice trailed off. Nayeon was staring down at her mug again, at her hands that’ve wrapped around it. Momo noticed the slight furrow in her brows and somehow, she knew the part that was coming next.

“I asked Mina to find me a new apartment,” she said. “I just can’t stand the place anymore. Too heavy.”

“I imagine,” she replied, unsure if it’s the caffeine that was starting to make her nervous.

As if sensing this, Nayeon deflected. “How’s Sana?”

“She’s good,” Momo answered as she stood up, hoping a few steps would do something to calm her down. “She visits with Tzuyu every after-Christmas and they stay here until New Year’s.” She walked towards the railings, leaning her elbows against them as she gazed far towards the lake and the pine forest.

She heard Nayeon get up after a while, walking towards her side. “Any rings on their fingers?”

Momo nodded with a smile, remembering the first Christmas they spent here together when they both told her about the good news and Sana wouldn’t stop squealing about it. “Still engaged, but I reckon they’ll tie the knot pretty soon.”

“They really do make a great couple.”

She nodded again.

“How long have they been engaged?” Nayeon asked.

“Two years.”

A long silence hung over them with nothing but the chirps of birds flying above the lake and the occasional whispers of pines around them. “Two years,” Nayeon sighed with the weight of the two words pressing down on the both of them even now.

Two years, she might’ve repeated, but was too scared to say it back, so she simply nodded again towards the lake and the light of the setting sun.

“Momo.”

She turned her head half-way, unable to meet her eyes.

“I owe you an apology,” she said. “For everything. For putting you through so much pain that no one deserves. Especially not you.”

“Stop it. It’s not your fault.”

“Maybe not directly. But I had a part to play in this. I know it well enough and can own up to my mistakes and shortcomings,” she said resolutely. “And I...I told you not to wait for me back then. Even though some selfish part of me still kept wishing day after day that you would. And even now I’m still hoping. Even now, I still love you.”

Momo looked at her then, Nayeon’s eyes nervous but remained fixed onto hers, her lips pressed tightly. “But what I’m getting at is, if you can forgive me...and if by some miracle, you still feel the same way about me as I do about you...and now that everything’s over…”

She felt a lump sit in .

“Would you want to move back to the city with me?”

It still stunned her even though she’d expected it. Even though she’d asked herself the same question before. It stunned her that this question even existed in the world and that she was the one who had to answer it. How could any human being - especially someone like her - be expected to answer this? And right then, everything and everything seemed to flash before her eyes. Everything for the past three years since she’d met this woman who changed her life, shaped it in a manner that no one else ever had to such a degree that she would be a completely different person living a completely different life if it weren’t for a single call. Before her now, Momo saw the expanse of time like a fig tree in a book she’d read before. If she hadn’t went with her aunt that summer; if she hadn’t moved out from her parent’s house; if she hadn’t moved in to that particular city; if she hadn’t dropped out of college; if she hadn’t met Sana; if she hadn’t broken up with Dahyun; if she hadn’t applied for that job; if she hadn’t dialed that number during that exact day at that exact time; if she hadn’t made the effort of meeting this woman -- what would her life be?

And now, just as before, she was standing here again, at the crossroads that seemed to divert so far away from each other that they looked nearly opposites. One path, leading back to where it all started and where it all ended. This time, she’d be moving in with Nayeon, just like their plan two years ago. She’d be closer to Sana and Tzuyu and Mina. The other path, showing the view before her now. The lake, the pine trees, the cottage. Jihyo, Jeongyeon, her mother, and the work she’d dreamed of for so many nights before she even met Nayeon; a chance to become a part of something bigger.

“Momo?”

Nayeon’s voice seemed to call from somewhere far away now. She was staring at her, with her warm eyes that she’d seen a thousand different times. With her lips that knew her own, with her hair that always caught the light of the sun, with her nose, her ears, her skin, and skin, and skin.

And the longer she looked at her, the more she felt her heart that had already mended begin to tear apart. Slowly, as if tearing off a whole sheet of flypaper inch by inch from an exposed skin of a wound. It hurt because she knew what she was going to answer. Because she knew what she wanted to answer, but couldn’t bring herself to say it, couldn’t bring the words into reality. But the pain had become too much and so Momo had to clutch her chest just to breathe in, just to keep herself alive. Despite this, she wouldn’t look away from Nayeon. She kept her eyes steady, taking everything in with the ache in her lungs. And when she finally breathed out, the tears followed.

“I...I can’t.”

She gasped, forcing air into her lungs, then repeated with a shaky voice. “I can’t.”

Momo saw Nayeon’s face change into shock and almost immediately, she felt a strong urge to look away, but didn’t. “I can’t,” she repeated. “I can’t-...I can’t move back there, Nayeon.”

She waited for her to answer but when the silence went on, she continued, her voice stuttering out of control. “I have-...I love what I’m doing right now. And I love the company and- and I love the people and the town and-...” She took in one shaky breath.

“And I love you,” she said, fighting back the urgent need to cry because she knew that if she gave in now, the tears would never stop. “I love you. I really do and I’ve...I’ve tried so hard to tell myself that it’s over and that two years is enough and I should stop feeling this way and that you’ve probably moved on by now so I should stop. I should stop.” Momo bit down her lip. “But I can’t. I still love you. I still do. And when I saw you, it’s like nothing changed. I still love you no less than I did two years ago and I doubt with every fiber of my being that I’d love you any less in five or ten or a hundred years.”

She clenched her fists; her breathing came in short sad sobs. “And knowing that...scares me, Nayeon. It scares me so much now because I know back then, I’d give you everything and anything. I’d give up my whole life to follow you to the ends of the world and I’d give you my life. I’d give it to you in a heartbeat. Even if you don’t ask for it, I’d give it to you. And now that I’ve found something here, something I really want to do and something that makes me truly happy with people I care about and a community I’ve grown to love, I-...” She swallowed hard. “...I don’t think I can give this up just for you anymore.”

She looked at Nayeon who just stood there, looking stunned. Then something in her seemed to snap that told her she was making a mistake. That she’d regret this. And that now only a single thread of muscle was keeping her heart from being torn asunder. Before she could stop herself, Momo took a step forward, and with trembling hands, clung onto Nayeon’s top. She hung her head low as she cried, unable to look at her anymore.

Nayeon was quick to wrap her in a tight embrace, something she knew she didn’t deserve but leaned onto it nonetheless. “Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Nayeon whispered against her ear, her voice soft. Always so soft.

She didn’t deserve this. And every time Nayeon’s hand her head, she felt the growing urge to take back everything she said. To take it all back and return to the city with her. To tell her she was sorry and that nothing would ever get in-between their way ever again. But she didn’t. All she could do now was cry against her shoulder and pray to whatever god was listening that this moment would never end.

“It’s okay,” Nayeon kept whispering, her voice still soft but cracked from time to time. “Didn’t I tell you? You’re braver than you think, Hirai Momo,” she said with a smile in her tone. “You’re so brave, and kind, and forgiving.”

Momo shook her head, her hands gripping the back of her top.

“And I’m so proud of you. I’m so proud of you for everything you’ve accomplished,” she whispered. “I didn’t think I’d find you. Back then, I thought I had run out of time and that maybe I had missed every opportunity to meet you because I was so focused on my work. I thought this must’ve been the trade-off for my career. To give up on finding you,” she said. “But somehow, it was you who found me. And then you showed me just how much I was giving up on; how much of myself I’d lose if I gave up on this.”

Nayeon leaned back and held face, her eyes wet with tears but held her gaze steady. “I don’t want to lose you again, Momo. I know I wasn’t brave enough before. But now, I want to be. For you. Just like you always have been for me,” she said. “That’s why, I’ll move in here with you.”

Momo looked at her, half-confused, half-stunned, convinced that she heard it wrong.

Nayeon simply smiled amidst her tears. “That is...if you’ll have me.”

Before she could let out a cry, Momo asked, “But...wait no, what about your work? What about- what about your clients? All your work is there a-and-”

Nayeon let out a quick laugh. “My work is wherever I am, Momo. I have my degree, I have my license. There’s another city not far from here which has a firm I can apply to.”

“But you-...but I thought you wanted to be a solo-practitioner?”

Nayeon simply shrugged as if that was the easiest choice to make. “Maybe I’m tired of riding solo,” she smiled.

“But...no wait, a-are you sure? You-”

“Momo,” she rubbed her thumb across her cheek. “I remember you said it back then, ‘it can be simple’,” she said. “I want it to be simple. I want us to be simple. Can’t we be?”

The orange glow of the sun had turned to a light purple - the last color of day before turning over to the black of night. In the few minutes that it colored the entire sky, it cast upon them the last few ounces of light the world had to give them. And so she took in the sight of Nayeon’s face, as Nayeon took in hers, their gaze, threaded across time itself. She found herself falling in love all over again as she had two years ago in that impossibly cramped cubicle. And in her eyes, she saw it happening again and again across the countless months and years before them. And beyond it, she saw herself falling in love with Im Nayeon in a different life, in a different time, in a different reality because this was, and will always be, an irrefutable fact of the universe. Just as sure as time moves forward, and just as sure as the sun will set, and the night will end. Just as sure as the snow from winter will melt into spring. Just as sure as the leaves of Ginkgo trees turn yellow in fall, and as sure as there will be stars up in the sky; she’d fall in love with her because this was the truth in the world that not even they or the heavens could deny.

She smiled at the thought, almost laughing as it dawned on her like the one true answer to everything and everything. This was simple. This was what they’ve been looking for all along. What eluded them from the beginning, and what she so stubbornly blinded herself from, and what everyone else was scrambling to find. Simple. And so, her words came with nothing more; nothing less. “We can.”

Nayeon smiled, and she swore that not even the night could hide it.

Finally, as the last flicker of sunlight streaked across the horizon, Momo pulled Nayeon in for a kiss she never knew was needed to feel whole again. She kissed her long, and slow, without any desperation that came with their reunion, because she knew now more than ever - felt it with every inch of her skin and bones - that the time that had been stolen from them years ago had been granted back and no one can ever take it away from them again.

Up above, the stars began to shine down on them like they had two years ago on the night she walked Nayeon out from her apartment, fearing she’d never see her again. She could never see most of the stars back in the city, but the few she saw back then, she was certain were the ones looking down on them now as they held each other in their arms. Looking up now, they seemed like they belonged to a lifetime ago, but at the same time belongs in the present and in the future. They’ll persist. This much, she was sure of.

“Hey,” Nayeon leaned back and reached for something in her pocket. “Before I forget,” she said, holding out her hand.

The rabbit sculpture.

“I always kept it with me. For good luck.”

Momo felt something well up inside her again as her smile grew. This too, will persist. She shook her head and pushed it back to Nayeon. “That’s your 31st birthday gift. Keep it,” she said. “And happy birthday,” she pulled Nayeon in for another kiss.

Around them, the pine trees swayed as an evening breeze rolled on through the forest, gliding through the moonlit lake as it carried the sweet scent of spring that permeated through the night. Spring meant new beginnings. This much, she still believed in. New beginnings, new opportunities, and new adventures. And as another breeze passed them by, they held each other’s hands for warmth, walking side by side as they stepped back inside the cottage.

3 YEARS LATER

“Are you sure you don’t want to bring any more leftovers?”

“You mean besides everything else you threw into these containers? Yeah. We’re sure, Sana,” Momo said, juggling the stack of said containers on both hands.

“What about you? You want any of this pesto?” Sana asked Mina who was sitting on the dining chair, holding her own container of brownies.

Mina looked menacingly at the half-full tray of pasta, her eyes looking like they were seeing war flashbacks. “...No. No thank you. I have enough memories of failed pasta attempts for a single lifetime.”

“Hey, I didn’t make that, genius. My wife did,” Nayeon cut in, reaching for her keys on the table.

Mina’s face lit up. “Oh! Well then, yes please, I’d love to take some home.” She winked at Momo.

“Prick…” Nayeon mumbled, earning an elbow from Momo.

“Tzuyu could you hand me that other container up on the shelf?” Sana pointed out as she was scooping some of the pasta.

Tzuyu leaned in on the other three and whispered loudly, “I swear this is why she married me.”

All three of them almost burst out laughing, Nayeon letting out a louder snort.

“Y’know, come to think of it,” Sana suddenly said, her tone showing signs of a familiar danger. “This is my fourth glass of wine,” she said then gulped all of it in one go. “I might have another, hm? Tzuyu? You wanna have another with me? You up for some late-night bathroom cleaning again?” She threatened.

Tzuyu shook her head but couldn’t contain her own laugh as she handed her the container. “No, dear. Let’s lay off on the wine for tonight.”

“Exactly my thoughts,” Sana said, her smile tight as it can be.

“Oh we should take some more for Jihyo and Jeongyeon,” Momo told Nayeon.

Nayeon looked at the stack Momo was already holding. “You sure you can carry some more?” She smirked.

Momo gave her a dull look. The kind of look she shoots at her whenever Nayeon would leave an unwashed dish on their sink or leave a trail of crumbs around the porch.

“Okay, okay! I’m kidding!” Nayeon took two more containers and filled them up with the pasta, carrying both of them on her own.

Outside the apartment, the mid-afternoon sun of summer cast on a languid spell upon the city as it always had in clear days like these. The view from the twenty-fourth floor of Sana and Tzuyu’s apartment showed the same metropolitan life outside where cabs filed in streets and where crowds dispersed back into their cubicles and where people went about living their own stories.

After filling a few more containers of their leftover party food, Mina was the first to say goodbye.

“I’ll head on out first,” she said, standing up. “Still have to settle a deal on that lot uptown.” She moved in to give everyone a quick hug.

“Hey keep me posted if you find a good space,” Sana said. “Sent you a list I found online with our estimated budget.”

“Someplace quiet if possible,” Tzuyu added.

“Will do.”

“Come visit us sometime if you’re free,” Momo said as Mina pulled her in for a long hug, her scent carrying a minty sweetness. “I wanna show you more of the area around the lake.”

“Mhm. I’ll see if I can kick out some meetings in my sched for you.”

“Maybe cancel all the charity balls you’ve got lined up.” Nayeon smirked.

Mina rolled her eyes but pulled Nayeon in for a hug as well. “Always the villain with your anti-charity movements. Tsk tsk.” With one final wave and a smile that could outshine the sun, Mina stepped outside, closing the door behind her.

“She needs to get lovelife,” Sana remarked, pointing an unsteady finger at the door.

“With all the charity balls she’s attending, I’m sure she’s bound to find one,” Nayeon chuckled.

Soon after, it was their turn to leave, wanting to avoid the late afternoon traffic in the city like the storm that it was. Before leaving, and before the wine could take Sana someplace else, the four of them talked about their usual plans of traveling together. Plans that were kept vague and almost surreal so that if the plan doesn’t go through and would be left forgotten, none of them would feel the sigh of disappointment many years later. Sometimes a plan goes through; sometimes it doesn’t. This year, they were talking about Italy. About revisiting Montalcino and taking Sana and Tzuyu and - if her schedule allowed it - Mina around the towns they visited six years ago. Momo and Nayeon both recalled that one week in summer as they threw around uncertain dates and uncertain budgets. The image remained clear in her head and even clearer in her phone storage. The rolling hills that carved the horizon, the patches of vineyards, the old well at the center of the town, Mr. and Mrs. Accardi and their osteria with its faded blue awning that shaded tables lined along the cobblestone streets. Momo looked at the three people there with her and smiled. Solidarietà.

When they’ve finished planning their imaginary trip, both of them said their goodbyes in warm hugs.

“I’ll hold you to that Tuscan tour, you hear?” Sana said as she wrapped Momo in a tight embrace.

“Just keep your schedules open and your wallets full,” Momo smiled, breathing in the scent of Sana’s citrusy perfume.

The two of them waved goodbye and walked out of the apartment, feeling the warmth of summer seep into the halls. Outside, life was slow during the three o’clock transition. Cabs were scarce as they all hid from the sun for a quick nap. People gathered in parks to walk their dogs or to sit under the shade of oak trees. The streets were silent with the languorous air of summer vacation that sent the usual crowds of people back to their homes or back to their offices.

As they were walking back towards Nayeon’s car, Momo looked far across towards the buildings and skyscrapers, towards the street leading downtown to where the lonely ice cream shop stood, towards the familiar route leading to her old apartment stuck between a confectionery shop and the theatre, towards 5th Ave. where Peach Cosmetics still stood. She thought then that somewhere in that rigid labyrinth of steel and concrete towers that reached the sky, someone was sitting in an earthquake-proof cubicle, dialing numbers from a list of people they don’t know, hoping and praying they don’t get hung up on, and maybe feeling stuck in the monotony of it all. And maybe one of them would be lucky enough. Maybe one of them would dial a number with a name beside it, and someone on the other end would answer with a compliment. One person out of the hundreds in that list. Momo smiled at the thought, placing the containers on the compartment of Nayeon’s car.

They both stepped inside and strapped their seatbelts on as the engine hummed to life.

Nayeon turned to her with the warmth of summer behind her back. “You ready to go?”

She could only smile in return.

“Let’s go home.”