Stepping inside Mina’s parents’ house almost feels like stepping inside your own home. Her mother has barely changed any of the decorations, only a few pictures hanging in frames. The entire house smells of cinnamon apples, her mother’s favorite candle scent to burn. But being here reminds you of your childhood and all the expectations you set for yourself. At this point in your life, you have considered that you may never get married and sometimes you feel okay about it. Moments like this make you wish you had lived your life differently.

Your body goes into autopilot as you welcome guests in and guide them to the festivities in the living room, dining room, and kitchen, pointing out the powder room near the kitchen. Your mind strays into another reality, wandering who you could have even ended up with. There was that really cute TA in college that you up to a lot. It could have been your high school boyfriend, but that probably wouldn’t have had a happy ending. 

From the other room, you hear Mina’s family mingling with Mingi’s as you start preparing the snack bar and punch. This should have been done way before anyone arrived, but of course, one store couldn’t have everything you needed. The shopping trip took much longer than it should have, and you were late getting to her parents’ house.

You scoop out half a gallon of orange sherbet into a punch bowl and pour ginger ale over it. Because of your rushing thoughts, you forget to put the orange juice concentrate in before the ginger ale. Each little inconvenience is bringing you down more than the last.

As you dig out the frozen orange juice, a large clump loosens and splashes the punch, several drops landing on your dress. This is the straw that breaks the camel’s back, and your vision starts to blur. The stress and emotions of today are finally getting to you. With a napkin, you soak up as much of the punch as you can. Luckily, your dress is pink and the orange-ish liquid doesn’t show too much.

“Y/N?” Your name is spoken softly from the doorway. San is standing there with a concerned expression.

You quickly wipe your cheeks, sniffling, like nothing happened, and stir the sherbet punch.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, stepping closer and placing his hand on your shoulder. The gesture is sweet, but you don’t want him to know how you feel about your best friends’ engagement.

You shrug it off and say, “Nothing. I don’t want to talk about it, especially with you.”

“Do you need a hug?”

You guffaw because he seems so out of his comfort zone just to console you. It shouldn’t be funny yet it is. “No, I’m fine now.”

“I know you don’t like me, but if you need someone to talk to other than Mina…” His words fade as he begins helping you set up the finger foods.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

You shake your head.

“Is it about the wedding?”

Your lack of response tells him enough information.

“I’m not too happy because of it either,” he whispers.

You peer over at him with furrowed brows.

“We don’t have to talk about our reasons, but I have something that might make this party a little more bearable,” he says as he slips a flask out of an inside pocket of his denim jacket.

“I’m not getting drunk at this engagement party. Their entire families are here.”

“One sip isn’t going to make you a belligerent drunk,” he jokes before unscrewing the lid and taking a large swallow.

“That wasn’t a sip.”

“What’s the worst t