Phew, that was close.

 

 

 

She curses under her breath when she almost gets hit by a speeding old Ferrari. It wasn’t her fault that the piece of junk would come out suddenly on the corner, although she knew that getting used to the foreign road signages needed some working.

 

 

 

 

Stupid car. I own a much new version, and a bit pricier back in Jeolla-do.

 

 

 

Sitting by the bench and watching the people feed some pigeons near the fountain on the plaza suggests a cloudy day that is ideal for park strolls and probably a good day to go and grab some gelato.

 

 

 

Ah, gelato. The sweet frozen delight she unexpectedly discovered upon landing a few weeks ago. With that thought, she brushes her palms on her pants, ready to start walking around the city and buy some for dessert.

 

 

 

The camera around her neck felt a little bit heavy this time.

 

 

 

_____________________________________

 

 

 

Tiffany POV:

 

 

 

“You go ahead, Luca. I can take it from here, have fun at your daughter’s birthday party.” I turn on my heels and grab something from the back of my car. “Here, tell her I said ‘Hi’”

 

 

 

“But Signora-”

 

 

 

I stop him from protesting, waving my index finger in his face. “I am only a few blocks away from the chalet. I’m just going around the corner to get food because Nonna’s not around during the week.”

 

 

 

The look on his face pictured hesitancy. I started tapping my stilettos, waiting for this seven-footer man who’s been working for our family since I was a kid. He’s one of the few bodyguards my father trusted. It’s not that probable murderers are waiting to jump out at any second for me, but having someone around who can block five reporters or paparazzi with one arm does come in handy.

 

 

 

I heard him sigh in defeat just in time for I have decided on which shop I should buy takeouts from. 

 

 

 

“Si, Signora. I will tell my wife and daughter about this. Do call when you have reached, or else your father will be worried.” With that, he gives a small ‘thank you’ and proceeds to leave.

 

 

 

Milano has changed a lot over the years, but I still find myself admiring the same old paintings, flower patches, buskers, and even the old plaza my mother and I used to frequent.

 

 

 

Including this pizzeria that’s even older than my Dad.

 

 

 

The smell of good old pizza representing this country fills the small crowded restaurant. Patrons and tourists coming from different parts of the globe visit this place, and it’s no surprise that someone like me would make a few of the local’s heads turn when they see me walk in.

 

 

 

I don’t queue. My name is enough reason for that.

 

 

 

The waiter trembles on the menu in his hand. It didn’t matter. “The chef knows it. Tell him I’m here.” He scuffles away, giving me time to bring out the Crime and Punishment book I’ve been putting on hold because of busy schedules.

 

 

 

Yes, I don’t only read Vogue or Harper’s Bazaar. A woman needs books to educate themselves.

 

 

 

With Be My Baby by the Ronettes fading in the background, my takeaways are now beautifully placed on my table. I patiently wait for my card to return. It’s been quite a long day, so hitting the bed as soon as possible would absolutely be divine.

 

 

 

“La posso servire?”

 

 

 

“Lo prendo, grazie.”

 

 

 

I turned to look who was giving that terrible Italian accent to show them that this place spoke English. Taking my bags with me, I start to walk towards the cashier with the unsuspecting woman.

 

 

 

“Ah, Signora! Your card is here. Thank you very much for coming to visit us.” the waiter says, blocking my path.

 

 

 

“Si….” I paused and turned my attention back to the person but was greeted with an empty spot instead.

 

 

 

“Is there anything else, Signora?”

 

 

 

I try to look for the person, but I see her walking outside through the large glass window panes. Squinting my eyes to take a better look, only to get goosebumps when I see who this stranger could be.

 

 

 

?!

 

 

 

“No.”

 

 

 

His response was of no value to me, especially when this stranger was strangely looking too familiar like her. I tried to sprint my way out of the place only to see her get in a cab, but just in time to see a tattoo on her exposed arm thanks to that black short-sleeved shirt she had.

 

 

 

Too fast.

 

 

 

Or was I too slow?

 

 

 

But it’s way too ing stupid to think that Taeyeon would be here. It must’ve been just my brain making all these images up. Just like what Sunmi would say, “You need to get her out of your system. It’s not healthy.” Telling it like the thought of Taeyeon was a hardcore liquor.

 

 

 

Perhaps she was.

 

 

 

Perhaps I was too intoxicated that I couldn’t sober up that I was hallucinating, seeing her presence.

 

 

 

But no, it’s not her.

 

 

 

It may have been her build or height, the pale white skin. But it can’t be Taeyeon, who was always dressed formally as a politician, with no tattoos, who had gray colored hair on the tip of her shoulder-length hair, and most importantly, the woman was probably on the other side of the world cutting ribbons and giving a speech on some prestigious university.

 

 

 

I sigh. Today only felt heavier than usual.

 

 

 

_____________________________________

 

 

 

Distant ringing….

 

 

 

“....why won’t she pick up?” Tiffany’s anxiety starts to kick in while waiting for a response on the other line.

 

 

 

“So much for being available, huh?” She continues talking to dead air while pacing barefoot in the carpeted study room.

 

 

 

Tiffany tries to redial. This time it only took less than ten seconds before a raspy annoyed voice responded to her.

 

 

 

“I swear to god, there better be a good reason why you’re calling me at this hour.”

 

 

 

Tiffany chuckles, “Soo…”

 

 

 

“Don’t ‘Soo’ me, Tiff. I am barely an hour finished from my beauty rest, and there’s no way in hell that you suddenly forgot about the eight-hour difference between Milan and Seoul!” Sooyoung snaps back.

 

 

 

She quickly makes a mental calculation. If it’s 3:30 PM here, then it’s probably around …. 11:30 PM in Seoul.

 

 

 

Oops.

 

 

 

“I’ve got something to ask, so you need to calm down now,” Tiffany says.

 

 

 

“Fine.”

 

 

 

“Is Taeyeon there in Korea?”

 

 

 

No response.

 

 

 

Tiffany understood the silence since the name never came out of in a long while- like , Sunny and Sunmi or even Kibum tried never to mention anything about her ex-girlfriend. She met with Sunny once, but the woman was too formal and reserved for Tiffany’s taste. She can’t blame her, though, since she was very protective of Taeyeon, even if Yuri was her closest.

 

 

 

She even started to make scenarios in her head that Sunny must’ve hated her when they first met. Good thing that Taeyeon was there to comfort and remind her that Sunny’s just tired and not that talkative compared to everyone else.

 

 

 

Ah, Kim Taeyeon. How have you been?

 

 

 

Tiffany wasn’t one to look back. Like what was that phrase … ’Crying over spilled milk?’ She could barely remember, but after today, it made her think if there was something that time could change.

 

 

 

“Why are you suddenly asking about Taeyeon?” Sooyoung’s voice brought her back to the present.

 

 

 

“I …. Nothing. I just think I saw her earlier on my way home.”

 

 

 

The designer bit on her lower lip, contemplating whether it sounded dumb or ridiculous to be asking this question. Why on earth would she even care if Taeyeon was in town? It’s not like they were still dating or something.

 

 

 

She can’t even call themselves acquaintances or friends.