For the first time in her life, Wendy lies to Seulgi.

Once, every week when she’s supposedly seeing her therapist, she’s at Joohyun’s apartment. After many talks under the bus stop, their relationship has finally evolved from work acquaintances to actual friendship.

One weekend, Seulgi managed to corner Wendy into visiting her therapist. Wendy was reluctant about it, but it was Seulgi asking. How can she deny Seulgi when she’s her best friend and this is for her own well-being? Right after the hour-long session, she finds Joohyun just across the street with shopping bags in hand.

Wendy is the type of person who will rarely approach a person if she sees them out wandering about. But it’s Joohyun. And they’re friends now.

Joohyun ends up inviting Wendy to her own apartment, determined to make a good meal after Wendy teasingly remarks that she cannot possibly be a good cook. Joohyun finds out another one of Wendy’s hidden quirks. She’s snarky and sarcastic, but the kind that conceals affection.

“You give me the impression that you can’t cook. I mean maybe some instant ramyun….” Wendy starts to trail off. “You can never go wrong with that.”

Wendy turns to look at Joohyun with a glimmer of mischief. “But real food? I can’t imagine it.”

Joohyun yanks Wendy’s arm to her apartment, huffing along the way, justifying all the times she cooked and it apparently being successful.

Wendy finds out about Joohyun’s competitive nature. Apparently, the older woman saw that little comment as a challenge, forcing the shorter girl back to her apartment, determined to create the perfect meal.

Joohyun’s apartment was small, as expected of a typical struggling college graduate. Her apartment was on the second floor of a worn-down building. The outside was plain, blemished by a few poster ads and scuff marks courtesy of time and age.  To an outsider, it might as well look like one of those abandoned buildings. But what the apartment lacked in exterior visuals, Joohyun made up with simplistic yet classy interiors.

Joohyun’s apartment was minimalistic – perhaps it’s due to the low amount she has in her pockets but maybe it’s just aesthetic. Whatever it was, it works. There wasn’t much furniture in the room, but the furniture that was present were placed purposefully. It reminded Wendy of an Ikea catalogue. The furniture didn’t look expensive, but it did give off a more modern style, only having hues of grey, white, and beige. Joohyun’s apartment was neat and organised.

Wendy came completely unannounced which meant Joohyun had no time to prepare or tidy up – Wendy concludes that Joohyun is the type to be organised all the time. Nothing was placed in the room that was merely décor, save for the family photos that lined one of the walls.

After capturing every wall and furniture in Joohyun’s home to her memory, Wendy sits quietly on a bar stool, leaning against the kitchen counter. She props her head on the cold surface of the counter, intently satisfied in just watching Joohyun move in her own space.

“Where’s Yerim? Is she not home today?”

“She’s at her friend’s birthday party and she’s sleeping over there for the night.”

Wendy hums in understanding. “That’s kind of unfortunate. You talk about your devil of a sister and I really wanted to meet her.”

“Don’t worry, you will. And then, you’ll regret it.” Joohyun responds with a smug smile.

“So, what’s today’s specialty?” Wendy lazily groans out.

Joohyun replies with dubious hum, acknowledging Wendy but refusing to provide any clues that might spoil her mystery meal. Joohyun resumes bumbling around the kitchen.

It wasn’t until Wendy got a whiff of gochujang and chili that a wave of familiarity washes over her. Now she knows what Joohyun has been diligently preparing this whole time.

Tteokbokki.

Wendy tries to remember the last time she’s had the popular delicacy. It was probably when she was twelve, probably eating under a makeshift tent that was standing proudly next to a street vendor. She loved tteokbokki. It was something she bonded with her dad over. Her dad would pick her up after school or practice and they would sit, delighting over the popular street food. She would share stories about her day with child-like wonder while her dad animatedly responds with quips and stories of his own.

It wasn’t intentional – to stop eating her old favourite food. It just happened. Eventually, she grew up and consequently, her frequent visits to the tteokbokki shop across the Han River stopped too.

Sometimes, Wendy drowns in all the negativity that she’s feeling that she forgets that there were happy memories too. Her parents aren’t the villains that she’s perceived them to be over these past few years. Once upon a time, they were her heroes. They were vital characters that made up little Wendy’s fairytale. She just needs to find common ground again and perhaps they’ll return to the illuminating perception she had of them.

“Tada!”

Joohyun presents her apparent specialty: spicy rice cakes. It wasn’t skilfully plated, but it does look appetising, garnished with spring onions and specks of sesame seeds. In the scheme of the culinary world, it’s probably not the hardest thing to cook. It doesn’t require much skill, nor does it require much effort to make. But what it does lack in culinary difficulty, it makes up with nostalgia.

Wendy’s longing glance wasn’t lost on Joohyun. There are times Wendy gets like this. One second, she’ll be annoying the crap out of her, the next moment, Wendy would seem so far away, wandering off into her own thoughts.

Joohyun walks over beside Wendy and places the small bowl of tteokbokki with a soft thud. “Try it.”

Joohyun’s presence finally snaps Wendy out of her reminiscing and takes the fork in Joohyun’s hand. She carefully pokes through one of the rice cakes and takes a bite. After the first taste, Wendy continues to pile rice cakes in , smiling at Joohyun with puffy cheeks full of food.

“Told you I can cook,” Joohyun replies just as happily.

Joohyun settles herself beside Wendy with her own bowl of food, only the sound of chewing and clanging utensils to fill a comfortable silence.

—

It’s not like Wendy’s hiding the fact that she spends a lot of her time with Joohyun these days. She’s talked a lot to Seulgi about Joohyun recently, and Seulgi expressed her mild jealousy with a pout. “You’re not ditching me for the pretty barista, are you?”

Wendy would always reply, filled with as much genuineness and reassurance as her little body could muster, “Of course not. You’re my Ddeulgi; no one can change that. You’re stuck with me forever.”

Wendy wasn’t the kind of person that threw mushy and heartfelt remarks, often disguising her overflowing love with sarcasm. So, hearing this from her, Seulgi relented and simply sighed in relief.

But ever since that day, she just finds herself hanging out with Joohyun more frequently. Joohyun would invite her for food or watch movies and Wendy was never able to say no, leading to a routine weekly visit to Joohyun’s apartment.

After countless weekends spent at Joohyun’s place, Wendy can’t help but let out feelings of guilt, bubbling to the surface and coming out as a whine.

Wendy tried to justify her actions. “It’s the same, isn’t it? I come here and we talk all night long. Not much different than going to therapy.”

Joohyun looks at her pensively, carefully choosing the right words, cautious not to increase any guilt she might be harbouring for lying about her whereabouts. “She just wants what’s best for you.”

Joohyun thinks that she can’t really say anymore, not until Wendy tells her more about needing ther