Nayeon tries her best to forget about what happened last Saturday.

Tries, being the operative word.

Ryujin had a look of obvious concern on her face when Nayeon barely managed to greet her that morning. Nayeon thinks Yuna offered her some concealer in the pretense of Nayeon’s face being sweaty. Someone from Sales even had to help Nayeon upright when she leaned too far on her side during an elevator ride.

Even her sketches look more like squiggles than a layout plan.

Nayeon thinks she’s being sleek about her struggle. That is until Jennie notices her inattentiveness and clumsier-than-usual behavior and confronts her about it during lunch.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Nayeon doesn’t even lift her head up. She’s still trying to decipher if the floor layout is upside down or it seriously looks like the blocks of houses in Minecraft.

Minecraft.

Mina loves Minecraft. She used to play that all the time to relax. Even had me on her lap while she built a house that she said would be like our actual house one day.

She wasn’t even an architect. Or an engineer. But Mina had a dream. For us. Our family.

“Im, you’ve been drifting off earlier in the meeting. Joohyun-unnie had to slap your cheeks thrice to keep you awake.”

Nayeon’s only response is a hum. Maybe she should ask Mina if she destroyed that house in Minecraft when she destroyed their future together when she left.

“Oh, to hell with it.”

Nayeon startles when she feels like a bucket of ice-cold water has been dumped on her and opens in a silent gasp as water droplets slide off her hair and onto the paper she’s holding.

“What the ?” Nayeon lurches out of her seat, vainly trying to remove the water on the paper, all the while hardly even caring that the collar of her blouse is sticking to her neck like candy.

Jennie only looks at her with dissatisfaction before she offers Nayeon her handkerchief.

Nayeon eyes it with suspicion before putting down the layout plan on her desk, throwing Jennie a glare, and taking the proffered cloth. “The hell is wrong with you?”

“The hell is wrong with you,” Jennie throws right back, crossing her arms over her chest as she watches Nayeon wipe at the wet stains on her blouse.

Thank goodness it was just water and can be easily dried by simply standing in front of an AC for a few minutes. Still, Nayeon can’t help but groan at the inconvenience of a wet blouse. This, on top of everything else on her plate, is just too much for her on a Monday.

Monday.

God. What Nayeon will do just to have a break from all of… this.

“Seriously, Nay, what’s up with you?”

Nayeon is still debating whether she should tell Jennie about the ‘grocery incident’ when there’s a sudden, “Did she talk already?”

Nayeon and Jennie both look up to see Joohyun standing in the doorway, head tilted to the side as she studies her two younger friends.

With no word from neither Nayeon nor Jennie, Joohyun strides towards Nayeon’s desk and frowns when she sees Nayeon angrily wiping at her blouse as if trying to get the cloth dry through sheer will alone.

“You’re only making it worse,” Joohyun comments as she squints at Nayeon’s clothes. “The technique is to dab on it gently.”

Nayeon sends Jennie another glare to which Jennie only rolls her eyes. “Blame Jennie. She dumped a glass of water on me, unnie!”

At Joohyun’s questioning look, Jennie throws her hands up, all innocent now under the probing gaze of one Bae Joohyun. “What?” Jennie asks, “You said do anything to make her spill.”

Joohyun sighs and looks like she wants to bolt right out of Nayeon’s office. “By anything, I meant a good bribe of tteokbokki or coffee, not dumping water on her head.”

Realization flickers across Jennie’s face and she shrugs as she looks over at Nayeon. “Well, what’s done is done.”

“I hate you, Jennie Ruby Jane.”

“I have a spare blouse in my office,” Joohyun offers before Jennie can even retaliate. It’s Joohyun’s way of diffusing a tense situation—cutting off a biting reply or remark—and Nayeon and Jennie always dubbed it as Joohyun’s ‘peacekeeper instinct.’ “I think that’ll fit you.”

Nayeon throws Joohyun a grateful look and before Jennie can pipe up with a comment, Joohyun is already dragging her out with her. “We’ll be right back.”

It’s less than five minutes before Joohyun and Jennie come back into Nayeon’s office with Jennie looking like a child duly chastised.

Nayeon would’ve laughed if only Joohyun weren’t with them. She’ll only get a sermon herself if she were to do so. She doesn’t need another thing to pile up on her plate.

Instead, she beams at Joohyun and says her thanks before changing her blouse in the restroom.

“Ah, thank you for the shirt. You’re a lifesaver, unnie,” Nayeon expresses the moment she steps out with a dry pale blue blouse that fits her perfectly. Who knew she and Joohyun apparently share the same blouse size despite Nayeon being a little taller than her unnie?

Joohyun nods and waits for Nayeon to sit down on her swivel chair again before saying, “You can thank me by telling us what happened that got you so distracted.”

Nayeon chokes on nothing, and she stares incredulously at Joohyun. So that’s why. “Yah, you’re a traitor, unnie.”

“I didn’t dump water on your head, Nayeonnie.”

At the reminder, Nayeon throws a glare in Jennie’s direction again—who only rolls her eyes—and sighs when she realizes that she should at least inform her other friends about what happened.

“I saw my ex-fiancée at the grocery last Saturday and she now knows that we have a child together.”

Silence.

And then Jennie’s glaring at Nayeon as if she’s offended by her mere existence. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Nayeon rubs her forehead, feeling like there’s a headache approaching. “It happened literally two days ago, Jennie-yah.” Nayeon doesn’t dare add that she spent the rest of her weekend trying to pull herself together for the sake of her daughter, so she didn’t exactly have the time to inform Jennie.

Sure, her friends basically dropped all their prior commitments and plans to be there for her and Minji, but Nayeon was still unable to fully get over her impromptu conversation with Mina. Not that any of her friends blamed her either. It took Nayeon three years to get over Mina’s sudden departure and her reappearance and immediate bond with Minji are sure to stick with Nayeon for the rest of the month. Or year.

“Have you talked to her?” Joohyun’s question is void of any emotions or judgment. It’s just… plain. Like it’s the most obvious question. And if Nayeon didn’t know her, she’d assume that Joohyun is even disinterested. But Nayeon can also see the concern obvious in Joohyun’s eyes.

Nayeon nods, not meeting any of her friends’ worried gazes. “I did.”

“Did she explain? What did she tell you? Did she ask for forgiveness? What happened anyway? How did she know Minji’s her daughter?”

“Jen.”

“Sorry, unnie,” Jennie says, not looking apologetic at all, “but I’ve kept these questions to myself for five years.”

Nayeon shakes her head. She finds that hard to believe when Jennie practically tells Jisoo everything. “Pretty sure you shared them with Jisoo already.”

“Not the point, Im.”

Nayeon sighs and proceeds to tell Jennie and Joohyun the rest of what happened, anyway. Of course, she omits the parts where she felt like her heart was trying to claw its way out of her chest when she was talking to Mina and even after, but she ensures that the two are sufficiently caught up by the time she’s done with her retelling of last Saturday’s events.

When she’s finished, Jennie finally remarks, “You should really police Minji’s obsession with penguins.”

Joohyun is perplexed. “That’s your takeaway?”

“What? That’s literally the only reason why they even crossed paths.”

Nayeon supposes that Jennie has a point. Still, Minji wouldn’t have met Mina at all if Nayeon had kept a close eye on her. Ah, she’s back on the self-contempt road. “Minji would enter her rebellious phase prematurely if I did that.”

“Don’t mind Jennie,” Joohyun advises, “But I have to ask, Nay, what’s your plan now?”

It’s a question that even Jihyo and Sana asked her yesterday before they left for their respective apartments. Nayeon had no answer then and still no answer now. She hates introspection, preferring to just go with what her gut instincts are telling her at the moment. Except her gut has been hurting since Saturday and it’s either she’s developing appendicitis or even her intestines are distraught with the sudden turn of events.

“I don’t know,” answers Nayeon eventually. “I hate having the ball in my court.”

“It’s an advantage,” Joohyun replies. “You have the power to decide when and where they meet. Identify your terms and conditions and let her know that you’re the one holding the reins.”

Jennie chuckles despite the seriousness in Joohyun’s voice. “That sounds a lot like courtroom advice, unnie.”

A shrug. “It’s the most logical thing to do.” And then, as if in afterthought, Joohyun adds, “I’ve never met your ex, Nayeon-ah, but I’m quite sure that she’ll agree to whatever conditions you give her. You’re good at persuading people.”

Nayeon almost preens at that. Compliments from Joohyun are rare and usually given when Nayeon is drunk out of her mind, so to hear it unprompted is satisfying. “Because I’m stubborn?”

“Because you’re ing annoying when you don’t get what you want,” Jennie supplies before Joohyun can reply.

Nayeon and Jennie get into a petty squabble after that, but at least, Nayeon knows that she has two other people looking out for her.

It helps alleviate the pain a little.

Focusing on work in the morning and taking care of Minji in the evening helps Nayeon forget that she must decide on a course of action regarding Mina soon.

There are plans and projects she has to supervise, assignments that Minji needs help with, and a bunch of annoying adults to feed, so it’s easy to put her attention on things that actually matter.

Except, a week after the incident, she gets the sudden urge to retrieve the hidden box underneath her bed and reminisce about good times.

Maybe Nayeon just wants to remind herself of why it hurts so much to see Mina again.

Or she needs to jog her memory and remember why she had to move on.

Or maybe Nayeon is simply a masochist.

The third option is more likely, Nayeon thinks, as she brushes off the light dust that managed to settle on top of ‘the box.’

She hasn’t touched this in… seven? Eight months? Which, frankly, is a new record for her.

She used to take a peek inside ‘the box’ every day even a year after Mina left until Jihyo caught her and threatened to burn down the whole thing.

“No!” Nayeon had exclaimed when Jihyo had grabbed ‘the box’ from her grasp, thrown it in a bin, and held a lighter over it. “Please, Ji, I just… I miss Mina so much. Please, that box is all I have left of her.”

Jihyo took pity on her then because everything was still raw. And also because Nayeon was sobbing like a pathetic little child.

Now, four years later, Nayeon doesn’t think Jihyo will be as merciful if she were to find out Nayeon is back at it again.

That just prompts Nayeon to be more secretive as she looks over the box’s contents.

Polaroids of her and Mina, handwritten notes by Mina addressed to Nayeon, a crocheted beanie made by Mina, post-it notes with Mina’s scribbles, and phone accessories that Mina made using beads.

Mina, Mina, Mina.

Even now, Nayeon doesn’t know what to feel about seeing Mina again for the first time in five years. None of her questions about why Mina left have been answered, she has more problems than before, and the gummy smile on the polaroid pictures only makes Nayeon’s eyes water.

Even her necklace makes Nayeon feel like she’s choking on air. Her necklace which has Nayeon’s engagement ring as its pendant.

Huh.

Nayeon is a masochist.

The knowledge makes her dump out the contents of the box on her bed, fully intent on throwing them out for good.

But the smile, the memories, the feelings that resurface the moment everything is out in the open make Nayeon hesitate.

Mina completed her. On her worst and best days,