Your POV:

         You got on the cab as soon as the heels stopped moving. You slid your hands into the sleeves of his big jacket and looked back at him in the mirror. Seeing his sad expression caused hot tears to stream down your face again. You sniffed and raised the collar of the jacket, hiding your face behind it. His perfume was still lingering on it and you could feel a slight smell of hairspray. Why her? That question didn’t leave your mind the whole ride home. The conversation that got you kicked out from the wedding kept replaying into the back of your mind.

--

"I'm glad you got me out of there! That lady was boring me to death!" She said laughing after stepping in the balcony.

"Tiffany, what is the meaning of this?" Youasked letting out a forced laugh and closing your eyes, trying to keep your composure.

"What is the meaning of what?" She asked playing dumb.

"This wedding, is it some kind of bad joke?" Youreplied rubbing your temples in an attempt to ease your headache.

"What do you mean?" She asked faking a shocked expression but you knew that she was fully aware of what you meant.

"What do I mean?” You repeated letting out an ironical laugh. “I know you a little too well Tiffany; people like you never change.” You said glaring at her, letting her know that it was not meant as a compliment. “He is not even CLOSE to your ideal type of guy.” You snapped breaking the silence and fighting your tears with all your might. “He is shorter than you by 5 cm or so, you hate that and I can see it in the way you look at him. He is a sensitive, romantic guy, he loves dogs; you hate them, for God's sake. His dream is to have a big dog and you can't even stand looking at them, what are you going to do? You've told me countless times how stupid I was to like him in high school. How dumb I was because my dream was becoming the band's hair stylist so that maybe I'd have a chance to meet him... And now, after three years, you call me and invite me to your wedding, telling me the groom is going to be a surprise... What kind of sick joke is this Tiffany? I've been working my off in New York to become the best in my school just so I can come back and meet him, make him fall in love with me... you know it very well Tiffany." You whispered on an angry tone, hearing your voice was now shaking. “Why did you invite me here?”

“Because you’re my friend.” Tiffany answered faking a surprised expression, rising in you crazy desire to slap her.

“Oh, c’mon, Tiffany, we haven’t talked in three years. Not one word. I’m just one person among those 2 hundred guests. So what’s the real reason? What are you trying to prove?”

--

         In your heart, you were torn between the grain of hope you still had if she didn’t love him and a wish for her to deny everything you had said. Because that would have meant that she loved him and he had a chance of being happy. But she did not. She didn’t bother to deny it so it was clear to you: she had no feelings for him.

         She was the same you remembered from high school. The girl who always manipulated people, who hurt them on purpose not caring about anything but her own good. That was the Tiffany you knew. You didn’t hate her for ruining your life, though, but for ruining his.

--

         The summer sun was lighting the empty room as you were analyzing it from the doorstep. You inhaled the sweet smell of the bloomed locust tree that grew in front of your window and rested your hands on your hips, letting out a deep sigh.

“Hwaiting!” You exclaimed raising your fist in the air. The smell of the freshly polished wooden floor gave you a feeling of achievement: you finally owned your own flat. It only had a room, a kitchen and a bathroom but it was enough for one person.

         You descended the stairs slowly, greeting your new neighbors on the way down and started picking up the boxes, bringing them to your new home.

         You had your hair tied up in a messy bun and a red pin-up-style bandana was keeping your shorter layers from falling in your eyes. You wore a comfortable baggy T-shirt that was falling on one of your shoulders and a pair of tight pants.

         You grabbed one of the boxes and tried to look cool carrying it even though it was probably heavier than you and you were secretly praying your muscles wouldn’t yield. You took a few steps and almost dropped the box when it suddenly became lighter.

“Thank you.” You said blushing at how lame you were.

“You welcome.” A familiar voice answered you. You frowned and took a few steps to look at his face. “What floor do you live on?” A kind smile greeted you and your heart started a desperate attempt of breaking out of your chest, the second YoungBae came into your field of vision.