Starring: Dara Park, Kwon Jiyong

A story dedicated to someone misunderstood but doesn't give a damn at all. Lavyah.

Kwon Jiyong stepped out of the elevator. As always, he took in a deep breath and let the acrid hospital smell fly into his nose and burn his lungs.

In his left hand, he held the cane he'd begun carrying over the last few years.

His mind automatically remembered the teasing his wife had given him when he'd first started using it. No matter how many times he'd told her that it was simply a part of his image, she'd scoffed and not believed a word he'd said… and neither had his hip.

A wry smile lifted the corners of his lips. Maybe she would rib him today? Maybe today would be the day?

In his right hand he held a large bunch of bright yellow daisies. Her favourite flowers. He'd brought her a bouquet every day.

Forty-nine days.

Forty-nine large arrangements of bright yellow daisies which he hoped to be everlasting.

Forty-nine days of dashed hopes.

And today was day fifty. Tomorrow would be day fifty-one.

And he would continue because this is what he lived for. She was what he lived for. She was the only thing he'd lived for, for decades.

He began the familiar walk to her room.

Pausing at the nurse's station as was his habit, he was briefly informed of any changes that might have occurred in the last twenty-four hours.

Of course there were none…nothing ever changed.

No matter how hard he wished or how hard he prayed or made future promises of good deeds as she had done her whole life.

Nothing ever changed.

The nurse accompanied him on the short walk to her room. He watched her enter first, being careful to keep his body hidden from view, his ears already straining to pick up every piece of their conversation.

"You have a visitor Ms. Park." The nurse explained cheerfully.

He took in a deep breath and held it in his chest, his hand simultaneously tightening on the curved handle of his cane.

Maybe today…not yesterday…not the day before…but maybe today would be the day things changed.

"…Who is it?" came the hesitant reply.

The breath whooshed from his chest.

Day Fifty. Fifty days of dashed hopes.

He bolstered himself up. Tomorrow…that would be the day his hopes would be answered. But for now…he was here to see his wife.

A smile stretched at his lips. Even after all these years, he couldn't wait until he laid eyes on her again.

"It's your husband."

The shock of the young nurse's answer left him momentarily dazed. He had been expecting the brief pang of pain in his chest that normally accompanied the nurse's words.

It was part of the routine after all.

Close friend…that was what he was when she was having a good day.

Old school acquaintance who was visiting someone else…that was what he was when she was having a bad day.

Jiyong detested those days—his visits wouldn't even last an hour…and then he would have another twenty-four hour period before he could try again.

But husband? Forty-nine days and he'd never once been her husband.

His mind began racing…what did this mean?

"My husband?" came her surprised cry.

And there was the pang of pain…but the whispers of hope refused to die away just yet.

"Yes and he's brought you flowers. Isn't that lovely?" came the ever cheerful voice.

"…Yes." Her voice still held obvious traces of hesitance.

"Why don't I go and get him for you?" the nurse offered and he heard the patter of her flat shoes against the shiny floor.

When she stepped out of the room, he looked at her with wide eyes.

"Husband?" he whispered, querying her words.

She offered him a sympathetic smile along with a compassionate pat on his hand. "It's been a while. The doctor thought we could try it for today and see how she reacts."

Jiyong swallowed. It was what he'd been dreaming of for so long but now that it was here, he wasn't so sure.

"Go on, she's waiting for you." The young nurse encouraged.

He took in a deep breath and walked slowly into the room. As always, a jolt of love struck him in the chest as he caught her brown eyes. As he entered further and took his usual seat by her bed, she continued to look over him warily.

He extended the flowers and she accepted them tentatively, a small "Thank You," escaping from .

Her gaze flicked shyly from the flowers to him and he forgot to breathe. A small crinkle appeared on her forehead and he leaned forward in the chair.

This was it. This would be it. She would look at him and that connection would be made once more.

But as the long silence dragged by, his shoulders drooped.

"Hello love." He forced himself to speak, making sure to keep his disappointment hidden and his voice light.

"Hello." She replied back.

He waited patiently as she continued to study him. Their routine was back on track it seemed.

Her eyes took in his blond hair, his dark brown eyes which she quickly looked away from and the rest of his clothed body, her gaze pausing as she took in the ring on his left hand and then her bare one.

He swallowed tightly, forcing his mouth to stay closed and not push her further than she was comfortable with. He wanted this visit to last longer than an hour. His time with her was short enough as it was.

"How did we meet?" came the first question.

He smiled at the familiar enquiry. "We worked together."

Her head cracked to the side as she studied him, her fingers fiddling absently with one of the daisy's petals.

"We were friends." She stated.

He smiled once more. "Not quite."

Her puzzled frown deepened. "Tell me." She asked. "Tell me how we…"

Kwon stiffened slightly. He knew what she was asking. It was what she always asked…every single day.

And for the past forty-nine days he hadn't been able to bring himself to tell her the truth.

The knowledge of the pain that would fill him if he told her the truth and she continued to look at him with the same blank eyes was something he wasn't sure he could handle.

There would be no hope left.

And so he had made up stories about their life together.

Forty-nine days.

Forty-nine stories.

He had told her tales of how they'd met. Lies.

Over the last forty-nine days their relationship had begun at the company, in a club, at a ball, at a café, God—even on the streets of Seoul. He'd been her enemy, her friend, her lover, her colleague, her boss.

He'd told her tales of their married life, all the while pretending that he wasn't her husband and that the woman he was talking about, wasn't sitting right in front of him.

He'd told her how he'd proposed to her using a bar of chocolate, how he'd wooed her with gardenia, purple lilacs and orange daisies, how he'd managed to change that awful dating restriction between the two of them, how he'd compared Seungri to a toad.

The last one had made her laugh and he'd swallowed up every single sound and stored it deep in his heart for when they had a bad day.

But everything he'd told her had been false. And for once, it wasn't her naiveté that led her to believe the stories spewing forth from his mouth. It was the fact that she couldn't remember a damn thing about the decades they'd spent carving out a life together.

She didn't remember the day that they'd married. She didn't remember the birth of their first child. She didn't remember the holidays they'd taken over their lifetime together. God, she didn't remember even the simplest things like how she always felt the need to make ramen whenever it rained.

He took in a shaky breath.

Day fifty.

"Tell me about how we got together."

He looked into her wide, waiting eyes and breathed out.

Day fifty.

He was going to do it.

He would deal with any pain later…when he was alone in the shell of their family home that had once been filled to the brim with her warmth.

But today, for once, he was going to tell her the truth.

Swallowing tightly, he pushed the ball of anxieties back into his stomach. Settling back into the uncomfortable chair, he met her gaze head on, not fully believing that he was actually going to do this.

He opened his mouth and began speaking before he could change his mind.

"Well, the story begins…"