N O Y A D E

p r o l o g u e

***

4 years ago

The room is dark− not just a canvas filled with the greys and almost blacks of closed doors, but a complete palette of inky space, with the outlines of the furniture in the room barely discernible even through wide open pupils.

A match is lit, its flame-tipped head banishing a large radius of dense shadows almost as quickly as the two pairs of eyes in the room blink instinctively at the sudden bright light. Slowly, the flame is transferred to the wick of a dying candle by a slightly shaky hand.

"Tell me again why it has to be so dark," a voice, female, sounds from somewhere near the candle; on the surface, there is annoyance in her tone, but deep down is a curiosity that is held back only by pride.

"Because I believe that the best things in life don't need to be seen to be real," the other person replies; this one is a male. Maybe in stark daylight, his words and voice would sound ordinary, but here, in this shapeless place, they sound magical; involuntarily, the owner of the first voice shivers. In the dark, his hand finds hers, linking them together between the space lit by the candle; their twined hands glow tangerine.

"I still don't get what we're doing."

"Just wait." There's infinite patience in his voice. There always is. "There's something I want to do with you."

"And it has to be dark?"

"Yes. Shh," he hushes, taking her by surprise when his hands suddenly frame her face. At first, his touch is cold, but as time passes, slowly his fingertips gather warmth. Or maybe the sensation is just her cheeks burning. "I was going to surprise you in a romantic way, like the guys do in the movies you hate watching. But since you're so impatient, I'll just tell you now."

"Good."

There's a pause, and she sees that his eyebrows are raised, unimpressed.

"Sorry," she says hastily. "Continue."

He doesn't speak immediately, choosing instead to look her right in the eye, as if their pupils are discussing the exchange of visual memories. "I'm going to ask you to marry me," he whispers, "in like, twenty seconds."

Her breath hitches; a second passes. "But we're already getting married."

His hands are starting to go slick against her cheeks, and he moves them down and off her face, gripping her hands in his once more. She doesn't let go, even though his hands are shaky and sweating. "I know," he replies. "It's just... I want to do this properly."

"And sitting in a completely dark room, practically blind, is your definition of 'proper'?"

He sighs. "I just want to know that you really love me. Will you marry me?"

"I will."

"I love you, you know."

"I know," she says, and before she can smile or roll her eyes or do anything else, he leans forward and plants a kiss on her chin. After an embarrassed Oops, I missed, he eventually rights himself and finds his original target, kissing her properly this time; right now, he's just far enough away from the candlelight to be in the dark and just close enough to her to be burning.

And as they kiss, she thinks that maybe, maybe, this won't be all that bad.

***

6 years ago

"So I've finally graduated. What are you going to do for me?"

Sooyeon rolls her eyes at the blatant pride in Sehun's voice (though she does so out of affection and not distaste). She props her chin on her threaded hands and looks at the boy across from her, her eyes framed by raised eyebrows. "Well, I took you here. Isn't this enough, Sehun?"

Sehun grins. "I was joking, you know."

"I know." The smile is returned, but Sooyeon's expression soon fades into one of regret. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For taking you here," Sooyeon says, gesturing to the buzz of the restaurant around them. They're tucked in a corner booth, far from prying eyes. Not that Sehun notices. All around her, she sees students in letterman jackets and sneakers, teenagers who all look like Sehun. She isn't used to seeing this, even after two years.

Sehun looks around, too, as if he might suddenly find that the place had become another planet. But he doesn't see what Sooyeon sees. To him, everything looks normal; this is all he has ever known. "Why? I like it here."

Sooyeon doesn't say anything at first, her eyes dancing along the too-short hems of Sehun's jacket and the bags under his eyes; he's obviously been taking extra shifts without telling her. Sighing, she says finally, "That's not what I meant."

"I'm not following; you're confusing me."

Sooyeon waves a hand. "Don't worry about it."

With a sigh that she has heard one too many times, Sehun reaches his hand across the table to hold hers in his comforting grasp. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Sehun his lips out of habit, indicating that he's thinking hard. "I read somewhere that when most girls say they're fine, they don't really mean it."

"I'm not most girls," Sooyeon replies, giving him the smile she reserves for him and him only.

"I know." Sehun's worry almost completely evaporates and his face splits into a smile. "That's why I love you. Oh, speaking of which−" he pauses as he wrestles something out of his pocket. Hiding it in his hands, he smiles like a dog that's just dug out the whole backyard. "I have something for you."

Sooyeon attempts to peek over the edge of the tabletop, but Sehun is determined not to let her see whatever is in his hands just yet. She sits back down and pouts. "What is it?"

Putting one finger up to signal for her to wait, Sehun slowly sets his closed fist on the table and unfurls his fingers slowly, revealing a ring. It isn't a genuine gold band, and is instead more like one of the gold-painted plastic rings set with a fake gemstone on top. Smiling sheepishly, Sehun rubs his neck. "Don't freak out or anything. I'm not asking you to marry me just yet. Think of it as a promise ring." He picks it up carefully with his index finger and thumb, then, with her consent, places it on her left ring finger.

"A promise ring..." she repeats, looking at down at her left hand. Sooyeon smiles. It's not a huge diamond or even a decent pearl, but somehow, it's better. Slowly, though, her smile fades, which Sehun doesn't miss. His brow furrows. "What's wrong? Is it too much?"

Sooyeon's expression is pained as she looks from the ring to Sehun and back. "This is lovely, Sehun, really."

He detects the unsaid words lingering in the air between them. "But?"

"But," she says, sighing, "I don't know if we can afford to be looking too far ahead. You've only just graduated, and you're not even sure about your university options yet. How can you promise me a marriage in the future if you're not even sure about being able to pay for university? I can't..." she swallows. "You know I love you, but I can't help you with everything."

Sehun nods, closing his eyes and kneading them with the heels of his hands wearily. "I know," he says. "I've been thinking about it, too. But there's still the scholarship; hopefully I win it."

I hope so, too, Sooyeon thinks, reaching for his hand. She squeezes his fingers reassuringly. "One step at a time, okay?"

Something seems to click in his mind and his eyes light up as he watches her thumb rub circles on his hand. Sehun looks up at her, eyes bright. "If I get through university and your job goes well, then there's no problem with me promising you that we'll get married someday, is there?"

A warning voice resounds in Sooyeon's mind, screaming at her and telling her that this is wrong,  wrong, wrong, but she ignores it and feels herself nodding, albeit with a little uncertainty. "I guess not."

Sehun beams. "Wait four years, then. We'll see what happens."

Sooyeon holds onto his hand, which is still in hers, and hopes with all her mind and heart that his dreams, no matter how wild and unlikely, come true; for his sake, and for hers. "We'll see."

***

5.5 years ago

Sooyeon is running−no, sprinting− down the oak-panelled hall, curls in complete disarray and flying behind her. It's been years since she had last run like this, and years, too, since she had last felt this angry.

The door of Yunho's room is all but clawed open by her trembling hands, and her arrival is announced by an ear-assaulting bang of wood-on-wood collision. "You." She raises a single, rage-quivering finger and points it at her brother, who has frozen in the middle of the room, glass of vodka halfway to his lips. "You lied to me."

Yunho calmly sets the glass down on the nearest table as Sooyeon thunders into the room. "I don't know what you're talking about−"

"Shut up!" Sooyeon screams, cutting him off. "You know exactly what I am talking about, you lying piece of scum. I ought to disown you right here and now."

A smirk curls Yunho's lips, twisting his features into a cruel mask. "And what will that do you, Sooyeon? I am the oldest in the family, not you. I am the first heir to whatever share Father has set aside for us. By disowning me, you'll only make things worse for yourself. You'll be letting go of everything that is of use to you."

"Of use to me?" she repeats in disbelief. "You think money was of any use to me now?" Sooyeon gestures wildly at their surroundings. "You think this damn house, these stupid clothes, this goddamn family is any use to me right now?"

"The money, the house, your clothes−maybe not," Yunho acknowledges, shrugging. "But your family, your status, yes. Your status is everything, Sooyeon."

"It isn't. There's more to life than status, Yunho. Mom taught us that." Sooyeon's expression is one of raw desperation. "What we have isn't a family anymore, Yunho. Not after what you're planning to do."

"You're right," he replies smoothly. "This isn't the family you thought it was; not anymore. You need to stop living in the past, Sooyeon."

"Maybe I'd be able to do that if I was given the chance to let go of the things in my past properly! I can't not linger on the past if everyone in my present is lying to me."

"Not everyone gets the luxury of deciding what their lives will plague them with," Yunho says. "In fact, no one gets that privilege. No one is lying to you; we're just carrying through what you couldn't, and still can't, accept."

Sooyeon's knees give way, and she collapses on the floor in a kneeling pool of expensive fabric. The tears she had fought so hard to blink back are now breaking through, pouring down her face in furious streaks. "You did lie," she hisses. "And you tricked me into signing to agree to your lie."

Yunho smiles. "See? Legally, I did not lie, and you signed to it. But you, Sooyeon, as an individual who lives on the name of her father, beg to differ. And your word means nothing when no one else supports it, little sister." He offers her a hand up, which she doesn't take. Shrugging, he says, "There's no need to cry; I'm just teaching you how to survive in this world."

"Mom taught us better than this."

Her brother turns away, expression hardening. "Mom isn't here."