Days, Weeks, Months - Epilogue

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In Seoul, South Korea, a young woman is wearing a wedding dress.

There was a time when she thought this day would never come - when the very idea of being married, much less having a fancy ceremony with a hundred guests, was an entirely foreign concept, something which existed only in the cheesy dramas on TV and in the minds of her more hopelessly romantic sisters. She looked at herself in the mirror, and almost didn't believe that the woman staring back at her was really her. 

She wasn't entirely opposed to being married. She just thought that it would come much, much later in life, when her career as an entertainer was in its twilight, and perhaps when she had finally decided to hang up the microphone and exchange it for a briefcase or something along those lines. Her sisters always joked that she would end up marrying a politician, or a diplomat, or a businessman that was likely a good bit older than her. 

But that was all before she met him.

Almost unconsciously, her fingers move to the butterfly necklace around her neck - such a simple thing, almost too simple for the occasion of one's wedding day. Her stylists had other necklaces for her, some with ridiculous price tags and encrusted with fancy jewels and diamonds, but she waved them all away. There was never any doubt as to what she would wear around her neck on this day.

There is a knock on her door, and it opens a bit to reveal her closest sister. She is gorgeous, with her blonde hair worn up in a bun and long dangling earrings framing her face. Her smile is bright, and speaks of adoration and love for her youngest sister.

She says that they are ready to begin the ceremony. She asks if there is any last thing that she needs - a drink of water, a breath mint, a freshly roasted sweet potato. The younger woman giggles before she replies that there is only one thing she needs, and that is a hug.

The two women hug each other tightly, their eyes closed and threatening to brim over with tears. They have many sisters, but their bond with each other is the closest. After long minutes the older woman breaks the hug and stands there, her hands on the younger woman's shoulders. She has the look of a proud older sister, or even a proud mother, about to give away her youngest daughter. 

She says, as sincerely as she can, that she is proud of her. She says that it is time for her to be married. 

The older woman takes the younger girl by the hand, and, gathering their bouquets, they turn and leave the room.

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In Seoul, South Korea, a young man stands nervously in the foyer of a church.

He is not necessarily nervous, just fidgety - the same way he is before a performance. His fingers are constantly tapping his leg. He is constantly playing with his tuxedo, making sure his bow tie is done perfectly, making sure his shirt sleeves are perfectly creased and are the perfect length from the cuffs of his tuxedo jacket. He plays with his hair, brushing strands away from his eyes, even though they fall back into his eyes a second later. He is tapping his foot, as if in time to a beat that only he can hear.

Beside him is the lead guitarist of his band and his chosen best man. The best man has a wide smile on his face.

The groom asks him what he's smiling at. The best man replies that he never thought he'd live to see this day. He adds that there is still time to run away, jokingly, the way that best men all over the world joke with their grooms minutes before the latter makes a lifelong commitment to the love of his life.

Playfully the groom punches him in the shoulder.

The best man feigns pain, and asks the groom if he is ready. It is such a stupid question, almost a rhetorical one, but it is one that must be asked. It is one that every best man asks the groom, in every marriage that has ever taken place.

The groom says that yes, he is ready. He says that he has been ready since the second he met her.

It is such a corny, cheesy reply, very much in keeping with the groom's character - he was always one for overly romantic one-liners like that. Delivered on any other day it would warrant a half-disgusted reaction and inevitable mockery. But on this day, and on this day only, it is fitting. It is reassuring. It is, dare he say, heartwarming.

The best man notices how fidgety the groom is. An idea comes to his head, and he decides to excuse himself for a second. The groom has some reservations, saying that the ceremony will likely start soon, but the best man assures him he will be back in time. With a wave, he dashes off to run some errand known only to him.

On his way out he runs into the other two members of his band - the bassist and the drummer, both of whom are deep in debate. Upon reaching the groom, they give him hugs and reassurance. Once they are sure the groom is in good spirits, they return to their debate - apparently, both are vying for the privilege of escorting the tallest, and apparently the prettiest, bridesmaid. The bassist argues that he is taller and thus matches her height, and that they once aided each other in installing a light fixture in the newlywed couple's home, thus giving them personal history. The shorter drummer replies that that was irrelevant, since he was clearly the more handsome of the two, and was thus more of a match for her beauty if not a match for her height.

Eventually they turn to the groom and tell him to decide.

The groom smiles to himself. He says that a game of rock paper scissors is the only real way that this gentleman's debate can be settled. In the ensuing duel the bassist's rock defeats the drummer's scissors.

The bassist performs a jumping fist pump that seems straight out of an anime.

Before the drummer can demand a rematch citing the possibility of cheating, the wedding planner approaches the group and informs them that the bride is ready and the ceremony can begin. Before the groom can inform her that the best man is still away, the planner is already off to rush the bridesmaids, all eight of them, into position.

The groom and his groomsmen quickly get into their positions as a piano begins to play.

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In Seoul, South Korea, a bridal party is making its way down a church aisle.

One by one the bridesmaids walk down the aisle, each a picture of beauty. When walking about in airport terminals catching flights in street clothes they are already gorgeous, but now they are beautiful in every sense of the word, walking down the church aisle in dark purple strapless dresses, each carrying a small but intricate bouquet of roses.

The last two are accompanied by the two groomsmen. The taller one goes first, and is looking a little more proud of himself than usual as he escorts his bridesmaid down the aisle. The bridesmaid smiles sarcastically at him - that wry, sarcastic smile that is well known to her sisters when she is about to say something witty. Afterwards she plans to mercilessly mock her and half-jokingly say that this is the only time he would ever have a chance with her, but for now she lets him have his moment of glory. The shorter groomsman follows and is sharing a joke with his partner, the leader of the bride's group. It is likely a height related jest, given their gestures. They giggle to one another all the way down the aisle. 

When the two of them reach the end of the aisle they part ways, each to either side of the altar. All eyes return to the entrance to the church where the maid of honour is standing - alone. For a second she looks about nervously for the best man who is supposed to accompany her, but when she does not find him she shrugs and starts striding down the aisle herself, full of confidence, not missing a step - in fact, when she is almost at the end of the aisle she turns to her side and crab walks, as though dancing to their hit song, the rest of the way. On her face all the while is a smile that lights up the faces of the guests. 

After a brief pause it is the groom's turn to walk down the aisle, flanked on either side by his parents, both looking extremely proud of their young son. His mother is radiant, with a wine-colored scarf about her shoulders that was a gift from the bride so many days ago; she looks almost as young and beautiful as the eight bridesmaids. For the groom, each step seems like it takes forever and the altar seems to never get any closer, but eventually the groom makes it to the end of the aisle, where his parents each hug him tightly before he takes his position next to the altar and his groomsmen.

All eyes are on the entrance to the church, where the doors have been closed. The door cracks open, and everyone expects the bride...

…only to see the best man stumble into the room. He is breathing heavily and his face is flushed. In his hand is what appears to be a beverage.

He bows his apologies to everyone around him and walks, awkwardly and as quickly as he can, down the aisle. Giggles and a few full laughs erupt from the guests and the bridal party as he finally reaches the altar and hands the groom the beverage, which appears to be an iced coffee.

The best man explains to all present that he thought an iced coffee would cool the groom's nerves, but he didn't expect a lineup at the nearest Starbucks.

They share a hug amidst the laughs and clapping of the bridal party and the guests. This is what best men are for.  This particular best man looks mighty proud of himself as he takes his place next to the groom - but not before giving one of the bridesmaids, the visual of their group, a look and a smile that she returns with a nod. The groom witnesses this and his eyes narrow with suspicion. Something was going on there, and he would have to interrogate his best man about that later.

In the meantime, he takes a deep sip from the beverage and is thankful for the cool refreshment of the coffee amidst the stifling heat of his tuxedo, and the loud pounding of his heart.

He is swallowing his third gulp when the piano begins to play. It is the bridal song. The door opens, and she is there, silhouetted against the bright sunlight outside. In that moment, nothing else in the world exists.

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In Seoul, South Korea, a bride is walking down the aisle on her wedding day.

Try as it might, the English language, with all its words and terms of expression and description, fails to describe a woman on her wedding day. No matter who the woman is or where she is in the world, she is, on her wedding day, the most beautiful woman to walk the face of the earth. 

This particular bride is wearing a simple strapless white dress, relatively unadorned save from some ruffles towards the top akin to the dress she wore when she performed with the groom on that fateful stage in Japan. Her hair is up in a tight bun, and a small tiara is atop her head. On her neck is a slim silver chain, and even though he is a few hundred feet away, the groom knows instantly that it is her butterfly necklace, the one he gave her on a hot summer day in the middle of a sweet potato field. It warms his heart to see it. He makes a mental note to say thank you to her for wearing it later on - he wasn't going to make the same mistake twice.

She slowly makes her way down the aisle, flanked on either side by her parents, each beaming with pride, her arms hooked in theirs. She passes by their guests - only a hundred of them, for reasons of privacy, although there could have easily been a thousand - and smiles at as many as she can, knowing that each one was there for a reason. Each one played a role in their lives, and each one helped shape them into the people they were today. She wanted to stop and thank each and every one, but knew there would be a time for that later.

For now, there was only him, and the fifty or so steps to take before she would become his wife.

It all seemed like a blur, and she is not quite sure how her shaking, quivering legs managed to bring her that far. Eventually she reached the end of the aisle, where her fiancé was waiting to meet to meet her father. They exchanged a firm handshake, and then a hug - she thought she heard her father refer to him as his son - and with one last earnest look at his daughter, he placed her hand in his.

Together, they climbed the three steps to the altar, where they turned and faced each other, joining both their hands together…

…except he was still holding his iced coffee in one hand.

She gave him a look that he had come to know well - that look of hers that appeared whenever he did or said something stupid or something that got on her nerves. Her eyes widened and her nostrils flared, and for a moment he was afraid that perhaps she would let go of his hand and slap him across the face for ruining the sanctity and beauty of their wedding ceremony with something as frivolous as an iced coffee, even after she had warned him again and again about the unhealthy nature of his favourite beverage. He opened his mouth and began to apologize.

Before he could get a word out, she had snatched the coffee from his hand and for a split-second he was afraid she would throw it in his face. Before he knew it, she had brought the straw to and began taking long gulps. Within a couple of seconds, amidst the shocked stares of the bridal party and their guests, she had finished the drink.

She tells her groom that she needed that.

Amidst the chuckles and laughter that erupt in the room, the two share a loving look. He had always known that she was the woman he would marry. This was another moment that convinced him of what he already knew; in accepting the drink, she was accepting him, and all that made him who he was. If the iced coffee was a part of him, then so be it - she would accept it the way she accepted his heart, because it was a part of him. 

After she passes the empty beverage to her chuckling maid of honour, they take each other's hands. 

Then they got married.

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In Seoul, South Korea, a woman is washing the dishes after breakfast.

Ten years have passed since her wedding day. She was still an entertainer; she still appeared on the odd variety show or performance here and there with her sisters, and there was talk of releasing a new comeback album in the next year or two. Her bond that she shared with her sisters never waned, and even as other group members pursued solo projects or relationships or both, they always returned to the group that they would be a part of for the rest of their days.

Gone were the days of hectic schedules, gone were the days of catching flights to foreign countries every other day and, thankfully, gone were the days when she had to get by on three hours of sleep. Her schedule had slowed down significantly from those years when they were all in their early twenties, and while she never thought she would be, she was very appreciative of that fact.

As she removes her rubber gloves she picks up her wedding ring from the kitchen counter and slips it back onto her finger. She caresses the band with her fingers lovingly. The silver is a little more worn now, but the diamond shines as brightly as it did on that rainy day in downtown Seoul, so many years ago.

Loud acoustic guitar strumming interrupts her quiet reverie. It is poor strumming, as though someone had just picked up a guitar for the first time and strummed the strings while holding down random frets. 

A happy smile, a genuine smile, spreads across her lips - this smile is borne out of her heart, and not out of some obligation to do so for a camera pointed her way. She puts away the rubber gloves and turns to walk to the living room. She leans on the doorframe as she takes in the sight before her.

There, on the yellow couch of their living room, is her daughter. She is four years old and every bit the image of her beautiful mother, with a hint of her father's mischievousness in her cute features and especially in her smile. On her lap is a guitar - a pink one. Next to her daughter on the couch is her husband. One of his arms is around their daughter, and the other one is clasped over her tiny left hand, the one struggling to fret the strings. He is taking her fingers and individually placing them on the frets - the third fret on the first string, then the second fret on the second string, and finally the third fret on the fifth and sixth strings.

Her husband strums the strings while her daughter holds down the frets with his assistance - it is the G chord.

A look of delight, the kind only children can have, appears on her daughter's face. Her husband returns his daughter's smile with one of his own. His smile hasn't changed, despite the years. He still has that odd, crooked smile he has always had, will always have. She fell in love with that smile, many years ago, and her heart remembers how it felt to fall in love every time he smiles at her. 

Now, her husband is smiling at his daughter as she struggles to fret the strings without her father's assistance. The little girl strums, and the resulting chord sounds odd and out of tune, but her father cheers happily nonetheless. The woman's heart is warmed as she watches the scene unfold. A tear of happiness appears in the corner of her eye, and she does nothing to wipe it away or keep it from spilling down her cheek.

Her daughter asks her husband what note she just played, and her husband responds:

"G. Gee gee gee gee, baby baby…"

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Chapter Note:

I pretty much said all I needed to say in the chapter note for the previous chapter, so this one will be short: this epilogue is dedicated to everyone who left a comment (especially you guys), subscribed, up voted, or so much as spent a second of their lives reading my work. It is your support and feedback that kept me writing when I originally meant for this to be a one shot story! 

This chapter is a little more lighthearted and less serious than the rest of the story - I hope the change in tone wasn't so jarring. I figured it was an epilogue and epilogues are meant to be happy endings, so I added a little comedy. Hope you guys approve.

Thank you one and all. This epilogue is for you guys. :)

No matter where in the world you are, what path of life you've taken, I wish you all the best in the future!

Cheers,

-goguma21