What is love? 

What is it that make even the coldest of hearts feel precious?

These are the questions she asks herself when she looks out the windows on a Sunday and see the Choi family gathering together with noisy laughter and chattering. Every Sunday, it seems, the Choi hosts this barbecue where every family member living in the Choi's mansion get together. 

Everybody but her, that is.

She thought she sounded a little bit like the bitter villain Maleficent of Snow White. She closed the curtains briskly, closing up the happiness unfolding right in front of her eyes and returns to the darkness of her own confinement. She doesn't bother turning up the lights; it is quite wasteful when you live by yourself.

They can't see her. But she can see them. Very clear, in fact. She can remember Miss Choi's favorite blue dress. She can remember Mr. Choi sitting on that deck chair in front of the wide lake reading his newspaper or smoking a cigar. She can remember the woman's brother taking walks in the woods with his hands in his pocket.

The woman. That's what she calls herself. Except that the woman isn't really herself; it was just someone pretending to be herself.

And she's doing a very good job of it, judging from the happy expression of Choi Seunghyun as he cradles his son on his hips.

Choi Seunghyun. Ah. How should she even start?

Her husband. Or supposedly anyway. That strange white hair of his was replaced by a normal black as time passes, yet his handsome features didn't change. Even from afar she could see his quirky and amusing personality, something unexpected judging from his looks. He's a good dad, she muses. 

But it doesn't really matter, does it? She isn't his wife. Not physically