five

It was snowing. It’s Valentines Day and it’s snowing.

It wasn't a flurry or even a reasonable snowsquall, either of which would have been acceptable, albeit not ideal. Instead it was very nearly a blizzard. A bone-chilling and relentless harbinger that had Sandara Park running like the devil in her ridiculously expensive, couture wedding gown.

The atrocious weather hadn't been the only bad omen that had her fleeing. No, they were numerous. Glaring, palpable. Like big, red, flashing flags that she couldn't possible ignore.

She'd tried, obviously. She had even made it to the altar before she'd fled, and yet all the bravery and courtesy that resided in her heart could not keep her there.

She had to go.

But his face. Oh, his face.

She was a terrible, horrid woman for running out on him.

Some will say she had developed a case of cold feet. Others might feel that she did him a favor. A few will hope she never comes back again.

All will think she'd gone mad.

Dara was inclined to agree. She had obviously gone crazy.

She was making either the most brilliantly pivotal decision or the absolute worst mistake of her young life. It was too early to determine the outcome and yet.

And yet it felt terribly catastrophic. Like world famine or a sweeping tsunami.

Devastating.

She couldn't shake it either, and where the snow was rumored to refresh and cleanse a person of all their transgressions, instead it pounded at her in sadistic abasement.

Her shoes made a sorrowful cadence on the pavement as she forced herself to disappear into the oblivion of Seoul's streets.

She deserved nothing else.

When she closed her eyes, he was there, her former groom-to-be, watching her with everlasting confusion evident upon his handsome face.

And Dara didn't think she could ever make him understand.
 

four

Sighing heavily, she looked down at her teacup and watched her finger circle the rim. "I messed it up."

"Completely." Sip. Mirthful grin. Brown eyes flashing. Another sip.

"He probably hates me," she murmured, pushing her hand into her hair and tangling her fingers into the curls at her temple.

"No way! You're great. Nobody could hate you," she promised. As sure about it as she was that there would be a Sunday after Saturday. Ever optimistic.

Dara bristled a little.

"What should I do?" she asked. Because Chaerin always knew what to do. It was usually the exact opposite of what Dara felt inclined to do, but it was infinitely simpler and better.

"Seeing as you won't talk to him or see him, I reckon you don't want to fix it." Her eyes narrowed on her. "Yet. So I'd get out of town. Relax. See something amazing."

She couldn't possibly be suggesting what she thought she was suggesting. parted to clarify what precisely she had meant by that when she chuckled and shook her head. "Take the honeymoon, Dara. It's paid for."

Like she said. Lee Chaerin was cool and profound. She always had it right.

three

Not even the majesty of the Arc de Triomphe could sway her thoughts. They were insistent and they made her feel terrible.

Honestly, that was the whole point of using the honeymoon to her advantage. To get away from the situation so that she c