Chapter 1

            The floor, the tables, the chairs, and every possible surface are littered with an array of peonies in every imaginable shade of orange. Long orange curtains hang from the tall bay windows. The bridesmaids, dressed in matching orange dresses are crowded around a floral backdrop, posing for pictures with the bride. The whole thing’s a little revolting to be honest.

            As I scan around the overly accessorized dining hall, I’m almost in awe of how many things you can have artificially dyed orange.

            “Aigo,” my mom says from, dabbing with a, you guessed it, orange napkin. “Wipe that sneer off your face. People are going to think you don’t want to be here.”

            But I don’t.

            I plop a grape into my mouth, plastering a wide forced smile on my face.

            It’s not that I don’t particularly like weddings, well, maybe that’s partly it, but this particular aunt of mine has literally gotten married and then divorced at least 4 times within the last 5 years. And all of her weddings seem to have a common colour scheme: orange. Orange everything. Everything orange. It wasn’t cute five years ago, and it still isn’t.

            I’m cutting into a slab of steak when a familiar shrill voice assaults my eardrums.

            “Omoni!” it shrieks.

            I cringe, turning around to address my dear cousin who’s making her way towards our table, whilst trying not to trip over her obnoxiously puffy gown.

            “Omo, Soomin!” Mom calls out as she leans in for a hug. “Oh, you look beautiful!”

            Soomin’s my cousin. She’s two years older than me, and mom absolutely adores her. I mean, why wouldn’t she? She’s successful, she’s beautiful, and she’s got all the feminine qualities that mom could only wish for in a daughter.

            Soomin bats her thick mascara-coated eyelashes and smiles. “Oh, please,” she exclaims, bathing in the flattery. “Look at you! You look like you’ve gotten younger since I’ve last seen you!”

            I choke back a laugh.

            “And, Ahri,” she starts, her heavily made up eyes focusing on me. “You look-“ she pauses, eyeing my bare feet, which are sore and blistered from the heels. “You look—just— just great!” She nods reassuringly.

            This is how Soomin always talks to me. As though I’m barely deserving of an actual compliment. Not that I’ve ever particularly concerned myself with what she thinks of me.

            Soomin turns her attention back to mom. “So, one of my colleagues.” She sips on the glass of champagne in her hand. “At Shinhan Group,” she clarifies, as if she hasn’t announced it to us a thousand times before. “Got me two reservations at the Mogi Day Spa in Jeju, and I was thinking, just an idea, that we should go together. What do you think?”

            Mom gasps. “Omo! Mogi? But it’s almost impossible to get a spot there at this time of year!”

            “I knew you’d be excited!”

            “This is exactly what I needed,” mom exclaims. “Soomin, you’re a godsend, really!”

            She smiles widely, touching her hand to mom’s shoulder.

I roll my eyes, stabbing my fork into a piece of steak and shoving it into my mouth.  

            “And look at you,” mom starts, “you look so slim! Tell me how do you do it?”

            Soomin laughs, shrugging in fake modesty. “Oh, you know, I’ve just been-” she stops, glances at me accusingly. “I’ve just been trying to cut red meats out of my diet.”

I fork another piece of steak into my mouth.

“It’s really fatty.” She smiles fakely at me when she says this. “And really high calories; goes straight to your hips.

            “You’re too right. You should try that too, Ahri,” mom says. “Eat some vegetables.”

            I grumble and slowly lower my fork, feeling a blush of humiliation creeping up my neck.

            “Oh, by the way, Ahri,” Soomin begins, smugly “Where’s your date? I want to meet him,” she says, sugar dripping from her words.

            Yep, there it is. Typical Soomin. I’m almost sure that there hasn’t been a single family gathering where she hasn’t brought up my love life, or rather lack of, in a conversation. It’s like she needs to constantly be reassured that I’m living a miserable single life.

            “I didn’t bring one,” I grunt quietly.

            “I’m sorry? You what?”

            “I didn’t bring one,” I repeat, staring at my half eaten plate of food.

            “Hm?” Soomin raises a hand to her ear. “What was that?”

            I look up at her, knowing full well that she’s doing this on purpose. “I said,” I start. “I. Didn’t. Bring. One,” I bite out bitterly.

            “Oh, right.” Soomin bites her lip, feigning embarrassment. “Well, how rude of me.”

            “Don’t be surprised,” mom giggles. “Ahri hasn’t dated since high school.”

            I groan.

            “Aigo,” Soomin gasps. “That was five years ago. You poor thing,” she looks at me, concerned. “Have you considered speed dating? I hear that can be a good option nowadays.”

            I don’t know what stops me from clasping my hands around her neck.

            When I don’t reply, she turns back to mom. “Speaking of dating; omoni, I have some really exciting news.” She pauses dramatically, trying to smother a smile. Then she shoots out her left hand, flashing the obnoxiously fat, sparkling diamond ring sitting on her fourth finger. “I’m engaged!” She squeals and my mom squeals along with her.

            Well, this is fantastic. Now she has yet another thing to rub in my face at every Christmas party.

            I force a smile and give my obligatory congratulations. This is one of the many reasons I’ve never been able to see eye to eye with Soomin; not because she’s more successful or more beautiful than me, but because even as a child, she’s never been able to be successful without making other people feel inferior first. I honestly feel bad for the poor bastard marrying her. I can only imagine spending every waking moment of the rest of my life with her, and it makes me cringe.

            As mom and Soomin excitedly discuss wedding dates and venues, my mood turns sour. The food’s gone cold, and I decide it’s time for a nice cold bottle of soju. Classy, I know.

When I get up from my seat, they don’t even turn their heads.

--

            I lied earlier when I said I don’t like weddings. There’s one thing in particular that I like about weddings, and that is the open bar. I mean, if it’s free, then why the hell not right?

            I’m sitting on a bench in the terrace garden, slowly sipping on a bottle of soju, and not wanting to go back inside to be further humiliated by my cousin. I’m wondering how much longer I have to stay here in order for mom to be satisfied. But she never will be; that is, unless I somehow land myself a job at Shinhan Group, lose ten pounds, get a nose job, and start acting like a stuck up . In fact, I can probably expect a lecture later tonight about sitting outside alone and not joining in on the festivities. Mom always drags me to these events in the hopes that I’ll meet a decent guy so she can marry me off.

            But, I mean, technically, I’m not being a complete loner right now. Technically.

            I glance over at the only other person in the garden. He’s sitting beside me fast asleep. His head is slung over the back of the bench and I hear soft periodic snoring. I guess I’m not the only one who thinks this wedding is a complete bust.

My phone vibrates in my hand and I open a text message from mom.

            Where are you??? Come meet Soomin’s fiancée…He’s very handsome!!

            “Aish.”

            Even when she’s not there, Soomin has a way of digging her way into my thoughts with her perfectly manicured claws. I scoff, throwing my phone back into my purse.

            It’s been like this for practically as long as I can remember. When I was twelve, Soomin showed up at our house with a suitcase, and mom kept telling me that I had to be nice to her because her mother had died, and her father was away on a business trip in Europe, so she had to live with us for the moment. Ever since then, and even after Soomin moved out, it’s always been Soomin this, and Soomin that and Oh, Soomin, we’re so happy for you. And I had desperately wanted to be like her.  

            My phone buzzes again from my purse, and I ignore it, not wanting to hear one more word about Soomin.

            I’m finishing off the last sip of soju when I hear a groan from beside me. I look to the man sleeping beside me. His head lulls to the side, and his fringe falls back, uncovering his part of his face.

           I can’t help but think I’ve seen him somewhere, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. Then again, I make note of his tall nose bridge and pale skin; With a face like his, he could have just walked straight out of a music video for all I know. Jeesun, my flat mate, does make me watch an awful lot of kpop these days, so maybe he’s among one of those hundred of nameless kpop boys I’ve seen on the internet.  

           He mutters something in his sleep, and I quickly look away, not wanting to be creepy.

           A few moments later, I’m readjusting the strap of my dress when the sleeping stranger suddenly jolts forward like he’s just woken up from a bad dream. He lets out a long sigh and looks around warily like he can’t remember why he’s here. Then he spots me out of the corner of my eye. I raise a curious eyebrow at him.

           “Sorry,” he says, rubbing a hand over his face. “Didn’t think anyone would be out here.”

           He speaks really softly and I almost don’t hear him.

           “It’s alright. I’m hiding out too.” I shrug. “Had a nice nap?”

Well, that sounded a little creepier than I intended.

“Um, yeah,” he says hesitantly, his face unreadable. He reaches his arm back to scratch his head.

He doesn’t say anything for a few moments, and I’m internally slapping myself for being so incredibly awkward. Social situations have never been my forte.

He straightens out his suit jacket, which is now sporting a few creases.

“So what are you hiding from?” He finally asks.

“A really irritating cousin,” I sneer. “How about you? What’s your reason for skipping out on the festivities?”

“I’m not a fan of weddings,” he admits quietly.

I chuckle, holding up the empty soju bottle. “You and me both, buddy.”

          We sit in silence for a few minutes, and he stares at a flower arrangement with a blank expression on his face. He has dark rings under his eyes, the only fault on his otherwise blemish free face. I almost want to ask about his skin regimen, because, damn. 

“Why are you hiding from your cousin?” he asks, and I’m a little surprised that he wants to know.

I scoff. “It’s a long story,” I reply, not wanting to bore him with my life story. 

He glances at the dining hall window behind us. “Between you and me,” he starts. “I think I’d rather hear about your cousin than go back inside,” He chuckles shyly.

             “Alright, well, where do I even start?” I laugh. “She’s just- just.” I look for a word that could possibly sum Soomin up in one word that doesn’t start with a ‘b’ and rhyme with witch. “She’s just insufferable,” I say finally.

He nods and I continue.

           “She’s the kind of person who has to constantly be in the spotlight to be satisfied with herself. And sometimes that’s not even enough for her.” I pause, glancing at him. He nods again..

 “It’s like she can’t just be happy without stepping on everyone else in the process. She’s just so-so excruciatingly full of herself.”

He doesn’t say anything; just nods, and I begin to think I’ve already bored him to death.

“I knew someone like that in high school,” he says simply, still nodding. “Always had to be in the centre of attention. Hated him.”

“Yes! That’s exactly what she’s like! People like that are so unbearable!” I exclaim.

“I punched him in the face,” He murmurs as an afterthought.

“You what?” I laugh.

He reaches his hand to his face and rubs his eyebrow. “Yeah,” he says. “Gave him a black eye.”

I burst out laughing. “You do not look like the violent type,” I say; and he doesn’t. More of a passive aggressive type, really.

“Well, as you put it, he was ‘excruciatingly’ full of himself.”

“You have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to just clock her in the face,” I giggle. “See how pretty she looks with a missing tooth.”

           “Alright,” he says. “But I won’t be responsible for any lawsuits,” he jokes; and I find it strange that his face remains almost completely stoic despite this. And even though I’ve just met him, I get the feeling that he doesn’t smile much. .  

We sit in silence for a couple of moments, watching the view of Seoul from the terrace.

“Just ignore her,” he says finally.

          “Easier said than done,” I sigh. “She’s literally everywhere. My mom thinks the sun shines out of her ,” I say sarcastically. “And I’m not saying it doesn’t, maybe it does for all I care. I just try not to concern myself too much with her nether regions.”

           He cracks a bashfully small laugh, and it’s a nice laugh albeit quiet. And as his eyes crinkle up in amusement, I decide that it’s one I wouldn’t mind hearing more of.