ROSIE’s POV

 

 

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” the driver smiled, and after I got out, he drove away while waving one hand out from his window.

 

I took a real deep breath. One. Two. Three.

Come on, Rose.

 

 

I gave my own chest a strong pat, cleared my throat, and started walking heavily towards the paving stone which led to a house. I shook off the uneasy feeling, confused by the fact that these Hillgreen streets are way more emptier than how I remember it to be.

As I wearily walked into the front yard, I noticed that the bushes were trimmed perfectly neat, just as how I remembered when I left them seven years ago. In fact, I was the one who used to take care of them. Trees and shades grew surrounding the white-painted three-stories house, accentuated with black-framed windows in the light blue sky. I walked towards the front door, sort of noticing the planter’s box in which I used to plant white roses was already gone.

 

I sighed.

I count, again. One. Two. Three.

 

I pushed the doorbell, and it sounded just how I remembered it to be. It rang twice, echoed throughout the whole house apparently. I sort of noticed that my hands had went cold and sweaty, and an anxiety, which I couldn’t contain, started to crawl into my heart.

Minutes passed, and I already couldn’t stay still. My feet tapped the floor impatiently, yet anxiously, as I finally heard footsteps approaching from the inside of the house. A moment later, someone peeked through the window next to the door, and a woman’s voice squealed from inside the house. I took a step back as the woman excitedly opened the door locks, and finally revealed herself.

 

“Rosalind!!” the woman exclaimed in pure happiness, as she came out with open arms and a big, pearly white smile to go in contrast with her dark olive skin.

I force myself to smile.

“Eponine,” I said, and gave up into the hug given by my old caretaker. She, apparently, cried in happiness already, and hugged my body so tightly until I couldn’t even breathe.

“Oh, my dear Rosalind, it’s been so long....” she said, in a muffled voice.

“Seven years,” I said.

 

She took a step back while holding my arms, studied me with such a proud, teary look on her face. Eponine took care of me ever since I was a baby, because my father was almost always busy, and my mother often fell sick. Even when the huge fight between me and my father broke--until I went to court to change my family name using my late mother’s nee and threw away my father’s--she was there and she resorted to taking care of my father. I didn’t remember her being so short, in fact, way shorter than she used to, as she just stood as tall as my chest, with lovely dark skin and her hair that stood curled like a bonsai tree.

 

“Come inside, your father is at work right now.”

She held my hand and led me inside the house.

 

Oh, honestly I never liked the atmosphere of this old house. The entrance was quite dark even though there’s windows, because of the trees that grew in front of the yard. I looked around, and I notice nothing had changed ever since I left it. My late mother’s body-length framed photograph was still hung on an empty wall in the lounge, and my old piano stood there, lonely, as nobody at home could play but me.

“I kept your room just as how it used to,” Eponine said, as we climbed the stairs to the second floor. “Took quite an effort to... cajole your father into letting me keep it as how it normally was because, you know, as soon as you left he wanted to just change everything, but... here it is,” she ended, and opened the white wooden door to my room.

 

The palomino-beige painted room was still the same, decorated with posters of my old time favourite bands, photographs, and countless wall-mounted racks steadily showcasing my old trophies, mostly from female football leagues, karate tournaments and band achievements. I walked inside and put my backpack on my bed, softly feeling the soft covers, inhaling the old, sweet scents of laundry perfume my late mother used to use on the laundry, and Eponine continued to use till today.

I was smiling so happily with my mother on so many framed photographs on the walls, and she laughed brightly with her long, jet black locks that was always hard to tame, falling in long wavy curls under the sunlight. The door to the balcony was locked, yet the windows were wide open, letting the sunrays in, setting a warm, lovely lighting in the room.

Eponine was still watching with a sad smile as I walked around in my room, examining posters, books, my wardrobe and framed certificates, all until I stopped in front of my study desk, stumbled upon a small, laminated photocard covered in dust, right above a white, CD album box on the desk. Anyone would assume that the CD album was special due to the condition it was placed, despite of all the dust. I sat on the chair in front of the study, and wiped away the dust with my fingers as Eponine came to me in silence.

 

 

It was Taekwoon’s photocard from his Superhero album, sticked to the wall using a highly-adhesive double-tape.

 

He was there, posed gorgeously in his old, black, spiky hair and white clothes, with white background that illuminated his skin. I absentmindedly ran my fingers over his face, faintly starting to feel emptiness inside my heart.

 

 

Taekwoon...

 

 

 

“He’s... yours now, isn’t he?” Eponine suddenly broke the comfortable silence, and brought me back into reality. I cleared my throat, trying to get rid of a sudden blockage in my throat.

“Umm... you can say so,” I avert my attention from Taekwoon’s old photocard, and stood up, walked towards the bed to sat on it.

 

Eponine looked at me with such a sad expression, which I didn’t understand.

“I saw you two on television back then,” she said, standing in front of me. “I could tell you both loved each other, by the way you both talked then.”

I nodded.

 

Oh, I loved him. So much. He’s the reason I’ve became so selfish for the first time in my life, for wanting to have him for myself.

 

Back then, right about four days before my departure to Korea, I got my first Kpop idol album, which was VIXX’s Superhero. I was intrigued by how simple, yet pretty, the design of the album was, and I directly fell in love with the man in the photocard I found under the disk case.

 

Right after that, I knew which company I would audition to. As if the path to my future was automatically opened as I open the CD album.

 

“Eponine... I love him... And he doesn’t even know, how... how guilty I feel right now, for accusing him to be selfish when in fact.. I’m the selfish one... Oh, Lord..”

 

I buried my face in my palms, and Eponine hugged me.

“It’s alright... He will understand. Be at peace, dear.. You’re home now. You’re home...”

 

 

 

 

I tried to really be careful in handling knives, as I helped Eponine to prepare the stew and roasted pork for dinner. I took a glance at the clock hanging on the kitchen’s wall, and it was already 7 PM. From what Eponine told me, Dad would be home in an hour.

 

“Best be quick, I don’t want to be chewed by Mr Hemsway, oh, not tonight..” Eponine muttered as she finished cooking the pork and plated it.

“What, Dad’s still as strict as always?” I scoffed.

“Oh, worse,” Eponine sighed. “Ever since you left, he literally became colder. He’s nice to me, actually.. but when I suggested him to get married again, he would just spat at the idea.”

“Well, a woman for him to talk to would warm the house,” I said while washing my hands.

“That’s it, right? He just never listens.”

“Please be patient with him.”

“Well, I have, for twenty-seven years now ever since I start serving your family, dear.”

I giggled.

 

 

After we finished preparing the table, Eponine rushed me back to my room and insisted for me to get changed.

“Ripped jeans? Not acceptable,” she said, while rummaging for clothes in my backpack. “You brought nothing!”

“Well, I only stay for the night,” I shrugged, planted my hands on my waist. “I need to go back tomorrow morning.”

Eponine shot me a look of disbelief.

That’s about right, and I didn’t even inform anyone in the family that I was about to go home. My back up plan was that, even if nobody opened the door, I could just go back to my hotel. The fact that I’m staying here now is the unexpected part.

 

Eponine sighed. “Wait here,” and then she ran out of the room.

I clicked my tongue, and tapped my feet to the floor.

 

Minutes later, she came back bringing a white, simple turtleneck dress, some kind of proud expression shadowed her face.

 

“Wear this, it’s Kyesang’s dress,” Eponine said, and measured the dress to my body. “It’ll fit.”

“What? No!”

“Please.”

 

I stopped struggling, as I saw the change in Eponine’s face. Her expression darkened, and she went back being sad-looking. My shoulders fell.

 

“I miss your mother, so much,” she said, caressed the fabric of the white, body-fit dress. “This was her favourite to wear. At your father’s 48th birthday, her last time wearing it, she looked so..”

 

Eponine was at loss of words.

 

I sighed, and shrugged. I took the dress from Eponine, as she stared at me in surprise. I turned my back to her, quickly took off my white shirt and ripped jeans, soon enough, stripped in front of her. She put me to bath everyday when I was little anyway.

 

I really felt nothing regarding this memory of my mother. I guess it’s because it has been such a long, long time ago, and I hadn’t had much time to go back, let alone to remember my mother, as I was practically busy in every minute. I pulled the dress over my head, and let it fell to above my knees. I took off my hair band and let my long hair fell to the lower of my back, as it hung unstyled. It fitted me almost perfectly.

And then I turned over.

 

Eponine gasped at the view.

 

“Kyesang..” she shudder, and tears fell to her cheeks. “You have grown, so much... Just like her...”

 

I didn’t react to this at all. I just let Eponine hugged me, and I hugged her back lightly.

 

Right at that moment, a car blow its horn downstairs, and soon I knew the familiar sound of the old Bentley my father always drove.

“Oh, it’s him,” Eponine pulled away and wiped her face. “Just go downstairs and wait in the living room, I’ll open the door. Let’s make a surprise,” she seemed excited, and ran downstairs, in an exceptional speed for a woman of her age.

 

I walked downstairs, and waited as she said. I could faintly hear her excited voice, and a man’s calm voice from in front of the garage, yet I don’t know what hold them back for so long to get inside. I sighed, actually not even ready to met my father.

I sat on the chair in front of my old grand piano in the living room, and decided to play any song that came to mind. My hands automatically played Oh Joon Sung’s In Memories, a soundtrack of a drama from years ago that I and Jihae loved, The Master’s Sun.

 

Soon, I was carried away in playing, letting my fingers danced calmly with the keys, producing a lovely tune that resembled golden, dripping honey.

I subconsciously remember things that made me happy.

 

My mother..

Sweet bread..

Jihae and the girls..

Wonshik..

 

And Taekwoon.

 

I didn’t even realize a soft, faint smile has crept upon my lips, as I swayed on the chair, following the sweet, melodious music.

 

And I didn’t even realize that Eponine had stood in front of the piano, side by side with my father.

 

As I noticed them watching me, I ended the song, and slowly stood up, ready to receive threats, anger, or even kicked out of the house by my father.

 

My father, the handsome white man, who was standing tall, broad and strong in front of me, whose hair has turned grey, lean in posture yet still has that charming gentleman aura, covered perfectly in a light grey suit and a laptop-bad on one of his hands, stood there in shock, lips parted, as his eyes were fixated on me.

 

I bowed at him. “Hi, Dad.”

 

But then I heard something heavy hit the floor, and then I was buried in a warm, rose-scented hug.

 

“You can’t tell how long I dream for this moment to happen,” he said in a shaky, husky voice.

“I’m so sorry, Dad..” I whispered, lacing my arms around his wide waist, letting my tears fell on my cheek.

“Welcome home, Rosie...”

 

 

 

 

 

“So... how old are you now?” Dad asked, a little bit awkwardly, as he sipped on his wine.

“Twenty six,” I answered, watching as Eponine cleared up the table.

“Hmm.. you’re grown well into a beautiful woman,” he said, while a rare, charming smile blossomed on his lips.

 

I couldn’t remember when was the last time I saw my father smiled, and I’m glad I still have the chance to.

 

“Aren’t you old enough to still be a, what, idol?”

I sighed.

“Yes, I’ve come to think about quitting too, and focus on modelling,” I said.

My father cleared his throat.

“Well, if.. you have any plans of taking, you know, a break... come home,” he finally said, looking away.

 

 

I choked a little.

 

My father was never someone who say things like that. I knew it was quite a fight we had, until we hadn’t talk to each other for years. And this was... unexpected of him.

 

“Come home, find a man, get married and live an ordinary life... I wouldn’t hate having grandchildren,” he grinned with lots of effort.

 

I smiled sadly, at the fact of how much my father resembled Taekwoon.

And then Taekwoon’s plans came to mind.

 

What if I don’t have any other chance to tell him?

My father deserve to know...

 

 

“Dad.”

“Hmm?”

“What if...” I took a deep breath.

“What?”

“What if... I get engaged this year...?” I hesitantly said. “You don’t have to force yourself to approve it... I’m just... asking your opinion.”

 

And, again, at this topic, my father’s jaw dropped.

I anticipated for the worst, and I subcosnciously fidget with the edge of my dress.

 

“Is it... going to be... with that man, in the news...?” he asked.

I nodded.

My father looked a little bit shocked, yet he finally sighed.

 

“You like him?”

“I love him.”

“Economical status?”

“Good, several side-business, solo carreer, modelling and acting.”

“Family?”

“Already met them once, only his mother though.” Oh, and it was a tough one.

“Are you happy?”

“Huh?” I’m startled at this one.

 

My father stood up, walked from across the long dining table, and, surprisingly, kneeled next to my chair, took my hands which had fidgeted with the edges of my dress, held them firmly.

 

“Does he make you happy?” he asked, looking straight into my eyes which had started to sting, along with a strange feeling in my heart.

 

“All the time, Dad...” I whispered, as beads of tears fell from my eyes to my lap.

 

Then my father smiled.

 

“Bring him to me... so I could bless you both.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I hurriedly put the boxed apple pies and coffee for all the staffs at the photo studio on a table, accepting expressions of gratitude in a hurry, as I captured Taekwoon in sight, standing on the set, having his make-up retouched. He was on a photoshoot for ARENA Korea, and was on a break.

I quickly check my appearance on a body-length mirror nearby, making sure my black, body-fit turtleneck dress and my black parka suits well with my black boots with my black, long hair went everywhere, earning looks of shock and amazement from the staffs around, which I didn’t even care about. It was my make-up for the photoshoot I did just an hour ago and I couldn’t even care to take it off.

 

I started to ran towards him, evading so many props and equipments, apologizing to people, when I got to a shocked Jung Taekwoon.

 

“Rosie, wh—uff!”

 

I jumped and hugged him, kissing his lips.

 

I didn’t even care about shocked gasps and yells from the staffs.

 

 

 

“Taekwoon, please forgive me for being stupid and selfish and y and egoistical and self-centered, you know I love you,” I said, panting, my arms still around his neck as our lips were just an inch away.

 

 

He froze.

 

“What...?”

“Am I forgiven?” I asked, with a demanding tone.

 

Somebody whistled, and giddy giggles were heard everywhere, as Taekwoon’s cheeks and ears grew red.

“You.. I just...”

“Am. I. Forgiven?” I asked again. “I’m not going to go away and latch myself to you until you say ‘yes’.”

 

Taekwoon was incredibly flustered, I knew. His face grew all red abashed, in front of the staffs that were enjoying my apple pie-treat on their break, the same staffs that had started teasing him, cheering him and teasingly whistled. I could see Taekwoon’s lips twitch, and an embarassed, cute little smile blossomed on his lips.

 

“Uh. Fine, fine. I forgive you,” he finally whispered, face as red as a ripe tomato.

I smiled, sighed in relieve.

 

“My father wanted to meet you, he’s giving his blessing,” I whispered, in a bright smile I couldn’t contain.

Taekwoon was clearly surprised at this, and I noticed people started to listen on what I’m saying.

“Really? Thats... for real..? Then..”

“I’ll go with your plans—“

 

Taekwoon lips shut me up, as he kissed me fully on my lips, in a surprisingly demanding strength, embraced my body even tighter. I smiled in the kiss, tasting him to the fullest.

 

The fact that we were on a photoset, with cameras and people everywhere started cheering and clapping, was beyond me.

 

Not that we care about it, though.

Not even when the blitz shone brightly and someone took our picture.

Not even when I heard them praising us.

 

 

“This could be a movie poster.”

“Model couple.”

“Even their clothes suit perfectly.”

“They’re so beautiful together.”

“Ya, print it out for Taekwoonie, frame it.”

 

 

 

 

 

 I’ll go with Taekwoon, wherever he go.

I won’t stop loving him, even when landmines and bullets separate us.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

SORRY FOR THE LONG DELAY!!!

 

I got sick very easily lately and just couldn't focus much, sorry :(