hii! i"m a new reader of your works, and i must say that i really love the way you write! i love every single ones i've read so far but i know that there are yet to read (i'm still moving on from the most recent sana one i've read about waves and snow). i also don't know if there's a lot more but i wonder if you also write for other members like nayeon? the works that i've only seen so far are misamo and jihyo (again, because i know i haven't read all of them yet, but i really am just wondering and curious to know before i read more)
anyway, i love all your works! i hope to see more of your of them! take caree! thanks
apologies for this late reply. but, yes. i will write about other members in 2027 2026. i have a masterlist waiting filled w prompts— writing is just what i need to do. thanks for the ask, lovie 🤤<3
also there's an ask that questioned if my request is open, answer to that is also a yes. but, just don't expect the request to be done fast 😭 I'm just a teen tryna stay on the w honors shit in school, kinda busy . . .
synopsis — a video. a beautiful girlfriend. the perfect prank.
notice — small fluff, idolxnon-idol, written with simplicity.
pairing — minatozaki sana x reader !
disclaimer ! this is a work of fiction created purely for entertainment purposes. all events are fictional. while this story may feature public figures, it is not meant to reflect their real thoughts, actions, or relationships. please remember: nothing depicted in this story actually happened.
THE SCREEN FLICKERS WITH A TIKTOK, and you’re immediately hooked by a guy holding a receipt like it’s a bomb about to explode, a nervous grin stretched across his face. “forgot my wallet prank on the loml” the caption reads. the audio hit— a dramatic gasp layered with chaotic laughter, and your shoulders shake from stifled giggles.
the comments scroll by, each one a punchline of chaos:
“she was calculating how long he'll be washing 'em dishes”
“did this once, my gf apparently brought my wallet for me. ”
“bro is not getting lucky tonight.”
you laugh out loud, clutching your phone, and for a second the world feels absurdly bright and silly. the cat jumps at the noise, annoyed, and you pause to pet it absently, still grinning.
your phone buzzes, breaking your focus. sana.
you open the attachment. the mirror selfie hits you instantly. sana is sitting elegantly on the huge black couch, legs casually up, hair down freely, the kind of effortless beauty that makes your chest tighten a little. momo’s in the middle, energy at full volume, double peace signs over her eyes. mina leans casually against the mirror on the left, peace sign over her right eye, that quiet little smile that makes everything look too polished. and sana, of course, is perfect— her grin mischievous in a way that feels like she knows exactly how cute she is.
you snap a picture in return— your laptop open on a ongoing TIME TO TWICE video. somehow having them both on your screen twice at once makes it even funnier. i am clearly a grown adult, this is perfect.
you toss your phone on the bed and stretch, thinking about tonight. alright. she’s going to sit there all calm and cute, thinking everything’s normal… and then, bam. “oh no, i forgot my wallet” you picture her face, that mix of panic, slight indignation, mock outrage, and your lips twitch with anticipation. she’s going to be dramatic. she’s going to absolutely fake-gasp. oh my god.
you peel yourself off the bed and shuffle to the bathroom, towel over your shoulders, muscles still tight from earlier. steam fogs the mirror immediately. you catch your reflection and laugh quietly at yourself. this is ridiculous. why am i already this excited about pretending to be broke?
you finish your shower, hair damp, towel wrapped around you, and glance at your phone again.
sana’s reply is instant.
proof or it didn't happen.
you groan, rolling your eyes dramatically, though there’s a stupid grin on your face.
you drop the phone face-down and start picking your outfit carefully. casual but polished. subtle perfume, soft enough that it’s noticeable only when she’s close. you smooth your shirt, tug your pants, check your reflection.
you slip the phone in your pocket. the flutter in your chest picks up.
you pause in front of the mirror one last time, smooth your hair, tug at your shirt.
the anticipation stretches, soft and delicious. the world outside your apartment is dim and quiet, the perfect stage. and tonight, you remind yourself with a smile.
THE EVENING AIR IN SEOUL WAS COOL AND LIGHT, carrying faint hints of spring blossoms and warm asphalt. you step into the restaurant behind sana, catching the way her brown wavy hair bounces slightly as she moves, the black pants and white tank simple but striking. she slides into the chair with a relaxed smile, and you can’t help but grin.
“so… GRAFF ambassador in Paris next week, huh?” you ask, sitting and then leaning back in your chair.
“yeah,” she says, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “launch events, press stuff… supposed to sparkle. no pressure.”
“no pressure,” you repeat with a grin. “you always outshine everything anyway, i mean come on, This Is For comeback, full stadiums, trending everywhere.”
she laughs, eyes lighting up. “don’t flatter me too much. people might start believing you.”
“sure sure,” you say, letting your hand brush lightly against hers on the table.
“you’re impossible,” she says, smirking, tapping your fingers with hers.
you smile gently. “charming. don’t forget charming.”
the waiter arrives, sliding steaming plates across the table — perfectly plated, aromatic, the kind of fancy dishes that feel like an experience. she picks up her fork, eyes glinting, and scoops a bite of something soft and delicate.
she smirks, leaning forward to feed you a small bite from her plate. "baby, taste this."
you watch her, that playful gleam in her eyes, the little smirk, and wow. she’s effortlessly radiant. the kind of person who lights up the room without even trying, you think, swallowing the bite she fed you.
“not bad, right?” she teases. “but i expect desserts soon.”
“whatever my beautiful girl wants.” you reply with a grin, letting your gaze linger.
“and you,” she says, a sly smirk tugging at her lips, “look too good just sitting there. it’s distracting. i might have to kiss you later.”
okay, focus, you remind yourself, though your chest is a little warmer than it should be. she’s gorgeous, she’s playful, she’s laughing — she's… perfect.
the conversation drifts naturally. what happened at her practice, Paris once more, the chaos that'll happen behind the GRAFF launch— and of course her teasing that doesn’t stop.
she takes a bite of her food, then grins. “hmm, not bad. maybe you’re spoiling me too much tonight,” she quips.
“impossible,” you reply, leaning in just enough to brush your arm against hers under the table. “someone’s got to. and you look like you deserve it.”
she chuckles softly, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “you look… way too cute right now. it’s unfair.”
after a while of small talk (flirting), you wave down the waiter, while wiping your mouth with a napkin. thinking of the small prank, you internally grin like an idiot.
the waiter arrives with the bill, sliding it across the table, and leave with a small bow. you reach into your pocket. nothing. pat the other pocket. still nothing.
you look at her, trying to stop the ridiculous smile creeping in. "my love, i must've forgotten my wallet..."
her eyes widen. “wait... what?”
you pat your empty pockets, shrugging like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “eh.. it's fine, you can pay this time.”
sana blinks at you. "baby."
"yes..?" you blinked back.
“you’re joking.” she huffed, eyes squinting.
“why would i joke about woman empowerment?” you answer smoothly, like it’s the most logical thing in the universe.
her eyebrows shoot up, and her mouth opens slightly. “i... what?”
“think about it,” you continue, leaning back, grinning. “you’ve been running the world lately— twice-successful comeback, stadiums screaming your name, ambassador trip to paris for graff… i think you can handle a dinner bill. moral support only goes so far.”
sana frowns, her lip twitching. “that’s… rude.”
“rude?” you echo, pretending to be scandalized. “nah, it’s me growing. letting others contribute sometimes.”
“growing... cheap,” she mutters, voice dripping with playful judgment, though there’s that subtle disappointment you know too well.
her disappointment isn’t about money, she’s richer than you’ll ever be, a fact she could never let you forget. but… this is the part that makes her flustered: minatozaki sana loves being spoiled.
the way you insist, the little gestures, the exaggerated chivalry. she loves the princess treatment, and right now it feels... withheld. it makes her want to whine, pout, and maybe kick you under the table, all at once. she hates that it gets her like this.
“you always pay,” she says, sighing, mock scandal in her tone. “every date, every meal... and now… now you’re trying to grow cheap? you’re breaking my heart and our unspoken rules at the same time.”
“okay,” you say, laughing, leaning closer. “you did say you wanted to treat me once in awhile.”
sana groans, throwing her napkin down, getting her prada bag with a HUGE frown. “i hate you.”
“love you too,” you reply, winking. “but also, obviously, i’m paying.”
her eyes widen, and she her hand freezes, like you’ve just declared war. “wait… what?”
you pull your black card from your wallet with a flourish, laughing. “surprise. princess treatment restored. don’t worry, your empire is safe.”
sana huffs, crossing her arms, pouting, her cheeks pink. “i can’t believe this. i can’t even... you’re insufferable.”
“yeah, but admit it,” you tease, the waiter come backs, and you hand your card to him. “you missed it already, didn’t you?”
“hmph,” she mutters, leaning back with the tiniest whine. “i did not miss it. i just... can’t believe you.”
you grin, reaching across the table, catching her hand in yours. “oh, come on, you're still not used to this?”
she drags her hand from the table, still pouting, but lets you hold it. “you’re ridiculous,” she says, but there’s laughter in her tone now.
“hey,” you say, tugging her gently as you rise, “you can pay me back… with kisses.”
sana scowls, but there’s a small smirk, an inevitable warmth creeping over her. “seriously? that’s your payment plan?”
“absolutely,” you grin. “i accept those simple payments.”
she groans again, letting herself be pulled along. “i hate you. and i love you. you know that, right?”
“yep,” you say, squeezing her hand once, the chaos of the night softening into something warm. “all part of the plan.”
kino's note — first and foremost, kino would like to wish happy christmas and happy new year's eve!
a tragic year i've had—i lost my passion for writing. the only reason i kept going was because of my journalism. but, pushing through led to my burnout. and it took a toll. now this fic stands as it is— as you can see it's not overly descriptive, something i'm slowly adjusting to. i’ve learned that not everyone enjoys long, ahh heavy writing, and that’s okay.
as 2026 creeps in, i'd genuinely like to get back into fanfiction, rather than writing about news, and travels all day., but that might just me be ig ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
kino would like everyone to take care, and always stay strong. kino going to bed.
FALLING LIKE SNOW, RETURNING LIKE WAVES, ALWAYS BACK TO YOU. — MINATOZAKI SANA
❝ and now you know why you never texted her back. ❞
synopsis — the air still feels colder, it's been three years already. but, what happens when you come to the place where she is? this time it's snowfall and not the waves, but, you still fall.
notice — angst with a happy ending. unrequited love, miscommunication, implied sabotage, idolxnon-idol, written with realism, metaphors, and a slow and painful unravelling love story.
pairing — minatozaki sana x reader !
disclaimer ! this is a work of fiction created purely for entertainment purposes. all events are fictional. while this story may feature public figures (e.g., sana from twice), it is not meant to reflect their real thoughts, actions, or relationships. please remember: nothing depicted in this story actually happened.
PART 1!
there weren’t any waves tonight.
no crashing surf. no salt in the air. just snow—falling quiet and slow, melting where it touched the balcony railing. the sky above was a pale smear of gray, the city below wrapped in stillness. it wasn’t warm here. not even close.
you wrapped your hands around the mug eunji gave you and didn’t say much. the heat from the tea barely reached your fingers.
eunji stood beside you in her thick knit sweater, elbows tucked on the ledge, her breath fogging into the cold. “it’s weird, right?” she said softly. “i always forget how quiet it gets when it snows.”
you nodded once, eyes fixed on the empty street below.
no gulls. no sandals on pavement. no haze of summer climbing up your arms. just winter settling deep into your coat. and you realized
you missed the waves.
“it’s not like back then,” eunji said, almost smiling. “but… welcome back, anyway.”
you glanced over, finally. she was gazing at you with that look she always used to give you after class, like you were still eighteen and she’d never really let go of that version of you. the one who used to skip lectures to take her to the beach. the one who waited on the porch for someone else, but still smiled when it was her.
you nodded again. “thanks.”
she watched your face for a second longer before looking down at the city—sprawled wide and glittering beneath the snow.
seoul.
you hadn’t planned to come back. not really. it just… happened. a break. a reset. just two weeks, you told yourself. just something different. just long enough to forget the shape of her name when you whispered it to the sea.
but the waves weren’t here.
just snow.
and eunji, still beside you.
----
you were sitting on the guest bed half-dressed, half-scrolling through your phone, when something slipped out from between your clothes. a photo. bent edges, too-bright colors, definitely planted by keoni.
you stared at it for a second. yeah. that trip. the one before everything cracked open. before she left. before you stopped waiting by the ocean and started pretending you were fine.
a knock came at the door. gentle. careful.
“hey,” eunji called, voice muffled. “you wanna eat out tonight? there’s a place i used to love. not too far.”
you set the photo down on the pillow, face down. “sure,” you said, standing slowly. “let me grab my coat.”
by the time you stepped outside, seoul had shifted. it was always moving, never still—lanterns glowing over storefronts, snow clinging to the curbs, steam rising from food carts like smoke from a dream.
eunji took you somewhere small and tucked between older buildings. warm inside. smelled like chili paste and grilled meat and soup still bubbling in clay pots. you sat across from her, half-listening, half-scrolling. it was comfortable.
then the noise hit—laughter too loud from a table near the back. high-pitched. bubbly. a girl’s voice calling out something in a dialect you didn’t catch.
you blinked. “sorry, i need to use the bathroom real quick.”
you made your way past the hostess stand, turned a corner too quick, and bumped into someone going the opposite way. solid hit. shoulder to shoulder.
“sorry,” you said quickly, barely looking up and just leaving not having time because if you looked more you'd probably piss yourself infront of them. “my bad—sorry.”
outside, sana stood still for a breath. her brows drawn together, her hand still slightly raised like she meant to stop you.
“…weird,” she murmured while returning to their table.
“what is?” jihyo asked as sana sat back down.
sana tilted her head, brushing her hair from her cheek. “i think i just ran into someone i used to know.”
“you say that in every city,” nayeon said, rolling her eyes. “maybe it’s just your soul recognizing other famous souls.”
“no,” sana said, quieter. “this one felt… familiar.”
jihyo gave her a long look, but sana just shook her head, waving it off. “nothing. i’m fine. are we ready to go?”
they stood, coats in hand, talk already shifting to something else. but sana glanced once more toward the hallway before following them out.
you came back to your table a few minutes later. the noise had died down. just quiet chatter and plates being cleared. eunji poured you tea like nothing had happened.
you smiled faintly, glancing out the window. the snow was still falling. soft. unbothered. beautiful.
you didn’t know why your chest felt tight.
but you smiled anyway.
-----
you should’ve said no.
you were already halfway to the studio when it hit — the feeling you’d been ignoring all morning. that slow, creeping dread in your chest that had nothing to do with traffic and everything to do with how easily you’d said sure, i’ll come help. you thought it was just a favor. you thought eunji needed an extra hand. you thought she’d meant it the way old friends mean it — practical, casual.
the studio smelled like damp wires and instant coffee. someone’s leftover tteokbokki still clung to the air, sharp and sweet and cloying. you lingered near the door, arms folded, head ducked low. just another helping hand, no name, no label. someone asked you to move lighting equipment. another passed you cables. no one knew who you were, right?
you leaned against a wall, pretending not to exist. sleeves rolled up, a box of cables still in your hands because someone asked and you didn’t know how to say no. you weren’t sure how long you’d been standing there, but the knot in your throat had been present since the moment someone said, “eunji’s partner’s here!” and no one corrected them.
you caught her smirk from across the room. just for a second — the way her lip twitched up and then down again, feigned annoyance splashed with something else. something like satisfaction. she raised a brow as if to say, play along, and you did. stupidly. like you always did.
you didn’t even have time to respond before you felt it. arms wrapped tight around your middle. a full hug. not brief, not subtle. not a greeting, not exactly.
you froze. eunji pulled back and laughed against your shoulder like it was an old joke only you two knew. “what? no hug back?”
you smiled. thin. held the tension in your arms. and when she turned to yell something over her shoulder, you slipped your jacket off and folded it in your hands like it was nothing. like the fabric hadn’t just absorbed her perfume.
you didn’t want to smell like her.
“wah, i can see why eunji liked you..” someone said, walking by with a garment bag slung over one shoulder. they gave you a toe-to-head look.
you nodded once. short, tight smile. no words. too scared to embarrass her. too tired to lie. too hopeful that maybe — maybe this didn’t mean anything. eunji didn’t stop the others either. just rolled her eyes, not harshly — more like letting them have their fun. she even laughed when one stylist asked if you were picking her up for a date or just doing free labor out of love.
you wiped your palms on your jeans when no one was looking.
you drove with one hand on the wheel and the other digging faint half-moons into your thigh. the car heater was on low. your jacket sat balled up in the backseat.
hyeri flopped into the back like a sunbeam given legs. “thank you for the ride!” she beamed, fastened her seatbelt with a little grunt, then poked her head between the seats like a curious puppy. “eunji said her friend was coming but i didn’t know you were so cute.”
you blinked. eunji snorted.
“so, how long have you two been together?” hyeri chirped.
your throat dried up. “since college,” you said, quietly. meant since we met. meant just friends. meant not like that.
eunji leaned back, arms crossed, sunglasses on indoors like she was famous. “mm,” she said, clearly enjoying herself.
“that’s so cute,” hyeri squealed. “like, campus sweethearts? ugh, goals.”
you didn’t reply. just kept your eyes on the road, white lines passing like skipped heartbeats. eunji said nothing else. didn’t correct her. didn’t clarify. just sat there, smug in the seat beside you. when you dropped hyeri off, she waved at both of you like you were a matching pair.
eunji leaned her head back, lips curled, not saying anything. and that silence stretched — long and thick — all the way through traffic, through the music humming soft from the radio.
until finally, you said it. “you weren’t gonna tell them they were wrong?”
eunji scoffed lightly, not looking at you. “you’re the one who said since college.”
“i meant—” your voice cracked. you swallowed it down. “i didn’t mean it like that.”
“then why didn’t you correct her?”
you didn’t answer.
“exactly.”
the rest of the drive was quiet. uncomfortable. your hands gripped the steering wheel too tight. at a red light, you said softly, “i don’t want this. i don’t want to be part of some fake dating rumor.”
“it’s not a rumor,” eunji replied, suddenly cold. “it’s a joke.”
“it’s not funny to me.”
her jaw clenched. she didn’t look at you. “then don’t come next time.”
you blinked. hurt bloomed sharp in your chest. “…sorry,” you muttered.
you bit the inside of your cheek and didn’t say the rest. she was right — you could’ve said something.
meanwhile, back at the studio, the staff were in stitches. sana twirled her drink in one hand, watching the last of the team clean up. laughter still rang from the wardrobe area, one of her members helping and thanking the staff.
“where’s eunji noona?” she asked, light but curious. “and hyeri?”
“her partner picked her up,” someone grinned. “the quiet one? came by to help earlier. kinda cute. real domestic.”
“partner?” nayeon turned. “finally?” even jihyo was laughing now, muttering “about time” as she packed up her water bottle. nayeon made a teasing noise. momo pretended to swoon.
sana smiled with them — wide, amused — but her fingers tapped her cup slowly, rhythm offbeat. “partner, huh?” she repeated. voice soft. a little too soft. “since when?”
“we don’t really know,” someone said. “they looked like they weren’t from here… tan, brownish hair…”
“mm,” sana said, the smile staying but not quite reaching her eyes. “that’s sweet.” she turned back toward the room, slow and thoughtful, eyes a little distant.
supportive. curious. but something tugged behind her ribs. something that didn’t sit right.
-----
the snow doesn't fall like back home.
in hawaii, it rains sideways—warm, impatient, sudden. it crashes against the windows with sound. but here, in seoul, the cold is quiet. it sneaks in through your sleeves, clings to your lashes, and whispers in your breath.
you hadn't planned to come this early, but guilt is a heavy thing to carry in silence. you didn’t know why you’d cooked so much. well. maybe you did. maybe you knew exactly why your hands had reached for the pot before you were even fully awake.
you shift the lunch bag in your hands, the weight of kimbap, steaming soup sealed tightly, and lomi salmon still warm under layers of foil. one last thing: a note tucked between the containers, folded awkwardly like you never learned how to apologize out loud.
“sorry for yesterday. hope today’s better.”
you thought about leaving it at the desk. slipping it quietly to a staff member and walking off before anyone asked who it was from. but the bag was warm against your palms. and something about the sky made it hard to leave things half-finished today.
you don’t do half-things anymore. not after that night when you stood with your phone in your hand, your chest caving in, and no one answered.
your boots squeak a little against the polished floors. you glance around. "hey," you ask one of the women near the monitors, "sorry, do you know where i can find eunji?"
she tilts her head. “oh, you’re her—” before she can finish, another voice cuts in. "she’s in the break room, far end." you turn, about to thank the new voice—but the woman freezes slightly, mid-step. dressed casually, no heavy makeup, and still looks like she stepped out of a screen. then someone from behind calls, "jeongyeon! we need you at the monitor again."
you don’t wait to hear the rest.
a half-step of recognition, and a full-body cringe. you force a tight smile, nod quickly, muttering thanks before walking off, fists tightening in your hoodie pocket.
you head to the break room. open the door and—
"ah!" one of the younger staff claps her hands. "eunji-ssi, your partner’s here!" you freeze. but eunji just laughs, startled, maybe a bit flustered. “stop it,” she says with a half-smile. you try to smile, though your hoodie feels too warm now under the weight of everyone’s gaze.
a few staff members were sipping hot drinks, still rubbing sleep from their eyes. and yet—every glance tilted toward you.
eunji rises, brushing past them and meets you near the counter. “you didn’t have to come yourself,” she says softly, eyes flicking to your damp hoodie.
“you’re freezing,” she mutters, stepping closer, brushing snow from your hood. the movement is brief. careful. almost affectionate.
you clear your throat. “i uh… made you food.” her eyes soften. “oh. like… food food?” “kimbap. soup. some stuff from home.” you scratch your cheek. “sorry for snapping at you yesterday.”
“you shouldn't apologize, i was...” she stops. pride catching in her throat. “so dramatic,” you cut in gently, knowing she won’t admit fault, placing the bag down.
"what is this?" someone peeks in. "oh, wow—this smells amazing. is that... soup? and kimbap!" "wait—what’s this? wah! lomi salmon? you’re hawaiian?" you smile faintly. “yeah. born and raised.”
“no wonder,” a woman mutters. “your vibe’s different. warm.”
"they really cooked this?" another teases. “wow. is this what it’s like to have a partner?”
eunji groans. “don’t start.”
"no, seriously,” someone says. “they show up early, they cook, and they’re cute. where do you find people like this?”
someone finds the note. reads it aloud. “ugh, i want a partner who apologizes with food.” “look at their hoodie—they're freezing just to bring it over!” you stiffen, ears burning. eunji lifts a hand in warning. “guys, let them breathe.”
you glance at her, surprised. and for once — no teasing in her voice. just that steady calmness she rarely used when others were around.
she looks so much like home — the version of her from college — your heart drops.
you flush, tugging your sleeve. eunji doesn’t say anything, just hands out the extra kimbap. her silence is enough.
you turn to leave, stepping backward. your hoodie up, hands bare, pink with cold. shoulders hunched, your shoes leaving faint, damp prints on the tile — melting snow and whatever came before it.
you turn the corner. don’t glance back.
but sana glances.
her head snaps toward the sound — a soft click, a faint voice saying “thank you for the hawaiian food, eunji’s partner!” — her eyes catch movement across the hallway. her breath falters.
she knows that walk. that build. that way your sleeves hang past your wrists. the curve of your back in the cold. the way you always walked like the world was too loud and you wanted to slip through it unseen.
“what the…” she whispers already stepping forward.
sana freezes mid-step. “just a second—” she says. “we’re literally on the last chorus,” jihyo calls.
sana turns, half-dazed. “i thought—”
but when she looks back— nothing. just an empty corner.
no hoodie. no footprints. just cold air and silence.
she stares. something inside tightens — not panic, but worse. hope.
“you okay?” jihyo asks. sana swallows. “yeah. i just thought i saw…”
“a sasaeng?” nayeon raises a brow. “no,” sana says quickly. “just… someone i used to know.”
“should i tell the coordi team?” jihyo asks. “no,” sana insists. “it’s fine.” but it’s not fine. her chest is doing that thing again — full and empty all at once.
momo heads back inside. nayeon walks past, grabbing her water.
“what was that about?”
“she thought she saw someone,” jihyo says.
nayeon leans into sana. “someone you used to date?”
sana doesn’t answer. just laughs. hollow.
because inside, everything is screaming.
because if it was you—why didn’t you say anything?
why does she want to run after you so badly she can barely breathe?
----
the practice room hums with motion.
sana sits on the floor, back against the mirror, her phone tilted low in her lap. across the room, dahyun is spinning in place while jihyo laughs breathlessly, clapping to some beat only they seem to hear. nayeon’s in the corner making tiktoks, and momo’s retying her shoes for the third time. it’s warm, the windows fogged up from the body heat, the air full of sweat and noise and the faint smell of grape vitamin water.
and sana isn’t listening to any of it.
her eyes are fixed on the screen. or rather, what isn’t on it.
no posts. no profile picture. no bio. just your name. just the unchanging emptiness of your instagram.
“twenty minutes,” nayeon calls, peering over sana’s shoulder. “you’ve been staring at that for twenty minutes.”
sana clicks the screen off. “i haven’t.”
“is it one of your old lovers?” nayeon grins. “you saw someone earlier and now you’re sulking like a ghost walked by.”
sana flushes. “they weren’t a lover.”
“oh?” nayeon nudges her foot. “but you wanted them to be?”
“yah,” jihyo warns lightly, “leave her alone.”
but sana is already gone again, in her head. back to that hallway. the brush of cold air when the break room door opened. the way that hoodie slouched just right over familiar shoulders. the slope of a back she hasn’t seen in years — still tall. still quiet. still unreadable.
and then that staff voice echoing down the corridor — thank you for the hawaiian food, eunji’s partner!
sana rubs her chest. it doesn’t help. it aches in that sore, bruised way, like an old song stuck in her bones. the kind of pain that deepens the longer she stares into it.
she turns her screen back on. sighs. still nothing.
"what if you made a new account," she mutters, voice soft, pleading. “what if you moved and didn’t tell anyone? what if you’re hiding on purpose?”
she searches again. again. tries every spelling, every username she thinks you’ll use. flips through mutuals. searches tagged photos. nothing. nothing. nothing.
her brows draw together. she shifts her legs up, hugs her knees to her chest.
“you’re so mean,” she pouts under her breath, the words small and cracked. “do you really not miss anyone? not even a little? not even me?”
the light in eunji’s apartment is low — cold through the window, blue-grey on the counter. your half-finished breakfast sits cooling by the counter near the sink: rice, leftover soup, two limp rolls of kimbap.
you pick one up. hesitate. bite it anyway.
the taste is the same. sesame oil, salt, a little sweetness. but it catches in your throat halfway down. you cough once. then again, harder.
you remember the first time you made something like this — how you folded the rolls with care, how you set them down with a half-smile and an awkward, quiet hope. you remember holding your breath when you offered it, as if the tiniest motion might break whatever fragile thing hung between you. and you remember the silence that followed — heavy, hollow, not rejection exactly, but something colder. something final. she never took it. not then. not ever. she walked away.
the snow outside drifts steady past the window, silent and endless. it paints everything in soft white, too quiet, too clean. it’s so far from hawaii it stings. no crashing waves. no warm sidewalks. just cold that presses deep into your ribs.
you press a palm to your chest. it doesn’t help. you feel stupid.
you set the half-eaten kimbap down, wiping your mouth with the back of your sleeve, annoyed at the way it still tasted like memory. your phone buzzes once — a weather alert. more snow coming.
you sigh, unlock your phone, and tap keoni’s name without thinking.
he picks up on the second ring. "yo," he says, voice thick with sleep. "you miss me or somethin’? it’s barely nine here.”
“yeah,” you mutter. “needed a reminder why i left.”
“damn,” he snorts, “you call me just to insult me? cute.”
you lean an elbow against the counter, stare out the kitchen window. snow's collecting unevenly on the sill. “nah. just... breakfast didn’t go well.”
“you’re still cooking sad meals?”
“tried to make kimbap. almost died.”
keoni laughs like it's familiar. “classic. what was it this time — too much rice? veggies?”
“no, man. choked.”
“even better. death by nostalgia.”
you pinch the bridge of your nose. “don’t start.”
but he’s already going. “this about hawaii? you know you're going back like in three days.. or maybe someone from hawaii?”
you don’t answer.
“bro,” keoni says, “you always get like this when winter hits. i remember. you’d come back from the beach and just go full existential. same tone. same tired voice. same ‘i don’t care’ act.”
you flick a speck of rice off your hoodie. “maybe i just miss the weather.”
“nah, you don’t miss the weather. you miss people.”
“what people?”
keoni pauses — too long. then: “you still think about her? not the one from last summer. the one before. the— what was her name... park chaeyoung?”
you exhale sharply. "you’re really digging."
"just checking where your head's at. you had a streak, remember? that tattoo artist in makiki, the girl who worked at the smoothie truck—"
"okay, okay."
"i’m just saying," keoni teases, voice lighter now, "you used to be the heartbreaker, and now you’re choking on your own cooking like some washed-up lead in a breakup drama."
you snort, leaning your forehead against the cabinet. “you’re insufferable.”
“yeah, but you keep calling.”
you go quiet. your fingers drag along the rim of the counter, slow, idle.
keoni softens. “for real, though. you okay?”
you nod even though he can’t see. “yeah.”
“you sure?”
“…not really.”
you hear him shift on the other end, probably sitting up, probably frowning in that overly concerned way he always does when you say something honest.
“you need anything?” he asks.
“nah. just heading out for a bit.”
“wear your coat. you get cold easy.”
“okay, mom.”
“you’re welcome. and hey — you’ll be alright.”
you end the call with a small exhale, but it sticks in your throat on the way out. the apartment is quiet again. still too quiet. the kind that seeps under your skin and just stays.
you drop the phone face-down on the counter. stand there a second. then two. your hand brushes absently over the jacket hook, but you don’t reach for it yet.
your shoulders sag a little.
the soup is cold. the kimbap sits limp and untouched beside the sink. you stare at it too long, eyes blurring slightly before you even realize you're not blinking.
you swallow hard. shift your weight. shake your head once, like it might clear something out.
“this was a mistake,” you whisper. not to anyone. not really even to yourself. just to the silence. “coming here. should’ve just... left it back in the college days.”
you press the heel of your palm into your eye. it burns. when you blink again, your lashes feel wet.
you’re not sure when your chest started hurting — not the physical kind. the other kind. the kind that makes your throat close and your stomach turn and your fingers feel just a little colder than before. like something’s off balance.
you don’t know what’s wrong with you.
seoul isn’t bad. it isn’t. people are kind. the city shines at night. the food is good.
but it all feels... wrong.
you glance at the jacket still hanging. stare at the door. your pulse skips for no reason.
something’s missing.
you don’t know what, but it’s loud. the absence. it rattles in the walls, curls beneath your ribs. it’s in the corners of the room, in the way the heat never quite warms your fingers, in the way the streets feel too full but still lonely.
your hand finally reaches for the coat. you fumble the zipper. breathe in, shaky. tug the sleeves on like muscle memory.
the snow then greets you like it knows everything.
and you don’t even flinch.
----
the evening tastes like metal — like old coins, cold wind, the edge of something unfinished.
you walk seoul like it’s borrowed.
your steps echo too loud on empty sidewalks, too slow to belong here. behind fogged windows, strangers laugh over beer and tteokbokki. the streets pulse warm with life, but none of it touches you. your gloved hands stay tucked in your pockets. scarf pulled high. hood drawn low. not hiding — just… detached. you don’t know what you’re looking for. maybe a memory. maybe peace. maybe nothing.
snow hadn’t been in the forecast. but still, it starts — soft, drifting, clinging to hair and sleeves and streetlamps. your breath clouds the air.
you cross at a blinking light, pass a steaming cart of roasted chestnuts, nod politely at the ahjumma selling candied sweet potatoes. her smile falters when she sees your face — like she almost recognizes something in it. or maybe it’s just your eyes. they’ve been glassy all day.
a song plays from a café behind you. gentle, string-heavy.. It reminds you of beach bonfires back home.
you don’t let the memory finish.
your boots hit a patch of ice.
someone slams into you.
“oh—” you stagger back. the other body slips — there’s a startled gasp, arms flailing, then the unmistakable thump of a fall.
“shit—are you okay?” you stumble with her, one hand reaching out, the other already pulling your coat off. she lands hard, knees to concrete. the snow’s picking up. you crouch beside her, already draping the coat over her shoulders without thinking.
“sorry, i didn’t see—here, let me—” you say patting your coat onto her shoulders, panic creeping up. “you alright? are you hurt? please don’t be—”
you reach out to steady her.
and then she looks up. your breath lodges in your throat.
the girl doesn’t speak. just stares — stunned, still, blinking flakes off her lashes.
“…why do i keep bumping into people in seoul,” you murmur, trying to laugh, trying to defuse the sudden tightness in your chest.
she doesn’t laugh.
her hand rises slowly to her mask. she pulls it down.
and the world breaks open.
fuck.
you flinch like her name was a slap. your mouth opens, closes. your heartbeat lurches.
you look away first. of course you do.
“you—” your voice caves in on itself. you look away, throat burning, the snow sticking to your lashes now too.
she’s still sitting on the cold pavement, the coat slipping slightly down her arms, her fingers frozen in the air where they nearly reached for you.
sana’s lips part, stunned.
she doesn’t move to stand. doesn’t blink. just stares up at you like the moment itself is unreal — like if she breathes too hard, you’ll disappear again.
“you…” she finally whispers. “you’re really here.”
you force yourself to look at her again. your eyes flicker to her knee, where a small scrape blooms red. guilt spikes in your ribs.
but so does something else. something bitter. something old.
“yeah,” you manage. “guess i am.” your hands curl into fists inside your sleeves.
you want to ask her why. why she never called. why she let everything rot between you.
but you can’t. you don’t get to ask anymore.
you reach forward — stiff, — and help her up without looking at her. she wobbles slightly, then finds her footing. your hand lingers just a moment longer than it should.
and when you try to step back—
she grabs your wrist.
not enough to pull you in. just enough to stop you from walking away.
you freeze but you don’t look at her.
you retract your hand like it's been poisoned. “it’s slippery,” you say, too sharp. “you should be careful.”
she doesn’t move. her voice breaks. “i… i thought—”
a vibration hums from her pocket. her phone. she reaches for it blindly, never taking her eyes off you.
“…unnie?” her voice is raw. “yeah. i’m fine. just… slipped. i’ll be there soon.”
her eyes flick to yours, pleading.
you step back.
you don’t know what to do with the ache pounding behind your ribs.
you glance once at the scrape on her knee, at your own coat still hanging awkwardly over her frame.
then you step back again.
the snow’s falling heavier now. catching in your lashes. numbing your fingers.
“take care, sana,” you say, eyes fixed on the space beside her.
then you turn and walk.
no second glance. no goodbye in your tone. nothing.
just the weight in your chest tightening with every step away.
and behind you, she’s still standing there — clutching the phone, your coat sagging over her shoulders, her lips trembling.
the streetlamp glows soft over her hair. the snow keeps falling.
and she doesn’t chase after you.
she just watches you disappear again.
like the first time.
-----
it had been a few days since that night.
seoul after dark looked like a painting still drying — amber streetlamps dripping across the pavement, shop windows blinking like soft hearts in the cold. your breath fogged in the air, scarf tucked to your chin, hands shoved deep in your coat pockets.
“next time, it’s your turn,” you said, walking beside eunji.
she grinned. “my turn to what? get eaten alive by mosquitoes while you drink overpriced smoothies?”
you laughed. “yeah. exactly.”
you turned a corner. the crowds thinned, noise fading to stone alleys and old rooftops. paper lanterns swayed above. for a second, it felt like hawaii again — quiet and open. except colder. lonelier.
“it’s nice here,” eunji said, slowing. “different. but nice.”
you nodded. her hand hovered close to yours.
then her phone buzzed.
she glanced at it. sighed. “manager. give me a sec?”
“i’ll wander,” you said.
“sure?”
“won’t get kidnapped. probably.”
she snorted and stepped away, phone already to her ear.
you walked on, through older streets where café windows glowed and the air smelled like grilled fish. couples leaned close inside, but you didn’t stop.
until you heard it.
a voice — soft, panicked.
“…i’m waiting for someone. please.”
you turned.
there she was.
hood slipped, mask crooked, pressed against a wall. two men stood too close. one whispered something near her ear. her eyes searched, fast, desperate.
she didn’t see you.
you exhaled. stepped forward.
“there you are,” you called, loud and sure. “honey, i’ve been looking everywhere.”
sana flinched. the men turned.
you reached her side, arm sliding around her back. she tensed — but didn’t move away. not when you tucked her hair behind her ear, not when you leaned in like this was natural.
“sorry,” you said, loud. “she gets lost easily.”
“who are you?” one asked.
“her partner.”
“she didn’t say anything.”
“she doesn’t need to.”
you tried to guide her away — but one grabbed her wrist.
you didn’t think. your fist met his face. not clean, but hard. he stumbled, hit a bin.
the other shoved you.
you ducked his swing, shoved him back. fists, elbows, cold breath. messy. desperate.
he landed a punch — your lip split. blood on your tongue.
you kneed his stomach. he dropped. then hands pushed you from behind — you hit the ground, everything ringing.
“stop!” sana’s voice, cracked and terrified.
you grabbed an ankle, yanked. he fell. you pinned him, breath ragged.
“try it again,” you spat. “touch her again.”
he swore. the other pulled you back. a tangle of limbs and cursing — knuckles, feet, the sting of winter air.
finally, they fled. bruised. bleeding. spitting.
you didn’t move. not yet.
sana was kneeling beside you, hands hovering.
“you’re bleeding,” she whispered. “why would you—”
“are you okay?” you rasped.
she stared like she’d never seen you before.
“you’re shaking,” she whispered. “can you stand?”
you tried. legs buckled, and she caught you — one hand on your arm, one at your back.
“you’re not going to a hospital?” she asked.
“ just busted lip,” you muttered. “i’ve had worse.”
“when?” her voice cracked. “in what world is that normal?”
you looked away. “i’m fine.”
“you’re not.”
she fixed your coat, fingers trembling. her voice softened.
“come back with me.”
you blinked. “what?”
“just for a bit. so i can clean that up.”
you looked at her — jaw tight, legs pressed together like she was still cold.
“…you sure you know how to fix a split lip?”
“no,” she said. “but i can google it.”
you almost laughed.
“you really don’t have to—”
“i still have your coat.”
you blinked.
“i never gave it back.”
“so let me return it,” she said. “at my place.”
the silence stretched.
and you could feel it — how different her voice was. not playful. not teasing. just soft.
eunji.
the thought flickered.
you hadn’t told her where you were.
your hands curled.
sana still waited. still watched you.
you opened your mouth. closed it.
and finally — “...no.”
-----
“shit… sana—”
you groaned, sharp through your teeth. her name came out hoarse. low. too much breath tangled inside it.
your head tipped back against the armrest, shoulders tense, hands clenched into the hem of the coat she made you take off. warm legs straddled your lap, soft weight pressing into your thighs. every movement made you flinch. not from discomfort. not exactly.
her fingers brushed your jaw, tilted your face up again. “stop moving,” she muttered. “you’ll make it worse.”
“you’re making it worse,” you hissed, eyes fluttering shut. “what are you doing—”
“cleaning it,” she snapped, then winced. “sorry. i mean—i’m trying.”
your eyes cracked open.
she was kneeling over you, sleeves shoved up, a wet towel caught between her fingers like she was about to perform minor surgery instead of dabbing at your busted lip. it looked like a scene from a movie. the kind with slow lighting. a girl hovering over a wounded lover, flushed and tender.
you blinked. tried not to laugh. “you ever seen a medical drama?”
sana’s brows pinched. “what?”
“like grey’s anatomy. or literally any film with a medic. you dab. not scrub.”
“i’m not scrubbing!”
“you’re scrubbing, sana.”
“you’re bleeding!”
“i was bleeding.”
she scowled at you, then dipped the towel into the warm bowl of water on the side table again, wrung it out with far too much force.
your breath caught.
her hair brushed your cheek. her thigh shifted just slightly against yours. she smelled like shampoo and something faintly floral — something too gentle for the way your jaw throbbed.
“this is the weirdest thing i’ve ever done,” she mumbled.
“you’re literally on top of me.”
“i didn’t have space!”
“you could’ve just—” you gestured vaguely, “—sat next to me.”
“but then you’d have to lean back and i’d have to, like, hover weirdly and i didn’t want to make it more uncomfortable—”
“this is more uncomfortable.”
she froze. “i didn’t mean—” you sighed, dropped your head against the cushion again. “nevermind.”
she didn’t say anything. just softened her touch, dabbing more carefully at the corner of your mouth. gentler now. almost apologetic.
“…sorry,” she said quietly.
you didn’t answer. not because you were mad — just because something about the way she said it made your chest pull too tight. not playful. not guilty. just… sorry. like she’d wanted to say it for a long time.
her knee brushed yours again, unsure, like she didn’t know whether to stay or get up. finally she climbed off and sat beside you. the towel rested between you now, wet and red.
you could still hear her breathing — a little unsteady. her eyes were soft now, lingering on the cut on your lip, the bruising across your cheekbone. you didn’t know what to say, so you didn’t say anything.
her voice came quiet. “how’s hawaii?”
you blinked, slow. “hot,” you said after a beat.
she looked up. “are you adjusting okay to seoul?”
you let out a laugh. flat. “i’m not staying. it’s just a vacation.”
“still,” she murmured, “you like it?”
you hesitated. “…i like the han river.”
she tilted her head. “just that?”
you didn’t answer. didn’t say you hadn’t explored much because eunji’s schedule was always full. didn’t say you were afraid of being alone. you just shifted your gaze, watching the soft yellow light of her apartment spill across the wooden floor.
sana was still holding the towel.
she stared down at it, twisted in her hands. then, suddenly—
“i hated not knowing if you were okay.”
you turned to her, slowly.
“when you left,” she said, barely above a whisper. “when the messages stopped. i thought about it a lot. i kept checking—just to see something. anything.”
you blinked, face unreadable. “well. you wouldn't know.”
she looked up sharply. “what?”
you swallowed, tasting metal still. “we weren’t in contact.”
her face shifted — not angry, but straining to hold something back.
“i had your instagram.”
you let out a breath of disbelief, jaw tight. “i don’t use it much.”
lie.
you knew her tour dates. her outfit choices. you’d liked exactly zero posts, but you’d seen them all.
you stood slowly, brushing your jeans off. her apartment was small but beautiful — warm light, low furniture, a little bookshelf with soft pink covers and tiny candles shaped like hearts. it was too clean. too curated. it didn’t feel lived in.
it felt like her.
you were biting your lip before you even realized. not from pain — from something else. something restless in your chest.
then your phone buzzed.
eunji.
you stared down at the screen, thumb frozen above it.
sana’s eyes tracked the movement. her expression shifted — not readable at first, then quiet, then tighter. her gaze dropped.
you stepped back toward the couch, reaching for your coat. the other coat, too — the one you gave when you met. it was draped across the armrest, familiar weight in your hands.
you didn’t realize until then how quiet the room had gotten.
you were halfway to the door when her voice stopped you.
“…why didn’t you ever reach out?”
you turned.
she was still seated, her back slouched slightly now, head low. her voice came soft, almost like it wasn’t meant for you.
you stared at her.
your hand gripped the doorframe.
“you were the one,” you said, each word cutting clean, “who didn’t want to stay in touch.”
she flinched — not visibly, but enough.
her mouth opened, breath catching.
“i gave you my nu—”
the door swung open.
“sana?” jihyo’s voice rang out.
“what the hell—” momo froze in the entryway, food bag hitting the floor with a loud, greasy splat.
“uh…” nayeon scanned the room. “sorry. are we interrupting something?”
you froze, coat over one arm, the other half-raised from where you’d been reaching for the door.
your arm dropped. coat draped over it. you bowed stiffly. deep.
no one said anything else.
you stepped past them, through the narrow hallway. cold air met your face.
you didn’t look back.
and sana still didn't follow you.
----
the door shut behind you like the last line of a poem that never resolved.
sana didn’t move.
not even as the silence expanded — thick, suspended, trembling at the edges. it filled the room in your absence. wrapped around the walls. curled beneath the couch.
momo broke it first. her voice cracked like a mismatched chord.
“wait. was that—was that your partner?”
jihyo didn’t answer. she just looked at sana the way you look in a mirror after crying — cautious. careful. like the reflection might flinch.
nayeon bent to pick up the fallen food bag, her usual teasing stripped down to something quieter. “sana… who was that?”
no reply.
her hands were still twisted in the towel, knuckles pale from how tight she was holding on. her coat had slipped off one shoulder, like she’d started to move but forgot how. her face wasn’t blank — just stunned. like someone bracing for a wave and realizing too late they’d already drowned.
no smile. no laugh to deflect. no shrug to send the moment skipping across the surface.
just one breath.
deep. tired. from somewhere inside her she didn’t want anyone to hear.
jihyo stepped closer, a hand gentle on her shoulder. “you should talk to them.”
momo sat beside her, voice quieter now. “they looked like they weren’t coming back.”
sana’s lips parted. her eyes stayed closed.
when she finally spoke, it was soft. stripped down.
“i don’t even know where to start.”
nayeon joined them on the couch, her voice like a lifeline. “start anywhere,” she said. “just don’t wait until it’s too late.”
silence stretched again. waiting.
a buzz.
sana’s phone vibrated against the wooden table. once. like a heartbeat.
she leaned forward.
glanced.
then froze.
jihyo leaned in. “what is it?”
but sana was already moving.
standing so quickly the towel slipped from her hands and fell to the floor with a wet sound. it lay there forgotten, red-stained and wrung out like her.
she didn’t answer.
and the weight of something unspoken had finally broken the surface.
---
the cold bit first. not in your skin, but somewhere deeper — tucked just beneath your ribs, where old memories fester. it wasn’t the kind of cold you could dress for. it was the kind that reminded you of things. of quiet heartbreak. of silence stretched too long. the kind that made you ache even in your bones.
the han river looked different at night — less like water, more like glass. unmoving. half-asleep. the wind skimmed its surface like fingers trailing over old scars, soft and unkind. your footsteps slowed without you meaning to, gravel grinding under each step as the snow began to fall in fine, hesitant flakes. it wasn’t quite winter yet, but the season had started whispering at the edges.
you wandered down the path you remembered from your last visit — a small, hidden curve near the water, where the trees leaned low like they were trying to listen. here, the noise of the city faded. the sky opened up wide and quiet. even your thoughts sounded too loud.
you sat down.
no one else was around. just you, the frost, and the city lights across the water flickering like stars someone forgot to wish on. the bench beneath you was damp and cold, and your fingers curled into your sleeves out of instinct. somewhere nearby, a car passed — distant and muffled — then everything was still again.
your phone buzzed.
you didn’t look. another buzz. you didn’t move.
eunji.
you stared at the name glowing faintly in the dark, then finally tapped out something dull, mechanical:
i just got lost. i’ll be back soon.
you left her on read.
your thumb hovered over the camera app for a second. the river. the snow. the faint blur of light. you took a photo without thinking and posted it. no caption. not even a filter.
it looked more like a memory than a real place. something half-dreamt. like you could reach through the screen and touch a version of yourself that didn’t exist anymore.
you exhaled, long and shaky. the air tasted sharp, metallic. like it could cut.
then — footsteps.
slow, deliberate, crunching through snow.
you didn’t turn around right away. your whole body tensed, your heart ticking faster against your ribs.
“if i get murdered right now,” you muttered, voice flat, “at least it’s poetic.”
no one answered.
but you felt it. that shift in the air. the way the cold paused.
you turned and saw her.
sana.
not just standing — but running. or maybe she had been. her hair was wind-tangled, her cheeks flushed deep from the cold. she looked breathless, lashes tipped in snow, like the world had tried to stop her and she hadn’t let it. she didn’t speak. not at first. just stood there like she was trying to believe you were real.
your chest pulled tight.
“how—”
she stepped forward. her voice barely carried. “your story.”
her eyes searched yours. and for a second — a real, whole second — you saw her how she used to look at you. like you were a question worth asking.
the snow fell slow between you, soft and endless, like even time didn’t want to intrude. her breath came out quick, uneven clouds in the air. she looked like something you shouldn’t touch — too fragile, too out of reach.
you swallowed. “did you come all the way out here for that?”
she nodded once. her mouth opened, then closed again, like she didn’t trust her voice. it shook, anyway.
“why…” she tried.
you waited.
then it hit — like something breaking loose all at once. she shouted, “why didn’t you ever contact me?!”
her voice split the cold open.
your heart lurched. you flinched — not visibly, but inside, where everything had been trying to hold steady.
her voice ripped through the cold. it cracked something open. inside you. inside her.
you flinched. not from the sound — from the grief.
“i gave you a picture,” she went on, chest rising too fast. “back in hawaii. i wrote my number on it. i… i waited. i checked. i thought you just didn’t want to—”
her voice broke like glass on pavement.
you stared at her. stunned. the air between you was quiet again, like the river itself had gone still, holding its breath.
“…i never got it,” you said.
sana blinked.
“what?”
you stepped forward slowly. your voice was low, flat, and too calm for how hard your heart was beating.
“i never got a picture. or your number.”
she just stared.
"what do you mean—" sana stepped closer. her boots left small, lonely prints in the snow.
your jaw clenched.
"you didn’t even acknowledge the food i gave you," you said, your voice tight. "i asked eunji to pass it to you. i thought that was your answer. i thought you didn’t want anything to do with me.”
her brow furrowed, confused and sharp with emotion. “what food?”
"what food?" she said again, louder, desperate now. “what are you talking about?”
you looked at her. saw the confusion. the hurt.
it wasn’t a lie.
a sick weight pulled in your stomach.
“did you give your number to eunji?”
she nodded, slowly. lips pale. “yeah. she said she’d—”
and that was it.
the drop.
that moment just before the fall, where everything hangs still, perfect, poised — and then it shatters.
your body reeled like it had been pushed.
you caught yourself on the edge of the bench.
the snow didn’t stop falling.
it landed on your hands. your shoulders. the back of your neck. it melted there. turned cold to water. turned water to silence.
you laughed once. it sounded like it hurt your throat.
“she never gave it to me,” you said. not looking at her now. “she never gave me anything.”
the silence stretched.
the river rippled, dark and slow.
“i checked,” she said, voice cracking. “i kept checking. your instagram. just to see if you were okay. if you remembered me. i didn’t want to text first. i didn’t want to be stupid—”
"you weren’t," you said. too fast. too bitter.
sana flinched.
“we were both stupid,” you added, softer. “just for different reasons.”
she didn’t speak. just looked down at her hands like they were broken things. like maybe they were the problem.
and the snow kept falling.
light, and relentless, and quiet.
for a second, it felt like hawaii again. that last day. that last look.
but colder.
colder than anything. colder than the wind.
and all that time — all those years — you’d both been waiting.
for each other.
for nothing.
-----
you should’ve walked away.
but instead, your hand moved first. quiet. like instinct, or something older. you stepped forward, took your extra coat, and gently draped it over her frame.
she blinked.
not at the coat — at you.
your hands stayed on her arms a second longer than needed. the fabric was too big for her. it swallowed her up. still, she looked so small inside it. fragile, like something you couldn’t bear to drop again.
you shook your head once, slow. not at her. not at you. just the ache.
then, without a word, you turned toward the street.
she followed.
you didn’t look back, but you heard her behind you — her steps crunching against the snow, her breath hitching in a way that didn’t sound like cold anymore.
the snow kept falling, more tender now, like the sky was softening too. the streets were quieter out here, shining in the pale yellow of old lamps and flickering signs. your footsteps were slow. hers, unsteady. she had to hug the coat tighter to her chest just to believe it was real.
because none of this felt real.
a week ago you were still a ghost. an ache behind her ribs. and now you were here, your shadow stretching long beside hers, your scent faint on the collar she curled into.
you found a convenience store. the kind with flickering lights and soft fluorescent hums. warm. too warm. the bell above the door chimed like a lullaby.
the light inside the convenience store buzzed faintly, humming low like it knew not to speak too loudly. outside, the snow fell slow — quiet little ghosts drifting past the windows. inside, it was warmer, but not by much. just enough to thaw fingers, not hearts.
then the light — cold and artificial, but merciful. she blinked through it, watching as you nodded politely to the cashier and led her to a tiny seating area by the window: just two plastic chairs, a metal table, and a dusty radiator ticking faintly.
“sit,” you said, quiet.
she did. still shivering a little, still glancing over her shoulder, like the spell might break.
you were already at the aisles — grabbing ramen cups, pouring water into a machine, picking out bottled drinks with practiced hands. she watched you like it was a ritual. like you’d done this a thousand times before — maybe alone, maybe with someone else. the latter hurt more than she expected.
you came back with a tray. placed it down gently.
one bowl slid toward her. “it’s hot.”
you sat across from her in the narrow seating area tucked beside the instant noodles aisle. the plastic chairs were flimsy, slightly uneven. one wobbled under sana’s weight every time she shifted, but she didn’t complain. she was wrapped in your extra coat — the one you’d taken from her place earlier, now draped over her shoulders like it had never belonged anywhere else. it dwarfed her frame. swallowed her neck. but she didn’t adjust it. didn’t even try to pull it tighter.
your hands were red from the cold. one held a plastic fork. the other nursed a canned coffee gone lukewarm.
you glanced up when she chuckled softly — just a breath, just enough to be heard over the low whir of the heater overhead.
“ice cream in winter?” she asked, nodding to the half-melted cone near your tray.
you stared at it, then gave a small shrug. “i never really adjusted. not to seoul’s winter.”
your voice came out quieter than you meant. it didn’t sound like a statement. more like an apology to no one.
sana looked at you for a long time.
then, gently, “how long have you been here?”
you hesitated. fiddled with the tab of your drink. “two weeks.”
she blinked. “that long?”
“eunji invited me,” you said. the name caught in your throat, dry and sharp. “i didn’t really plan to stay.”
you didn’t tell her that you hadn’t even unpacked fully. you didn’t say anything more.
and sana didn’t press.
outside, a car passed slowly, headlights skimming across the snow-covered glass. inside, the air felt too still.
her knees brushed against yours under the table. not fully — just the softest graze. like breath against skin. like memory.
neither of you moved.
she turned her face slightly, watching you from beneath her lashes.
“…when are you leaving?”
you exhaled, low. the steam from your cup twisted into the air between you.
“tomorrow.”
a pause.
then a frown bloomed between her brows. not sudden — slow and reluctant, like it hurt to let it show.
she looked down. “that’s soon.”
you nodded once, then broke your gaze to stare out the window again. the world outside felt unreal. just frost and blur and noise you couldn’t name.
she was the one who broke the silence again. quietly. carefully.
“you and eunji…”
her voice trailed.
you turned your head back toward her. she wasn’t looking at you. her fingers were curled around her can of corn tea, knuckles faintly white.
you watched her.
then shook your head once. “no.”
sana blinked. her lashes trembled, catching the light.
“the day at jyp…” she started, voice unsure. “they said—”
“it was an act.” your voice was low, rougher than before. “she didn’t want to look bad in front of staff. so i… i went along with it.”
you paused. frowned deeper. your gaze dropped to your lap. your hands had curled into fists without you noticing.
“honestly,” you said, “i'm disappointed in her.”
sana stayed silent.
you rubbed your thumb against the edge of the table. your eyes didn’t lift. “i wanted to be closer to you before. not… hidden. not kept away like some—”
you didn’t finish the sentence. just let the words hang, fraying.
“i don't like it.”
the heater clicked once. the sound of the soup boiling behind the counter faded. even the workers had gone quiet, leaving the space around you dim and flickering.
then—
“did you… date anyone after i left?” sana asked.
you blinked once. didn’t answer.
your fingers twitched. your shoulders curled in slightly.
then, slowly, you nodded.
“yeah,” you said. voice stripped bare. “fuck, i did date to forget about you.”
the words fell like something you couldn’t catch in time. as soon as they left your mouth, your body recoiled — just slightly — a wince folding your brow, your gaze falling.
“sorry,” you muttered quickly. “i didn’t mean to— sorry for the curses, sana...”
you shifted an inch away, as if trying to put space between your shame and her silence.
but sana didn’t move.
you kept your head down. your voice cracked quieter now. “i tried. i really tried. to forget you. to un-feel it. to fill the space you left. even if you were there for only a week.”
your jaw tensed. “nothing worked.”
a beat passed.
her knee touched yours again, this time firmer. not an accident. and still, she didn’t move away.
your eyes lifted.
she was looking at you like she hadn’t stopped. her cheeks were flushed, but not from the cold. her breath was caught in her throat.
her voice came out like silk rubbed raw. “i didn’t date anyone.”
you stared.
“i was waiting for you,” she said.
and the air left your lungs.
like a door closing inside your chest.
your pulse stuttered. your fingers curled into your palms. the coat slipped slightly off her shoulder, but she didn’t fix it. her eyes were glassy. the corner of her lip trembled.
you didn’t speak.
you couldn’t.
the heater buzzed. your soup had gone cold. her knees were still touching yours. her fingers still clutched the cup, as if anchoring herself in the moment.
neither of you moved.
and outside, the snow kept falling. quiet. steady. like it had never stopped.
the ringtone broke first.
not loud. just a sharp little jingle against the quiet hum of the store. sana blinked, slow — like surfacing from a dream — and fished her phone from the coat pocket you’d lent her.
she glanced at the screen. didn’t hide it.
jihyo unnie~
you didn’t say anything. just lowered your gaze and gently stirred the noodles in your cup, their steam softening the tips of your lashes.
she answered.
“hello?”
her voice was gentle, a little dazed.
and then — jihyo’s voice, from the other end, sharp and unmistakable, even without speaker on. fast, worried, scolding. like a leader who’d paced her apartment three times already. “yah, sana! where did you even go? you didn’t take your coat! what were you thinking—”
you slurped your noodles quietly, trying to stay small in the background. your ears were pink.
“unnie, i’m okay,” sana said, trying to keep her tone light. “really. i’m warm now.”
“don’t lie! did you even eat anything?”
sana glanced at you. her eyes softened. her voice followed.
“…i’m eating now.”
your hand froze for a moment around your fork. your ears burned red geez, why did she look at you and not her food..
but then jihyo’s voice cut again — lower now, more teasing. the kind that pokes just enough to hit the nerve. “okay, okay. just let us know if you and your partner made up already. seriously, you two gave us a heart attack today—”
sana jolted.
you coughed — too hard — and choked on a mouthful of noodles, smacking your chest once, eyes wide.
“what—” you wheezed.
sana scrambled to hang up. “okay love you unnie bye!!” she rushed into the phone, her voice rising three pitches in panic before she jabbed the red button.
silence.
then sana slowly turned her head to you, her eyes round as moons. her cheeks glowed crimson. she tried to stammer something but failed.
you stared at her. still chewing.
then, wordlessly, you checked the time on your phone. you look flustered and slightly tried to hide your phone's wallpaper hoping she won't see. 11:03 pm.
you exhaled. stood up. started gathering the trays.
“…let’s get you home.”
she didn’t argue. just nodded, small. the coat slid down her shoulder again. you reached over without thinking and fixed it for her, brushing her collar gently back into place.
she looked away too fast.
the walk to the curb was quiet. the snow had softened again, sticking in your lashes, whispering into your collar. your hand hovered near her elbow once, just in case she slipped.
you hailed the first taxi that passed. it was old, yellowed, with soft fabric seats that smelled faintly of coffee and dust.
you opened the door for her.
not smoothly — your hand slipped a little on the handle — but you managed it. and still, you kept your eyes averted as she stepped in.
she smiled.
you followed after. sat beside her in the back, not too close, but close enough that her sleeve brushed yours.
the driver glanced back at you through the mirror. “where to?”
sana named her apartment building.
you nodded faintly.
then fished out your wallet. thumbed a few bills nervously, then leaned forward slightly toward the driver.
“…uh. two payments, sir. one for her place, one for me, and… could you wait for me while i take her up? i’ll give extra.”
your voice cracked a little near the end.
the driver blinked.
then smiled.
“such a cute couple,” he said warmly. “of course i’ll wait.”
you made a strangled noise and sat back in your seat like you’d been pushed.
sana pressed a hand over her mouth.
“ugh. cutie,” sana whispered to herself, like she couldn’t help it. the word dropped from her lips like it had been begging to be said.
her ears were red. the kind of red that crept down her neck. her knees knocked gently against yours again as the car rolled forward, but this time, she didn’t flinch or pull away.
you groaned under your breath, hiding your face.
the car moved. outside, the snow turned to lace against the windows. inside, everything was warmer now — from the heater vents, from the nearness, from her smile lingering on you.
you looked away — out the window, anywhere. the city was all smudged lights and wet reflections. your heart pounded too loud for such a quiet ride.
you didn’t speak.
you just sat there.
quiet, hearts loud, knees almost touching.
and for once — her silence didn’t hurt.
—
the taxi rolled to a stop with a gentle lurch. before the wheels had even settled, you were already pushing the door open, stepping out quickly and glancing over your shoulder just to make sure—
“careful,” you muttered under your breath, eye flicking to where sana was stepping down onto the pavement. she wobbled slightly, so you moved closer, as if your presence alone might catch her.
she didn’t fall. but she glanced up and caught you watching.
you looked away, muttering a quiet “sorry,” and turned to face the driver again.
“we’ll just be a minute,” you said, tugging your wallet from your coat pocket.
the driver, older and kind-faced, waved a hand. “it’s alright. i’ll take a smoke break. take your time, young love.”
you flushed. again. nodded quickly. “thank you. really. i won’t be long.”
you turned back to sana, who was already halfway to the door, glancing back at you with a tiny, lopsided smile. you caught up without thinking. you caught up in the lobby, breath shallow, coat still hanging awkwardly off your shoulders as the glass doors hissed shut behind you. she was already pressing the elevator button — hair slightly damp from the snow, fingers twitching from the cold.
your steps slowed beside her. not from hesitation — but from the weight in your chest.
you could feel your pulse under your palm. loud. impatient. like it couldn’t believe this was real.
the elevator pinged.
you shifted slightly, feeling the edge of her coat sleeve brush yours. her arm was warm. or maybe it was you. or maybe it was just the heat between you that wouldn’t stop rising.
she pressed the button to her floor. didn’t speak. neither did you.
but your hand didn’t leave your chest.
your heart wouldn’t let you.
the elevator climbed. you swallowed.
a soft ding.
the elevator opened.
you stepped out with her. the hallway was dimly lit, carpet soft beneath your shoes, the kind of silence that echoed.
when she opened her door, the scent hit you first — faint jasmine and something warmer underneath, something lived-in. the place was tidy but full. plush furniture, warm wood, golden light from standing lamps. not overly fancy. but not cold either.
like her.
warmth.
the apartment greeted you like a memory: mismatched slippers by the door. it was warmer than you remembered. more alive. more hers.
you looked around, slower this time. eyes tracing the edge of her countertops, the curve of the furniture. the spill of light from the kitchen. your coat still hung on her shoulders, loose and oversized, like it belonged there.
“you can keep the coat,” you said, suddenly — before you could think. “i mean. it suits you.”
she raised an eyebrow. “it’s yours.”
“still looks better on you.”
a beat passed — then she looked away, flustered. her cheeks pink again.
you stepped further in. something dark on the floor caught your eye — a towel. stained faintly with blood. your breath hitched, but you bent down quietly, lifting it by the corners like it was fragile. you carried it to the kitchen sink and ran water over it, gently squeezing out the worst of it.
“you didn’t have to,” she said softly behind you.
"it's my mess. and i wanted to."
you turned. she was still standing in the same place, hands in your coat pockets, watching you with a gaze that melted like candlewax. slow, fond. like she was memorizing something.
you cleared your throat.
but she was watching you.
smiling.
you cleared your throat. dropped your gaze. “sorry, i didn’t say this earlier, but… your apartment’s really pretty.”
“mm.” she turned, flicking on a lamp near the window. it bathed her face in warm amber. “it’s big, huh?”
you nodded, still glancing around. your fingers brushed the back of a chair as you passed. “yeah. i didn’t notice these doors before either. they’re—huge.”
“they’re for the future,” she said, casually.
you blinked. turned back. “huh? like… storage?”
she smirked. not even trying to hide it. “no. for when i have a family.”
your breath caught.
you looked at her.
she was still smirking. still smug. eyes sharp with amusement.
“…not a house?” you asked, dumbly.
and her grin widened like the moon. “oh? so you want a house?”
you opened your mouth. closed it. opened it again. your face flushed hot. too fast.
“n-no,” you stammered, looking at the door, the wall, anything that wasn’t her. “i mean yes—i mean—i should go, the taxi guy’s waiting, he probably—”
“ah,” she said, still grinning, still holding back a laugh. “didn’t mean to scare you.”
“you didn’t,” you muttered.
you stepped back, nearly tripping over the shoe rack. she laughed again. then — quieter, this time — she said, “will you be online later?”
you paused.
then nodded. “if you want me to text, i will.”
she didn’t answer right away. just nodded slowly, her gaze dipping to the floor. her fingers brushed the edge of your coat sleeve again — once, almost absentminded — before stepping back.
you didn’t look back when you left. couldn’t.
your heart was too full.
you opened the taxi door and stepped in. the car was warm, still humming softly with the radio. the driver looked up in the rearview mirror and smiled.
“she’s a beautiful woman,” he said, pulling gently away from the curb.
you looked down at your hands. they were shaking. you pressed them together.
“…yeah,” you whispered. “overbearing. complicated. loud sometimes.”
you smiled.
“but i like it..”
i like her.
the driver didn’t reply.
but he smiled to himself.
and when the city lights passed by again — golden halos, bright snow falling, seoul glowing like something alive — you finally felt it in your bones.
this place didn’t feel like a memory anymore.
for the first time, it felt like it fit. like it filled something in you.
like it wasn’t just seoul.
it was hers.
and maybe — slowly, finally — it was yours too.
—---
the taxi slowed in front of your building.
you hadn’t said much after that last glance through the window. hadn’t even looked at the driver until now. the soft warmth in your chest was starting to settle, and underneath it — colder, sharper — was the memory of why you left the apartment in the first place.
you nodded, quietly. “thanks.” you gave him the extra money like you promised.
he gave you a knowing smile, then tapped the steering wheel. “take care, kid.”
you stepped out into the dim entry lights. the door buzzed open. your shoes echoed on the tiled floor. each step up the stairwell felt heavier than the last.
and when you opened the door to her apartment — she was already there.
“where the hell were you?”
eunji.
she was standing barefoot in the hallway, sleeves pushed up, eyes frantic and glistening. the moment she saw you, she rushed forward, her arms wrapping tight around your shoulders.
you didn’t move.
“you ran off,” she whispered against your shoulder. “you didn’t answer. i didn’t know where—”
“i saw her.”
you felt her body tense.
you pulled back just enough to look at her.
“i met sana,” you said again, quieter this time. “outside. I helped her with something..”
eunji’s eyes flickered. her arms dropped.
she stepped back. “what did you do?”
the way she said it — not what happened, but what did you do — stung.
your frown deepened. “why does it sound like i’m in the wrong?”
“i didn’t say that,” she muttered.
you stared at her. and then, finally, you said it.
“why did you keep her away from me?”
she flinched.
“i—” her mouth opened, then closed. her eyes darted. “i didn’t.”
you shook your head, once, slowly. “eunji.”
she still didn’t meet your eyes.
“you’ve been lying. you know how i can tell?” your voice cracked slightly. “i know you since college, eunji. i already memorized everything about you.”
a long silence stretched between you.
then, like something broke loose, her voice came out sharp and trembling.
“what was i supposed to do?” she said. “what if she broke you? i thought you’d forget. i thought if i didn’t say anything, you’d finally—”
she paused. her jaw clenched.
“—you’d finally see me.”
your breath caught.
her hands were curled into fists at her sides.
“do you know what it felt like?” she said, voice lowering. “watching you fall in love over someone who will leave you? and every time you picked yourself up, you never looked at me. not really. even when i stayed. even when i held you through it all first.”
you didn’t know what to say.
your hands dropped uselessly to your sides. your heart was pounding again, for a very different reason now.
“i loved you,” she whispered. “i—i love you. i’ve been here this whole time, and you never even—i just wanted you to see me.”
her voice broke on the last word.
the apartment was so quiet you could hear the low hum of the refrigerator, the soft hiss of the radiator.
you finally looked up at her.
your voice, when it came, was hoarse. tired.
“…i’m sorry.”
her face crumpled.
you stepped forward, slowly. not to hug her — but to be near, to not leave her alone in this.
“i’m sorry, eunji. you didn’t deserve to wait for someone who couldn’t give you what you wanted.” your voice trembled. “but i still love her. i tried to stop. i did.”
you swallowed.
“but i saw her again, and it’s like—nothing ever left. it’s still her.”
she shook her head, tears now slipping past her lashes, silent and fast.
“i didn’t mean to hurt you,” you added, soft. “but lying to me… taking that choice away from me… that wasn’t fair either.”
eunji’s shoulders shook once — a breath, a sob, maybe both.
and for a long time, neither of you spoke.
just two people, standing in the dim hallway of a too-quiet apartment. one full of regret, the other full of a love that still belonged to someone else.
—-
you zipped your suitcase halfway, then paused.
your arms rested on the edge. your breath hung low in your chest.
the apartment was dim, lit only by the desk lamp in the corner, where its faint yellow glow hit the open drawers, the scattered socks, the half-packed shirts folded too neatly for how tired you were. your shadow shifted as you sat back on your heels, thumb pressed to your ribs like it could slow your heartbeat down.
it had been hours since eunji closed her door behind her.
you didn’t sleep. you couldn’t. not after everything. not with the silence so loud it pressed behind your eyes like a weight.
you had said sorry. over and over. you meant it.
she had cried. she hadn’t yelled, even when she could have. she just listened. and when you finally hugged her goodnight, her fingers trembled against your back. she hadn’t said goodbye. just nodded.
you knew what that meant.
it wouldn’t be the same anymore. and maybe that was fair.
but still, your heart ached.
you stared down at your phone for a long moment. then, finally, you typed.
hey...
just wanted to say i talked to eunji tonight.
you hovered. then added:
she told me she liked me.
that’s why she never told me about you.
you hesitated — then hit send.
the response came slowly. a full minute passed. then two.
finally, sana replied:
oh...
then:
i didn’t know that.
that must’ve been hard for her. and for you.
you pressed your lips together.
then, after another pause, you typed:
i felt sad for her.
but i told her she deserves someone who’ll wait for her the way she waited for me.
and... i told her i’m sorry.
and that i want to learn to love someone else now.
your heart stammered. you stared at the message.
then, softer, you added:
i told her i want to learn to love you.
this time, sana didn’t respond for a while.
meanwhile sana's tired eyes were fluttering open, her breath catching as she sat up, hair mussed, blanket slipping down her shoulder.
your phone vibrated.
you’re serious?
you smiled, fingers warm now.
yeah.
if you’re still okay with that.
sana’s reply came faster this time.
are you kidding
i’m smiling so hard i look stupid rn
then, a minute later:
let’s start tomorrow
pick me up at 10?
you stared at the screen, heart suddenly too full for your chest.
you typed back:
okay. 10.
i’ll see you tomorrow.
you didn’t say goodnight. didn’t need to.
the lamp buzzed faintly above you. outside, the city was quiet.
and for the first time since you arrived in seoul — maybe for the first time in years — you finally smiled without doubt.
—-
you knock twice, then once more, softer. the morning's quiet. the hallway still carries a hush from the night. when the door clicks open, it’s like the whole world exhales — and standing there is sana, wearing a long-sleeved blue polo with thin white stripes tucked loosely into light jeans.
you blink. then laugh under your breath.
“you’re kidding,” you say, eyes dragging down her outfit. “we match.”
she stares at you for a second, then bursts into a small laugh — pink already blooming high on her cheeks. “no way.”
you step back a little to show her the full view: same soft denim, same sky-blue shade, sleeves rolled once at the forearm. same understated attempt to look casual. it’s like the universe couldn’t help itself.
“just like hawaii,” you murmur, and it must be the way your voice drops that makes her quiet for a moment, tucking her lip between her teeth before smiling again.
“you ready?” she asks, tilting her head.
you nod, and she grabs her keys. neither of you say it, but the walk is slow. slower than usual. like your feet are afraid of where the sidewalk ends.
the café is quiet this early. just the barista humming, some jazz whispering through ceiling speakers. you order a java chip, and sana asks for an iced americano. the contrast makes you grin.
“haven’t changed at all.”
she sips from her straw with a smirk. “i miss the way you made the americano.."
you find a small table by the window. the street’s bright with summer, the light scattering over her hair, her sleeves, the way she holds her cup with both hands like it anchors her. there’s a silence, but it’s not heavy. it’s careful. a breath between pages.
“i keep thinking,” you start, “that it’s been three years. but this feels like yesterday.”
sana looks up, a little surprised. then: “yeah.”
you stare down at the melted whip of your drink. “like hawaii never ended. like i blinked and suddenly you’re here again.”
“i thought it’d be awkward,” she says quietly. “but it wasn’t. with you, it just… never is.”
you nod, slow. and then, almost as an afterthought, you add, “my flight’s at nine tonight.”
a pause. she doesn’t look at you when she says it.
“i know.”
your gaze lifts. “you know?”
her fingers tighten around her cup. “i mean… nothing. doesn’t matter.”
you don’t press. you want to — your chest twists at the way she shifts her eyes — but something in you says not now. not when the minutes are ticking toward evening. not when this, too, is a kind of goodbye.
after the last sip, you walk her home again. she walks close this time. not quite brushing your arm, but not far.
at her door, she hesitates.
“thanks for today,” she says, and you try not to memorize the way her hair falls into her face.
“yeah,” you smile. “it was perfect.”
you walk away before you can say anything else.
you get home by seven. your suitcase is already by the door. eunji’s waiting with your passport and keys, quiet but steady.
in the taxi, neither of you talk much.
when you reach the airport, she steps out first.
“i’m sorry,” she says again, voice thinner than usual.
you hug her tight, the way you used to when you didn’t know what was coming next.
“you’ll be okay,” you whisper. “you’ll meet someone who waits back.”
“you better text me when you land,” she mutters.
“you better get some sleep.”
you smile. she does too, a small one, then watches you go.
it’s 8:45 pm when you text sana.
i’m here now. airport’s loud.
thanks again for earlier. it meant a lot.
there’s no reply. you check again at 8:50. then 8:57.
you sit near your gate, hoodie pulled up, watching people come and go. no notification.
at 9:10, they call final boarding.
you sigh, shoulders heavy, and stand. your feet drag a little.
your phone buzzes once, but it’s a flight update.
you board slowly. last one in line.
someone behind you shouts — a voice, high and clear, feminine.
“wait—!”
you half-turn, but your headphones are in. just another late passenger, probably. you don’t look back.
when the wheels lift, seoul disappears in blue and blur. your phone stays dark.
but your heart — your heart feels full.
just like hawaii.
and this time, you don’t feel like you’re leaving something unfinished.
but even if the timing cracked and shifted — you were lucky enough to find her again.
–-
“i missed you, hawaii, you goddamn—!”
your voice cracks mid-shout as the wind knocks you sideways and the surfboard flies clean out under you. saltwater slams into your face. keoni’s cackling in the distance, the kind of laugh that could peel paint off walls. “yo, language! the ocean hears you!”
you burst up from the water, slick hair clinging to your forehead, arms raised. “i don’t care, keoni! hawaii missed me too!”
keoni rides past with a crooked grin, cutting the waves like he owns them. “hawaii missed you, sure — but not your godawful form.”
you flip him off with both hands, still grinning. your whole body aches from the burn of salt and sun and joy. you haven’t laughed this hard in weeks. your skin is hot, stretched tight across your bones. you're soaked in everything good.
“bite me!” you yelled back, grinning hard, your chest aching with something bright and stupid and real.
you hadn’t laughed like this in weeks.
not since seoul. not since—
you reached the shore, board under your arm, water dripping off your sleeves. and for a moment, as the sun burned high above and the wind kissed your skin, it almost felt like none of it happened. like you imagined her, the airports, the flower, everything.
because the truth was... you never texted sana again.
after the airport. after the flight. you said nothing.
not because you didn’t want to.
and now, with your feet digging into warm sand and your heart still stubborn in your chest, you let it all go — tipped your head back, shouted to the sky:
“i missed you, hawaii!”
and that’s when you heard her laugh.
not in your head.
real.
you turned, squinting into the sun.
and there she was.
barefoot in the sand, wearing a soft white beach dress that clung lightly to her frame. the breeze tugged at the hem. her hair was loose, glowing gold at the ends. she had something behind her back.
and her smile —
oh.
your chest cracked wide open.
she was here.
and now you know why you never texted her back.
because she was already beside you.
you blink water from your lashes. her hair’s longer. cheeks pinked up from the sun. she doesn’t move — not until you’re almost close enough to touch.
“hi, ten out of ten flips earlier by the way.” she says, soft rating your flips when you were surfboarding, as if the day hadn't already shouted it in every way.
you don’t answer at first. you just step forward, dripping and breathless and still stunned, and you hold something out to her — a tiny pink flower, fragile in your fingers.
“come here,” you murmur.
she tilts her head.
you step closer, push back her hair, and gently tuck the flower behind her left ear.
she blinks. her breath catches.
she doesn't say anything. she doesn't need to. she turns, just slightly, lifting her phone. sunlight spills over the shoreline. she snaps a photo — just her, the ocean behind, the flower bright against her hair.
then she posts it.
you both sit down after that, side by side in the sand, knees almost touching. keoni’s still out there, flipping over waves like he’s auditioning for a commercial. you whistle once and he throws you a salute.
your phone buzzes.
m.by__sana just posted a photo.
you tap it.
you like it.
you’re the first one.
sana turns her head slowly. "you liked it?"
"hell yeah, i liked it. first like. i win."
she chuckles, opening her own phone. the screen lights up with chaos.
chaeyoung: UNNIE YOU SAID YOU WERE GOING ON A DATE NOT INTERNATIONAL ESCAPE???
nayeon: why is your dress WHITE WHAT ARE WE MISSING
jihyo: we let you skip practice for a date WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN ANOTHER COUNTRY?
jeongyeon: send us the coordinates rn
dahyun: marry them or don’t come back.
tzuyu: pretty unnie~
mina: just sends a GIF of a slow clap
momo: yah, i spat out my ramen when i saw the post..
sana rolls her eyes, locks her phone, and tosses it onto her towel.
“not gonna answer?” you ask.
she shrugs, gaze shifting to the sunset. “maybe later.”
you look at her then. how the orange and pink light reflects in her eyes. how the flower’s still tucked behind her ear. how she hasn’t stopped smiling since she arrived.
she catches you staring. lifts a brow.
“what?”
“nothing,” you murmur. “it’s just—”
you gesture at the sky, the waves, her, all of it.
“it’s beautiful.”
she leans her head on your shoulder, warm and real and solid beside you.
“yeah,” she whispers. “it is.”
and this time, no one was leaving. no one was late. no one was missing the moment.
because she came.
and this was the ending you both chose.
kino's note — kino will be offline for a while—school begins this week, and the days ahead already feel heavy with numbers and names i haven’t met yet. there’s a mina oneshot/series quietly forming somewhere in the back of my mind. it might take time. thank you for waiting, even when i disappear. 🌙
I LEFT YOU EVERYTHING, YOU LEFT ME WAITING. — MINATOZAKI SANA
❝ what if i did a solo performance? just for you. ❞
synopsis — they weren’t supposed to fall. not like that. not in stolen moments behind the cameras or in the quiet lull between takes. but somehow, it happened anyway — slowly, gently, like a secret being kept. and just as quietly, it all fell apart. someone trusted made sure of that. and now it’s been weeks. she still checks her phone in the middle of the night, hoping. you still think about her smile, and wonder if any of it was ever real. both of you still waiting. both of you still in the dark.
notice — emotional angst/unrequited love, miscommunication, implied sabotage, idolxnon-idol, written with realism, metaphors, and a slow and painful unravelling love story.
pairing — minatozaki sana x reader !
disclaimer ! this is a work of fiction created purely for entertainment purposes. all events are fictional. while this story may feature public figures (e.g., sana from twice), it is not meant to reflect their real thoughts, actions, or relationships. please remember: nothing depicted in this story actually happened.
you’re early, but so’s the sun. it spills over the rooftops like it has nowhere better to be, catching on the palm fronds and rust-red tin of the surf shack across the street. myna birds argue overhead in the breadfruit tree. usual noise.
you lean against the old tour van, logo half-faded, bumper held together by duct tape and denial. the iced coffee in your hand is more ritual than refreshment.
“you hear 'em yet?” comes a voice behind you.
you glance back. keoni’s stepping out of the gear shed, chewing on dried mango, curls smashed under a cap that’s seen better years.
“nah,” you reply, “but if they’re late, you’re doing the intro hike in that hat.”
he laughs. “they’re idols, not royalty.”
you arch a brow. “tell that to the last crew who filmed here and needed someone to ‘escort the mosquitoes away.’”
“i escorted them straight into the gulch.”
you snort. silence settles for a breath. the crew’s been buzzing—two artists visiting on a break, no cameras yet, just a private walk. low-key, but big. some newer guides offered to take it, but they asked for you. probably because you don’t ask for autographs. probably because you don’t talk much.
a van pulls up, sleek and black, windows tinted like a secret.
keoni gives a low whistle. “showtime.”
you push off the bumper, brush the sand off your legs, walk toward the driveway as the door slides open.
first out: sharp eyes, clipboard, no patience. manager. she gives you a look like she’s seen every kind of idiot and hopes you’re the exception.
“you’re the guide?”
“yep. and you’re the one who’ll yell at me if i let them touch sea turtles, right?”
her lip twitches—almost a smile. she steps aside.
and then they step out.
sana, all light and limbs, laughing at something inside the van. miyeon follows, sunglasses too big for her face, waving like there’s a red carpet no one else can see. they look like they were airlifted straight from a magazine into the humidity without even blinking.
you keep your tone easy. “aloha. welcome to hale‘iwa. i’m your guide today. just me. no cameras yet, so you’re stuck with my jokes until they get here.”
sana gives you a once-over, curious but not unfriendly. “we heard you’re the best.”
“that was probably my mom,” you say. “she has a lot of burner accounts.”
miyeon snorts. “yah—if this turns out to be the 'oops i forgot the water' tour, i’m calling dispatch.”
“deluxe package,” you say. “we only lose a few people on that one.”
behind them, keoni appears with a crate of gear. you nod toward him.
“this is keoni. if you fall into a lava tube, he’s in charge of pretending we trained for that.”
he waves. “i left my rope at home.”
“that’s a joke,” you add. “kind of.”
you help distribute water bottles and light packs. miyeon chatters while adjusting her straps, and sana asks about the flower behind a staff member’s ear.
“left side,” you say, overhearing. “means they’re taken. right side, single.”
sana turns, brows up. “and you? which side do you wear yours on?”
her voice is light. but her eyes aren’t.
you look at her, then smile. “depends on the day.”
“mm,” she says, like she’s filing that away.
you gesture toward the path carved between trees. “alright, we’ll head through a shaded route up to a lookout. no drones, no crowds, just us and the mosquitoes. try not to flirt with them. they take it seriously.”
“do they bite harder when you lead them on?” miyeon asks.
“worse,” you say. “they ghost you after.”
sana lets out a small chuckle.
the trail begins with soft ground, old roots reaching like fingers across the dirt. you point out ‘ōhi‘a trees, explain the legends of pele and hi‘iaka. your voice is steady, practiced—but you’re watching them. especially her.
sana stays close. not too close. she asks about the birdsong, the smooth black rock, the kapu signs carved near the tree line. she listens like she’s used to noise and this quiet unnerves her in a good way.
miyeon’s already up ahead, spinning in slow circles, filming her feet.
the wind shifts. you smell the ocean again, faint but constant, and the distant trace of charcoal from someone grilling down by the beach road.
the first scenic stop opens ahead, a bluff over shallow tidepools and lava shelves. the camera crew’s waiting at a distance, giving you space. they haven’t started filming yet.
you pause at the edge, the sun low behind you, painting sana and miyeon in warm orange light. miyeon lifts her phone, posing without being asked.
sana steps beside you.
“you really live here?” she asks.
you nod. “grew up bouncing between islands. this one stuck.”
“doesn’t it get lonely?”
you watch the horizon. “sometimes. but the view’s decent.”
"yeah, it's beautiful."
she turns her head. just slightly. her eyes linger. not on the ocean.
the tide’s gone quiet, pulled back just enough to reveal the black stone pools scattered like mirrors across the lava shelf. water glints in the shallows. a kolea bird watches from the edge, still as carved bone, its eyes sharp like it remembers more than it should.
hermit crabs trace slow spirals in the wet sand. their shells catch the sun like dropped garnets.
you stand off to the side, close enough to explain things, far enough that they’ll cut you out of the final shot. there’s a mic clipped to your collar anyway. the sound tech gave you a thumbs-up earlier like you did something brave. you’re trying not to think about that.
miyeon’s crouched near a tidepool, poking at the reflection of a fish with a twig she definitely wasn’t supposed to take.
“what happens if i fall in?” she asks, grinning.
“free exfoliation,” you say, and then with a glance at the camera, “not recommended.”
sana laughs behind her, clear and bright like she’s never been tired. she’s squinting into the sun, shielding her eyes with one hand and fiddling with the mic pack at her waist with the other. her hair’s clipped up, loose pieces catching the wind. the stylist tries again to help, but sana waves them off.
“this water’s so clear,” she says, leaning closer to the tidepool. “it’s like a glass bowl.” she pauses. “are the crabs single?”
you blink. “…what?”
she glances over her shoulder with a smile too sharp to be innocent. “you said earlier the flower behind your ear means you’re single. what about the crabs? do they wear little hibiscus too?”
“only the hot ones.”
laughter bubbles up—real, from the crew and from miyeon, who actually claps. sana laughs too, cheeks turning slightly pink as she looks away, back toward the water.
“i like you,” she says.
your breath catches.
then—“i mean the dad jokes,” she adds quickly, teasing. “good material.”
you rub the back of your neck. one of the camera guys catches it and snorts behind the lens. you step sideways again, pretending to check the rocks, subtly trying to disappear.
she doesn’t let you, though.
not really.
her gaze follows you whenever she thinks you won’t notice. when you talk, she listens too carefully. when you point out the limu kohu, the petroglyphs carved deep into the lava, she hums under her breath like she wants to memorize the rhythm of your voice.
you talk about the mo‘olelo behind the sea caves, about the bones buried beneath stone that no one touches anymore. miyeon is still skipping ahead, half-dancing over uneven ground, but sana’s gone still.
she only moves again when you do.
“can we take selfies with the rock that looks like a turtle?” miyeon calls out. “i want to send it to our manager and pretend it followed us home.”
“sure,” you say. “i’ll make sure they consent.”
the boom operator snorts. miyeon throws you a wink like you’ve just auditioned for her next sitcom.
they film for twenty more minutes. the wind pulls at sana’s sleeves. sun glints off the curve of her earring. her questions never stop—what flower is that? how old is this lava? did you always live here?
but it’s not the questions that get to you.
it’s the way she asks. like she’s testing something. like she already knows the answer but wants to hear your voice wrap around it anyway. her eyes flick to you when you think she’s distracted. her shoulder brushes yours once. twice. again.
and you—
you pretend not to notice.
mostly.
when the crew finally calls a cut, it’s late enough the rocks are warming underfoot. someone shouts for a break to reset gear. you lead them higher, where the trail plateaus under a grove of hau trees—broad-limbed and slanted toward the sun, their yellow blossoms falling like pieces of afternoon.
you pass around water bottles, then sit off to the side near a beat-up cooler. your shirt sticks slightly to your back, damp from the walk, but you don’t tug at it. miyeon fans herself with a palm frond, dramatically narrating her own personal survival doc. sana drops down near her, sweat at her temples, but still watching you.
you’re talking with one of the writers—older, in a sunhat and sunglasses and a linen shirt that might’ve been white once. her notebook rests on her knees, the pages half-crumpled from years of use.
“you still eat those li hing mui mangoes?” she teases, scribbling something.
you lean back on your hands. “only when i want to experience death recreationally.”
“please. you loved them in college.”
“i had fewer taste buds back then.”
she laughs, and sana turns her head a little.
college?
miyeon’s still babbling into her phone off to the side, pretending to sell lychee juice like it’s the last product on earth. sana doesn’t look at her.
the writer lowers her voice a little. “you know, i told them you don’t really do this.”
you shrug. “i don’t.”
“they asked why. i said it’s usually a no unless i’m the one asking. and even then, only if it’s raining and you’re bored.”
you glance at her, but say nothing.
sana shifts. the wind picks up, shaking petals from the hau branches. they drift like lazy confetti across the dirt.
“so what changed?” she asks suddenly.
you turn. she’s lounging like she doesn’t care, one leg crossed over the other, arms slack, gaze tilted away from yours. but her voice is steady. deceptively so.
“what do you mean?”
“why’d you take this one?” she asks, still looking at the writer, not you. “if you don’t usually take people like us.”
your jaw works quietly. you glance at the writer. she lifts a shoulder, amused.
“they’ve got their reasons,” she says vaguely, biting the cap of her pen. “probably something poetic. i’ve been trying to squeeze it out for a decade.”
you exhale. “it wasn’t the cameras,” you say at last.
sana raises an eyebrow, just slightly.
“it wasn’t the schedule,” you add. “wasn’t the crew. wasn’t the fee.”
“then what was it?” she presses, eyes on you now.
you glance at her, then back at the dirt.
you remind me of someone. “she was really persistent..” you say blaming the write with a slight grin.
sana’s lips part, but miyeon bounds back in at that exact moment, clutching a lychee like it’s her firstborn. “guys. guys. are we talking about how lucky we are yet? because i’d like to thank the academy and also my sweat glands for keeping it real.”
you chuckle under your breath.
sana doesn’t laugh. she just keeps watching you.
“you’re good at this,” she says, quieter now. “talking about hawaii. like it’s not just a place.”
you glance at her.
“like it’s alive,” she finishes. “like it’s part of you.”
you look down at your hands. your thumbs run slow over the ridges of your water bottle.
“it is,” you murmur.
the breeze softens. miyeon flops dramatically onto a picnic blanket, muttering about hydration. the sun slips through the trees like warm syrup, pooling in patches of gold.
sana stretches back with a sigh. “you should be on camera more.”
“not my thing,” you say.
“why not?”
you half-smile. “i’m better off behind it.”
“maybe,” she says. “but you make it hard to look away.”
you glance up.
she’s not looking at you anymore, not exactly. her gaze drifts somewhere just to the side, like she’s already trying to turn that moment into memory.
you don’t answer.
the wind stirs again—leaves rustling, petals spinning—and for a second, you think the island might be answering for you.
don’t touch that—”
crack.
“…never mind.”
you blinked down at the snapped guava branch in miyeon’s hand. she froze like a guilty raccoon. sana stifled a laugh behind her fingers.
“that was structural,” you muttered, kneeling to check the low railing.
“it looked like a stick,” miyeon said innocently.
“a stick holding up the hillside,” you replied, brushing dirt from the crumbling base.
“well that’s... poor design,” she offered.
behind her, sana giggled again—soft, melodic, eyes crinkling.
“we’ll glue it back later?” she said.
“yeah,” you deadpanned. “we’ll patch it up with good intentions.”
“or duct tape,” miyeon added helpfully.
“or prayer,” you said under your breath.
keoni passed by, handing you a reflector bag. “i gotta check the van. you’re the boss till i get back.”
you gave him a small salute. “pray for me.”
he winked. “always.”
ahead, a lei-making station sat shaded beneath a wide mango tree, the aunty running it already eyeing you with the kind of mischief only decades could earn.
“eh!”
you flinched automatically.
aunty leina sat cross-legged on a low mat, ti leaves in her lap and a grin on her face that could split coconuts.
“you letting these girls break the valley now?” she called, eyebrows up.
you held up both palms. “not my fault, aunty. i said no touching. they touched anyway.”
“you gotta bring stronger tape,” she said, nodding at miyeon. “or one leash. or two.”
miyeon gasped dramatically. “is this bullying?”
“not unless you cry,” aunty said.
you stepped forward, grinning. “aunty, you still mad about that mango bread or what?”
“i should be. was dry as sand.”
“you ate the whole thing.”
“because i was being polite!”
you laughed and bent into a half-bow, holding both hands out as you approached her mat. she grabbed them immediately, pulling you down beside her with a grunt of approval.
“what you bringing me today?” she asked, glancing past you. “celebrities again?”
“not my fault,” you said. “they keep signing up.”
“bring me someone who knows how to hold scissors.”
“we’re working on it,” you said. “miyeon’s banned from touching plant life.”
aunty leina snorted. “you better be getting overtime for this.”
you looked sheepish. “i got lunch duty instead.”
she nudged you gently with her elbow, her voice lowering. “you still the same,” she said. “all quiet till you get somewhere safe. then boom—talking story like you live in my kitchen.”
“you’ve seen me in your kitchen,” you reminded her.
“exactly,” she said. “you forget to shut up.”
sana and miyeon caught up just as you laughed again, wiping your hands on your pants. miyeon dropped onto the mat and started inspecting the flower piles with the reverence of a child in a candy store.
sana stayed standing, brushing her long skirt with one hand.
aunty leaned closer to you again, voice sly. “eh... that one,” she said, nodding toward sana. “she got the eyes. soft kind. watching you like you grew from this land.”
you pressed your lips together. “aunty...”
“what?” she said, all innocence. “i’m just pointing.”
“you’re matchmaking.”
“same thing.”
sana stepped forward just then, crouching beside you. “these are so beautiful,” she said, eyes bright as she gently touched a strand of plumeria. “i don’t want to ruin them.”
“you won’t,” you said. “ti leaf first. fold it once, then thread the flower. you’ll get it.”
she looked at you. “you’re really patient.”
you shrugged, glancing at aunty leina. “i’ve had good teachers.”
aunty grunted proudly, as if you were her valedictorian.
“besides,” you added, handing sana a flower, “you’re better at this than miyeon.”
“hey,” miyeon called from across the mat, flower crown crooked on her head. “i’m art.”
“you’re chaos,” you corrected.
“art is chaos.”
you shook your head, but your smile betrayed you. the camera crew was still adjusting lenses, not yet rolling, and you—usually quiet, usually distant—were sitting easy in the middle of it all, fingers threading plumeria like you’d been born to do it.
aunty leina turned to one of the interns and whispered—loudly—“see how calm they are? that’s why everyone falls in love on this island.”
you looked up. “aunty…”
“i’m just saying,” she said, holding up her hands. “no shame in being charming. just don’t make her cry, eh?”
you blinked—startled by how quickly the teasing could turn real.
sana glanced between the two of you, the corners of her lips lifting. her shoulder brushed yours as she leaned down again, a little closer this time.
“you really are different when you’re not working,” she said, almost to herself.
you didn’t answer. you just handed her the next flower.
the sun caught the tops of the ti plants just right — sharp, soft green against the red of miyeon’s skirt and the white lei she had somehow managed to drape across her shoulder like a fashion statement. she laughed like the whole valley could hear her. probably could.
you kept to the edge of the clearing.
hands in your pockets. back to the wind.
“shoot, no one told me there’d be bugs with wings this confident.”
miyeon was mid-complaint, swatting gently at the air with the back of her hand as a persistent ʻōpeʻapeʻa hovered near her ear. she wasn’t scared—just annoyed, and dramatically so.
you leaned on the nearest rock, the kind smoothed down by generations of rain. the air smelled like crushed guava and warm dust. your boots pressed soft into the soil. the shade wasn’t much, but it was something. the mountain air was cooler here than down by the coast, and softer too. the kind of breeze that told you rain wasn’t far off.
sana’s hands were slower than miyeon’s, more careful. she looked up once — past the camera, past the boom mic — straight toward where you stood. it was just a glance. quick. not meant to land.
but it did.
you tilted your head a little. said nothing.
“leave the it alone,” someone from the crew called out with a grin. “he’s just flirting.”
“he’s standing like he’s auditioning for a romance movie poster,” miyeon shot back. “brooding by a rock.”
“looks like the quiet type,” the sound tech said. “probably writes poems at lunch.”
“no, he carves them into driftwood,” miyeon said proudly. “and releases them into the tide like messages in a bottle.”
sana, kneeling beside her, let out that light kind of laugh she always used when she was on camera floaty, practiced, just a little amused. but her eyes kept darting to the lei she was threading. fingers slow, deliberate. quieter.
“okay, what about you, sana?” miyeon leaned toward her, flowers half-finished and already tangled in her lap. “you like the sweet ones, right?”
“mm…” sana didn’t look up. her voice was soft, thoughtful. “i like when someone listens. really listens. not because they’re waiting to speak.”
one of the younger staffers made a low “oooh” from the side, and miyeon slapped her own thigh.
“wait, that was good. write that down. someone tweet it.”
the director behind the camera gave them a small cue to keep going, motioning a loop with his fingers. filler talk. b-roll footage. make it fun. make it personal.
you shifted your weight near the back of the set, adjusting the strap of your bag as a local aunty passed by carrying iced tea bottles. she nudged your shoulder with hers.
“you watching the show or the girl?” she whispered, grinning.
you gave her a small smile, shook your head. “watching the flowers, aunty.”
she snorted. “the flowers not the only thing blooming.”
you laughed under your breath and leaned a little on the rock behind you. from where you stood, you had a clean view of the clearing — and sana, who kept looking up with these barely-there glances. like she was checking for something. or someone.
you didn’t plan to step forward. but something pulled you. maybe curiosity. maybe just boredom. maybe it was her voice when she said
“and they should love nature. not like, documentary nature. real nature. messy hair and muddy shoes kind.”
you shifted, curious now, and stepped forward. just a little. just enough to stand behind the cam crew. between the lens and the valley, in a quiet limbo where only the breeze could touch you.
she didn’t say anything, but the look she gave you was new. like the warm part of the tide when it first wraps around your ankles.
sana noticed.
her shoulders straightened. her smile twitched.
she noticed immediately.
but she just blinked once and adjusted the strand of her lei. her expression didn’t change much, but something softened. the gaze she gave the camera next was… steady. direct. like she was saying something without opening her mouth.
miyeon clapped her hands. “i want a hot disaster. where’s my hot disaster?”
“in the microwave,” someone from the audio team muttered.
a few people laughed. you didn’t. you were still watching sana.
she was still watching you.
sana kept her hands moving, threading flower after flower. “it’s not that complicated,” she murmured, mostly to herself. “just want someone who makes you feel like… like you’re home.”
you weren’t sure why that stuck with you. maybe because she didn’t say it to the camera. maybe because she said it like it was true.
but you didn’t say anything. you just looked away.
the petals kept turning in her hands.
and somewhere in the footage, a glance was caught. a quick one, soft, aimed right where you stood — too quick to cut, too subtle to explain.
no one noticed on set. not even you.
not really-
but sana’s next smile lingered longer than the last.
just a little. ;)
the director called cut.
not loud — just a quiet wave of his hand, a soft “okay, let’s reset” as the audio crew unclipped wires from behind sana’s back. miyeon immediately flopped sideways onto the grass like she’d been holding up a skyscraper with her spine.
“i’m done,” she announced. “take me home. return me to factory settings.”
sana laughed, brushing stray petals off her lap. “you’re not even sweating.”
“exactly. that’s how you know i’m serious. this is internal damage.”
“internal damage from what?”
“from life, sana. from living.”
the youngest camera op passed by, hefting the b-cam onto their shoulder. “you’ve been sitting down the whole time.”
miyeon sat up just to glare. “i’ve been emotionally standing.”
aunty leina was already weaving between them with a basket, collecting the finished lei and handing out light scoldings. “no toss ‘em like trash,” she said, wagging a finger at miyeon. “you wear it, you respect it. even if you made it ugly.”
“mine is conceptual,” miyeon said, trying to untangle hers from her sleeve. “it tells a story.”
aunty gave her a look. “yeah. a sad one.”
“she keeps lookin’ at you,” he said.
you didn’t ask who. you just lifted the edge of the tarp, pretending not to hear.
you were saved by a call from one of the producers — they were wrapping early today to give the team enough time to get footage back to the hotel and prep tomorrow’s shoot. that meant packing up, a long van ride back, and the final few minutes of down-time where everyone felt a little looser.
you ducked out from behind the tree and crossed the clearing again, arms behind your back as the breeze shifted west. your steps slowed when you saw sana still kneeling by the lei-making mat, hands resting in her lap. she looked up at the sound of your boots in the dirt.
“hey,” she said, soft.
you crouched beside her, careful not to knock any of the materials still strewn around. “hey.”
her eyes traced yours for a second. a long one.
she looked at you a second too long to be casual. then, like it was just conversation, “so… is this your main job? or do you have a secret life?”
you blinked. “secret life?”
“mm. spy? florist by day, vigilante by night?”
you gave a small laugh. “nothing that interesting.”
her smile curved. “i don’t believe you.”
you hesitated. normally you kept the line pretty firm — smile, wave, answer only what they needed for the show. but the way she looked at you then, like the question was less for the show and more for herself… you found your voice.
“i help out at a café,” you said, eyes flicking toward the trees. “in town. a friend of my uncle’s runs it. nothing fancy, just coffee, pastries, regulars who like arguing about the weather.”
“sounds cozy,” she said.
“it’s loud.”
“still sounds nice.”
you glanced at her — her hair catching the light, her posture relaxed for the first time all day.
“you work a lot?” she asked.
you shrugged. “depends. here when they need me. café when the schedule’s light. not really the sit-still kind.”
she smiled again, but this time it folded deeper. “me neither.”
you didn’t mean to ask it — it just fell out. “do you ever get tired of cameras?”
her smile turned quiet. “yes,” she said, honest. “but… i like meeting people like this. places like this.”
you didn’t answer. you were still watching her eyes when she reached to adjust the lei near her knees. the thread snagged slightly and she tipped forward to fix it — just a little shift of balance, barely a stumble.
you caught her elbow before she could fall.
“careful.”
sana laughed, a bit breathless. “oops.”
you didn’t let go right away. her skin was warm. soft. a few staff glanced your way, but no one said anything. not this time.
keoni’s voice crackled from the radio on your hip. “van’s ready. we rollin’?”
you tapped the mic. “copy. heading back.”
you let go gently and stood, brushing dirt off your palm. sana followed, slower. her eyes still lingered on your face.
as the group began making their way back toward the main trail, you fell into step behind the crew, trailing just far enough to keep an eye on the path.
sana dropped back too, matching your pace.
after a while, she said — lightly, like it didn’t matter — “so… are you guiding us again tomorrow?”
you paused, then nodded. “yeah. you got me till the end.”
she smiled. bright. quiet.
“good,” she said. “i was hoping so.”
you didn’t say anything — not out loud. but you felt something shift in the way she looked at you again.
like she was filing something away. tucking it behind her smile.
you kept walking.
ahead, miyeon tripped over a root and screamed something about cursed trees. the crew laughed.
sana didn’t.
she just looked at you again.
the clouds barely held together above hanapēpē, drifting thin and drowsy like they'd overslept. the air smelled faintly of seawater and roasted beans.
you had your head bent over the espresso machine, steam hissing softly, a practiced hand steadying the portafilter. your apron, worn and flecked with milk dust, hung loose over your frame. same routine, different day. behind you, the regulars muttered about surf forecasts and the price of mangoes. someone’s kid laughed near the pastry counter. outside, the breeze carried the chime of a wind-battered bell on the door.
you didn’t look up right away when it opened.
your head was down, one hand steadying the portafilter as the espresso ran slow into the shot glass. the smell of milk steaming, the sound of someone slicing into banana bread behind you. your sleeves were rolled up above your elbows.
you glanced up, halfway through a pour.
and there she was.
sana stood near the door like she hadn’t just scoured the whole damn town for you. her hair pulled loosely back, a light blue tank just visible beneath an open white button-down that fluttered slightly when the door shut behind her. a floral skirt swayed at her ankles — patterned, soft, the same blue as her top. like sunlight filtered through water.
you blinked once. nearly over-poured.
she smiled.
"hey," she said, a little breathless. “so… you do exist outside of trailheads.”
your first thought was she matched me. your second was she looks like summer on purpose.
your third was somewhere between how the hell did she find me and don’t smile too much, you’ll look ridiculous.
“only on days off,” you replied, sliding the used portafilter aside. “and only when i need to fund my overly lavish lifestyle.”
she gave a soft laugh, stepping closer to the counter. her hands touched the wood like she was testing its warmth. “mystery solved.”
you raised a brow. “you asked around?”
her cheeks tinted just barely. “i didn’t have that much to go on. miyeon was no help. she said something like, ‘if you wander around with fate in your heart, you’ll find them.’”
you snorted. “sounds like her.”
“and… i did find you.”
you stared at her, fingers stilling on the counter. you weren’t used to people looking for you like that. especially not in a skirt that matched your whole outfit.
“what’ll you have?” you asked after a pause, because you needed to do something, because standing still in front of her felt dangerous.
sana leaned her arms on the counter, watching your face. “something simple. americano.”
“iced or hot?”
“surprise me.”
you glanced down at her skirt again. “iced. you look like you’ve been outside too long.”
she laughed, head tilting. “i have.”
as you prepped the shot, she watched — not in that casual way tourists do, but carefully. you realized you kind of liked her watching. you kind of hated how much you liked it.
“so…” she said, her voice light, “you didn't really say where this beautiful coffee shop were”
you shrugged, keeping your eyes on the espresso. “didn’t think you’d want more caffeine after miyeon.”
“well. miyeon and i got lunch. and then i wandered.” she shrugs slightly feeling as it wasn't worth to mention how she walked for an hour to find you and already had two coffee with miyeon earlier.
you looked up at her then. “wandered?”
her smile twitched. “yeah. i have a good sense of direction.”
you stared for a beat longer. you tamped the espresso with more pressure than necessary.
you didn’t answer.
steam rose between you. she leaned closer through it.
“i like when you’re like this,” she said, and her voice was gentle, not teasing. “you’re… not what i expected.”
you just turned back to the drink. because that thing in your chest — that old twitchy thing that didn’t like being seen — was already shifting too much.
“you’ve got a lot of expectations for someone you’ve known three days,” you said.
“maybe.” she reached out — just a little. and brushed her fingers against a napkin holder. like she wanted to reach you, but was afraid of spooking something. “but you let me ask questions. you don’t stop me.”
“not yet.”
“i think that’s why i came.”
you handed her the cup, warm between both palms. her fingers brushed yours when she took it.
“try not to spill,” you said. you reached for a ragged towel that seen better days while wiping the counter
she took it, brushing her fingers against yours. “are you always this soft when you flirt?”
you blinked confused still wiping the counter clean. “i’m not flirting.”
“okay,” she said, sipping anyway. “but you still haven’t told me if you’re single.”
that made your hand freeze mid-wipe on the counter.
you looked at her carefully. “you always open with that?”
“only when i’ve already watched someone make coffee for me, be soft with a group of grandmothers, and explain lava rock to a camera with their hands behind their back like they don’t want to exist.”
she let her fingertips trace along the edge of her cup, soft and aimless, like she didn’t know what to do with the silence she’d created. you watched her, the slope of her lashes, how the sunlight through the window caught in her hair like it belonged there. like she belonged here.
you wiped your hand on a cloth and came around. you sat across from sana by the window, the light slanting gold between you both.
you opened your mouth. closed it.
then: “...i’m single.”
you didn’t mean to speak. but your voice came out anyway.
she smiled, looking down at her cup like it was just a casual thing. the corner of her mouth lifted, not a smirk, not a grin—something lighter. quieter. like she'd known but wanted to hear it anyway.
“thought so,” she said. low, teasing, but her gaze dropped a second too late for it to be casual.
you leaned your forearms against the table, shoulder tilted in her direction. “you’re very confident for someone who called me mysterious like twelve times this week.”
“i didn’t say mysterious,” she replied, a little sing-song. “i said quiet. and maybe avoidant.”
you rolled your eyes. “you’re not helping your case.”
her laugh was soft. she swirled her cup absently, like she was stalling. then turned her head to you, half-curious, half-playful. “so… do you know who we are?”
you blinked. “you and miyeon?”
she made a face. “nooo, i mean, yes, but—like... the group i’m in.”
you tilted your head at her slowly. “uhh... twice.”
her brows rose, impressed. “you do know.”
you shrugged. “teenage girl i know is a fan.”
her eyes lit up. “really?”
“she’s not here,” you said. “so you’re safe.”
sana laughed, the real kind that crinkles the skin around her eyes. “and you?”
“me?”
“do you like us?”
i like you.
the words came up like steam, fogging your thoughts. but you didn’t say them. you just leaned a little forward and said, “i haven’t heard enough to say.”
her gaze caught yours. “maybe you should.”
“you offering a concert?”
she leaned forward a little. “i could.”
“hm.” she tapped her fingers on the side of her cup. “what if i did a solo performance? just for you.”
your pulse hitched. you blinked once, then exhaled a little laugh into your sleeve.
“you’re too fast,” you murmured.
“you’re too slow,” she shot back, still smiling.
another pause, a longer one. the room faded around her for a second.
your pulse did something strange.
you looked down, biting back a smile,
“so,” she said eventually, her chin resting on her hand. “how’s life these days? giving tours in the morning, drinks in the afternoon?”
“normal,” you said. “no camera at least ”
“i missed you guys already,” she teased. “keoni was my favorite.”
“he liked you too.”
she tilted her head. “what about you?” she leaned forward slightly, like the distance between your knees wasn’t already criminal.
you blinked. “what about me?”
“do you like me?”
it knocked the breath out of your chest. she was smiling, that same bright grin she gave everyone, but there was a question behind it she hadn’t quite hidden. her eyes didn’t match the joke.
you didn’t answer right away. your gaze dropped to her hands wrapped around her cup. the chipped polish on her nails. the slight red tint on her knuckles from the sun.
“i think you’re good at talking,” you said slowly.
she squinted, suspicious. “that’s not a yes.”
you shook your head, a quiet huff of a laugh leaving your lips. “that’s a very nervous yes.”
her smile curled, softer now. she looked at you like you’d just given her a secret.
she leaned forward a little, elbows on the table. “you never answer my real questions.”
“you keep asking them in public,” you said. “that’s your fault.”
she tilted her head. “is this public?”
your throat dried. the café was mostly quiet now, the only sounds the soft clatter of dishes in the back and the hum of a machine you’d forgotten was running. one of the baristas, kahi, glanced over.
you raised your hand, beckoning her.
“can you take over for a bit?” you asked. “gonna take my break.”
kahi smiled knowingly. “sure. take your time.”
sana leaned back in her chair like she’d just won something.
“so,” she said again, grinning. “do you get bored of guiding people around here?”
you shook your head. “not really.”
“why not?”
“because most people leave. and when they do, it’s quiet again.”
she tilted her head. “you like it quiet?”
you looked at her. “i like it when people mean it when they say they’ll remember.”
sana blinked. her lips parted just slightly, like she wanted to ask something else, but her phone buzzed on the table. her eyes flicked to the screen. miyeon.
she picked it up and typed something quick. then she stood slowly, brushing her skirt down.
“i have to go,” she said. “miyeon’s waiting.” she reached for her cup, drank the last of it, then hesitated. her fingers played with the edge of the saucer.
you nodded, standing too, out of instinct more than anything.
she took her time standing, fingers lingering on the table’s edge. the hem of her white overshirt fluttered a little when she turned toward the door.
you stood with her.
she hesitated there, right by the frame, like the sunlight didn’t know which one of you to choose.
you walked her out.
she turned once, soft steps pausing near the corner. “hey... do you have instagram?”
you hesitated. blinked. “uh… i mean. i barely use it.”
“but you have one?”
“…yeah.”
“give it to me anyway,” she smiled.
your fingers hesitated, then reached into your apron for your phone. you pulled it out and handed it over, watching her eyes light up as she typed.
she took it like it was normal, like this happened all the time. except she wasn’t searching for the usual account.
her thumb hovered.
“i’m giving you my private one,” she said.
you blinked again.
“don’t tell anyone.” her smile curved, just a little. “miyeon doesn’t even know i give this out.”
you stared at her.
she tapped around on your phone for a moment, then stifled a laugh.
“wait,” she said, flashing the screen at you. “this is really your username? brewing.beach?”
you looked. winced.
“you said you didn’t really use it,” she said, scrolling. “but this is criminal. zero posts?”
“i wasn’t lying.”
“no bio. no story. no highlights.” her eyes were wide with mock horror. “you’re just… a digital ghost.”
you took your phone back. “i log in. i just don’t live there.”
“yeah, i can tell.” she grinned. “i feel like i followed a shadow.”
“it’s mysterious,” you said flatly.
“it’s suspicious,” she corrected. “feels like i just gave my private account to a tourist who might disappear into the ocean.”
you raised an eyebrow. “isn’t that what you’re doing this week?”
she gasped. hand to chest. “that’s cold.”
you almost smiled. almost. “you’ll survive.”
“i better,” she said. “i just gave my secret account to a stranger with no posts and an unflattering username.”
you shrugged. “you didn’t have to.”
“mm,” she hummed, slow and dramatic. “but i wanted to.”
then her voice lowered. “don’t make me regret it.”
and then she looked up, full eye contact, like she could hear your heart going off in your chest. “that okay?”
“yeah,” you said, but it came out hoarse. “yeah. i won’t tell.”
her smile softened. she typed, handed your phone back, and her username was already followed.
then she didn’t move.
neither did you.
and that was when something in the air changed.
you thought she was about to leave, she even glanced toward the door, like she should—but her feet didn’t follow. instead, she turned back around.
and stepped closer.
your breath caught.
there was barely a handspan between you. her perfume was faint but sweet, like citrus and skin-warmed flowers. your heart thudded stupidly loud in your ears.
“you have this... way of looking at people,” she murmured.
you didn’t know what that meant, but you didn’t ask.
you couldn’t ask. not when she was this close. not when she was tilting her head, eyes flicking down to your mouth for half a second and then back up again.
you opened your mouth to say something—anything—but you didn’t get the chance.
she leaned in.
and kissed your cheek.
but not quickly. not playfully. not the kind you’d brush off with a joke.
no—she pressed her lips there like it meant something.
like it was a secret she couldn’t say out loud yet.
you felt it in your spine. your stomach. your knees.
it was soft. it was slow. it was warm enough to burn through the fabric of your shirt and straight into your bloodstream.
and when she pulled back—barely—her lips ghosted over your skin like she was memorizing it. like maybe she wanted to stay there.
your eyes didn’t open right away.
and when they did, she was smiling.
just a little.
the kind of smile that made the sun look second-best.
“see you around,” she whispered.
then finally—finally—she turned and walked out the door.
and you just stood there.
heart pounding. hand still curled around your phone. breath caught somewhere behind your ribs.
her lipstick light pink, faint, left the softest trace on your cheek.
you didn’t wipe it off.
you weren’t sure you ever could.
your cheek still felt her.
and somewhere in your pocket, your phone buzzed again—new notification. new follower.
shy.shibatozaki accepted your follow request
and suddenly, the room felt like it wasn’t yours anymore.
it was hers.
and you wanted her to come back.
you don’t remember the exact moment your face started heating up for no reason — just that it had something to do with her name lighting up your phone at 11:47 p.m., while the ocean outside your window made that low, steady hush, like even it was trying to hear what she’d say next.
the sheets were tangled around your legs. your hair still damp from the shower. a bead of water slid down your neck, caught in the collar of your shirt. it clung too close at the back. and your chest — it was doing that thing again. not thudding like fear, not fluttering like joy, just… loud. constant. like a knock that wouldn’t stop.
shy.shibatozaki
11:47 p.m.
guess what me and miyeon are watching !
i missed you already i loved the coffee you gave ~ !
you didn’t even have to guess. you could already imagine her curled under a fuzzy blanket, face half-glowing in tv light, head leaning into miyeon’s shoulder. something warm stirred in your stomach.
shy.shibatozaki
11:48 p.m.
also me and miyeon are wearing our matching pjs 💙🩷
anddd she took the yellow bear headband >:((
not fair right?? :(
a photo came with that one. slightly blurry, but enough to make your chest tighten — sana in blue pajamas, she was wearing her glasses and it was slipping down her nose, hair tied back lazily with a few strands falling over her cheek. miyeon was beside her, grinning while mid jump, wearing a yellow bear headband. it looked like home. she looked like the kind of perfect you didn’t want to blink at in case it vanished.
you bit your pillow and groaned into it.
then you answered. (on some nonchalant shi she aint even know it)
you
11:51 p.m.
perhaps queen of tears..?
thats the only kdrama i know hahaa...
shy.shibatozaki
11:52 p.m.
HEYYY we're not watching qot!
HOMETOWN CHA-CHA-CHA!! miyeon said i act like yoon hye jin..? BUT NO >:(
anddd they eat so much in this drama :( i luvvv hawaii food but like ugh i miss korean foods :(
you stared at that message longer than necessary. something about it made you sit up. the air had cooled — you hadn’t noticed — but the breeze coming in smelled faintly of rain and seaweed. maybe you were imagining it, but it felt like a different kind of night.
you told yourself she was just being cute. she was always cute. it didn’t mean anything. her cheeks didn’t make your fingers tingle. her texts didn’t sit warm in your pocket. your chest wasn’t rising like tidewater with every buzz.
you were not smiling.
your phone buzzed again.
shy.shibatozaki
11:55 p.m.
hellooo did u fall asleep..?
earth to tour guide cutie?
you blinked.
cutie???
your legs were moving before your thoughts could catch up. you grabbed your keys. hoodie. slippers. hair still damp. didn’t care. you stepped outside. paused. cursed. ran back in for your wallet. stepped out again.
the streets were quiet — wet pavement glowing gold beneath the streetlights. your footsteps echoed softly. your hoodie clung to your back. a gecko darted across the sidewalk near your foot, but you didn’t flinch. your head was somewhere else. somewhere with blue pajamas and sleepy eyes that missed korean foods at midnight.
you passed the surfboard rental hut. slowed. stopped.
on impulse — stupid, reckless, flirt-level impulse — you pulled out your phone and sent a photo. an old one. from earlier this week. waves curling over the shore, a bright sky behind it, and someone surfing in the distance.
you
12:04 a.m
hey, isn't chief hong like a surfer.. or something..?
maybe i can help you learn how to surf yk? :)
i'm good at riding the waves.
the second it sent, regret bloomed full-bodied through your spine.
wow, you regretted even saying that.
holy fuck should i delete that? was i too straight forward? was that too much? was that real? should you delete it? why did you say that???
shy.shibatozaki
12:05 a.m.
WHATT YOU SURF!! AHHH YES
maybe you can teach me when i do come back :)
ill rate your flips maybeee from you arms~
you almost tripped over the curb outside the store.
you couldn’t even laugh properly. just gripped your phone, heart thrashing, and slipped inside the brightly lit corner mart like it might hold answers on a shelf.
you needed to focus. get the food. get out. do not spontaneously combust in the ramen aisle.
you got ramen. rice cakes. gim. sesame oil. carrots. pickled radish. banana milk. a new blender blade. more gochujang than one person should legally own. frozen mangoes. why. who knew.
you stared at the shopping cart.
“what the hell am i doing,” you whispered.
you don’t even like smoothies.
but your hand still reaches for strawberries.
back home, you dropped the bags on the counter, half-shivering from the night air, half-sweating from the chaos inside your chest. turned on a recipe video. leaned too close. muted it again. swore when the rice stuck to your hands. tried again. heartbeat climbing steadily, unreasonably, like it knew where this night was heading before you did.
you were mid-slice — carrots wet and bright on the cutting board — when your phone buzzed again.
incoming video call:
shy.shibatozaki
you wiped your hands on a dish towel and answered without thinking.
“yaaaah,” she whined, face filling your screen, voice low like she was trying not to wake miyeon. “where did you go? you disappeared.”
you pressed your lips together,
“just stepped out.”
“you didn’t reply to my text for like... nine minutes.”
“how do you know the exact time?”
“because i counted,” she whined. “you’re so mean...”
“just… had something to do,” you said, camera aimed slightly too high on purpose. the kitchen lights were on behind you.
“mmm,” she narrowed her eyes. “are you cooking?”
you tried not to look guilty. “why would i be cooking at midnight?”
“are you at your kitchen..?” she whispered.
you blinked, heart thudding. “...you’re seeing things.”
she pouted. “liar.”
you turned away, pretending to check something on the stove — when really, you were just trying to hide the dumb smile spreading across your face.
on her side, sana yawned. the blanket now tucked under her chin. her glasses had started slipping again, and she didn’t fix them.
“you’re not telling me what you’re making…” she mumbled, eyes blinking slower now.
“nothing important.”
“hmm.” she let that go, surprisingly. “oh, by the way… we might start preparing for our next comeback soon. nothing confirmed but i’m kinda excited. i want a sexy theme” she grinned sleepily. “if we get one… i’ll tell you first.”
you didn’t know what to say to that. you didn’t move. just kept spreading rice over gim like your hands had never learned to do anything else. your chest felt… weird. tight. like standing thigh-deep in surf, waiting for a wave you couldn’t see coming.
“and maybe,” she mumbled, almost to herself, “i’ll bring you something from seoul... like a signed photocard... or a bag of korean snacks... or me.”
or me.
your breath stalled.
she didn’t even seem to notice. her eyes fluttered shut, cheek pressed into her pillow. hair all tangled. lips parted slightly, like she didn’t even realize what she said.
your ears were on fire.
you didn’t say a word. didn’t dare to breathe too loud. just finished wrapping the kimbap roll with your heart pounding like it had picked up the rhythm of every wave slapping the shore that night.
not falling. you were not falling. this was just... curiosity. friendliness. a professional obligation to keep her happy and full.
you smiled. not because of what she said — but because she didn’t finish the sentence. her breathing slowed, soft. the blanket shifted a little as she turned, and her hand stayed on her cheek, curled like she was dreaming something warm.
the strawberry not yet a smoothie. the wind outside whispered her name again — like it was in on the joke. like the waves knew exactly how hard your heart was crashing tonight.
you didn’t wake her.
then you sat down on the floor.
looked at her again.
you weren’t falling. you didn’t do this. you didn’t blush. you didn’t cook for people who flirted with you at midnight. you didn’t send surfing thirst traps.
you weren’t insane.
some mornings feel scripted.
not by the sky or the sun or even the alarm — but by something quieter. something like fate, or a dream that refuses to end.
this is one of those mornings.
the first thing sana sees is the curve of light spilling through the curtains. the second is the soft hum of her phone, still propped under the pillow like a secret. the screen glows faintly at the foot of the bed. not loud, not obvious. just there. waiting.
“...miyeon?” she whispers, still half-asleep.
“present,” miyeon chirps from across the room, already in glam-mode with one eyebrow lined and her pink pajama slightly askew. she’s crouched near the mirror, filming, one hand holding a blush brush like a dagger.
“why is the call still—”
“shhh. don’t ruin it. we’re in the middle of a cinematic masterpiece.”
sana squints. the image is angled badly, tilted like someone dropped the phone and never bothered fixing it. the camera lens is fogged a little from the a/c, edges soft and cloudy like a dream.
but it’s enough.
you’re not speaking. not even looking. just... there. folding a shirt. your hair’s still damp from the shower. your white tank top clings slightly at the back, and the loose white trousers hang soft and low at your hips as you lean over to straighten something on the floor.
the light hits the back of your neck like it missed you all night.
like you were born inside a slow-motion montage. like the universe forgot to warn her that people like you exist in real life.
sana forgets to breathe.
“...why do they look like that,” she mumbles, blinking hard.
“right??” miyeon says, spinning the phone to record sana now. “like excuse me, who gave them the right to clean so attractively.”
“do they even know we’re still on the call…”
“and they’ve been like that for an hour. just tidying things in slow motion like they’re filming a skincare ad for lonely people.”
sana groans and hides her face in the pillow. “don’t say that…”
“you’re blushing.”
“i’m not.”
“you’re in love.”
“shut up—”
“you’re so in love it’s embarrassing,” miyeon says gleefully, zooming in on her. “look at how they're dressed up, they clean up good.”
sana peeks from behind the bear. “…they’re just… really clean.”
“do you think they're an ISFJ? they’re that quiet, competent character who always walks their lover home and then disappears without asking for anything.”
“miyeonnn—”
“sana,” miyeon sing-songs. “do you—wait for it—do you likey~?”
sana groans, kicking at the blanket harder. “you’re the worst.”
but then you look up.
no rush. no shock. just a glance at your screen like you already knew it was still on. your gaze flickers, soft and unhurried, before your lips curl into the gentlest, sleep-warm smile.
your hand lifts in a lazy wave.
“morning,” you say, voice low and quiet. “hope you two slept well. we’ve got the atv tour today, so… time to get up.”
sana short-circuits.
miyeon howls with laughter in the corner.
“you didn’t hang up…?” sana manages, barely above a whisper.
you scratch the side of your neck. “why would i?”
you sound so casual. too casual. like you didn’t just make her heart skip two entire steps.
but then — you pause.
just enough to tilt your head a little, like something’s still on your mind.
“also,” you say, almost as an afterthought. “you didn’t finish what you were gonna say last night.”
sana freezes.
miyeon drops her brush on the table in slow motion.
“so,” you add, still smiling, “i didn’t want to hang up.”
and that’s it. no dramatic music. no fireworks.
sana dies.
just the most quietly romantic thing anyone’s ever said to her.
sana curls deeper into the blanket, face burning so red it could power a city.
miyeon is filming everything.
“okay, bye now,” you say, eyes already scanning off-screen. “gotta get the keys from keoni.”
click.
call ended.
the screen goes black.
sana stares at the screen like she’s been hit by a truck made of flower petals and longing.
her fingers twitch.
her soul leaves her body and ascends into the soft sheets of the afterlife.
then she lets out a squeak so high-pitched it sounds like a dolphin being emotionally overwhelmed.
“THEY SAID THAT???” she cries into the pillow.
“they remembered i didn’t finish what i was saying,” she whispers into the pillow, half-horrified, half-melting. “and they said it in their morning voice…”
“they didn’t want to end the call,” miyeon repeats, gleefully filming the aftermath. “do you understand what level of romance that is? that’s a novel ending. that’s page 374 of a fanfic. that’s—”
“i can’t go on the atv,” sana groans, burying herself completely now. “i’ll crash it just looking at them.. i’ll never recover.”
miyeon just smiles like the devil herself.
“you’ve already crashed,” she says, scrolling back to rewatch the smile. “and you’re so not getting up.”
sana bolts upright. “you recorded it, right..?”
“duh.” miyeon holds the phone aloft like it’s a national treasure. “my phone was already rolling since you were asleep. i got the back muscles, the tank top, the morning voice, the part where they said they didn’t want to hang up because you weren’t done talking—”
sana lunges. “let me see it!!”
“oHOH,” miyeon squeals, twisting away like a gremlin, phone clutched to her chest. “you want the video?? you need the video???”
“miyeon, please.”
“say the magic words~”
“i will literally cry,” sana threatens, face already turning red as she tries to grab the phone again. “give me the—miyeon, i’m serious!”
“you’re serious?? like serious-serious??” miyeon’s eyes sparkle like she’s hosting a game show. “on a scale from one to ‘i’m-down-bad,’ how serious are we talking?”
“i won't buy you those tanned friends”
“no you won’t,” miyeon says smugly. “you’re too in love to be mean.”
sana lets out a wail and collapses into the blanket, face burning. “miyeoooonnn…”
“oh my gosh, she folded.” miyeon falls dramatically beside her. “someone’s in loooove.”
sana peeks from the covers. “just let me watch it once.”
miyeon hums. “what’s the magic word?”
sana glares. “airdrop it.”
miyeon gasps, delighted. “OH. OH??? she said airdrop!! she’s desperate. this is beautiful. hold on—lemme queue it up for full emotional impact—rewinding to the part where they scratch their neck, ready—aaaand play.”
sana watches.
watches the exact moment your voice, all soft and quiet and unbearably gentle, says it again.
“you didn’t finish what you were gonna say.”
“so i didn’t want to hang up.”
she actually squeaks. like a mouse. or a broken record. or a seventeen-year-old girl watching her first romance drama in 4k.
and then she slaps miyeon’s arm, hard.
“DON’T PLAY IT AGAIN—”
“TOO LATE, I’M LOOPING IT.”
“STOPPP—”
“it’s okay,” miyeon sighs, falling back onto the bed beside her. “if they looked at me like that and said that in that voice, i’d record it in 4k and build a shrine.”
sana turns slowly. “you mean you did record it in 4k.”
the atvs are parked in a half-circle near the trail’s edge, their engines quiet but still radiating heat. someone’s checking the tires, someone else is untangling cords for the mounted cameras. the air smells like red dirt and sun-dried leaves.
you’re wiping down the atv with a rag that was clean twenty minutes ago. the handlebar grips are dusted over, already sweating beneath your hands. your white tank clings a little from the humidity, loose at the edges but damp at the spine. the same white cotton trousers from earlier—creased, stained faintly at the knees—hang low and light at your hips. your black backpack leans forgotten by the tire, half-zipped, a water bottle poking out.
you don’t notice them watching you.
sana notices all of it. unintentionally.
“they’re gonna get dirty again in five minutes,” keoni says loudly from where he’s standing with sana and miyeon, watching you from across the lot.
“they’re too clean to accept that,” miyeon replies, biting back a grin. “look at that form. they’re washing it like it’s a first date.”
keoni raises a brow. “i’m just sayin’. no point polishing a pig.”
“don’t say that,” sana says, elbowing him with a soft smile. “the atvs are cute.”
“the atvs,” keoni mutters. “or them.”
before anyone can respond, you stand and stretch your arm out—then toss the dirty rag in a perfect arc. it lands square on keoni’s chest, leaving a dark smear on his light shirt.
he stares down at it.
you smirk, still flushed from the sun. “guess now you’re the dirty one.”
keoni lifts the rag off like it’s cursed. “you’re lucky i can’t throw this back. you’re wearin’ your best heartbreak outfit today.”
sana feels something in her chest clench slightly—unreasonably—but she laughs anyway. miyeon snorts and fans herself dramatically.
you’re laughing now too, leaning into the side of the atv where eunji—the writer—stands beside you, both of you mid-conversation. she says something that makes you tilt your head back and laugh harder, hand on your hip, face tilted toward her like this is normal. like this is yours.
sana blinks.
college, she remembers suddenly. that throwaway comment from before. the way eunji looked at you.
but then she shakes it off. maybe they just go way back. maybe it’s nothing.
“so,” keoni claps his hands once. “we divin’ these up or what?”
“dibs on riding with the prettiest,” miyeon declares, flinging her hand toward sana dramatically.
“alright,” keoni calls, tossing a small bag into the front of the seat. “miyeon—you’re with sana. we don't need you crashing all of us and possibly driving us off.”
a few of the crew laugh. people start pairing up, bags start getting tossed into backs, helmets passed around, bags pulled tight with lazy grunts. the clearing smells like hot dust and engine oil.
eunji is already slipping her sunglasses on, stepping lightly toward you.
you’re tightening the gear bag on the back of your atv, easy and quiet. eunji sits behind you like it’s second nature. your backpack bumps gently into her knee. she leans forward to say something near your ear and whatever it is—it makes you laugh.
sana watches that laugh.
miyeon watches her watching it.
then:
“girl, you're jealous,” miyeon says flatly. “do you want me to swap?”
“i’m not—!” sana starts, then stops. “just—get in.”
miyeon grins, climbing on like it’s her birthday.
keoni throws his arm around one of the cameramen. “you better hold the camera steady..”
sana shifts slightly, adjusting the strap of her vest. she’s watching the way how you lean a little, how comfortable you look with her.
then, like it sneaks up on her:
“…shouldn’t they ride with the cameraman?”
it’s soft. too soft for the question to make sense, really.
keoni frowns. “why?”
“aren’t they the better driver?”
miyeon squints at her. “uhhh… why do you care so much all of a sudden?”
sana blinks fast. “i don’t.”
keoni shrugs. “they’re always the better driver. but eunji calls shotgun.”
sana looks away, pretending to adjust her strap.
miyeon leans into her side.
“someone’s jealous,” she sings quietly.
“shut up,” sana whispers, cheeks warm.
miyeon grins wide. “don't worry i'll try my best to hear what they're talking about!"
sana only looked back with a frown trying to make sense when miyeon was further away than her.
and then the engines start, one after another. the grove fills with sound, dust kicking, laughter overlapping, the hum of sun and wheels and things unsaid.
you don’t look back as the atv peels forward.
but sana looks forward at you.
and for a moment, it feels like she missed something that used to be hers, even if it never really was.
the beach greets you with its quiet curve of white sand, hemmed in by palms and black rock. no signs, no tourists—just the hush of waves and a wide blue that feels untouched.
you pull the atv to a slow stop at the edge, tires crunching lightly over shell bits and drift.
behind you, eunji swings off without a word. the sun hits her hair and shoulders like it’s warming up just for her.
“still can’t believe this place,” she says, shielding her eyes. “it’s like a movie set.”
you nod. toss the keys to your palm, slide your black backpack off one shoulder and keep it close.
eunji adjusts her sunglasses and starts toward the trees. you follow a few steps behind, half listening to the sea—until, loud and fast—
“YAAHHHHHH—”
“sana ya we’re literally gonna die—”
a second atv swerves into view, kicking sand as it jolts to a stop just a few feet from yours.
sana is at the wheel—white tie-strap beach top, loose blue pants, hair already tangled from the ride. miyeon’s behind her, windblown and yelling, one hand still holding her phone up, clearly filming the chaos.
except....
now she’s wearing a green baseball cap (idk what kinda cap it is sorry.), the brim low and lopsided over her brow. and a pale blue long-sleeve thrown over her top, sleeves pushed up to her elbows like she borrowed it in a hurry.
you blink. she hadn’t had that on earlier.
your first thought is that someone from staff gave it to her. the sun’s stronger now, and she’d been squinting earlier, rubbing at her eyes when she thought no one was looking.
it makes sense.
still… you wonder if she asked. or if someone just noticed. offered before she had to.
you wonder if she would’ve asked you.
and then immediately hate that thought—because what would you have given her? your tank top?
you glance down. white cotton. thin, barely enough for yourself, let alone her. now your shoulders are out, your neck already warm, and you frown.
stupid. why didn’t you bring a hoodie or something?
why didn’t you even think—
sana beams, squinting. “we made it!!”
miyeon coughs dramatically. “barely.”
you’re already stepping forward, one hand steadying the atv.
sana swings her leg off and stumbles slightly, laughing. her eyes meet yours for just a second—and you offer your hand. she takes it without thinking, and you help her down. a little dust clings to her shoulder, and you glance away.
“was i that scary?” sana asks, brushing sand off her wrist.
“you were focused,” you say.
miyeon hops off next. “she was possessed,” she mutters. “she didn’t blink for three whole minutes. i checked.”
sana frowns. “yah. you were screaming into my ear the whole time.”
“i was saying your name in prayer.”
staff start laughing behind them finally arriving. one of the managers lifts a camera, catching the girls mid-bicker.
“let’s take photos before miyeon sweats off her foundation,” someone calls out.
“TOO LATE,” miyeon yells back, fixing her hair.
sana looks around. “wait… this place is way too pretty. i need to mark our territory.”
she digs a stick out from the sand, starts writing their names in huge curved strokes: sana ♥ miyeon. then reaches into her bag, pulls out a flag printout of a selfie—the two of them in bear headbands, cheeks puffed—and plants it in the sand like a little flag.
“perfect.”
it lasted for 20 seconds.
a wave creeps in, silent and sharp—and then rolls straight over it.
“NOOOO—!!”
“sana do something!!”
the names dissolve. the flag topples.
you’re already walking toward it, knee-deep in saltwater in seconds. you crouch without a word, lift the soggy print gently, and hand it off as you walk back.
sana accepts it with both hands.
“…you saved it,” she says quietly, blinking down at the wrinkled photo.
you glance down. then back up. “…i mean. i tried.”
she reaches out like she’s being careful not to scare it. takes it from you with both hands. the photo is soggy. the ink’s a little smeared. one corner is folded.
“…still cute,” she says.
you rub the back of your neck. “it’s limited edition now.”
miyeon pouts. “the beach is jealous of our love.”
keoni steps in finally, waving the group into motion. “alright, girls, let’s go. hours to film a reel. and then we can like go shopping for souvenirs” his tone knowing at how influencers are so predictable
sana turns, still cradling the picture. “we’re taking some together, right?”
miyeon perks up. “of course. we need cute poses. maybe one where i pretend to propose.”
“again?” sana laughs.
“yah. it’s tradition.”
they start toward the rocks, still bickering, still smiling.
you follow at a slower pace—off-cam, quiet, steady.
and when sana glances back once, half over her shoulder, like she’s checking something she didn’t mean to leave behind—
you’re already looking at her.
while someone looks at the both of you.
the sky is soft and orange, like someone brushed it gently with gold and peach. the kind of light that makes everything feel like it matters a little more than it should. palm trees lean gently over the patio. somewhere below, the ocean taps against the rocks like it’s trying to get someone’s attention.
they’d just finished shopping—bags half-full, miyeon dragging her feet and whining about not buying enough of those tanned friends—and now everyone’s gathered at the long dinner table for one last shoot. the cameras are rolling. the mics are clipped. this is the final scene.
the ache is there.
you sit behind the camera setups, off to the side, your black backpack’s looped over one shoulder like always, like something unfinished. you haven't touched a plate. you just focus the frame.
you don’t eat.
you just watch the light fade.
and maybe that’s why you don’t realize you’re moving until you’re already pulling eunji aside—out of frame, around the corner of the beach patio where it’s quiet enough to hear the waves.
behind you, sana’s eyes flick up for a moment — casual. automatic.
she sees you turn the corner with eunji. she doesn’t look away.
“so, sana-ssi,” miyeon says into her mic, “what are you gonna miss the most about hawaii?”
sana hesitates.
her gaze lingers a beat too long at the edge of the patio.
off-camera.
eunji follows without question. “what’s up?” she asks softly.
you unzip your bag. the black one you’ve carried every day of the tour. from inside, you pull out a small tupperware—wrapped in cloth to keep the shape—and a smoothie bottle. it’s no longer cold. the condensation’s long gone. the ice melted hours ago.
“can you give this to her?” you ask, not looking up. “on the drive back. just say it’s from the crew if you want. i just—i don’t want to make it weird.”
eunji stares at the items. "oh.. kimbab?”
you nod. “and a strawberry smoothie.”
“there’s a note. inside the wrap. give it to her on the drive back. please.”
eunji smiles gently, hesitating on something before she then tucks the food into her own tote. “yeah. of course. i got it.”
you nod once. say nothing more.
and you don’t see the way sana looked up just then from her seat—eyes landing on you and eunji in the shadows. she blinks once. then turns back to miyeon.
on the patio, the camera’s still rolling.
“probably this view,” sana says suddenly, answering the earlier question. “or the shrimp.”
miyeon holds back a smile. “not the crew?”
“they’re part of the view,” sana jokes, looking straight ahead. but her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
she doesn’t say what she wanted to say.
not with you just around the corner, not with something she won’t understand tightening in her chest.
she glances toward the ocean.
not you.
the shoot’s over.
it ends in a blur of bowing staff, camera bags thudding shut, thank-yous muffled by tired voices and the low crash of the ocean below. someone’s still scraping plates into a bin. someone else is laughing near the curb. the whole place feels like the backstage of a play that ended five minutes too soon.
you stand by the entryway, tucked between two rusted railings and a low stone planter blooming with yellow hibiscus. your weight shifts slow in your shoes, like the ground isn’t quite yours. your hands stay buried in your pockets. it’s not for warmth. it’s for restraint.
you hear her before you see her. not her voice — not yet — just the soft scuff of her sandals on the pavement. the sound of someone light on their feet, like she’s trying not to disturb the night.
then:
“there you are.”
you turn.
sana’s walking over, hands tucked into her sleeves, eyes already finding yours like she’d been scanning the whole set for them. same soft top. strands of hair stuck to her cheek. her mouth is pinker than it was earlier — maybe from the sun, maybe from the drink miyeon forced her to finish.
and for a second, your heart is stupid enough to think she might run to you.
instead, she walks slowly. calm. unreadable.
“thought you left already,” you say.
“nope,” she replies, easy. “i was looking for you.”
your throat catches around nothing.
“me?”
“mm.” she glances away for a second — then back. “you kinda disappeared after wrap.”
“you noticed?”
she rolls her eyes. “you think i wouldn’t?”
“you were really good today,” you say quickly to avoid an awkward silence. “both of you.”
she blinks. “seriously?”
“yeah. miyeon too. you guys were— i dunno. like a good pair in a romcom..?”
“what if that's what we we're going for?”
“doubt it.”
she grins. a little bashful now.
then you add, “good luck, by the way. with the next comeback.”
“oh.” she tilts her head. “you remember what i said?”
“barely. and miyeon gave me a twice song quiz and uhh i failed...”
sana snorts. “which one did you miss?”
“all of them.”
“wow.”
“i’m a disgrace to my generation.”
she laughs again — and this time, she smooths a crease from your shirt, fingers brushing you so gently it feels like she’s saying goodbye without really saying it.
“hey,” she says. softer now. “thank you. really.”
her eyes flick to your mouth for half a second too long.
you don’t move.
“for what?”
“just… everything. for making this trip feel special. even when the cameras weren’t rolling.”
you swallow.
the words sit too neatly in your chest. they stack themselves like a house you start to believe in.
“same to you,” you say. “you made it easy.”
she glances at you again — not away from you, not past you — at you.
and in that moment, you believe it.
you believe she means it.
you believe she’s holding something back, and maybe it’s only distance, maybe it’s only fear — but it’s not indifference.
“i’ll miss you,” she murmurs.
you freeze.
you want to ask if she means it. you want to ask if she’ll text. if this was ever more than just a week of light flirting and pretty lies.
but you smile anyway. not big. just enough. “i’ll keep failing your quizzes from afar.”
“and i’ll be disappointed in you from korea,” she shoots back, but it’s gentle. fond.
she waves once. then again when she’s at the van.
you raise your hand, but she’s already turned away.
the door shuts. miyeon says something loud. sana laughs.
they drive off.
you wait.
just long enough to be sure she’s not coming back.
just long enough to be sure that was the end of it.
then you sling your bag over your shoulder. it feels too light, like something’s been taken out of it.
maybe it’s just the part of you that believed you’d get to say more.
you’re halfway to the curb when someone shouts behind you.
“excuse me!”
you turn.
he jogs up, holding a small cloth-wrapped tupperware and a tumbler bottle, slightly fogged over but clearly warm now.
“this was left at the table,” the waiter says. “one of the guests forgot it?”
you stare.
for a second, you don’t move.
you don’t even need to open it.
you know.
the weight of it. the shape. the faint sweet smell leaking through the folds.
then slowly—slowly—you take it. unwrap it. see the handwriting you recognize. your own.
please eat well. you told me you miss this type of food. remember to tell me about your comeback. with all the love i can't say, your guide.
you stare at it.
the kimbab. the smoothie. the whole thing.
your hand curls tighter around the cloth. you feel the glass bottle shift inside. the smoothie’s warm now.
untouched.
you swallow. the ocean sounds louder all of a sudden.
your chest hollows out.
you stare at it for a long time.
not because you don’t understand —
but because you do.
you don’t even think of eunji. she wouldn’t forget something like this, right? not something made with care. not something that mattered to someone else that isn't her.
but sana—
she didn’t forget.
she chose not to bring it.
you rolled the kimbap in silence at 12am, hands shaky from too little sleep. blended the smoothie twice because the first one didn’t taste like you remembered her describing in one of those tv shows she was in. added an extra note. rewrote it when it felt too much.
you imagined her holding it on the ride to the airport. sipping it on the plane. maybe thinking of you, just a little.
you imagined it meant something.
but it didn’t.
not enough. not to her.
and then, without thinking, you turn and walk—past the entrance, down the small stone path that leads to the trash bins. you lift the lid. and drop the whole bundle in.
no hesitation.
just silence.
you let the lid fall.
and walk away with nothing but silence.
not even the lie that she cared.
two weeks.
that’s how long it’s been since hawaii.
since the wind tasted like salt and sunscreen, since your laugh still echoed when she closed her eyes. since miyeon dragged her half-asleep through customs, arms full of souvenirs they didn’t need but bought anyway, because it reminded her of you — stupid stuff, like the peach keyring you touched once at a market stall, the tiny charm shaped like a surfboard.
since sana sat by the plane window for six silent hours, headphones in but music off, the screen in front of her playing some romcom she didn’t watch. just static. just motion. just the city shrinking behind clouds, and the empty weight of a phone that hadn’t buzzed once.
you didn’t text.
and maybe she should’ve known then.
maybe she should’ve let go the moment the message bubble stayed empty. maybe she shouldn’t have memorized the time difference, shouldn’t have set silent alarms for 2:17 a.m., just in case you replied while she was sleeping — as if knowing the exact minute you might’ve sent something could stop her from missing it.
but she couldn’t help it.
she was still waiting.
she took more photos than usual.
not for instagram. not for the fancafe.
just dumb little things — her coffee order, the new hoodie she thought you’d like, the earrings miyeon said made her look “way too pretty to be single.”
she saved them all.
none of them ever got sent.
it’s late now. practice ran long. her hoodie’s damp at the collar, some strands falling loose.
but her fingers are restless.
so she goes live.
the car is dark. quiet. the windows blur with streetlights, smearing gold across her cheekbones, and the screen lights her face just enough to catch the pink gloss still clinging to her bottom lip. her voice is a little hoarse, like it’s been tucked away too long.
“hi~” she says, drawing it out, soft and breathy. “did you miss me?”
hearts explode. comments fire in from all corners of the world.
she laughs, ducking her head, rubbing at her eye with the back of her wrist. “i look like a mess today, huh? no filters. bare face. very exclusive.”
“you look beautiful no matter what!!” someone writes.
she gasps, presses a hand to her heart. “don’t lie to me like this! not when i’m already so weak.”
fans fill the chat with crying emojis and heart showers.
“we had practice all day today,” she says, tucking a flyaway hair behind her ear. “comeback soon, right? do you guys wanna know the concept?”
they scream in the comments. she hums thoughtfully, as if considering.
“hmm~ what if i give you a hint? just a little one,” she says, holding her fingers close together. “okay. one word only. spicy.”
the chaos that follows makes her giggle for real. someone spams pepper emojis. someone else types “IS IT A DANCE SONG IS IT SEDUCTIVE??”
“yah! it’s a secret!” she scolds, then immediately leans closer to whisper, “...yes.”
she leans back with a wink. the mood is light. good. silly in the way she knows how to be.
but her thumb keeps slipping.
to the viewer list.
to the names she doesn’t mean to look for.
and then —
@brewing.beach joined.
her breath catches. only for a second. just long enough that something inside her forgets to move.
you’re here.
you’re watching.
your name — your screenname — floats at the top of the list like a bruise she doesn’t want to press, but can’t stop touching.
she swallows. hard. finds her place in the conversation again.
“also,” she says quickly, “nayeon unnie tripped over her own shoe during cooldown. i wish i could show you, it was like… you know those baby deer videos?” she holds up both hands and wiggles them like flailing limbs. “legs everywhere.”
laughs fill the screen. someone tells her she should post the clip. another fan says you’re cuter than a deer though.
she smiles. lets it land somewhere softer. but the glow doesn’t stay long.
someone else asks about hawaii.
“miyeon said you had the idea for the vlog!! what was your favorite part?”
her breath sticks in her throat for a second too long.
but she makes her voice gentle. normal.
“filming was fun,” she says. “but… honestly, i was kind of out of it by the end.”
a beat.
the comments fly too fast to catch.
“i think i got sunburned on like… just one ear?” she touches her earlobe. “very fashionable. very cool. right, once?”
they answer with chaos again. sunscreen jokes. marriage proposals. someone starts a fake petition called justice for sana’s ears.
she laughs, but it’s thinner now. quiet at the edges.
you’re still watching.
and still not saying anything.
you never did.
you didn’t say anything the day she left. not when she waved from the van. not when she said she’d miss you, even though her voice cracked on it. you didn’t reply to her message, didn’t text after the plane landed.
you didn’t even react to the gift.
she had made sure of it — she’d written her number on the back of a photocard, one she picked herself from a pack of outtakes. she wasn’t even looking at the camera in it, just smiling off to the side. the same way she always looked at you when she thought no one would notice.
she slipped it into the box. sealed it herself.
and asked eunji — sweet, harmless, helpful eunji — to give it to you while she was shooting with miyeon.
“just slide it to them when you say goodbye,” she whispered. “please?”
eunji smiled. said of course. said sure. said leave it to me.
but you never reached out.
and sana… believed you had gotten it.
for two weeks, she believed it.
in the back of this car, the memory hits her differently.
eunji's laugh too sharp.
her tone too playful.
how she never looked sana in the eye when she came back.
sana’s heart aches in the shape of something slow and sickening.
“anyway… i’m home now~” she says softly, even though the car is still moving. “i’ll rest. i’ll… i’ll message you guys next time, okay?”
lie.
the fans fill the chat with goodnights. hearts. we love you!!
she ends the live.
the silence after is unbearable.
her driver hums low under his breath. the city leans past the window in smears of yellow and gray. she watches her own reflection. the curve of her mouth. the shine of her eyes.
she unlocks her phone.
scrolls to your name.
still empty.
still no finally got your number.
still no thank you.
no i miss you.
she opens the messages anyway. stares at the blank thread. waits for it to become something else.
but it doesn’t.
it stays quiet.
the same way you did.
her eyes burn first.
but she doesn’t blink. not yet.
just breathes.
once.
twice.
then —
quietly. gently.
like it doesn’t even belong to her — like the heartache is someone else’s, and she’s just borrowing it for a while — the tears start to fall.
one slips past her cheek.
then another.
then they don’t stop.
they hit the fabric of her hoodie without a sound. soak into the sleeves she tugs up to her mouth. the kind of crying you do when you're trying not to. the kind that hurts more because no one sees it but you.
she curls tighter in the seat. presses her phone to her chest. wishes she never wrote her number. wishes she didn’t check. wishes she knew how to stop hoping.
the city moves on.
and sana stays behind, muffling her sobs into the hoodie she wore for you.
forgotten.
kino's note — took 2 weeks for this ahh writing.. i miss my beautiful girl so i thought to break my heart with this :D idk abt a part 2 but ill try my best.
" that whole ‘i wanna touch’ thing… we’ll save it for next time. "
synopsis — it’s 3 a.m. in los angeles when you step into an elevator with momo, sana, and mina, unaware that they’re members of TWICE. while they joke about your height and looks in japanese, you stay quiet, until..
notice — i don’t speak japanese, so any japanese phrases used in this story were translated using reverso/google translate and might not be 100% accurate. please forgive any mistakes—and feel free to gently correct me if needed! this is all just for fun and vibes.
pairing — sana x mina x hirai momo x reader.
disclaimer ! this is a work of fiction. while TWICE is a real k-pop group, the characters in this story are fictionalized based on their public personalities. i do not own TWICE—i only own the story and original character(s). this was written purely for entertainment purposes, with respect to all individuals involved.
genre — oneshot.
the streets of downtown los angeles looked like they were holding their breath.
3:07am.
los angeles at 3am was a different kind of quiet. not empty—but softened, like the whole city had exhaled and gone still. the distant hum of traffic was a low pulse in the background, and the air, warm from a lingering spring day, still carried the faint scent of car exhaust and jacaranda trees in bloom.
you were already regretting your decision to hit the gym this late, but there was no turning back now. the oversized hoodie hung loose over your frame, the sleeves hiding half your hands. your gym bag thumped lightly against your hip with each step. you had your headphones on— no music yet, just the silence that came before the rnb playlist started.
insomnia had won again. and when sleep didn’t come, movement did. the gym in the basement was open twenty-four hours, and the thought of hitting the bag for an hour seemed better than staring at your ceiling for the third night in a row.
you hit the button for the elevator with your knuckle, yawning into your sleeve.
ding.
the moment the doors slid open, your brain short-circuited.
three girls were already inside, laughing. loud. barely holding onto their food as they turned around mid-conversation. the scent hit you first—soy sauce, grilled meat, something fried and sweet, maybe donuts. it was like walking into a late-night food truck festival.
they looked up in unison.
one had dumplings in her mouth. literally. mid-bite. the second had strawberry milk in one hand and a chicken sandwich in the other, her expression stuck somewhere between surprise and delight. and the third—hood up, sleeves over her palms—blinked slowly like she hadn’t quite caught up yet.
you stepped in, the doors closing behind you.
the silence was immediate.
momo swallowed first.
“背の高い”
(tall.)
you heard it. clear as day. but you didn’t react. just lifted your water bottle to your lips, watching the elevator numbers tick down.
sana leaned in toward momo, stage-whispering like she wasn’t absolutely audible. " まって、LAの人ってこんなにストイックなの？”
(wait, are people in LA really this intense?)
“たぶん。” momo smirked, eyes dragging from your shoes to your hoodie to your face. “でも、めっちゃタイプ。”
(maybe. but they’re totally my type.)
you kept your face neutral, eyes forward. the air smelled like sesame oil and seaweed snacks and something caramelized. there was a crunch—sana tearing into what looked like a fried chicken sandwich with absolutely no shame. mina stood closest to the elevator buttons. she glanced at you, then down at the floor. then back at you.
“アメリカ人ってああいう感じかな。” she mumbled, half to herself. (i guess americans look like that.)
“ああいう感じってどんな感じ？” momo asked, nudging her.
(what do you mean ‘like that’?)
“なんか…かっこよくて静か。” mina replied.
(like… cool and quiet.)
“それもあなたの好みですか？” sana teased, nudging mina’s arm.
(is that your preference too?)
“彼らはあなたの言うことを聞くことができません、さあ。” sana elbowed her, snorting. “ここアメリカよ？絶対わかんない。”
(they can’t hear you, come on. we’re in america. there’s no way they understand.)
mina turned pink.
you bit your lip, just barely hiding the smile tugging at your mouth.they didn’t know. they really thought you couldn’t understand a word.
“わたしがタイプって言ったのに。” momo muttered, fake-offended.
(i already called dibs.)
“じゃあジャンケンで決めよう。” sana offered, mouth full.
(rock paper scissors for it, then.)
“餃子があるから無理。”
(i’m holding dumplings, i can’t.)
you finally moved—shifted your gym bag onto your other shoulder. the elevator made a soft ding. one more floor.
the scent of sesame oil and fried chicken filled your nose. momo’s shoulder brushed yours as the elevator moved. her arm stayed close. too close. you could feel the warmth through your hoodie.
“彼らの腕を見てください” momo whispered to sana, thinking she was being slick.
(listen, seriously look at their arms.)
sana giggled. “触りたい”
(i wanna touch.)
“私たちはそうすべきでしょうか？” momo asked, completely unserious but somehow entirely serious.
(should we?)
then your phone rang.
you picked it up without a word, answered with the calmest voice you could muster.
“兄さん、今ジムに行くの。”
(brother, i’m going to the gym now.)
dead silence.
it was instant. you didn’t even have to look to know their eyes were huge. but you did. you turned your head just enough to see them in the mirrored elevator wall—wide eyes, open mouths, and a dumpling midair in momo’s chopsticks.
you continued, casually. “エレベーターの中で面白いことを聞いたばかりだ ちょっと面白い”
(just heard some interesting stuff in the elevator. kinda funny.)
a strangled noise came from behind you.
“日本語…？” mina blinked.
(japanese..?)
“彼らは完璧にそれを話します..” sana whispered, scandalized and thrilled.
(they speak it perfectly..)
you hang up the slight sound evident. you turn your head slightly.
sana was slack-jawed, strawberry milk and chicken sandwich forgotten. momo was wide-eyed, mid-bite again. mina looked like she wanted to melt into the floor.
you gave them a slow smile—lazy, just a little smug. “ありがと。ちなみに、私はそれらの賛辞を早く聞きました。”
(thanks. i heard those compliments earlier, by the way.)
“やっば…” sana whispered, covering her face.
(oh no...) mina made a sound that might’ve been a laugh. or a squeak. maybe both. also looked like she wanted to disappear into her hoodie forever.
you took a step toward the door. paused. let the silence simmer. “君たち3人でゲームを決めよう。” you said, smiling. “誰が勝っても私は地下室にいるよ。”
(you three will decide who win. whoever wins ill be in the gym basement.)
ding.
you stepped out as the doors slid open, tossing a glance over your shoulder.
“「触りたい」ってことは…次回に取っておきましょう。”
(that whole ‘i wanna touch’ thing… we’ll save it for next time.)
the last thing you heard before the elevator doors closed?
“なぜ彼らはあなたのタイプだと大声で言ったのですか!？”
(why did you say out loud that they were your type!?)
"サナ、あの人に触れたいって言ったでしょ!"
(sana, you literally said you wanted to touch them!)
“やめて…” (please stop...) — mina.
kino's note — your sleep deprived writer is back! (sort of) missed my pretty girls and i got this inspo while out on a run at 6am
❝ it’s hard not to feel jealous when you’re out there looking like that… and with someone else that close. ❞
synopsis — a solo artist’s rising fame comes with secrets—most notably their hidden relationship with sana from twice. a sensual performance stirs up jealousy and unspoken tension.
word count ! — 1.9k
— minatozaki sana x reader !
genre — oneshot.
music bank was alive with energy, a sea of fans cheering outside and idols gathered in their assigned spots under the venue lights. the rows of chairs were set up perfectly, giving just enough space for the camera to capture every group in attendance. you, a rising solo artist who had been making waves in the industry, sat near the front. the cameras loved you, and even the smallest shift in your seat had fans online buzzing.
behind you, twice was seated together, their dynamic as lively as ever. sana’s attention, however, was only half on her members. her gaze flickered to you more often than she’d like to admit, lingering on the way your outfit was tailored just right. her lips twitched as she fought the urge to smile.
"yah," momo whispered, leaning in close, "you’re staring so hard it’s a miracle their head hasn’t caught on fire yet."
sana shot her a look, one that said, not now. momo just laughed quietly, nudging nayeon, who was already grinning like she knew too much. nayeon leaned forward, whispering across the group.
“sana, you’re so obvious. even the fans are gonna catch on at this rate.”
“stop it,” sana muttered, her cheeks flushing pink. she glanced at the camera positioned nearby, suddenly hyper-aware of its lens. “i’m just watching the performances like everyone else.”
jeongyeon raised an eyebrow, sipping her water. “sure. except you’re watching one specific person, and they’re not even on stage yet.”
jihyo tried to intervene, her leader instincts kicking in. “alright, leave her alone. it’s not like she can help it.”
meanwhile, you were completely unaware of the chaos brewing behind you. well, mostly unaware. you could feel their eyes on you, could sense sana’s gaze lingering longer than the others’. a small smile tugged at your lips, but you kept your focus on the stage, where bts was performing with their usual explosive energy. the cheers from the crowd were deafening, the fans’ lightsticks waving in unison.
beside you, irene from red velvet gave you a polite nod, which you returned casually. the two of you had worked together before, so the greeting was natural, but even something as small as that didn’t go unnoticed by twice. nayeon elbowed sana, motioning subtly toward you and irene.
“look at that. they’re already stealing other idols’ attention. should we be worried for you?”
sana didn’t dignify that with a response, though her jaw clenched just slightly. her fingers toyed with the hem of her dress as her mind raced. she trusted you—of course she did—but the tiny flicker of possessiveness inside her was impossible to ignore.
“are you jealous already?” nayeon whispered into sana’s ear, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “they only said hi to irene.”
“i’m not jealous,” sana shot back, though her tone lacked conviction. her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her dress as she glanced at you again, only to see you focused on the performance.
jihyo chuckled quietly, leaning closer to sana. “you’re so obvious. relax, unnie—they’re being polite.”
sana pouted, her brows furrowing slightly. “i know, but... ugh, look at how casual they’re being, like they didn’t just text me good luck before walking in here. they’re too good at this secret thing.”
the members around her snickered, enjoying the rare sight of sana struggling to keep her cool. but as playful as their teasing was, they all knew how deeply she cared for you.
when bts finished their performance and the applause died down, the event took a brief break, with hosts taking over to engage the audience. staff members weaved through the rows, preparing for the next set of performers. it was during this lull that sana finally mustered the courage to lean forward, calling your name softly.
you turned at the sound, meeting her eyes with that infuriatingly charming smirk of yours. “minatozaki,” you greeted, your tone warm but teasing.
“you’re up next, right?” she asked, keeping her voice casual even as her heart raced.
“yeah,” you replied, leaning slightly closer. “you’ll be watching, i hope.”
her lips parted to respond, but nayeon cut in before she could, leaning over dramatically. “oh, don’t worry. she’ll be watching so hard it’ll look like she’s your personal camerawoman.”
sana shoved nayeon back into her seat, her face burning. “ignore her,” she muttered, earning a soft laugh from you.
before the exchange could go any further, a staff member approached, signaling for you to head backstage. your performance was coming up, and it was time to prepare. you stood, giving sana one last glance, your gaze lingering just enough to make her heart skip a beat.
as you walked away, momo leaned toward sana, her grin as wide as ever. “so, how does it feel knowing you’re dating someone who can make half the venue swoon just by existing?”
“quiet,” sana hissed, though she couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto her lips. she shifted in her seat, trying to calm the fluttering in her chest.
backstage, you were all business. the stylists adjusted the fit of your outfit, ensuring everything was perfect for the cameras. your backup dancer, a strikingly beautiful woman who matched your energy perfectly, gave you an encouraging nod as you ran through the final details of the choreography.
when it was time, you stepped onto the stage, your confidence radiating with every step. the music started, low and sultry, building slowly as the lights dimmed to focus solely on you. the choreography was precise, every movement deliberate. your backup dancer mirrored you effortlessly, the two of you creating a magnetic pull that had the audience holding their breath.
in the crowd, the reaction was immediate. fans screamed, their lightsticks flashing wildly as they watched you command the stage. twice, however, had a very different reaction—particularly sana. her eyes widened as the choreography grew more sensual, her jaw tightening when your dancer’s hand slid across your shoulder, lingering just a moment too long.
“unnie,” tzuyu whispered, clearly amused, “you’re crushing your water bottle.”
sana looked down, realizing tzuyu was right. she quickly set the bottle aside, her focus snapping back to you. no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t tear her eyes away.
“it’s just a performance,” jihyo reminded her, though even she looked a little impressed. “they’re a professional.”
“i know,” sana muttered, though her tone was unconvincing. her fingers gripped the edge of her seat as she watched you tilt your head back, your voice hitting a powerful note that sent chills through the crowd. you were magnetic, and she hated that everyone else could see it too.
“unnie, calm down,” tzuyu teased sana, who was biting her lip in a poor attempt to suppress a deep frown. “it's their job.”
"yeah," dahyun chimed in, "but have you seen their performances? they killed it—and by 'it,' I mean sana’s patience."
when the performance ended, the applause was deafening. you took a bow, your breathing steady despite the demanding choreography. as you left the stage, you couldn’t resist glancing toward twice’s section, catching sana’s eyes for a brief moment. her expression was unreadable, but you could sense the tension.
backstage, your phone buzzed with a text. it was from sana: we need to talk later.
you smirked, typing back quickly: jealous?
her reply came almost instantly: yes. and you’re lucky you look good doing it.
you chuckled, pocketing your phone as you headed to your dressing room. you could already imagine the conversation waiting for you later, and the thought sent a thrill down your spine.
-----
as the car hummed softly beneath you, sana’s gaze stayed locked on yours, her eyes flickering with unspoken emotions. the teasing tension from earlier had melted into something heavier, something that made the air feel electric. your hand, still holding hers, gave a reassuring squeeze, but the way your thumb brushed along her knuckles was deliberate, almost testing the waters.
“you’re quiet,” you murmured, your voice dipping lower, coaxing her to respond.
she exhaled, her lips pressing into a pout before she finally spoke. “it’s hard not to feel jealous when you’re out there looking like that… and with someone else that close.”
your fingers shifted, interlacing with hers. “you know it’s all for show,” you said softly. “it’s just the job. none of it means anything.”
her eyes searched yours, and the way her walls crumbled just slightly made your heart clench. “i know,” she whispered, though her voice faltered. “but it’s not easy.”
you leaned closer, your free hand reaching up to cup her cheek. your thumb brushed across her skin, warm and smooth, and she instinctively leaned into your touch. “you’re the only one who matters to me, sana,” you said, your tone firm, as though willing her to believe it. “no one else comes close.”
her breath hitched, and before she could reply, you tilted your head, closing the small gap between you. the kiss was soft at first, tentative, as though testing her mood. but when her hands reached up to grip your shirt, pulling you closer, the hesitation dissolved.
she kissed you back with a fervor that made your pulse quicken, her fingers curling into the fabric as if she couldn’t bear to let go. the soft press of her lips against yours deepened, growing more insistent, more desperate. the confined space of the car seemed to shrink around you, the world outside fading into irrelevance.
you pulled back slightly, just enough to catch your breath, your forehead resting against hers. “you sure you want this?” you murmured, your voice husky.
her answer came without hesitation. “always.”
the way she looked at you—eyes dark and filled with something you couldn’t quite put into words—made your resolve snap. your lips found hers again, more demanding this time, and she met you with equal intensity. her hands roamed up your chest, and you couldn’t help but let out a low groan as she tugged you impossibly closer.
your hand slid down to her waist, pulling her into your lap. the new position made her gasp softly against your mouth, her fingers clutching at your shoulders for balance. your lips trailed down to her jaw, then to the delicate curve of her neck, where you pressed open-mouthed kisses that left her trembling.
her breath came in short, uneven bursts, her fingers threading through your hair as you nipped lightly at her collarbone. “we shouldn’t…” she started, though her voice lacked conviction.
“we’re alone,” you murmured against her skin, your voice rough. “no one’s going to know.”
her laughter was soft, breathy, as though she couldn’t quite believe how reckless you were. but instead of pulling away, she tilted her head, giving you more access. her body pressed flush against yours, and the heat between you was almost overwhelming.
you didn’t push further, knowing the setting wasn’t ideal, but the way your hands roamed her back, and the way her lips found yours again, made it clear that neither of you wanted this moment to end.
when you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing heavily, your faces flushed and your eyes locked in a shared understanding. sana’s lips curled into a small, satisfied smile, her jealousy from earlier entirely forgotten.
“you’re lucky i love you,” she teased, her voice light but filled with meaning.
you grinned, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “i’m the lucky one,” you said softly, leaning in to press a final kiss to her forehead.
the ride back was quieter, but the tension between you was undeniable. you knew this wouldn’t be the end of the conversation—or the night.
❝ you’ve got me exactly where you want me, don’t you? ❞
synopsis — a chance collaboration with jihyo leads to more than just chart-topping hits. between late-night studio sessions, unspoken tensions, and a celebration that turns unexpectedly intimate, the lines between professional and personal begin to blur
word count ! — 2.3k
— park jihyo x reader !
genre — oneshot.
the room was dimly lit, the faint hum of the air conditioning barely masking the quiet anticipation that lingered in the air. as you stepped inside, the sharp scent of polished wood and freshly brewed coffee greeted you. jihyo stood near the grand piano, her posture relaxed yet poised, a small notebook cradled in her hands. she glanced up at you with a welcoming smile, her presence radiant without trying too hard.
"you made it," she said, her voice carrying warmth and ease, like you’d known each other for years.
you shrugged, pulling the strap of your bag off your shoulder and setting it down on a nearby chair. "couldn't exactly say no when the jihyo asked for a collaboration," you replied, your tone teasing yet sincere.
her laugh was soft, a little shy, but it carried the kind of confidence that came with knowing she deserved the compliment. "flattery works, but i’m hoping your skills do too."
you chuckled, pulling out your laptop and a pack of cigarettes from your bag. glancing at the ‘no smoking’ sign on the wall, you slipped the pack back into your pocket, but not before jihyo noticed. her lips quirked into a faint smirk.
"bad habit?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.
"occupational hazard," you replied, settling into the chair across from her. "helps me think."
jihyo nodded, setting her notebook down on the piano and taking a seat beside it. "so, you listened to the demo?"
"yeah," you said, opening your laptop and scrolling through your notes. "it’s good—great, actually. but i think we can push it further. make it... rawer."
"rawer?" she repeated, her brow furrowing slightly. "how so?"
you leaned back, studying her. "the lyrics— they’re personal, right? i can hear it in your voice. but the production? it’s too clean. too polished. if we strip it down, let your voice carry the weight, it’ll hit harder."
jihyo was quiet for a moment, her eyes locked on yours as she processed your words. then, she nodded slowly. "i see what you mean. but... being that vulnerable? it’s a little intimidating."
"it’s what makes it real," you said, your voice low and steady. "people want to feel like you’re singing to them, about them. give them that, and they’ll never forget it."
she smiled, a small, genuine curve of her lips. "you’re good at this."
"i try," you replied with a smirk. "so, let’s hear what you’ve got so far."
jihyo moved to the piano, her fingers brushing over the keys before she began to play. her voice filled the room, rich and emotive, each note carrying a weight that made you stop and really listen. she sang with a vulnerability that was rare in this industry, and for a moment, you were completely caught up in the sound.
when she finished, the room fell into a thick silence, the kind that only follows something extraordinary.
"damn," you said finally, exhaling a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. "you weren’t kidding about this being personal."
jihyo laughed softly, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "yeah, well... it’s kind of terrifying to put it out there."
"that’s how you know it’s good," you said, standing up and moving toward the piano. "but let’s work on the arrangement. the melody’s strong, but i think we can strip it back even more."
the two of you spent the next few hours tweaking the song, your ideas bouncing off each other in an easy rhythm. jihyo was sharp, quick to pick up on your suggestions and add her own twist. it was rare to find an artist who was not only talented but also collaborative, and you couldn’t help but admire her even more for it.
at one point, you stepped outside for a quick smoke break, needing a moment to clear your head. the night air was cool against your skin as you lit a cigarette, the flicker of the flame briefly illuminating your face. you took a slow drag, the nicotine settling your nerves, before exhaling a plume of smoke into the dark.
"thought you might’ve bailed," jihyo’s voice came from behind you.
you turned to see her standing in the doorway, her arms crossed and a playful smile on her lips. "needed a minute," you said, holding up the cigarette. "bad habit, remember?"
"so you keep saying," she replied, stepping closer. "but i have to admit, you’ve got a certain... charm about you."
"charm?" you echoed, raising an eyebrow. "coming from you, that’s saying something."
jihyo laughed, the sound soft and melodic. "don’t let it go to your head."
"too late," you said with a grin, taking another drag before stubbing out the cigarette on the wall. "ready to get back to it?"
"always," she said, her eyes meeting yours briefly before she turned and headed back inside.
as the night wore on, the atmosphere in the studio shifted. the professional boundaries blurred ever so slightly, the late hour and shared laughter creating a quiet intimacy. jihyo’s guard slipped just enough for you to catch glimpses of the woman behind the idol—the one who was just as passionate and driven as you were.
by the time you wrapped up the session, the song had transformed into something raw and powerful, a reflection of the connection you’d built over the course of the night. as jihyo gathered her things, she turned to you with a small, grateful smile.
"thanks for pushing me," she said softly. "i think this might be the best thing i’ve ever worked on."
"that makes two of us," you replied, your voice equally low. "same time tomorrow?"
she nodded, her eyes lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary. "yeah. see you then."
as you watched her walk out of the studio, a faint smile tugging at your lips, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of something much bigger—both professionally and personally.
-----
the studio became your second home over the next few weeks. every day brought a new dynamic between you and jihyo—playful teasing, heated debates over arrangements, and those rare moments of unspoken understanding when the music seemed to create itself. despite the long hours, neither of you ever seemed to tire of the process. it felt more like art than work, and with jihyo, the energy was infectious.
she was a perfectionist, often caught pacing the room or scribbling new ideas in her notebook while humming under her breath. but there was also the side of her that laughed loudly at your terrible jokes or playfully scolded you when you teased her about a missed note.
“you’re worse than the trainers,” she huffed one evening, plopping down on the couch beside you. she crossed her arms, a mock pout on her lips, but the glint in her eyes betrayed her amusement.
“you hired me for my ears, not my tact,” you shot back, leaning back with a smug grin. “besides, someone’s got to keep you on your toes.”
“oh, and you think that’s you?” she challenged, sitting up straighter, her gaze narrowing.
“i know it is,” you replied smoothly, holding her gaze. the tension lingered for a beat too long, and she looked away, laughing softly to break the moment.
“you’re impossible,” she muttered, shaking her head, but her smile remained.
-----
on the day of her solo pre-release, jihyo was a ball of energy. she flitted around the studio, double-checking mixes and fussing over the smallest details. you watched her from the corner of the room, cigarette perched between your fingers, the faint haze of smoke curling upward.
“do you ever stop with that?” she asked, pointing at the cigarette as she crossed her arms.
“do you ever stop worrying?” you countered, taking a slow drag before stubbing it out. “the track’s perfect, jihyo. you’ve done everything you can.”
she sighed, running a hand through her hair. “i know. it’s just... what if it doesn’t connect? what if i—”
“hey,” you interrupted, stepping closer until you were standing right in front of her. “it’s going to connect. because it’s real, and it’s you. trust me.”
her eyes softened, and for a moment, the confident leader she usually projected on tv was replaced by someone far more vulnerable. “thanks,” she said quietly. “i needed to hear that.”
“anytime,” you replied, your voice equally soft.
the release was a massive success. jihyo’s solo dominated the charts within hours, her name trending worldwide. the celebration was planned quickly, the members of twice insisting on a gathering at their dorm. you arrived late, your schedule delayed by another session, but the noise and energy of the party hit you the moment you walked through the door.
“finally!” nayeon exclaimed, dragging you into the living room. “we were starting to think you’d bailed.”
“never,” you replied with a grin, glancing around for jihyo. she was by the drinks table, chatting animatedly with momo and sana, a glass of wine in hand. her eyes met yours across the room, and her smile brightened in a way that made your chest tighten.
“you’ve got competition,” nayeon teased, following your gaze. “jihyo’s been talking about you non-stop.”
“noted,” you said, smirking as you made your way toward her.
jihyo greeted you with a raised glass, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol and excitement. “look who decided to show up!” she said, her tone teasing but warm.
“had to make an entrance,” you replied, handing her the small gift you’d picked up on your way. “for the star of the night.”
she opened it eagerly, revealing a personalized notebook with her name embossed on the cover. “you didn’t have to,” she said, her smile softening as she ran her fingers over the cover.
“i wanted to,” you replied simply.
-----
the celebration had been a roaring success, laughter echoing through the walls of the private venue. twice’s voices carried energy and excitement, jihyo at the heart of it all, glowing with pride from her successful solo debut. you had stayed by her side most of the night, quietly content with seeing her bask in the recognition she deserved.
but as the party wound down, you both found yourselves stepping out onto the balcony, the cool night air a stark contrast to the warmth of the room you’d left behind. jihyo leaned against the railing, her smile softening as she stared out over the twinkling cityscape.
“needed some air?” you asked, your voice low.
“yeah,” she said, turning her head to you. “it’s a lot... in a good way. but still, a lot.”
you pulled out a cigarette from your jacket pocket and lit it, taking a long drag before offering it to her. her eyes flicked to it, hesitating.
“does it help? is that your only guilty pleasure? what else?” she teased, but there was a curiosity in her tone.
“smoking,” you sarcastically replied, taking a drag. “but you already know.”
“besides that,” she said, rolling her eyes but smiling. “something... less self-destructive.”
“you,” the word slipped out before you could stop it, and you saw her freeze for a moment, her cheeks turning a deeper shade of pink.
“you’re drunk,” she said, but her voice was softer, her eyes not meeting yours.
“not enough to lie,” you replied, stepping closer until there was barely any space between you. “jihyo, you’re... incredible. on stage, in the studio, here... it’s kind of hard not to notice.”
she looked up at you, her expression unreadable. “you’re bold when you drink,” she said finally, a small smile tugging at her lips.
“maybe,” you admitted. “but that doesn’t mean i don’t mean it.”
“jihyo,” you started, but the way she turned to face you fully stopped you mid-sentence. the soft glow of the city lights outlined her features, her expression open but unreadable.
“what?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
you didn’t answer with words. instead, you leaned in, testing the waters with a touch—a hand brushing her waist, your lips ghosting over hers. her breath hitched, and for a split second, you thought she might pull away. but then she leaned in, her hands finding their way to the lapels of your jacket, pulling you closer.
the cigarette fell from your fingers, forgotten as her kiss deepened, her lips soft but urgent against yours. the taste of smoke lingered between you, mingling with the sweetness of her.
the balcony’s quiet became your cocoon, shielding you from the world beyond. her fingers tangled in your hair, your hands gripping her waist, the kiss growing hungrier with every passing moment.
when you finally pulled apart, her chest rose and fell rapidly, her lips slightly swollen. she laughed softly, the sound laced with disbelief and something deeper.
“you’re... something else,” she murmured, shaking her head.
“is that a good thing?” you asked, your voice rougher now.
she didn’t answer, instead pulling you back in for another kiss, her smile pressing against yours.
-----
the air between you two was electric, charged with anticipation. every time your eyes met, a spark seemed to jump between you, igniting something deeper. she was close now, just a breath away, her lips hovering, tempting, as if asking you to bridge the gap.
“you’re killing me with that look,” she murmured, voice low and almost teasing, her hand resting on your chest, fingers tracing the outline of your shirt. it was the smallest of touches, but it sent a wave of heat through you.
you smirked, leaning in slightly, your lips brushing against hers in a soft, slow kiss. the heat of it spread like wildfire, burning through any distance that remained between you. her hands found their way to your neck, pulling you deeper, a subtle command. you responded, matching the urgency in her movements, your hand sliding down her back, feeling the warmth of her skin through the fabric.
the kiss grew hungrier, more intense. each brush of her lips against yours was like a spark, setting off a chain reaction. you both leaned into it, letting the kiss deepen, your lips pressing harder as your bodies drew closer. there was no space left between you, just the undeniable pull that seemed to guide every movement, every touch.
your breath quickened, your hand finding the small of her back, pressing her even closer, your heart racing as the air between you thickened with the promise of more. she gasped against your lips as your fingers trailed down, grazing the curve of her waist, feeling the heat radiating off her skin. her touch was soft but insistent, hands slipping beneath your shirt, fingers tracing the contours of your chest.
“you sure know how to make a girl lose control,” she whispered between kisses, her breath warm against your skin.
you chuckled, the sound low and full of meaning. “maybe I’m just getting started,” you teased, your voice rough with desire.
her hands slid up to your shoulders, pulling you toward her, closing the distance even further. her lips parted for a moment, as if she was about to say something, but instead, she kissed you again, more deeply this time, her tongue teasing at your lips. you responded immediately, your hand finding its way to her hair, pulling her closer, fingers tangling in the strands as you lost yourself in the kiss.
the room seemed to disappear around you, leaving only the two of you, wrapped in the heat of the moment. everything about this felt right—the closeness, the shared desire, the unspoken connection that had been building for so long.
you slowly broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes, your foreheads resting together as you both breathed heavily. the silence between you was comfortable, full of promise. she smiled, a slow, seductive curve of her lips.
“you’ve got me exactly where you want me, don’t you?” she murmured, her fingers trailing along your jawline.
you grinned, your thumb brushing over her bottom lip. “you have no idea,” you whispered back, your voice thick with anticipation.
-----
later, when the night had melted into the early hours of the morning, you found yourselves tangled together in your room, the aftermath of passion leaving you both breathless. the intimacy lingered as you reached for another cigarette, lighting it with a shaky hand.
jihyo propped herself up on one elbow, watching you. “you really are full of surprises,” she said, her tone teasing but warm.
you exhaled a plume of smoke, offering the cigarette to her once more. this time, she didn’t hesitate. she took it, her lips brushing against your fingers, the act feeling far more intimate than it should have.
the two of you shared the quiet moment, the cigarette passing back and forth as the first light of dawn began to creep through the curtains. neither of you spoke, the silence filled with an understanding that didn’t need words.
when the cigarette burned down to its final ember, she leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “don’t ever stop surprising me,” she whispered.
“so... this changes things,” she said, her voice raspy.
“only if you want it to,” you replied, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
“i think i do,” she said, leaning in for another kiss.
and with that, the night faded, leaving behind the memory of smoke, laughter, and the beginning of something neither of you could quite name yet.
----
a/n — just jihyo smoking... lol i wrote this last night having been inspired while out with friends.
❝ you're my spouse on paper, however you're not my responsibility.❞
synopsis — for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.
word count ! — 14k
— myoui mina x reader !
notice — heavily inspired by @neoplatinum, aswell as cozuzi and queen of tears.
disclaimer ! — this story is a work of fiction. the portrayal of characters, events, and relationships does not reflect the real lives or personalities of any individuals mentioned. themes of infidelity and emotional conflict are explored, but the intention is not to glamorize toxic behavior.
series masterlist !
SPECIAL CHAPTER !
the scene was a blur of white coats and red streaks, of urgent voices calling out numbers and instructions that mina couldn’t process. her focus stayed on you, pale and unmoving on the stretcher as paramedics pushed you through the hospital corridors. every step felt like a nightmare she couldn’t wake from, her breath hitching with each glance at the blood staining your shoulder, your shirt, and the gurney beneath you.
the oxygen mask over your face rose and fell with shallow breaths, a frail sign of life that both comforted and terrified her. mina’s trembling hand gripped the edge of the stretcher, running to keep up as they wheeled you toward the emergency room. her legs felt like they could give out at any moment, but she didn’t let go. she couldn’t.
her hand clung to the edge of the stretcher, her knuckles bone-white against the metal as she ran to keep up. her legs threatened to give out with each step, but she refused to let go. every glance at you—your face pale and smeared with blood, the oxygen mask pressing against your lips—felt like a stab to her chest.
she hadn’t realized her tears were falling until they dripped onto your arm, mingling with the streaks of red already there.
“move aside,” someone said, reaching for her arm, but she jerked away, her voice sharp and broken. “no. just a moment.”
the stretcher slowed briefly as they reached the emergency room doors, and mina leaned over you, her breath catching as she studied your face. you were slipping away—she could feel it. your eyelids fluttered weakly, your chest rising and falling in shallow gasps. the sight was unbearable.
“you’re okay,” she whispered, though her voice cracked on the words. she forced herself to speak, her tears falling faster now. her breath hitched as she whispered, her voice trembling but resolute. “i’m here. i’ll be here when you wake up.”
usually you'd be able to reassure her, not this time. her heart felt like it shattered all over again.
“why?” she choked out, her voice breaking under the weight of her grief. “why do you always have to be the hero? why do you always put yourself in harm’s way? don’t you see what you’re doing to me?”
she cupped your face with trembling hands, her fingers slick with your blood. “you don’t get to leave me. not this time. not again.”
her voice cracked as she lowered her forehead to yours, her tears slipping down her cheeks to stain your skin. “you’re going to wake up. you’re going to see me, and i’ll be here. i promise. i’ll be here.”
her words faltered, and for a moment, her mind was dragged back to that day—to the cold hospital corridors, the shouting voices, and the sight of you being taken from her while she stood helplessly, screaming your name. she remembered the desperation, the guilt, the agony of not being able to stay by your side.
not again.
this time, she wouldn’t let them take you from her. she wouldn’t let you wake up to somebody else.
the stretcher began to move again, slipping from her grasp as the nurses rushed to wheel you through the double doors. mina reached out, her hands shaking as if trying to hold onto you, to tether you to her somehow.
her knees buckled as the doors slammed shut, the sound echoing in the empty hallway like a final, resounding blow.
she collapsed onto the cold tile floor, her hands clenching into fists, stained with your blood. silent sobs wracked her body, her chest heaving with the weight of her despair. her tears dripped onto the floor, mixing with the crimson streaks that marked the path you had taken.
“please,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “please, don’t leave me. not this time.”
but the hallway offered no answers, only the distant hum of machines and the haunting echo of her cries.
------
the sharp squeak of hurried footsteps echoed down the hospital corridor as your father rushed in, his coat disheveled, his tie hastily loosened. his eyes darted around, searching desperately until they landed on her—mina, slumped against the cold tile wall, her hands trembling in her lap, smeared with blood that wasn’t hers.
“mina,” his voice broke as he approached, his usually composed demeanor shattered by panic. he crouched in front of her, his hands hovering uncertainly before finally gripping her shoulders. “what happened? where are they?”
mina looked up at him, her face pale and streaked with tears, her lips quivering as if the words refused to leave her. she opened her mouth, but all that came out was a choked sob.
“mina,” he pressed, his voice trembling, desperate for answers. “did… did they—” he couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence, but his eyes searched hers for confirmation, for denial, for something. “the cops… they said they got shot. is it true?”
mina’s head dipped low, her hair falling over her face as she began to shake. “i… i’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, cracking with each word. “it’s my fault. they… they took the bullet for me.”
your father froze, the weight of her words sinking into him like a leaden anchor. his face contorted, a mix of pain and disbelief flashing across his features. “they… they took a bullet for you?” he echoed, his voice strained.
mina nodded, her tears falling freely now. “i told them— i didn't want them... i—” her voice broke entirely, and she buried her face in her bloodied hands, the guilt crushing her like a wave. “i’m so sorry. i couldn’t stop them. i couldn’t—”
your father’s throat tightened as he watched her crumble in front of him. for a moment, he was silent, his own emotions warring between anger, fear, and overwhelming grief. but when he saw the despair etched into mina’s face, his expression softened.
“mina,” he said gently, his voice thick with emotion as he placed a hand on her shoulder. “this isn’t your fault. do you hear me? this isn’t your fault.”
she shook her head violently, her sobs growing louder. “it is. it is. if it weren’t for me, they wouldn’t have—”
“stop.” his voice was firm but kind, cutting through her spiraling thoughts. “listen to me. they made a choice—a reckless, selfless choice. but that’s who they are. they would never let anything happen to the people they care about. you know that.”
mina looked up at him, her face a mess of tears and anguish. he offered her a shaky smile, his own eyes glistening. “they’re strong,” he said, though the tremor in his voice betrayed his own fear. “and they’re fighting right now. we have to believe that.”
just then, hurried footsteps filled the corridor, and mina’s parents appeared, their faces etched with worry. her mother stopped abruptly, her hand flying to her mouth as she saw her daughter—her usually composed, graceful daughter—reduced to a trembling, crying figure on the hospital floor.
“mina…” her father’s voice wavered as he approached, his brows furrowing deeply. he crouched beside her, his large hand resting on her shoulder. “what happened?”
her mother knelt beside her, cupping her face with both hands. “mina, darling, why are you crying? what happened? tell us.”
mina looked at her parents, her tears spilling over once more as she struggled to form the words. “it’s them,” she whispered hoarsely. “they… they got shot.”
her mother’s gasp echoed through the hallway, and her father’s face darkened, his hand tightening slightly on her shoulder.
“they… they took the bullet for me,” mina admitted, her voice cracking again. “they saved me, and now they’re in there, and i don’t even know if—” she broke down entirely, sobbing into her hands as her mother wrapped her in a tight embrace.
her father glanced at your father, his expression hardening. “how could this happen? how could they let it get this far?”
your father sighed deeply, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his own grief. “i don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “but we’re all here now. that’s what matters.”
mina’s sobs filled the hallway, a raw, guttural sound that shook everyone to their core. her mother stroked her hair, whispering soothing words, while her father placed a protective arm around both of them.
for the first time in a long while, mina allowed herself to be vulnerable, to let her emotions consume her without restraint. and in that moment, surrounded by her parents and yours, the cold hospital corridor became a place of shared anguish, silent prayers, and fragile hope.
-----
the sterile, blinding light of the operating room illuminated the tense faces of the surgical team. the air was thick with urgency, the steady beeping of the heart monitor providing a fragile sense of stability as they worked.
“patient has a gunshot wound to the shoulder,” the lead surgeon announced, his voice firm but calm. “entry wound is clean, but there’s considerable damage to surrounding tissue and suspected involvement of the subclavian artery. prepare for vascular repair. we need to stop the bleeding now.”
the team moved with precision, instruments clinking as they were passed back and forth. a nurse suctioned away the pooling blood, revealing the torn, reddened flesh of the shoulder.
“blood pressure dropping—80 over 50,” a nurse called out, her voice tight with concern.
“let’s move! i need better visualization,” the surgeon barked, his gloved hands steady as he worked to locate the bullet.
the anesthesiologist glanced at the monitors, adjusting the flow of oxygen. “heart rate’s steady for now, but keep an eye on the blood loss.”
another nurse moved swiftly to hang a fresh unit of blood, the crimson liquid flowing into your veins in a desperate attempt to keep your body stable.
“there it is,” the surgeon said, his voice sharp with focus. with delicate movements, he used forceps to carefully grasp the bullet, lodged dangerously close to the subclavian artery. “this is going to be tricky. if we nick the artery…” he trailed off, the implication heavy in the room.
the team held their collective breath as the surgeon maneuvered the bullet free, a small, jagged piece of metal now gleaming under the harsh surgical lights.
“got it,” he announced, dropping the bullet into a metal tray with a soft clink.
a brief sigh of relief rippled through the room, but it was short-lived.
“massive bleeding from the artery,” another surgeon called out. “clamp! now!”
a vascular clamp was quickly applied, and the lead surgeon’s hands moved deftly to repair the torn artery. sutures were placed with precision, the bleeding gradually slowing as the repair took hold.
“pressure’s stabilizing,” the anesthesiologist reported, her voice lighter. “but they’re not out of the woods yet.”
just as the tension seemed to ease, the heart monitor emitted a sudden, piercing tone—a flatline.
“cardiac arrest!” the anesthesiologist shouted, her hands flying to adjust the oxygen flow.
the room erupted into chaos.
“start compressions, now!” the lead surgeon barked, stepping back to let the nurse press down on your chest with calculated force.
the defibrillator was rolled closer, its cold, clinical whine rising as it charged.
“charging to 200 joules,” the technician announced, their hands moving deftly to attach the pads.
the team collectively held their breath. “clear!”
a jolt coursed through your body, momentarily lifting your chest off the table. all eyes flicked to the monitor, desperate for a sign.
nothing.
“no response,” the anesthesiologist confirmed, her voice tight.
“charge to 300. we’re not losing them!” the surgeon growled, his determination cutting through the fear that gripped the room.
“charging to 300. clear!”
the second shock surged through your body, the room eerily silent except for the sound of the defibrillator and the flatline that still screamed from the monitor.
“come on, fight!” the nurse performing compressions shouted, her voice cracking.
the surgeon’s hands clenched into fists as he stared at the monitor, willing it to flicker back to life.
but it didn’t.
“one milligram of epinephrine,” the anesthesiologist called, injecting the medication into your IV line in a last-ditch effort.
they waited, the flatline echoing in their ears, time stretching unbearably.
the surgeon’s voice was heavy, nearly broken. “resume compressions. we go again.”
the camera of your life seemed to pan away, leaving the sterile lights of the operating room and the frenzied team blurred in the distance. the cold, unrelenting sound of the flatline remained, cutting through the quiet despair.
-----
the waiting room had grown eerily quiet, save for the muffled hum of hospital machinery and the occasional announcement over the intercom. mina had finally fallen asleep on one of the stiff chairs, her head resting awkwardly against the armrest. her parents and your father sat nearby, their exhaustion etched into their faces.
your father leaned back in his seat, rubbing a hand over his face before reaching into the inner pocket of his coat. when his hand emerged, it held a small, slightly worn photo, the corners bent from years of handling. he stared at it for a moment, a faint, wistful smile tugging at his lips before he slid it across the table toward mina’s parents.
“you know,” he began, his voice low and soft, “they were always fearless, even as a kid. this was taken during their swimming lessons—back when they were training for lifeguard certification. they were only seven, but already saved a kid at that age.”
mina’s mother picked up the photo, her brows knitting together as she studied the image. in it, a young version of you stood at the edge of the water, goggles pushed up onto your forehead, your grin wide and confident. the waves crashed behind them, but you didn’t seem to care—fearless, just as your father had said.
“this beach…” mina’s father murmured, leaning closer to get a better look. his eyes narrowed slightly, as though he was trying to place it. “it looks familiar.”
your father nodded, his smile tinged with nostalgia. “it’s a small cove down south. we used to visit every summer when they were younger. they loved the water—spent more time swimming than on the sand. always said they want to save more people some day.”
mina’s mother’s expression suddenly shifted, her lips parting as if a long-buried memory had just surfaced. she glanced at her husband, her voice trembling slightly. “do you remember, darling? that summer… the beach we used to visit every year when mina was a child?”
mina’s father straightened, his eyes widening as realization dawned. “of course. we went there every year until she was about six or seven. but…” his voice trailed off, his brow furrowing. “there was that one time—”
“when she almost drowned,” mina’s mother finished, her voice barely above a whisper. she clutched the photo tighter, her hand trembling. “she was playing in the shallows, but the tide came in so fast. we couldn’t reach her in time. she was pulled under…” her voice broke, and she glanced at her husband, tears welling in her eyes.
“but someone saved her,” mina’s father added, his tone growing steadier. “a child. they pulled her out of the water and brought her back to the shore. by the time we got to her, the child was gone. we never even got their name.”
your father’s eyes sharpened, and he leaned forward. “you thought it wasn't a lifeguard?”
mina’s father nodded. “yes, they had short hair and goggles. we assumed…” he trailed off, glancing back at the photo.
“it was bambam,” mina’s mother said suddenly, her voice tinged with certainty. “at least, that’s what we thought. he’d gone to the beach with his family the same summer. we assumed he was the one who saved her because she mentioned playing with him that day. that’s why they became so close afterward—she believed he’d saved her life.”
your father’s lips parted slightly, his gaze flicking back to the photo. “but it wasn’t bambam,” he murmured, his voice laced with quiet disbelief keeping the information to himself.
your father’s gaze sharpened, and he leaned forward, his breath catching in his throat. “how old was mina?”
“six,” her mother replied, her voice trembling as she looked at the photo again. “it was that beach. i’m sure of it now. and the child who saved her… they had the same goggles.” she said smiling as she points to the picture of you wearing your goggles
the weight of her words settled over the room like a thick fog. your father exhaled sharply, his hand running through his hair. “so it was them,” he murmured, almost to himself.
but before anyone could say more, the sound of hurried footsteps and urgent voices echoed down the hallway. the three of them turned toward the source of the commotion, their conversation forgotten in an instant.
“we need extra hands in OR-2!” a nurse called out, her voice tight with urgency as she pushed a gurney past the waiting area.
mina stirred at the noise, her eyes fluttering open just as her parents stood. “what’s happening?” she asked groggily, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.
her mother rushed to her side, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. “it’s nothing, sweetheart. just stay here and rest.”
but mina’s eyes narrowed, her gaze darting toward the direction the nurses had gone. “no,” she said, her voice firm despite the hoarseness. she stood abruptly, swaying slightly before steadying herself. “it’s them, isn’t it? something’s wrong.”
“mina, wait—” her father started, but she was already moving, her footsteps unsteady but determined as she followed the voices.
when she reached the double doors leading to the emergency room, they slammed shut in front of her, the red “authorized personnel only” sign glaring back at her like a cruel taunt. she pounded on the door, her fists hitting the cold metal with a desperation that matched the tears streaming down her face.
“let me in!” she cried, her voice breaking as her parents caught up to her, trying to pull her back. “please, let me in! i need to see them!”
“mina,” her mother pleaded, wrapping her arms around her daughter and pulling her away from the door. “you can’t go in there. they’re doing everything they can. you have to trust them.”
but mina shook her head violently, her sobs tearing through her chest. “i can’t just wait out here! i can’t—” her voice cracked, and she slumped against her mother, her strength giving out as the weight of everything came crashing down.
behind the doors, the muffled chaos of the emergency room continued, a cruel reminder of how close you were to slipping away. and all mina could do was cry, her tears soaking into her mother’s shoulder as her father held them both, his own face etched with a pain he couldn’t hide.
-----
FLASHBACK
the sun hung high in the cloudless sky, bathing the beach in golden light. the sound of waves crashing against the shore mixed with the laughter of children playing tag and the whistle blows from the lifeguard stations scattered along the coast.
you were only seven, but the confidence you carried made you seem older. the red lifeguard shirt you wore was oversized, practically swallowing your small frame, but you wore it like a badge of honor. you were in training, after all—a junior lifeguard, part of the summer program for kids who wanted to help keep the beach safe.
“all right, everyone, focus!” your coach, a burly man with a booming voice, called out as he demonstrated CPR techniques on a dummy. the group of kids around you nodded earnestly, some practicing the motions on their own.
you were about to ask a question when a piercing scream shattered the idyllic scene.
“mina! someone, help! my daughter—she’s in the water!”
your head snapped toward the sound. a woman stood at the edge of the shore, her hands clutching her face in sheer panic. her cries were frantic, desperate, as she pointed toward the deeper waters.
“please, help her! she’s drowning!”
the beach seemed to freeze for a moment before erupting into chaos. a man—you assumed it was her husband—was already sprinting into the water, his movements frantic as he searched for his daughter. lifeguards nearby grabbed their equipment, blowing whistles and shouting orders to clear the area.
“stay put, all of you!” your coach barked, his eyes narrowing at your group. “this is no place for kids. the professionals will handle it.”
but your feet were already moving before the words registered. adrenaline coursed through your veins, and you couldn’t just stand there and do nothing.
“hey! stop!” one of the older lifeguards shouted as you tore past him, but you didn’t listen. your gaze was locked on the water, on the faint glimpse of something—or someone—struggling against the current.
the waves grew stronger the farther you went, and the saltwater stung your eyes, but you pressed on. you could barely make out the small, flailing figure just ahead.
mina.
she was six, her tiny arms thrashing as the tide pulled her under. her face would surface for a fleeting moment before disappearing again, her cries muffled by the roar of the ocean.
your heart pounded as you pushed through the water, your breath labored but determined. the world around you seemed to blur—her mother’s screams, the shouts from the lifeguards, the crashing waves—all of it faded into the background.
you reached out, your fingers brushing against her arm just as another wave dragged her under.
“got you,” you muttered under your breath, lunging forward and grabbing her firmly. her body was cold, her movements weak, but she was still breathing—barely.
“hold on,” you said, though you weren’t sure if she could hear you.
with every ounce of strength you had, you kicked against the current, pulling her toward the shore. the weight of her small frame and the force of the waves made it harder than anything you’d ever done before, but you refused to let go.
finally, after what felt like an eternity, your feet found the sandy bottom. you dragged her the rest of the way, collapsing onto the wet sand as the lifeguards rushed toward you.
you barely registered the commotion—the parents crying out, the lifeguards checking her vitals. all you knew was that she was breathing, her tiny chest rising and falling shakily.
“kid, what were you thinking?” your coach’s voice cut through the haze, equal parts furious and relieved as he grabbed your shoulder.
“i… i couldn’t just watch,” you said, your voice trembling but firm.
he stared at you for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh. “go back to the group. now.”
you glanced back at the girl—mina, though you didn’t know her name at the time—as her parents gathered her into their arms, tears streaming down their faces. her mother held her close, while her father looked up at the lifeguards, his gratitude spilling out in hurried words.
you didn’t stay to hear it. slipping away quietly, you returned to your group, your coach’s sharp gaze following you the entire time.
it wasn’t until much later that you realized you hadn’t even introduced yourself.
maybe fate will bring you back together and you can save her life again?
-----
the morgue was unbearably cold, the kind of chill that seeped into bones and refused to leave. the fluorescent lights buzzed faintly, casting an almost sickly hue over the room.
on the steel table, a body lay motionless, shrouded in a pristine white sheet. the stillness in the room was deafening, broken only by the subdued murmurs of two doctors standing at the foot of the table.
“no pulse,” one of them said quietly, their voice flat yet tinged with exhaustion. their gloved hand slipped away from beneath the sheet, as if reluctant to confirm the obvious.
“it’s over,” the other replied, their tone heavy with resignation as they glanced at the monitor nearby. the jagged peaks of a heartbeat were absent, replaced by an unwavering flatline.
“time of death…” the first doctor paused, their gaze lowering to the clipboard in their hand. “1:43 a.m.” the words hung in the air, suffocating, final.
the second doctor let out a small sigh, setting down the stethoscope they’d been holding. their hands moved to remove the sheet, revealing just enough of the figure beneath to confirm details for the report. the stark contrast of lifeless pale skin against the sterile steel table felt almost too vivid under the artificial light.
“they lost too much blood,” one of them murmured, more to themselves than anyone else. “there was nothing else we could’ve done.”
there was no reply. only the faint scratching of a pen against paper as the first doctor began documenting the events, their writing meticulous and methodical, but their expression betrayed the weight of the moment.
“what a shame,” the second doctor finally muttered, shaking their head. “so young.”
the first doctor nodded absently, flipping to the patient file and double-checking details for the report. their fingers lingered on the edge of the page before finally turning it.
there, in stark, clinical handwriting, was the name:
kim jennie.
-----
the white walls of the waiting room seemed to close in as time stretched unbearably thin. mina sat with her head buried in her hands, her trembling fingers curling into her hair. her parents sat beside her, silent but tense, their eyes fixed on the swinging double doors that separated them from whatever fate was being decided beyond.
your father stood, pacing back and forth, his hands fidgeting with the edges of his coat. his usual calm and composed demeanor was nowhere to be found. instead, he looked as though he were barely holding himself together, the strain of the situation etched deeply into his face.
then, the double doors burst open.
two surgeons and a nurse emerged, their scrubs streaked with crimson, their faces pale and worn with exhaustion. the lead surgeon, a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair and a sharp, clinical gaze, scanned the room briefly before stepping forward.
“mr. and myoui family,” he began, his voice calm but laced with a weight that made the air in the room grow heavier.
mina shot up from her seat, her parents following suit, while your father froze mid-step. the sight of the blood-streaked gloves made their stomachs churn.
“how are they?” your father asked, his voice hoarse, barely above a whisper.
the surgeon pulled off his gloves slowly, methodically, the motion almost maddeningly deliberate. “the situation was... critical,” he started, his eyes meeting theirs, but his expression gave away nothing.
mina felt her knees buckle, her mother’s hand quickly steadying her. “please,” mina’s voice cracked, raw and desperate. “just tell us. are they... are they okay?”
the surgeon let out a slow breath, glancing briefly at the others before continuing. “we encountered severe complications—”
mina’s heart dropped, the room spinning.
“—but we managed to stabilize them in time.”
it took a moment for the words to sink in. your father blinked, as though trying to process what he had just heard. “they’re... they’re okay?” he asked, his voice trembling.
the surgeon nodded. “they lost a significant amount of blood, but the bullet missed any major arteries. we were able to stop the internal bleeding and repair the damage. they’re not out of the woods yet, but they’re alive and stable. they’ll need close monitoring and time to recover.”
mina let out a strangled sob, her hands flying to her mouth as tears streamed down her face. her parents wrapped their arms around her, relief flooding through them in waves.
your father staggered back, his legs giving way as he sank into a chair. his hands covered his face, his shoulders shaking as the tension that had gripped him finally broke.
“can we see them?” mina’s father asked, his voice thick with emotion.
the surgeon hesitated, glancing back at the doors. “not yet. they’re still in recovery, and we need to monitor them closely for the next few hours. but i assure you, we’ll let you know as soon as they can have visitors.”
mina nodded, her tears unstoppable but now tinged with relief.
the surgeon offered a small, reassuring smile, though his exhaustion was evident. “they’re lucky,” he added, his voice soft. “it was a close call, but they’re strong. they fought through it.”
as he turned and walked back through the doors, the weight in the room began to lift, replaced by a fragile sense of hope.
mina collapsed back into her seat, her body trembling with the aftershocks of fear and relief. “thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, though she wasn’t sure who she was thanking—the surgeon, the universe, or whoever had been listening to her silent prayers.
the waiting room fell quiet again, but this time, the silence was different. it wasn’t the oppressive weight of dread but the tentative stillness of hope, fragile and delicate, yet unwavering.
-----
mina sat slumped in the chair by your bed, her face buried in her hands. the hospital room was suffocatingly quiet, save for the constant beeping of the heart monitor. her hair was a mess, dark strands sticking to her tear-streaked cheeks.
"you know, you could at least twitch or something," she muttered, her voice muffled. "just to let me know you’re still in there. but no, you have to be dramatic about it."
she let out a humorless laugh, looking up at you with red, swollen eyes. "you’re probably loving this, aren’t you? making me sit here, worrying myself sick while you take a nap. typical."
she reached out to brush a strand of hair off your forehead, her fingers lingering for a moment. "you always were stubborn," she murmured, her voice softening. "but this is just cruel."
time passed in a blur, the hospital room becoming a constant in her life. her parents had tried coaxing her to leave, even for just a few hours, but she refused. the thought of not being there when you woke up—because you would wake up—was unbearable.
hiro had visited once, his tiny voice breaking through the heavy silence. “mama, when will they wake up?” he’d asked, his big eyes filled with worry.
mina knelt to his level, forcing a smile despite the lump in her throat. "soon, sweetheart," she said, brushing a hand through his hair. "they’re just resting."
but as soon as he left with momo, mina’s resolve crumbled again. she refused food, refused sleep, refused to leave your side. her parents had to practically force her to drink water.
"you look like a zombie, mina," sana had said, plopping down in the chair opposite her. "honestly, if they wake up and see you like this, they might pass out again."
mina had glared at her, too tired to come up with a witty retort. "thanks for the pep talk, sana."
"anytime," sana had replied, leaning back in her chair. "but seriously, eat something. you’re not helping anyone by starving yourself."
now, hours later, mina was back to silently begging you to wake up. she leaned over the bed, her hands gripping the rails as tears welled up in her eyes.
"if you can hear me," she whispered, her voice shaking, "just… just give me something. a twitch, a blink, anything. please."
suddenly, your fingers twitched. mina froze, her heart leaping into her throat.
"no way," she breathed, staring at your hand like it had just performed a magic trick. then your eyes fluttered open, and she gasped, stumbling back so hard she almost tripped over the chair.
"you’re awake," she whispered, her voice trembling. she turned, ready to run out and call for a doctor, but a weak tug on her wrist stopped her.
mina turned back, her eyes wide as you held onto her. your breathing mask muffled your words, but she could still make them out. "are you… okay?"
she blinked, her jaw dropping. "am i okay?" she repeated, her voice rising in disbelief. "you almost died, and you’re asking if i’m okay?"
your lips curved into the faintest smile. "you look like… you haven’t slept in days."
"because i haven’t!" she snapped, though the tears streaming down her face betrayed her anger. "do you think I’ve been here doing yoga? i’ve been losing my mind, waiting for you to wake up!"
you squeezed her hand weakly, your eyes soft despite the exhaustion clouding them. "sorry… didn’t mean to worry you."
"oh, you didn’t mean to—" she cut herself off with a shaky laugh, her emotions swinging wildly between relief and frustration. she wiped at her tears with the back of her hand. "you’re impossible."
your smile faded as you gazed at her, your voice barely above a whisper. "mina… are you okay?"
her breath caught, her hands trembling as she gripped the bed rails. "why are you worried about me?" she choked out, her voice cracking. "you’re the one who almost—"
she couldn’t finish the sentence, the weight of it too much to bear. instead, she collapsed into the chair beside you, her head resting against your arm as her tears soaked into the hospital gown.
"i love you," she whispered, her voice breaking. "and you’re not allowed to scare me like this again. do you hear me? never again."
-----
you leaned back against the headboard, exhaustion sinking deep into your bones. the machines around you hummed softly, their steady rhythm the only sound in the quiet hospital room. mina sat at the edge of your bed, her freshly washed hair falling over her shoulders, her fingers twisting the edge of her sweater.
she hadn’t spoken much all day, but you could feel the storm brewing inside her. when she finally broke the silence, her voice was trembling, barely above a whisper.
"this is all my fault."
you turned your head, your brows furrowing. "mina—"
"don’t," she interrupted, her voice sharp and cracking all at once. she looked up, her eyes rimmed red, tears glistening like they were ready to fall at any moment. "don’t tell me it’s not. if i hadn’t… if i hadn’t done what i did, none of this would’ve happened."
you stared at her, unsure of how to respond. the weight of her guilt was suffocating, and you could feel it pressing down on both of you.
"you wouldn’t be here," she continued, her voice breaking. "you wouldn’t be lying in this bed, hooked up to these machines, barely able to breathe on your own. i did this to you."
"mina, stop," you said softly, your voice carrying the kind of weariness that only comes from surviving something that should’ve ended you.
she ignored you, her tears spilling over as she buried her face in her hands. "i ruined everything. i destroyed us. and now… now you’re suffering because of me."
your chest ached—not just from the physical pain but from the sight of her breaking down in front of you. you reached out, your hand weak and trembling, and placed it over hers. "mina, listen to me."
she shook her head, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks. "how can you even look at me? after everything i did… i betrayed you. i broke your trust. and now i’m watching you pay the price for my mistakes."
"mina," you said, your voice firmer this time. she stopped, her tear-filled eyes meeting yours, and you could see the sheer depth of her guilt staring back at you.
"this isn’t just your fault," you said quietly. her eyes widened, and you pressed on before she could interrupt. "it’s mine too."
her mouth opened, but no words came out. you took a shaky breath, willing yourself to say what you’d been avoiding.
"before the accident… even before i lost my memory, i forgot something important. i forgot how much you mean to me. i let myself get so blindsided by what you did that i decided to forget how much i loved you. i forgot to be there for you… through thick and thin, like we promised."
mina’s breath hitched, her hands flying to her mouth as if the words had physically struck her.
"i convinced myself that it didn’t matter anymore," you continued, your voice cracking. "that we didn’t matter. and i let that anger consume me. i stopped fighting for us, mina. i stopped loving you."
she let out a choked sob, shaking her head in disbelief. "no… you didn’t deserve this. none of this is your fault."
"it is," you said, your voice trembling. "because love isn’t just about being there when it’s easy. it’s about being there when it’s hard—when it hurts. and i wasn’t. i let my pride and my pain get in the way of us."
"but i pushed you away," she whispered, her tears streaming freely now. "i made the mistake. i broke us."
"and i let us stay broken," you said, your voice soft but resolute. "mina, we both failed. we hurt each other. but we’re still here. we’re still breathing. and that has to mean something."
her shoulders trembled as she wiped at her tears, her voice shaking. "how can you still say that? after everything i’ve done… how can you still believe in us?"
"because we made a promise," you said, your gaze locking with hers. "through sickness and health, right? through thick and thin. i forgot that before, but i’m not forgetting it now."
mina let out a shaky laugh, the sound tinged with disbelief and sorrow. "you’re too good for me," she whispered, her hands reaching out to cup your face. "you always have been."
"and you’re too stubborn to give up," you said, a faint smile tugging at your lips despite the tears in your eyes. "so let’s stop pretending like this is the end. we’ve got too much left to fight for."
she stared at you, her lips trembling as fresh tears spilled over. then, slowly, she leaned in, her forehead pressing against yours.
"i’m sorry," she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. "i’m so sorry for everything."
"me too," you said, your voice barely audible. "but we’re here now. and that’s what matters."
for a moment, the weight of everything—of the past, the pain, the mistakes—lifted just enough for hope to shine through. and for the first time in what felt like forever, you both allowed yourselves to believe in the possibility of something better.
-----
you were propped up on the hospital bed, still stiff and sore from the accident. mina sat on the chair beside you, her eyes glued to her phone as she scrolled through some article. the quiet hum of the machines filled the room, and you were grateful for the rare moment of peace.
“you look like you’re trying not to fall asleep,” you muttered, breaking the silence.
mina glanced at you, her brow arching. “and you look like you’re trying not to breathe too hard. what’s your point?”
you snorted, instantly regretting it as a sharp pain shot through your chest. you winced, clutching your side. “ow. damn it, mina, don’t make me laugh.”
mina’s teasing demeanor vanished instantly. “hey, are you okay?” she asked, leaning closer. "i didn't even say anything funny!"
“your face is funny enough,” you shot back weakly, smirking.
mina rolled her eyes, leaning back in her chair. “wow, the audacity of someone who can’t even sit up straight without looking like they’re about to pass out.”
despite the pain, you chuckled again, wincing as you did. “stop, seriously. my body hurts. i think even my eyelashes are sore.”
mina bit her lip, clearly trying not to laugh, but the corners of her mouth betrayed her. “fine, fine. no more jokes. you’re too fragile right now.”
“fragile? i’m indestructible,” you retorted, though your grimace immediately undermined your words.
she shook her head, finally letting out a laugh—soft, warm, and entirely unintentional. the sound was enough to make your chest feel lighter, even if it physically hurt.
“you’re impossible,” she said, shaking her head fondly.
“and you’re still here,” you replied, your voice softer now.
before she could respond, a stifled noise echoed from the hallway. neither of you paid it much attention, too caught up in your exchange.
“fine,” mina said, crossing her arms dramatically. “i’ll just sit here and be silent, then. you can entertain yourself.”
“finally,” you said, leaning back against the pillows, trying to hide your grin.
she stared at you for a few seconds, then muttered, “you’re insufferable.”
you couldn’t help it—you laughed again, only to immediately groan in pain. “stop it, seriously,” you said, wincing.
“stop what? i’m not even trying!” mina said defensively, though the smile on her face betrayed her amusement.
what neither of you realized was that you weren’t alone. just outside the slightly ajar door stood mina’s parents, your father, momo, and sana, all watching silently with amused expressions.
“look at them,” mina’s dad whispered, a soft smile tugging at his lips.
“they’re falling in love all over again,” your dad added, his voice tinged with warmth.
“ugh, it’s so cute it hurts,” sana said quietly, clutching her chest dramatically.
momo, on the other hand, looked completely indifferent to the emotional scene unfolding in front of her. “wait, my bag’s still inside,” she muttered, squinting at the room.
“seriously, momo?” sana groaned, smacking her arm lightly. “love is literally in the air, and you’re worried about your bag?”
“well, it’s a nice bag,” momo muttered defensively, crossing her arms.
“let’s give them some space,” mina’s dad said, smiling as he placed a gentle hand on his wife’s shoulder. “we’ve got some time to grab a meal anyway. i’m sure they could use the quiet.”
“yes! food!” momo’s eyes lit up, her previous concerns about the bag instantly forgotten. “where are we going?”
sana rolled her eyes but followed the group as they began to leave, herding momo along like an unruly child.
“don’t forget your bag,” sana muttered sarcastically.
“oh, thanks for reminding me!” momo chirped, turning back briefly before sana dragged her away.
“sorry about her. she’s been like this since middle school.” sana mumbles shaking her head in disapproval
“have not!” momo protested, but sana didn’t let her finish, dragging her out of the hall.
mina’s mom stifled a laugh, shaking her head. “let’s leave them alone. they deserve this moment.”
with that, the group quietly stepped away, though not without sana muttering something about momo’s terrible sense of priorities.
inside the room, completely unaware of your guy's audience, you and mina finally fell into a comfortable silence. as the door clicked shut, you glanced at her, watching the soft smile playing on her lips.
“what?” she asked, catching your gaze.
“nothing,” you replied, shaking your head. “just… thanks for being here.”
she reached out, her fingers brushing yours lightly. “where else would i be?”
the moment lingered, warm and full of unspoken words, as the world outside seemed to melt away.
love was definitely in the air.
-----
you leaned back against the headboard, finally able to sit up without wincing every two seconds. mina perched on the edge of the bed, the tray of soup balanced on her lap. she held up a spoonful, her expression somewhere between patient nurse and smug caretaker.
“okay, open up,” she said, her tone light but commanding.
you raised an eyebrow. “you know, you’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“and you’re really stalling,” she shot back, narrowing her eyes playfully. “now eat before i dump this on your lap.”
you sighed dramatically, opening your mouth. the soup was warm and soothing, but you made a show of smacking your lips like a child. “wow, this is... edible.”
“oh, you did not just insult my soup,” mina said, her jaw dropping in mock offense. “you know i made this from scratch, right?”
“scratch, huh?” you teased, pretending to examine the spoon. “does ‘scratch’ mean opening a can now?”
mina gasped, setting the tray down on the bedside table. “that’s it. starve.”
you reached out, grabbing her wrist before she could retreat. “okay, okay! i take it back. it’s amazing. the best soup i’ve ever had. michelin-star worthy.”
“that’s what i thought,” she said, smirking as she picked up the spoon again.
after a few more bites, you couldn’t help but chuckle softly.
“what’s so funny?” mina asked, eyeing you suspiciously.
“this just feels so... different,” you admitted, leaning back. “last time she tried to feed me like this it was like my body rejected her.”
mina’s eyes widened. “wait—are you serious?”
“it was jennie,” you admitted with a chuckle. “she wouldn’t stop fussing over me. i couldn’t stand it.”
mina couldn’t hold back her laughter, a soft, melodic sound that filled the room. “so you were a menace, huh?”
“a certified menace,” you confirmed, smirking. “but with you? it’s easy. comforting, even.”
her laughter faded, replaced by a soft smile that made your chest ache in a completely different way. she didn’t say anything, but her eyes spoke volumes.
“you’re full of surprises,” she said after a moment, scooping up another spoonful.
“oh, you have no idea,” you replied, leaning forward slightly.
she tilted her head. “oh? care to elaborate?”
“did you know i used to train to be a lifeguard?” you said, leaning back with a smug grin.
mina blinked. “a lifeguard? you?”
“yep. saved a couple of lives,” you said casually, as if it were no big deal.
“are you sure you didn’t just sit on the chair looking cool with sunglasses?” she teased.
“hey, i’ll have you know i was fully certified,” you said, feigning offense. “you’re looking at a hero, mina.”
she snorted, shaking her head. “all right, hero. what else?”
“well,” you said, pretending to think, “i was also a karate and boxing champion. black belt.”
mina stared at you, her jaw dropping. “are you even real?”
“and,” you continued, ignoring her disbelief, “i played a few instruments growing up. piano, guitar, drums—you name it.”
she groaned, throwing her head back. “is there anything you didn’t do?”
“i’m just answering your questions,” you said with a shrug. “oh, and i was also class president. twice.”
mina narrowed her eyes. “okay, now you’re just bragging.”
“hey, you asked,” you said, smirking.
she groaned, throwing her head back. “how am i supposed to compete with that?”
“you don’t have to,” you said, your tone softening. “you’re already perfect.”
mina froze, her cheeks turning pink. “stop being cheesy.”
“i mean it,” you said, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “you’re everything, mina.”
mina paused, her hand stilling for just a moment before she let out a small laugh. “you’re just saying that because i’m feeding you.”
“no, seriously,” you said, sitting up a little more. “i feel like... i don’t know enough about you. like, really know you.”
she blinked, clearly caught off guard. “you already know plenty.”
“not really,” you said, shaking your head. “we jumped straight into this marriage without... taking the time. and i want to know everything, mina. the good, the bad, the embarrassing.”
mina hesitated, her gaze dropping to the bowl in her hands. “everything?”
“everything,” you repeated, your voice soft.
she exhaled slowly, setting the bowl down on the bedside table. “okay... but don’t laugh.”
“no promises,” you said, grinning.
she rolled her eyes, but there was a small smile on her face. “well... when i was a kid, i wanted to be a ballerina. i even took lessons for years.”
“that tracks,” you said, nodding. “you’re ridiculously graceful.”
mina’s cheeks turned pink. “yeah, well... i quit when i was thirteen. i didn’t think i was good enough.”
“that’s impossible,” you said immediately. “you’re good at everything.”
“i’m not,” she said quietly. “but thanks for thinking that.”
you frowned, leaning forward a little. “what else? tell me more.”
she bit her lip, thinking. “i used to collect plushies. like, obsessively. my entire bed was covered in them. my parents used to joke that there wasn’t room for me to sleep.”
you laughed, the image of a younger mina surrounded by plushies too adorable to handle. “do you still have them?”
“some,” she admitted, smiling. “but most of them are in storage.”
“we’re bringing them out,” you said firmly. “i want to see them all, and i want to know what you named them.”
mina laughed, a genuine, melodic sound that made your chest ache in the best way. “you’re ridiculous.”
“you married me,” you pointed out, grinning.
she shook her head, but the smile didn’t leave her face. “fine. your turn again.”
“what else do you want to know?” you asked.
she tilted her head, studying you. “what’s something embarrassing about you? something no one else knows?”
you groaned, leaning back. “you’re really gonna make me do this, huh?”
“absolutely,” she said, smirking.
“okay, fine,” you said, sighing. “when i was ten, i tried to impress this kid at school by climbing a tree. long story short, i got stuck, cried for half an hour, and had to be rescued by a fireman.”
mina burst out laughing, covering her mouth with her hand. “you’re kidding.”
“i wish,” you said, grinning despite yourself. “it was the most humiliating day of my life.”
“that’s amazing,” she said, still laughing. “i can’t believe you’ve been a hero and a damsel in distress.”
“hey, it’s called range,” you said, smirking.
her eyes softened, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. then, almost instinctively, you leaned forward, and she met you halfway.
the kiss was gentle at first, her lips warm against yours. but as the moment deepened, it became something more—something raw and unspoken.
when you finally pulled back, mina’s face was flushed, her eyes wide. “you... you’re supposed to be resting.”
“can’t help it,” you said, grinning. “you’re impossible to resist.”
mina buried her face in her hands, groaning. “you’re going to be the death of me.”
“better me than your soup,” you teased.
“that’s it,” she said, reaching for the tray. “i’m done feeding you.”
you laughed, grabbing her wrist again. “okay, okay! truce?”
she laughed softly, shaking her head. “you’re annoying.”
“and you’re perfect,” you said, grinning.
“stop,” she said, rolling her eyes. but the way she squeezed your hand told you she didn’t really want you to.
and for the first time in what felt like forever, everything felt exactly as it should.
-----
hiro climbed up on the bed with an air of determination, his tiny hands gripping the edge of the blanket as he hauled himself up beside you. “are you still sick?” he asked, tilting his head, his round eyes wide with concern.
“not sick, just tired,” you replied, ruffling his hair gently. “but i’m getting better, thanks to you and your mom.”
“me?” hiro asked, pointing to himself.
“yeah, you,” you said, grinning. “your hugs are magical, didn’t you know?”
his face lit up. “i have magic hugs?”
“the best ones,” you said, pulling him closer for a quick squeeze.
hiro giggled, settling in beside you. “mommy said i can stay for a little while. can i show you something?”
“of course,” you said, leaning back against the headboard. “what do you got?”
hiro pulled out a small stack of drawings from behind his back, spreading them out proudly on your lap. “i drew these! this one is you, and this one is mommy, and this one is me!”
you picked up the drawing of yourself, smiling at the colorful stick figure wearing a cape. “you made me a superhero?”
“because you are!” he said earnestly. “you saved mommy and me.”
your chest tightened, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. “thanks, buddy. this is the best drawing I’ve ever seen.”
“really?” he beamed.
“really,” you said, reaching for another drawing. “what’s this one?”
“that’s us at the beach!” hiro said excitedly. “we’re building a sandcastle, and mommy is bringing us snacks!”
“sounds like a perfect day,” you said, smiling. “we’ll have to make that happen when I’m better.”
hiro’s eyes lit up. “promise?”
“promise,” you said, holding out your pinky. he linked his tiny pinky with yours, sealing the deal.
after a few more minutes of showing you his artwork and telling you elaborate stories about his drawings, hiro started to yawn.
“getting sleepy?” you asked, brushing his hair back gently.
“no,” he mumbled, but his eyelids were already drooping.
“come here,” you said, shifting slightly to make room for him. he curled up beside you, resting his head on your chest.
within minutes, his breathing evened out, and you realized he’d fallen asleep. you couldn’t help but smile, your hand resting lightly on his back.
you watched him for a moment, your chest tightening with a warmth you couldn’t quite describe. it felt… perfect.
a soft click made you open them again, and you spotted mina standing in the doorway, her phone in hand.
“are you taking pictures of us?” you whispered, raising an eyebrow.
“maybe,” she said, grinning. “you two are too cute to resist.”
“blackmail material for when he’s older?” you teased.
“absolutely,” mina said, stepping closer. her gaze softened as she looked at the two of you. “but mostly because I don’t want to forget this moment.”
“come join us,” you said, patting the empty space beside you.
she hesitated, then shook her head. “i don’t want to wake him. besides, you both look too peaceful.”
you smiled, your heart swelling as you looked down at hiro. “thanks for giving me this.”
mina’s eyes glistened, and she leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “thank you for being his hero.”
“always,” you murmured, closing your eyes again.
hiro had curled up beside you, his little hand clutching yours as he let out soft, steady breaths. you adjusted the blanket over him, careful not to wake him, and leaned back against the pillows. your own eyelids felt heavy, the steady rhythm of hiro’s breathing lulling you closer to sleep.
just as your head began to droop, you felt the bed shift slightly. mina had slipped in beside you, moving with practiced care. she settled on hiro’s other side, her movements slow and deliberate.
“you’re sneaky,” you mumbled sleepily, cracking one eye open.
“shh,” she whispered. “go back to sleep.”
you didn’t have to be told twice. within moments, you’d drifted off, the warmth of hiro tucked against you and mina’s presence on the other side filling the space with quiet comfort.
at some point, mina must have nodded off, too. she lay with her head resting against your shoulder, her arm draped protectively over hiro. the three of you looked like the picture of peace, nestled together as if the world outside didn’t exist.
the door creaked open softly, and a muffled gasp broke the silence.
“oh. my. god,” momo whispered dramatically.
“look at this,” sana chimed in, her voice equally hushed but tinged with excitement.
“don’t wake them,” your dad said, though he didn’t stop himself from pulling out his phone.
mina’s parents leaned in closer, their faces lit up with soft smiles. “it’s perfect,” her mom whispered, snapping a photo.
“we should frame this,” momo said, her face practically glowing with mischief.
“or make it the family holiday card,” sana added with a smirk.
“don’t be ridiculous,” mina’s dad said, though even he was taking pictures with his phone.
hiro stirred slightly but didn’t wake, and neither did you or mina. the family quickly tiptoed out of the room, whispering excitedly among themselves.
the three of you stayed sound asleep, unaware of the impromptu photo session that had just taken place.
and somewhere in the haze of sleep, mina shifted closer to you, her head resting comfortably against yours as her hand brushed against your arm. if she was awake, she might have blushed. but for now, she was content, her family whole and happy in the quiet glow of the moment.
-----
the day was perfect for a family outing—blue skies, a gentle breeze, and the sound of kids laughing echoing across the park. hiro was practically buzzing with energy, darting toward the playground the moment you stepped foot onto the grass. you and mina strolled behind him, fingers brushing occasionally as you walked.
settling onto a bench near the jungle gym, you watched hiro scale a climbing wall that was clearly meant for older kids. “look at him go,” you said with a chuckle, shaking your head. “he thinks he’s training for the olympics or something.”
mina smirked, resting her chin in her hand. “he gets it from you. always aiming higher than necessary.”
“oh, so now it’s my fault?” you teased, nudging her gently.
she laughed softly, and for a moment, everything felt easy, natural. her hand slid toward yours, her fingers brushing over your palm, but as they grazed the spot where your wedding ring used to sit, her smile faltered. she quickly pulled her hand back, tucking it into her lap.
before you could say anything, a cheerful voice cut through the air.
“well, if it isn’t my favorite troublemaker!”
you turned to see nayeon, her signature bright smile lighting up her face as she approached. “wow, it’s really you!”
“nayeon?” you said, grinning. “what are you doing here?”
“just enjoying the day,” she replied, pulling you into a friendly hug. “and look at you! you’re looking so much better than the last time i saw you.”
mina’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly as she watched the interaction, her fingers tightening slightly on the edge of the bench.
“uh, nayeon, this is my wife, mina, you've met her before.” you said, gesturing toward her.
“mina! i’ve heard so much about you,” nayeon said, extending a hand. “it’s great to meet you again.”
mina smiled politely, though her grip was firmer than necessary. “likewise.”
“nayeon’s an acquintance,” you explained, glancing at mina. “we met—”
“at a bar,” nayeon interrupted with a laugh. “you remember that? you were sitting there looking like the world had ended, and i had to save you from being lonely?”
mina’s smile tightened. “how… kind of you.”
“it was nothing,” nayeon said with a shrug. “but honestly, you were a mess back then. i’m glad to see you’ve got your life together now.”
mina’s eyebrow twitched. “yes, well, they’ve had plenty of support.”
nayeon didn’t seem to notice the subtle edge in mina’s tone, but you definitely did. when nayeon finally left after some more reminiscing, mina turned to you, her arms crossed and her expression unreadable.
“so… she’s just a friend, huh?”
“mina,” you said with a chuckle, “nayeon is like ten years older than me.”
“and?” mina shot back, her lips pursed. “some people don’t care about age. and the way she was looking at you…”
“she wasn’t looking at me any particular way,” you replied, fighting a grin.
mina huffed, crossing her arms tighter. “she practically sparkled every time you smiled at her. i’m surprised she didn’t sit on your lap.”
you couldn’t help but laugh at her jealousy, leaning in closer. “are you seriously jealous right now?”
“i’m not jealous,” she muttered, though the slight blush creeping up her cheeks betrayed her.
“you’re adorable when you’re jealous,” you teased, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
she turned her head away, trying to hide her growing smile. “stop.”
“you’re even cuter when you’re trying to act unbothered,” you added, earning a playful shove from her.
“i’m serious. stop,” she said, though her laughter bubbled up despite herself.
back home, hiro was already knocked out on the couch, clutching a stuffed animal mina had sneakily bought for him earlier in the day. you smiled as you carefully carried him to his room, tucking him in with a soft blanket.
“he had a good day,” you said quietly as you joined mina in the living room.
“we all did,” she replied, her expression warm. but then, she fidgeted, her hands tucked behind her back.
“what’s going on?” you asked, tilting your head.
she stepped closer, revealing what she’d been hiding—a small velvet box. your heart skipped a beat as she opened it to reveal your wedding ring, polished and gleaming like new.
“i’ve been meaning to give you this,” she said softly, her voice trembling just slightly. “i know i hurt you. i know i broke every promise i made when i gave you this ring. but… i want us to start again. to rebuild everything we lost. i still want forever with you. will you… will you take this back?”
your breath caught in your throat as you stared at the ring. her eyes were teary but resolute, her hands trembling ever so slightly.
“you know,” you started, a teasing smile breaking the tension, “for someone who’s not jealous, you sure know how to make a grand gesture.”
she laughed through her tears, swatting your arm lightly. “don’t ruin the moment!”
“i’m not,” you said, your voice softening. “but you don’t have to do all this. it’s not about the ring, mina. it’s about you being here, trying, and loving me.”
her lips quivered as you took the ring from her hand, sliding it back onto your finger. before you could say anything else, she surged forward, pulling you into a deep, desperate kiss. it was as if all her fears, regrets, and hopes were poured into that single moment.
when you finally pulled away, you grinned. “i’m still surprised you kept it all this time.”
“well… i almost threw it into the han river once,” she admitted with a sheepish smile. “but momo stopped me.”
“remind me to thank momo later,” you said, laughing softly.
“you better,” she teased, resting her forehead against yours. for the first time in a long while, it felt like everything was falling into place.
-----
the myoui corporation department store was bustling with activity, its modern grandeur commanding attention from every shopper who walked through its pristine halls. mina strode confidently across the glossy floor, her tailored suit accentuating her poise as her assistant, dahyun, trailed closely behind with a tablet in hand.
“dahyun,” mina began, her voice calm yet firm, “i want the third-floor atrium redesigned. we’ve been catering too much to exclusivity. it’s time we incorporated spaces that families with young children can enjoy—play areas, family lounges, and nursing rooms. focus on accessibility and comfort.”
dahyun glanced up from her tablet, blinking in mild surprise. “that’s... not exactly in line with the previous strategy, president myoui.”
mina stopped walking, turning slightly to fix dahyun with a look that was both patient and pointed. “are you suggesting it’s a bad idea?”
“not at all!” dahyun hurriedly replied, her cheeks coloring slightly. “i’ll make sure the revisions are prepared and ready for review.”
mina nodded, resuming her pace. “good. i want the new designs by next week. make it practical, but maintain the quality we’re known for.”
as dahyun scribbled notes furiously, she dared to glance at her boss’s expression. something about mina seemed... softer today. “if you don’t mind me asking, president myoui,” dahyun ventured cautiously, “what brought on this sudden focus on family spaces?”
mina didn’t answer immediately. her gaze softened as she thought of hiro and the way he grinned so brightly whenever they went to the park. “priorities change, dahyun,” she said quietly. “let’s leave it at that.”
meanwhile, across the bustling department store, you were walking with your legal team, engrossed in discussions about upcoming contract negotiations. it had been a few weeks since you’d taken on the role of legal director, and though you were still settling into the position, you couldn’t deny the sense of satisfaction that came with it.
“we’ll finalize the terms for the lease renewal by the end of the month,” one of your team members was saying when you glanced up and spotted mina.
there she was, effortlessly commanding attention as always, her team hanging on her every word. beside her, dahyun was typing furiously, clearly struggling to keep up.
you didn’t think twice. excusing yourself mid-conversation, you picked up your pace, leaving your team to catch up as you made your way toward her.
mina caught sight of you almost immediately, her expression softening in a way that was barely perceptible to anyone but you.
“hey,” you greeted casually, stopping in front of her.
“hey,” she replied, her voice quieter, tinged with surprise.
without hesitation, you leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to her lips, completely oblivious—or perhaps entirely unbothered—by the presence of both your teams. mina’s breath hitched, and for a brief moment, her composure faltered as a faint blush crept up her neck.
dahyun froze, her eyes darting between the two of you. “oh,” she muttered under her breath, her cheeks burning as she quickly pretended to focus on her tablet.
“have you eaten lunch yet?” you asked, your tone light as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
mina blinked, still recovering from the unexpected affection. “not yet. i was planning to after this.”
you nodded, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “good. make sure you actually eat this time, not just sip on black coffee.”
mina rolled her eyes, though the corners of her mouth betrayed a small smile. “you sound like you’re giving orders now.”
“just taking care of my wife,” you quipped, the words slipping out with ease.
dahyun’s fingers froze mid-typing, her eyes widening as she glanced at mina, whose blush deepened visibly.
“you’re embarrassing me,” mina murmured, though there was no real bite to her words.
you leaned in slightly, your voice low and teasing. “you love it.”
before she could retort, you turned and began walking back to your team, leaving mina standing there with her assistants staring at her in awe.
“president myoui,” dahyun whispered once you were out of earshot, “that was... bold.”
mina sighed, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “focus on the task at hand, dahyun,” she said briskly, though the faint smile on her lips lingered for far longer than she intended.
-----
your new office in the myoui corporation was nothing short of breathtaking. floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the city skyline, sleek furniture that probably cost more than your old car, and a desk so big it could double as a dinner table. mina really went all out.
you stood in the middle of the room, trying to decide where to place the ridiculous bouquet of roses mina had sent earlier with a simple note: “welcome to your new throne. love, mina.”
as you debated whether the flowers would look better on the desk or the small coffee table by the window, the door clicked open behind you. you turned to see mina, elegant as always, stepping in with a soft smile.
"so, how do you like it?" she asked, her voice tinged with pride as her eyes scanned the room and then landed on you.
"i feel like a majesty in here," you replied, gesturing to the plush leather chair behind your desk. "but it’s a little too much, don’t you think?"
"nonsense," mina said, walking closer. "you deserve the best." she leaned against the edge of your desk, crossing her arms. "besides, you’re part of the myoui empire now. appearances matter."
you chuckled, placing the flowers on the desk beside her. "and the hidden minibar? appearances?"
mina’s lips curved into a smirk. "a small indulgence. but," she paused, leaning closer, "if you think that’s over the top, you haven’t seen the… additional renovations i made."
your brows furrowed as you tilted your head. "what renovations?"
mina stood, her heels clicking softly on the polished floor as she strolled to the far side of the office. with a press of a button on the wall, a hidden panel slid open, revealing a small lounge area—complete with a plush sofa, a lockable door, and soundproof walls.
"i figured you might need a space to… relax during long hours," she said, her tone deceptively casual.
you blinked, heat rushing to your cheeks as realization dawned. "mina… this isn’t just for me to relax, is it?"
she shrugged, walking back toward you with that familiar mischievous glint in her eye. "well, it’s not entirely not for you either."
before you could respond, she looped her arms around your neck, pulling you close. "besides," she murmured, her lips brushing against your ear, "i figured it’d be safer to plan ahead. no nosy assistants barging in, no cameras in this section of the floor… completely private."
your hands instinctively found her waist as her lips met yours, the kiss starting slow but quickly deepening. her usual poised demeanor melted into something far more uninhibited as she pressed closer, backing you up against your desk.
"mina, we can’t…" you managed to say between kisses, though your hands betrayed your words, trailing down her back.
"we can," she countered, her voice low and sultry, "and we will. don’t worry. i made sure we wouldn’t get caught."
"you’re dangerous, you know that?" you whispered, your voice low as you looked into mina’s darkening eyes. her smirk widened, her hands moving to loosen the knot of your tie.
"danger is part of the fun," she murmured, her lips ghosting over yours before trailing down your jawline.
your breath hitched when her hands tugged at your tie, pulling you closer until your hips pressed against the desk. the cold surface bit through your clothes, a stark contrast to the heat radiating between you two.
"mina," you started, but her name caught in your throat as her lips found the sensitive spot below your ear.
"shh," she said softly, her fingers deftly working to undo the first button of your shirt. "you’ve been working so hard setting up this office, and helping with the corporation. let me… give you an early pay."
her voice was smooth as silk, but the deliberate pace of her movements was anything but patient. her hands trailed down your chest, undoing buttons one by one as her lips followed the path of her fingers.
you tried to regain some control, gripping her waist and spinning her so that she was the one pressed against the desk. she gasped softly, her eyes wide for just a moment before a sly smile curved her lips.
"oh?" she teased, tilting her head. "decided to take charge?"
"you started this," you shot back, leaning in until your nose brushed hers. "but i’m finishing it."
the kiss that followed was anything but gentle—raw, desperate, like the tension between you had been building for far too long. your hands slid up her thighs, hiking up the hem of her skirt just enough to feel the smooth skin beneath.
mina’s breath hitched, and her nails dug into your shoulders. "you know, we really shouldn’t," she whispered, though the way her body arched against yours betrayed her words.
"you're backing out already?" you countered, your lips brushing against hers as you spoke.
she didn’t answer with words. instead, she pulled you down, claiming your lips again as she let out a soft, muffled moan.
your hands explored her freely now, mapping out every curve as if committing her to memory all over again. the desk creaked slightly as you leaned her back against it, her hair falling like ink over the polished wood.
"you’re going to ruin my skirt," she whispered breathlessly, though her tone was more amused than scolding.
"you’re the one who planned this," you replied, smirking as your lips trailed down her neck. "consider it part of the… renovations."
her laugh turned into a soft gasp as you found a particularly sensitive spot, and her hands gripped the edge of the desk for support.
"just… make sure no one walks in," she managed to say, her voice trembling slightly.
"you already said this place is soundproof," you teased, nipping at her collarbone. "besides, you’re the boss. who’s going to interrupt you?"
she didn’t respond, too caught up in the way your hands and lips moved over her.
-----
the soft hum of the air conditioner filled the bedroom as you leaned back against a mountain of plush pillows, the silkiness of your matching pajama set brushing against your skin. the set, of course, was mina’s doing—custom-made with your initials embroidered on the pocket. mina, dressed in an identical set, had her arm lazily draped over your waist as the two of you lounged on the massive bed that could probably fit half a soccer team.
“so,” mina began, her voice soft and curious as she glanced at you, “what would you want to name our next child?”
you turned your head to look at her, arching a brow. “next child? are we really jumping into that conversation already?”
“we’re wearing matching pajamas. this is as domestic as it gets,” she teased, her lips curving into a playful smile. “besides, hiro’s growing up so fast. don’t you think it’d be nice to have another little one running around?”
you chuckled, running your fingers along the luxurious fabric of the comforter. “okay, let’s say we have another kid. what are you thinking? traditional? unique? or something ridiculously extravagant like… diamond or cashmere?”
mina gasped, feigning offense. “excuse me, i have taste, thank you very much. but now that you mention it… cashmere has a nice ring to it.”
you groaned, laughing. “mina, no.”
“fine, fine.” she tapped her chin thoughtfully, her tone turning serious for a moment. “if it’s a girl, maybe something soft and elegant. like hana or akari.”
you nodded, considering it. “not bad. hana myoui does have a nice flow to it. and if it’s a boy?”
mina tilted her head, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “you get to name him, as long as it’s not something weird like ‘thunder.’”
“what’s wrong with thunder? it’s bold!” you argued, grinning.
mina rolled her eyes, gently pinching your cheek. “you’re impossible.”
“you love me for it.”
she smiled, her fingers brushing your hair back. “unfortunately, i do.”
the conversation drifted as mina reached over to a bedside table that probably cost more than your first car, pulling out a velvet box. inside was a delicate bracelet—gold with tiny diamonds, with her initials engraved on a tiny charm, elegant and understated but unmistakably expensive. she slipped it onto your wrist without saying a word.
you blinked at her. “what’s this for?”
“just because,” she said simply, her voice soft. “i like spoiling you.”
“mina,” you groaned, though a smile tugged at your lips.
“don’t fight me on this,” she warned playfully, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “you’ve been through so much. let me take care of you the way you deserve.”
after a moment of comfortable silence, she glanced at you with a curious glint in her eye. “you know… i’ve been thinking about something.”
“uh-oh,” you said, feigning caution. “should i be worried?”
“maybe.” she grinned, sitting up slightly. “i think you should get a tattoo.”
you blinked, caught off guard. “a tattoo? really? you don’t strike me as the tattoo type.”
“not for me,” she clarified, smirking. “for you. something small.. like my name."
you burst out laughing, shaking your head. “mina, are you serious?”
“dead serious,” she said, her expression unchanging. “imagine it—‘mina’ tattooed on your wrist, or maybe your collarbone. somewhere visible. a constant reminder that you’re off-limits.”
“you do realize this is next-level possessive, right?” you teased, still laughing.
“and?” she shot back, her tone playful but firm. “is it really that bad to want the world to know you’re mine?”
you sighed, resting your head against her shoulder. “fine, but only if you promise not to name our kid cashmere.”
she laughed, her melodic giggle filling the room. “deal.”
as the two of you settled into the comfort of the moment, talking and dreaming about your growing family, neither of you noticed the way time slipped by. it wasn’t until mina glanced at the clock and realized it was past midnight that she pulled the covers over both of you, her warmth wrapping around you like a blanket.
“goodnight,” she whispered, her voice laced with contentment.
you smiled, closing your eyes. “goodnight, mina. and for the record, hana’s a great name.”
“i know,” she murmured, holding you close. “it’ll be perfect.”
and with that, the night faded into peaceful silence, the promise of a brighter future lingering in the air.
-----
the night was alive with soft jazz notes and a low hum of chatter from the exclusive bar. the four of you—mina, momo, sana, and yourself—occupied a luxurious corner booth, the dim light casting an intimate glow over the table. momo’s animated storytelling had everyone laughing, her wild hand gestures making sana wheeze as she tried to sip her drink.
beside you, mina sat poised, her slender fingers tracing invisible patterns on the back of your hand resting on your thigh. the touch was possessive but soft—a silent statement of claim.
“so,” momo said, squinting at the cocktail menu, “what’s next? something dangerously strong, maybe?”
“how about something mina wouldn’t touch in a million years?” sana teased, raising her eyebrows at mina. “do they even serve red wine slushies here?”
mina shot her an unimpressed look but smirked. “i’m versatile. don’t test me.”
“says the woman who calls anything under 90 points undrinkable,” momo muttered, earning a giggle from sana.
just as the teasing continued, a figure approached the table. tall, elegant, and undeniably confident, the woman seemed to glide rather than walk. you recognized her instantly—a k-pop idol with a glittering reputation.
“hi there,” she purred, her attention locked on you. she ignored the rest of the table, mina included, as if the others were invisible. “i couldn’t help but notice you. mind if i join?”
mina stiffened beside you, her hand freezing on your leg. her eyes darted up to the idol, assessing, cold and sharp. momo’s mouth twitched, clearly trying to suppress laughter, while sana leaned back, ready to enjoy the show.
“can i help you?” you asked, tone neutral, though mina’s grip tightened slightly on your thigh.
“just curious,” the idol said, leaning closer than necessary. “someone as attractive as you—how are you still single?”
mina inhaled sharply, her nails pressing lightly into your leg. momo and sana exchanged a glance, both silently bracing for mina’s explosion.
without missing a beat, you lifted your hand, the faint glow of your wedding ring catching the light. “i’m not single. happily married.”
the idol’s smile faltered but didn’t entirely fade. “oh… well, marriages aren’t always—”
“excuse me,” you interrupted, voice steady as you gestured to a nearby staff member. “can you kindly escort her elsewhere? i believe she’s lost her way.”
the idol’s face reddened, and she stammered something inaudible before the staff member politely ushered her away.
when you turned back to the table, mina’s gaze was already fixed on you. her pride and amusement were unmistakable, though her lips pressed into a thin line as she tried to maintain her usual composure.
“that was… well played,” momo said, grinning. “you didn’t even flinch.”
sana nodded enthusiastically. “you’ve really got a knack for making people regret their decisions.”
mina’s hand moved from your thigh to the back of your neck, drawing you closer. her voice was low and intimate as she whispered, “thank you for shutting her down so quickly. i was seconds away from doing it myself.”
you smiled, tilting your head toward her. “did you think i wouldn’t?”
mina leaned in, her lips brushing against yours in a brief but deliberate kiss. “you’re too perfect sometimes, you know that?” she murmured, her voice laced with a rare softness.
sana cleared her throat dramatically. “uh, public place, guys. public. place.”
mina ignored her, picking up a slice of the appetizer platter and holding it out to you. “here,” she said, her tone commanding but warm. “eat.”
you blinked. mina never fed anyone, let alone in public. but she waited, her expression unreadable, until you leaned forward and took a bite.
“oh my god,” momo muttered, leaning toward sana. “is this even real? she’s… spoiling them.”
“she’s in deep,” sana whispered back, grinning.
“don’t make me regret inviting you two,” mina said flatly, though the corner of her lips curved upward.
but as you sit there, watchin them peacefully, you realize you wouldn’t trade this chaos for anything.
-----
the air was crisp and cool, carrying the faint scent of pine trees and fresh earth. the myoui town had hardly changed, its quiet charm untouched by the passing years. it was just as peaceful as you remembered it during your honeymoon with mina, but now, it felt even more alive with hiro’s laughter echoing through the streets.
“this place always feels like stepping into another world,” you mused, glancing over at mina, who was holding hiro’s hand as they admired the rows of blooming hydrangeas.
mina smiled, her face glowing in the golden afternoon light. “it hasn’t changed much. it’s why i love coming back here.”
hiro suddenly tugged on mina’s hand, pointing at a small pond nearby. “look, mama! koi fish! can i feed them?”
mina nodded, her voice soft and indulgent. “of course, but stay close.”
you trailed behind them, carrying a bag filled with snacks and small trinkets you’d picked up for hiro earlier in the day. watching them interact always filled you with a quiet warmth. hiro, who once stumbled over his tiny feet, was now running confidently, his energy boundless as he scattered fish food into the pond.
after a while, you joined mina on a bench overlooking the water, her hand slipping into yours without a word. you noticed how her grip tightened slightly, her eyes lingering on hiro.
“you’ve been quiet,” you said softly, brushing your thumb over her knuckles. “what’s on your mind?”
she tilted her head, leaning it gently on your shoulder. “just… thinking how far we’ve come. i’m glad we made it here, together.”
your lips curved into a smile. “me too.”
later, as the sky began to darken into shades of amber and lilac, the three of you returned to the small house that mina’s family maintained in town. you helped mina with preparing dinner, chopping vegetables while she stirred the pot, the two of you working in easy harmony.
hiro was playing in the living room, his laughter filling the space as he built a block tower.
“he’s growing up too fast,” mina murmured, her voice tinged with bittersweet affection.
you glanced at her, wiping your hands on a towel before wrapping your arms around her waist from behind. “he’s turning out pretty great, though. just like his mom.”
mina chuckled, leaning back into your embrace. “you’re biased.”
“and proud of it.”
the evening passed in quiet contentment, the kind of peace you’d once thought was unattainable.
as the night deepened, you and mina sat on the porch, watching hiro chase fireflies in the yard. suddenly, mina called out, her voice soft yet carrying a gentle urgency.
“come here, sweetheart!”
you turned to see a small figure toddling out of the house, her tiny legs unsteady but determined. your daughter—her cheeks round, her hair tied into a tiny bun that mina had fussed over earlier—was walking toward her mother.
hiro noticed immediately and ran to her side, carefully holding her hand to steady her. “careful, hana,” he said, his tone protective yet gentle.
“you’re doing so good, hana!” hiro cheered, his grin wide.
mina’s hand found yours, her grip firm yet tender. “he’s such a good brother,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.
“he had good examples to follow,” you murmured, your eyes meeting hers.
a comfortable silence settled between you, broken only by the soft giggles of your children.
then, as if unable to resist, mina turned to you with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “so… what do you think about number three?”
you groaned, dropping your head into your hands. “mina, we just had hana—”
“exactly,” she interrupted, her tone light. “and look how perfect she is. why not one more?”
you peeked at her through your fingers, your lips twitching despite yourself. “you’re wild.”
she grinned, leaning in to kiss your neck the exact same spot where your tattoo resided, a small tattoo of her name. “and you love me for it.”
watching hiro guide hana, the two of you couldn’t help but exchange a glance—a silent agreement that, for all the chaos and exhaustion, this was the life you never knew you’d wanted.
fireflies dot the air. hana toddled around near mina’s feet while hiro chased the glowing insects with wild abandon.
you smiled, your heart swelling with pride and love. “yeah. we did good, didn’t we?”
mina rested her head against your shoulder, her hand finding yours once again. “we did.”
and as you watched your children together, you realized there was nowhere else in the world you’d rather be.
-----
end of the special chapter, and the series.
a/n — have this :P i'm sorry for causing sadness here's something to mend that. here's the result from the vote, honestly a big surprise as i didn't think you guys would choose the right choice.
❝ you're my spouse on paper, however you're not my responsibility.❞
synopsis — till death do you part, right? why does it feel like you're the only one that fulfilled that vow.
word count ! — 21k
— myoui mina x reader !
notice — heavily inspired by @neoplatinum, aswell as cozuzi and queen of tears.
disclaimer ! — this story is a work of fiction. the portrayal of characters, events, and relationships does not reflect the real lives or personalities of any individuals mentioned. themes of infidelity and emotional conflict are explored, but the intention is not to glamorize toxic behavior.
series masterlist !
LAST PART!
the hospital room was quiet, the rhythmic beeping of the monitors the only sound. your head throbbed faintly as you sat up in the bed, trying to make sense of the fragmented memories and emotions swirling inside you. jennie sat by your side, her presence a constant since you'd woken up, her eyes soft with concern as she fed you small spoonfuls of porridge.
"you’ve been through so much," she murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. "but you’re safe now. i’m here."
you swallowed the porridge, the warmth doing little to settle the growing unease in your chest. "jennie," you started, your voice hoarse, "why do i feel like... like i should know something important? like there’s someone—"
"someone who doesn’t matter anymore," she cut in, her voice firm but gentle. "someone who hurt you."
your brow furrowed. "what?"
jennie hesitated, her expression darkening as she set the bowl down. "myoui mina," she finally said, her tone laced with disdain. "she tried to break into this very room a few days ago. she was desperate to see you."
"she—what?" you blinked, confusion knitting your features. "why? what does she want?"
"she wanted to be here when you wake up, probably to manipulate you," jennie said, her jaw tightening. "just like she always has. but don’t worry. she’s not going to hurt you anymore. she’s... she’s already in jail where she belongs now."
the words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. "jail?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.
jennie nodded, leaning closer. "she’s under investigation for a lot of things, but mainly for bambam’s disappearance. remember him?"
you didn’t. but the name sent a shiver down your spine nonetheless.
"he was the one she cheated on you with," jennie continued, her voice dropping to a near-whisper, as though sharing a secret too dangerous to speak aloud. "and then, one day, he just... vanished. no trace, nothing."
your hands clenched the blanket, a dull ache settling in your chest. "if she’s such a monster, why was i ever with her?"
"because you were lonely," jennie said softly, her gaze locking onto yours. "you wanted to feel needed. and she saw that. she used it against you, used you to clean up her messes, to protect her reputation. she didn’t love you. she loved what you could do for her."
the words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you let out a bitter laugh. "i must’ve been pathetic," you muttered, shaking your head. "a lonely, naive fool who let someone like her walk all over me."
jennie’s hand covered yours, her grip warm and steady. "don’t say that," she said, her voice tinged with something darker, possessive. "you were vulnerable, but you’re not anymore. you’re with me now, and i’ll protect you. i couldn’t do it back then, but now..." her fingers tightened, her eyes gleaming with a fervent intensity. "now you’re in my grasp. and i won’t let anything or anyone hurt you again."
a shiver ran down your spine, but you couldn’t tell if it was from her words or the way she said them. "jennie..." you began, but your voice faltered, unsure of what to say.
"shh," she murmured, lifting the spoon again and holding it to your lips. "just focus on getting better. let me take care of everything."
you nodded numbly, opening your mouth to accept the food. as the warmth of the porridge spread through you, you tried to ignore the gnawing feeling in the pit of your stomach, the sense that something wasn’t adding up.
but with no memories to hold onto and jennie’s unwavering gaze fixed on you, it was easier to simply let her words fill the empty spaces in your mind.
for now, you let yourself believe her.
-----
the atmosphere inside the prison visitation room was heavy with tension. mina sat across from mr. han, her lawyer, whose sharp eyes never left the documents laid out in front of him. his glasses gleamed in the soft overhead light as he calmly sifted through the evidence. mina, on the other hand, could barely sit still, her fingers anxiously tapping against the table.
“miss mina,” mr. han began, his tone clipped and precise, “it’s come to my attention that the authorities are presenting a case that’s entirely dependent on circumstantial evidence. the blood, the hair, the accusations—they don’t have much beyond that.”
“but... they found my hair in bambam’s car,” mina whispered, her voice shaking as she glanced down at the picture of the abandoned car.
mr. han raised an eyebrow. “yes. your hair. in a vehicle that was found under a bridge, with no sign of bambam. the only thing they’ve connected you to is that small piece of evidence. but,” he added, adjusting his glasses with a cool, deliberate motion, “we’re going to dismantle this case piece by piece.”
“how?” mina asked, her voice almost desperate. “how do we explain that?”
mr. han’s gaze was unwavering as he shifted the papers, placing a new set of images on the table. “this is where we start. first, we know you met bambam that night. you admitted that.”
mina nodded. “yes, I did. bambam and I agreed to meet in his car. I had something important to tell him. but when I got there... he was acting strange. I don’t know what happened, but I left him in the car... perfectly fine.”
“perfectly fine,” mr. han repeated, his voice smooth and calculating. “and when you left, he was in no danger? you saw him leave the car? there were no signs of injury?”
“no,” mina replied quickly. “he was fine. I left him there, just like that.”
“good,” mr. han said, leaning back in his chair, his fingers drumming lightly on the table. “now we focus on the real issue—the knife, and the woman seen on the cctv footage.”
mina’s heart skipped a beat. she hadn’t forgotten about the knife, the one that had been found near bambam’s car. it wasn’t hers, but it had been taken from her apartment.
"the knife," mina started, her tone measured. "it’s mine. i recognized it the moment they showed it to me. but i didn’t use it."
mr. han interjected smoothly. "let’s break this down. you’re confirming the knife belongs to you, correct?"
"yes," mina admitted. "but it went missing. i thought i’d misplaced it before i left for the myoui estate in japan."
he slid a photo across the table. mina’s gaze dropped to the image—a woman leaving her house in a red coat. her stomach twisted. “that’s the night of the murder,” she said softly, her voice tight. “but that’s not my coat.”
mr. han adjusted his glasses, looking at her as if she were missing the most obvious thing in the world. “exactly. it’s a woman who looks just like you, but she’s wearing the wrong coat. and guess what? we’ve got camera footage that proves it. you were already gone by the time the murder happened, but the cops don’t know that yet. they’re too busy chasing their own tails.”
“but why? why would someone do that?” mina asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
mr. han paused, then slid another set of photos across the table. “these are dashcam footage from nearby cars, showing the same woman entering bambam’s vehicle after leaving your penthouse. and here”—he tapped a photo—“this is a picture of the woman burning her clothes afterward. trying to cover up her involvement.”
mina’s breath caught in her throat. “that’s... that’s insane.”
“it’s a calculated move,” mr. han replied, his tone hardening. “and whoever hired this woman is trying to frame you for bambam’s disappearance. we’re going to find out who it is, and once we do, we’ll break this case wide open.”
mina sat back in her chair, her mind racing. “but there’s more, isn’t there?”
“yes,” mr. han said, leaning forward with a sudden sharpness in his voice. “this next part... this is what’s going to change everything. we’ve managed to hack into the phone of the woman who was involved. we know she sent images of the knife, the bloodstains, and a series of cryptic messages. messages that suggest she’s working for someone.”
“and you got all of this legally?” mina asked, still trying to grasp the magnitude of the situation.
mr. han smirked slightly. “the link we sent her was benign enough that she clicked it without suspicion. and now, we’ve got full access to her phone. the information is damning, and it’s going to help us tie this woman to the scene.”
“but what if they trace it back to us?” mina asked, her voice barely a murmur.
“we’ll play it smart,” mr. han reassured her, his voice calm and unwavering. “we’ll claim the evidence came from an anonymous source. there’s no way they can trace it back to us. and once it’s in the system, it’s fair game. they won’t have a leg to stand on.”
mina’s heart sank, but there was a small spark of hope flickering in her chest. “do you think this will be enough?”
“it has to be,” mr. han said, his tone firm. “once we show that the woman took the knife from your penthouse, once we connect her to the scene, and once we prove she was hired... they’ll have no choice but to drop the charges. you will be free.”
just then, the prison guard signaled that visiting hours were coming to a close. mina stood up, her mind racing but her resolve hardening. “thank you, mr. han,” she said, her voice quiet but filled with gratitude. “for believing in me.”
“you don’t need to thank me,” mr. han said with a cool smile. “I’m just doing my job. now let’s get to work. the trial starts soon.”
-----
FLASHBACK
the car was parked under the shadow of an overpass, the air heavy with tension. mina sat in the passenger seat, her posture poised and unyielding, the dim glow of the dashboard casting faint shadows across her sharp features.
bambam tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, the faint rhythm echoing in the silence. “so, what’s this about, mina?” he finally asked, his voice tinged with impatience.
she turned to face him, her gaze icy and calculating. “it’s about them,” she said, her tone even but laced with steel.
his brows furrowed in confusion before a smirk crept onto his face. “oh? what about your precious lawyer?”
mina’s eyes narrowed, her expression unflinching. “stay away from them, bambam. whatever you’re trying to do, it ends now.”
bambam leaned back in his seat, letting out a low chuckle. “is that so? and what makes you think you can tell me what to do?”
“because I can,” mina replied coolly. “and because I will. i’m not here to play games with you, bambam. this is your final warning.”
his smirk faltered for a moment before he scoffed, shaking his head. “you’re unbelievable, you know that?”
mina’s lips curled into a faint, humorless smile. “it’s power. power that could make your life very difficult if you keep pushing me.”
bambam broke the silence first, his tone sharp. “you’re not going to win them back, you know.”
mina’s eyes flicked to him, dark and unyielding. “that’s none of your concern.”
“none of my concern?” bambam scoffed, leaning back in his seat with a bitter laugh. “do you really think they’ll forgive you, mina? after what you did?”
mina’s gaze remained steady, her voice calm but cutting. “they already know. i made a mistake—one i’ll regret for the rest of my life. but forgiveness? that’s for them to decide. not you.”
“you think saying that makes it all better?” bambam challenged, his words dripping with derision. “what do you even have to offer them after breaking their trust?”
mina’s lips curved into a faint, humorless smile. “everything,” she said simply. “i’ll give them everything—my time, my love, my name, my empire, if that’s what it takes.”
“and what if it’s not enough?” bambam pressed, his voice rising slightly. “what if they walk away, mina? then what?”
mina leaned forward, her voice dropping to a deadly whisper. “then i’ll spend the rest of my life making sure they know what they mean to me. and if they still choose to leave—” she paused, her expression softening ever so slightly, “—then i’ll let them go. because that’s what love is.”
bambam’s laugh was sharp, almost cruel. “love? don’t make me laugh. you’re all talk, mina. you think you’re so noble, but let’s not forget—i was there first. i’ve known you since we were kids. how could you pick someone like them? a nobody, a lawyer.”
mina’s smile didn’t waver, but the air around her seemed to grow colder. “careful, bambam,” she said softly, her tone razor-sharp. “you’re forgetting who you’re talking to.”
he opened his mouth to retort, but mina cut him off, her voice growing firmer. “you think i chose them because they’re a ‘nobody’? no. i chose them because they’re everything you’ll never be. they’re kind. selfless. loyal. something you wouldn’t understand.”
bambam’s jaw tightened, but mina pressed on, her words precise and unforgiving. “and let me make one thing clear: whatever you think you had with me? it’s over. it was a mistake—a lapse in judgment i will never repeat.”
“you sound so sure of yourself,” bambam muttered, his bravado faltering. “but do you really think they’ll look at you the same way?”
mina’s expression softened, though her eyes remained steely. “i don’t know,” she admitted quietly. “but i’ll fight for them, bambam. every single day. because they’re worth it.”
she leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “and you? you’re nothing but a reminder of a mistake i’ve already left behind. so here’s my advice: stay away. from them. from me. from us.”
bambam’s smirk returned, though it was weaker this time. “and what if i don’t back off? what are you going to do, mina? ruin me?”
“if i have to,” she replied without hesitation, her voice steady and devoid of emotion. “do you really want to test me, bambam? do you want to see how quickly i can pull the rug out from under you? your family’s success depends on the myoui shares. one call from me, and it all comes crashing down.”
his smirk vanished completely, replaced by a flicker of unease.
“you’re serious,” he muttered, almost to himself.
mina leaned in slightly, her gaze piercing. “deadly. serious. so listen carefully, bambam. stay away from them. stay out of their life. because if you don’t, i will make sure you regret it.”
bambam was silent for a moment, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. “you’re cold, mina. colder than i ever thought possible.”
she tilted her head, her expression unreadable. “and you’re predictable. but let me make one thing clear: i care about them more than anything. and i’ll do whatever it takes to protect them.”
he let out a bitter laugh, his frustration evident. “you’re going all in for someone like them? a nobody compared to us?”
mina’s gaze darkened, her voice dropping to a whisper. “they’re not a nobody. they’re everything. and if you think otherwise, you’ve already lost.”
she opened the car door and stepped out, her heels clicking against the pavement as she turned to look at him one last time.
“don’t make me repeat myself,” she said, her tone final. “this is the last time we’ll ever speak.”
without waiting for a response, she walked away, her figure disappearing into the night.
LATER THAT NIGHT
mina's pov
i watched them from the doorway for a long moment, their figure slouched against the couch, eyes lost in the amber liquid in their glass. the room was too quiet, too still. it made something inside me stir—an urge to close the distance, to fill the silence with the sound of my voice.
finally, i stepped in, my footsteps soft on the hardwood. "you're good at avoiding things," i said, my tone low and deliberate.
“i’ve been working,” they replied, but i could tell they were listening. i pushed forward, my gaze fixed on them. "at this hour?" i asked, the edge in my voice unmistakable.
silence hung in the air as they shifted, but i didn’t wait for them to speak. i took another step closer.
"you look gorgeous," i added, my voice slipping into something softer. it was true. they always looked amazing—no matter the circumstances.
their eyes flickered to me briefly, but they quickly turned away, hiding behind the glass in their hand. a flash of frustration ran through me, but i tamped it down.
"don’t say things like that," they muttered, and i could hear the unspoken weight in their words.
i paused, eyes narrowing as i took in the situation. the tension was thick, palpable. they were avoiding me, but there was something else too—a fear, a reluctance. and it made my chest tighten.
“you’ve been drinking,” i observed, my gaze flicking to their glass. “and thinking. i can tell.”
their sigh was heavy, their shoulders slumping as they leaned back. “why are you doing this?” they asked, frustration lacing their voice. "why are you trying so hard now? do you think i’ve forgotten? sometimes i still see him. i still hear his voice.”
bambam.
the name scraped across my mind like a shard of glass, but i didn't flinch. i could feel the sharpness of his ghost still lingering between us, but that didn’t matter now.
i crouched down in front of them, close enough that i could feel their breath hitch. “he’s gone,” i said, my voice soft but sure.
they blinked, confused. “what do you mean?”
i let my lips curl into the faintest smile. “he won’t bother us anymore.”
“mina, what did you—”
“do you trust me?” i interrupted, my eyes locking onto theirs with an intensity that made their pulse quicken.
they hesitated, and i saw the doubt in their eyes. but i knew—i knew—that they would come around.
“i’ll make this simple,” i continued, my voice low, almost a whisper now. i leaned closer, one hand brushing against their thigh, making sure they knew i was real, that i was here. "you’re mine. and i’ll do whatever it takes to keep it that way."
their breath caught in their throat, but they didn’t speak.
"if i fail again, everything i have—my wealth, my power, my name—it’s yours,” i added, my voice thick with the weight of the promise. “but let me make one thing clear.”
my hand traced a slow, deliberate line up their jaw, forcing them to meet my eyes. “if you ever think about betraying me, if you ever look at someone else—”
i paused, the smile on my lips widening just slightly. "you’ll regret it."
“mina—”
“shh,” i whispered, cutting them off with a finger against their lips. “you think i’d let that happen? with this kind of face, you have time to look at someone else?”
my laugh was soft, but it carried a dark edge. “i’ll make sure you never even think about it,” i said, the words slipping from my mouth like a sweet, dangerous promise.
i climbed onto their lap with practiced grace, my robe slipping slightly, the fabric brushing against their skin. i could feel their heart pounding beneath me, their body stiff with tension.
“do you know why, darling?” i asked softly, my hands cupping their face, tilting it slightly to meet my gaze.
they swallowed hard, their eyes flickering with a mix of confusion and desire.
“because you’re mine,” i whispered, my lips grazing their ear, my voice barely audible but full of conviction. “every part of you—your heart, your body, your soul—it belongs to me. till death do us part.”
my fingers tightened slightly, just enough to make them feel the pressure, feel my ownership. "you’ll stay by my side, and i’ll make sure you never want to leave."
the tension in the air was unbearable now, and when our lips finally met, it was everything: a promise, a threat, a declaration. my kiss was as fierce as it was tender, leaving them breathless and completely consumed.
i could feel them respond, their body finally giving in to the pull of mine. the world outside didn’t matter anymore—only the space between us, the heat, the quiet desperation in their touch.
and as the kiss deepened, the way my hands moved slowly, deliberately over them, it became clear: this wasn’t just a kiss. it was a claim.
bambam was nothing now—just a fleeting, foolish mistake. one i had already erased from existence.
and now? they were mine—completely.
-----
jennie escorted you out of the hospital. her hand remained steady on your back as you stepped into the cold, crisp air. waiting near the exit were familiar faces and two people you vaguely recognized as mina's parents. their expressions ranged from worry to relief when they spotted you.
sana stepped forward first. "thank god. you're alright." her eyes shifted to jennie, narrowing. "but what is she doing here?"
jennie tightened her grip on your arm, a smile that didn’t reach her eyes fixed firmly on her lips. "they need rest. i’m here to make sure they get it."
you hesitated, looking between the two groups. sana’s gaze was pleading, momo’s filled with concern. "don’t believe anything jennie says," sana blurted out. "she’s—"
"enough," jennie interrupted smoothly. "they don’t need this stress."
sana tried to push forward, but two men in suits—jennie’s bodyguards—stepped in, blocking her path. momo glanced at you, her eyes filled with something you couldn’t place—guilt? regret?
"let’s go," jennie said gently, tugging you toward the waiting car. you followed, your mind spinning as the door closed behind you. through the tinted windows, you caught one last glimpse of sana, her mouth moving as if shouting something you couldn’t hear.
back at the apartment jennie had set up for you, everything was too perfect, too curated. the walls were adorned with pictures of you and jennie—smiling, happy, a life you couldn’t recall.
you wandered aimlessly until you found yourself in what appeared to be your private office. the space felt more like yours—papers strewn across the desk, case files stacked neatly on the shelves.
sitting in the chair, you ran your fingers across the polished wood of the desk. drawers beckoned, and your curiosity got the better of you. as you rifled through them, a small device caught your attention—an mp3 player. etched on the back were the initials M.M.
your breath hitched. why did that feel significant?
plugging in a pair of headphones, you scrolled through the playlist. songs filled your ears, unfamiliar yet strangely comforting. you found yourself nodding along, murmuring, "good taste."
leaning back, you closed your eyes, letting the music envelop you. but as the final chords of a song faded, a thought struck you like lightning.
"if mina really was my enemy," you muttered, "then maybe it’s time i learn more about her."
setting the mp3 player aside, you leaned forward, determination replacing hesitation. visiting hours at the prison weren’t far off, and if you were going to piece together the truth, you needed to start there.
-----
the hum of fluorescent lights buzzed faintly as you stepped into your office building for the first time since the accident. park jihyo, your ever-efficient assistant, was already waiting near the entrance. her expression shifted quickly between relief and hesitation as she approached, clipboard clutched tightly to her chest.
“you’re back,” she said, offering a tentative smile. “it’s good to see you.”
you nodded, glancing around the space that felt both familiar and foreign. “so this is where i work?” the words came out more like a statement than a question, but doubt lingered in your tone.
jihyo’s smile softened, though concern flickered in her eyes. “yes. this is your office. you’ve spent so much time here... you’ve built a reputation as one of the best lawyers in the city.”
“what kind of lawyer am i?” you asked, half-joking but mostly serious. you gestured vaguely at the desk, the files stacked neatly on it, the accolades framed on the walls. “was i any good?”
jihyo hesitated, her gaze dropping to the clipboard. “you were brilliant. fearless. but... i can’t tell you much more.”
“can’t, or won’t?” you pressed, your tone sharper than intended.
“it’s... complicated.” jihyo admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
frustration bubbled beneath your skin, but you didn’t push further. instead, you spent the rest of the day acclimating yourself to the environment—pouring over files, trying to piece together fragments of your professional life. jihyo’s praises lingered in your mind, but they felt hollow, like echoes in a vast, empty room.
as evening fell, you left the office, the chill of the winter air biting at your cheeks. the drive to the prison was quiet, the hum of the heater in your car the only sound. your thoughts churned, a whirlwind of confusion and disbelief.
“how could i have fallen for a criminal?” you muttered under your breath, gripping the steering wheel tighter. the irony wasn’t lost on you—one of the city’s best lawyers, tangled in the web of someone suspected of a heinous crime.
snow began to fall as you arrived at the prison. the waiting area was cold and unwelcoming, the walls a dull, institutional gray. your breath misted in the air as you sat, your gaze fixed on the window where snowflakes danced against the pane.
and then, she entered.
myoui mina. even in the drab uniform of a prisoner, she carried herself with an elegance that was almost otherworldly. her hair was tied back, her face pale but composed. your heart stuttered—recognition flickered like a match, only to be snuffed out by the fog of your fractured memories.
she walked toward you, her steps quickening as she saw you. the chair scraped against the floor as she sat across from you, her hands trembling slightly as she clasped them together on the table.
“how are you?” mina asked, her voice soft, tentative. “did the surgery go well?”
you leaned back, your arms crossed. “why do you care?” your tone was cold, accusatory. “didn’t you cheat on me?”
mina flinched, the words hitting her like a physical blow. “i heard jennie was with you,” she said carefully, her voice wavering. “i... i promised to be there for you, but—” her composure cracked, and she looked down, her hands clenching into fists. “i got caught up in this mess.”
“so you’re admitting it?” you shot back, your voice rising. “you weren’t there because you were too busy being a criminal?”
“it’s not like that!” mina’s voice broke, her tears spilling over. “i was at the hospital, but then... then jennie came with all this police and i was arrested. i didn’t want this. i never wanted this.”
your mind swirled with confusion, her words sinking into the cracks of your doubt. "i know everything," you said abruptly, your voice low and steady, testing the waters.
mina's gaze sharpened, and a hint of her old defiance surfaced. "if you know everything," she retorted quickly, leaning forward slightly, "then why are you here? are you still doubtful?"
her words struck a nerve, and for a moment, you were caught off guard. "don't believe jennie," mina continued, her tone gentler now, almost pleading. "she's not who she says she is. i know i made mistakes, but i need you to trust me on this."
before you could respond, the guards approached, signaling the end of the visit. mina stood, her gaze locking onto yours, desperate and pleading.
“take care of yourself,” she said, her voice barely audible as the guards led her away. “please... just take care of yourself.”
as you left the prison, the cold air hit you like a slap, your thoughts a tangled mess. you stopped at a convenience store, grabbing medicine for your pounding headache. the clerk gave you a sympathetic look as you fumbled with the cash, muttering under your breath about how your head felt like it was splitting in two.
back at your apartment, darkness enveloped the space. you flicked on the lights, only to find kim jennie sitting on your couch, her posture tense, arms crossed, and expression stormy.
“where have you been?” she demanded, her voice sharp and tinged with something almost desperate.
you froze, your hand still on the light switch, blinking at her in confusion. “jennie? how did you get in here?”
her expression softened, a hint of vulnerability slipping through as she stood. “your spare key,” she murmured, holding it up briefly before setting it on the table. “i was worried. you weren’t answering my calls. i thought something might’ve happened.”
“worried?” you echoed, your voice unsure, the events of the day leaving you too drained to challenge her. “the one person who was causing me harm is in jail now, right?”
jennie’s lips pressed into a thin line as she stepped closer, her gaze steady on yours. “come on,” she said carefully, her voice dropping to a hushed tone. “you don’t remember everything yet, but you know how dangerous she is. i can't just sit by and do nothing.”
her words sent a flicker of unease through you, but it was hard to push back against the conviction in her tone. the gaps in your memory felt like a chasm, and jennie seemed to be the only one offering answers.
“i... i guess that makes sense,” you said slowly, your brows furrowing. “but still, jennie, coming in uninvited like this—i don't— i don't like anyone entering my apartment just like that..”
“i’m sorry,” she said quickly, her voice trembling just enough to sound sincere. “i know it’s a lot, but you have to trust me. everything i’ve done is to protect you. you’re all i care about.”
your resolve wavered, her words settling heavily in your chest. “you keep saying that, but... it feels like too much sometimes.”
she stepped closer, her hand brushing against yours. “you’re scared. i get it. but you don’t have to go through this alone. i’m here for you. always.”
her touch, her tone—everything about her presence felt suffocating as if your body is rejecting her touch. you exhaled, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly despite the lingering doubt in your mind. “okay,” you murmured. “thank you, jennie.”
her smile returned, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “good,” she said softly. “just promise me you’ll be careful. mina’s not who you think she is. remember that.”
you nodded, the weight of her words pressing down on you even as they left questions you couldn’t articulate. “i’ll try.”
she lingered for a moment, her gaze searching yours before finally stepping back. “i’ll go now,” she said, her voice gentle. “get some rest. and please... call me if you need anything.”
as the door clicked shut behind her, you stood there for a long moment, your thoughts a tangled mess of uncertainty and trust.
outside, jennie walked briskly to her car, her composed facade slipping away. frustration simmered beneath the surface as she pulled a small device from her pocket.
“you don’t see it yet,” she muttered, crouching beside your car to attach the tracker underneath. “but you’ll understand someday. i’m the only one keeping you safe.”
she straightened, brushing off her hands before slipping into her car. as she drove off, her jaw clenched, her thoughts racing. “you’ll thank me one day,” she whispered, her voice steely with determination. “i’ll make sure of it.”
-----
the courtroom buzzed with tension as the trial commenced. spectators whispered in hushed tones, stealing glances at the defendant’s table where mina sat, her expression calm yet cold, betraying nothing. mr. han, her lawyer, stood confidently, a stack of meticulously prepared documents in front of him.
“your honor,” mr. han began, addressing the judge, “we have new evidence that will undoubtedly prove my client’s innocence.”
the prosecution raised an eyebrow, their lips curling into a skeptical smirk. “circumstantial evidence is hardly new, counselor. unless you have something more substantial, let’s not waste the court’s time.”
“on the contrary,” mr. han said smoothly, “the evidence i’m about to present is both new and compelling. security footage retrieved from the defendant’s penthouse reveals critical details about the night in question.”
the courtroom fell silent as a monitor was wheeled into view. mr. han nodded toward an assistant, who queued up the footage.
“this is from the surveillance camera outside ms. myoui’s residence,” mr. han explained. “pay close attention to the timestamps.”
the footage began playing, showing mina leaving her penthouse dressed in a sleek black coat, her movements poised and deliberate. the timestamp marked her departure at 8:15 p.m.
“now,” mr. han continued, gesturing toward the screen, “this next segment is from 8:32 p.m.”
the video cut to a different angle, this time showing a woman entering mina’s penthouse. she was clad in a striking red coat, her face obscured by a scarf and hat.
“notice the distinct red coat,” mr. han pointed out. “this individual is not my client. yet, at 8:45 p.m., she exits the penthouse holding the alleged murder weapon—the same knife identified as belonging to ms. myoui.”
gasps rippled through the room as the footage showed the woman leaving with the knife, her gloved hand clutching it tightly.
“your honor, this footage demonstrates that while the fingerprints on the knife may belong to my client, she wasn’t even present when it was taken from her residence,” mr. han concluded.
the prosecution stood, their expression unyielding. “this is circumstantial at best. a video of someone entering and exiting proves nothing without concrete evidence linking this individual to the crime. for all we know, this could be staged.”
mr. han didn’t flinch. “your honor, if the prosecution doubts the credibility of this footage, perhaps they’ll find the next piece of evidence more convincing.”
the courtroom tensed further.
“we have received additional evidence—photos and videos taken by the perpetrator themselves. these were submitted anonymously but corroborate the timeline and details of the incident.”
the prosecutor’s expression darkened. “objection! this evidence wasn’t disclosed during discovery. the defense is attempting to blindside us.”
mr. han’s composure wavered, frustration flashing in his eyes. “your honor, this is critical. withholding this evidence would be a miscarriage of justice. it directly impacts my client’s case and could determine her innocence.”
the judge leaned forward, their gaze piercing as they addressed the room. “you’ve been asking for substantial evidence, and now it’s presented before you. the court will accept it.”
the tension in the room broke as murmurs spread like wildfire. at the back of the room, an anonymous figure in a sharp blazer shifted in their seat—kim jennie. her jaw clenched, her annoyance barely concealed as she slipped out of the courtroom unnoticed.
the new evidence played, showing damning footage of the red-coated woman holding the knife and setting it down at the crime scene. her actions were deliberate, her face partially visible in some frames.
the judge deliberated briefly before delivering their verdict.
“after reviewing the evidence, it is clear that the defendant, myoui mina, is not guilty.”
relief flooded the room as mina’s parents embraced one another, tears streaming down their faces. sana and momo exchanged stunned glances before breaking into tentative smiles.
mina, though composed, allowed herself a small exhale of relief.
later, outside the courthouse, mina’s family and friends surrounded her. the air was thick with emotions—tears, laughter, and heartfelt embraces.
“you did it, mina,” momo said, her voice breaking slightly. “you’re finally free.”
“we never doubted you,” sana added, her bright smile tinged with emotion.
mina looked at them, her usually guarded demeanor softening. “thank you. all of you. i couldn’t have done this alone.”
mr. han approached, his expression a mix of pride and exhaustion. “it’s not over yet. we’ll need to investigate further to ensure the true culprit is brought to justice. but for now, enjoy this victory.”
mina nodded, her gaze turning toward the horizon. despite her freedom, a storm still brewed within her. there were questions unanswered, shadows lingering in the corners of her mind.
-----
your office was unusually quiet that afternoon, the kind of stillness that made the ticking clock on the wall seem deafening. work was supposed to keep your mind occupied, but instead, it only made the unease growing in your chest feel sharper.
your phone buzzed, the vibration cutting through the silence. absentmindedly, you picked it up, intending to swipe the notification away, but your eyes caught the headline: “myoui mina acquitted—court declares her not guilty.”
the name felt... strange. familiar yet distant. it lingered in your mind like a faint melody you couldn’t place.
you stared at the screen, furrowing your brows. why did it feel like this mattered?
“jihyo,” you called out, your voice firmer than you expected.
your assistant poked their head into the doorway, their usual cheerful expression replaced by a cautious one. “yes?”
you grabbed your coat, your movements abrupt and hurried. “i need you to drive me somewhere.”
jihyo blinked in confusion. “uh, where exactly are we going?”
you hesitated for a moment, realizing you didn’t have a clear answer. “just—” you waved your hand vaguely. “just drive. i’ll figure it out.”
jihyo hesitated but grabbed their keys and followed you out of the office. the elevator ride down was quiet, your thoughts too tangled to make sense of.
once inside the car, you tapped your fingers restlessly on the armrest, staring out the window as the city streets blurred by.
“you okay?” jihyo finally asked, stealing a quick glance at you.
“i don’t know,” you admitted, surprising even yourself with the honesty. “just... something doesn’t feel right.”
jihyo frowned but didn’t press further. they focused on the road while you sank deeper into your thoughts. the name from the article kept replaying in your head, like an unsolved riddle begging for an answer.
you didn’t know where this drive would take you. all you knew was that you needed to move.
-----
the car idled quietly outside the prison gates, jihyo tapping the steering wheel rhythmically. you sat in the passenger seat, furiously scribbling in a small notebook balanced precariously on your knee.
jihyo’s patience was running thin. “you know, when i said i’d help you, i didn’t sign up for prison stakeouts. care to explain why we’re here?”
without looking up, you muttered, “my ex-wife, who also happened to be my stalker, just got released. i need to know what she’s up to.”
jihyo stared at you, incredulous. “do you... hear yourself right now? we’re sitting outside a prison, watching your ex walk out, and you’re writing notes. i feel like you’re the stalker in this situation.”
your head snapped up, eyes wide with indignation. “what was that?!”
jihyo bit her lip, barely containing her amusement. “you heard me.”
you opened your mouth to argue but were interrupted by jihyo pointing toward the gates. “oh, by the way, there she is. have fun.”
your head whipped around, all your irritation dissolving as your gaze locked onto mina. she stepped out with a composed air, her parents flanking her. her mother immediately pulled her into a tight hug, while her father rested a hand on her shoulder, saying something you couldn’t quite make out.
your pen moved instinctively: family-oriented.
jihyo leaned over, peering at your notebook. “are you seriously taking notes on her like she’s a science experiment?”
“it’s for... context,” you said vaguely, eyes glued to the scene outside.
“context for what?” jihyo demanded, throwing her hands up in exasperation.
you ignored them as your focus shifted to momo, who was bounding over with a small container in hand. she thrust it toward mina, her grin unmistakable even from this distance.
“just try it! it’s good for you!” momo chirped.
mina recoiled slightly, her nose scrunching up. she took the container hesitantly, sniffed its contents, and immediately handed it back, shaking her head with an expression that screamed absolutely not.
doesn’t like natto, you wrote down.
jihyo groaned, burying her face in her hands. “this is painful to watch. you’re like a teenager with a crush, but worse. at least teenagers are subtle.”
“what was that?” you asked distractedly, not bothering to look up.
“nothing. keep doing your weird... note thing.”
just then, sana appeared, holding hiro by the hand. her bright demeanor seemed to light up the area as she guided the boy toward mina. after a few quiet words, she lifted him into mina’s arms.
your brow furrowed, and you leaned closer to the window. “isn’t that girl too young to be a mom?”
jihyo stiffened, her expression suddenly awkward. “uh... well...”
you gave her a sideways glance, but her avoidance didn’t register as your focus returned to mina. she was holding hiro gently, her expression uncharacteristically soft as she spoke to him. her parents stood nearby, beaming proudly, while momo and sana exchanged quiet laughter.
you couldn’t help but feel something stir in your chest—an unfamiliar mix of confusion, curiosity, and something else you couldn’t quite name.
as the group began making their way to a waiting car, mina’s gaze wandered. her eyes landed on your car, her expression unreadable.
panic hit you like a freight train. you ducked so quickly that your knee hit the dashboard, eliciting a sharp yelp.
jihyo turned to you, her jaw slack. “what the hell are you doing?”
“shh!” you hissed, clutching your notebook to your chest. “she almost saw me!”
jihyo blinked slowly, her confusion palpable. “okay, so... just to be clear, you’re stalking your ex-wife to make sure she’s not stalking you?”
you glared at them, heat rushing to your face. “i’m not stalking her! i’m just... observing.”
“yeah, that totally makes it better,” jihyo said dryly, leaning back in her seat. “you know what? have fun with this. i’ll just be here, pretending i don’t know you.”
you shot them a glare but said nothing as your attention flicked back to mina’s car pulling away. once the coast was clear, you slowly sat up, exhaling a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.
jihyo shook her head, muttering, “definitely not giving stalker vibes at all.”
you jabbed a finger in their direction. “i’ll deal with you later.”
jihyo smirked, rolling her eyes, tapping the steering wheel. “can’t wait.”
-----
the café buzzed with quiet chatter and the hum of brewing coffee. you sat in a secluded corner booth, notebook open, pen in hand, eyes glued to the table where mina, sana, and momo were seated with hiro. they were laughing, the sound muffled by the distance, but the sight was enough to stir something odd in your chest—annoyance? curiosity? who could tell?
you scribbled in your notebook:
two women—who are they? friends? accomplices? one is overly enthusiastic, other is quieter but equally engaged.
jihyo, seated across from you, sipped her coffee and squinted at your furious note-taking. “you look like you’re preparing for a criminal trial.”
“i’m gathering evidence,” you replied without looking up.
jihyo snorted. “evidence of what? that she’s having lunch with friends?”
before you could respond, your attention snapped back to mina. she picked up a piece of orange chicken with her chopsticks, her expression brightening as she chewed.
“likes orange chicken but doesn’t like natto,” you muttered, jotting it down. “what is she, a kid?”
jihyo burst out laughing, nearly spilling her coffee. “oh my god, you’re ridiculous.”
you glared at her. “what’s ridiculous is you treating this like a joke. this is serious.”
“serious stalking, maybe,” jihyo teased, leaning back in her chair. “you remind me of my younger self. you know, when i’d do dumb stuff for my crush.”
“i don’t have a crush,” you said defensively, snapping your notebook shut.
jihyo smirked. “sure you don’t. that’s why you’ve been obsessively documenting her every move.”
you opened your mouth to argue but stopped yourself, focusing instead on the scene across the room. mina laughed at something momo said, her hand lightly brushing hiro’s hair. sana beamed, clearly enjoying the moment, her animated gestures adding life to their table.
“who even are those women? i saw them before, when i left the hospital with jennie” you asked, more to yourself than jihyo.
you shot her a look. “are you trying to be helpful or make fun of me?”
jihyo shrugged. “depends. but listen, boss, if you really want my advice—”
“i’m not your boss right now” you interrupted.
she smiled slyly. “oh come on, and let me tell you, you weren’t as uptight back then. if you want to figure out what’s going on with her, stop overthinking and just... go with what feels right. not what other people are telling you.”
you frowned. “are you saying i should ignore the fact that she might be dangerous?”
jihyo hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “i’m saying you shouldn’t let someone else’s opinions—past or present—make decisions for you. your gut knows more than you think it does.”
you leaned back in your seat, chewing over her words as mina’s table erupted in laughter again. your pen hovered over the notebook, indecisive for the first time all day.
jihyo watched you, her expression softening. “just... don’t forget to breathe, okay? and maybe stop staring so hard. you’re gonna scare them off.”
“you’re terrible at this,” you muttered, but a small, reluctant smile tugged at your lips.
jihyo grinned. “you’re welcome.”
-----
your office was quiet, the hum of the city muffled by the thick glass windows. you were hunched over your desk, scribbling aimlessly on a piece of paper, trying to focus, when the door opened.
your head snapped up. standing there, as though he belonged, was your father.
“you shouldn’t be here,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended.
he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. “i thought it was time we talked.”
you leaned back in your chair, studying him with guarded eyes. “talk about what? about how you suddenly care now that i can’t even remember half my life?”
he flinched at your words, but his expression quickly settled into something calmer, almost pleading. “i care about you. i always have.”
“funny,” you said bitterly, standing and crossing your arms. “because that’s not what i’ve heard.”
“what are you talking about?” he asked, his brows furrowing.
you hesitated for a moment before your voice dropped, quieter but sharper. “remember when you took away my title as a lawyer to force me to marry mina?”
your father froze, his mouth opening slightly before he seemed to catch himself. “who told you that?”
“jennie,” you said simply, watching his face carefully.
“jennie…” he murmured, almost to himself. “she’s filling your head with lies—”
“don’t,” you interrupted, your tone icy. “she’s the only one who’s been honest with me. she’s been there when no one else was. not you, not mina. her.”
“you don’t remember everything,” he said, stepping closer, his voice trembling slightly. “you don’t know the full story. i—”
“and whose fault is that?” you snapped, cutting him off again. “you’re part of why i can’t piece my life together! you let this happen—you made this happen!”
his expression shifted, torn between anger and guilt. “i thought i was doing what was best for you.”
“best for me?” you repeated, your laugh bitter. “taking away my career? tying me to someone who clearly didn’t care about me? how is that ‘best for me’?”
he reached out, almost desperate now. “listen to me—”
you stepped back, your hands trembling as you clenched them into fists. “don’t touch me.”
the room fell into a suffocating silence, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on both of you.
“i’m sorry,” he finally said, his voice quiet but firm. “i didn’t know how else to—”
“save it,” you muttered, grabbing your coat from the back of your chair. “you’ve done enough.”
without waiting for his response, you brushed past him and opened the door.
“i love you,” he called after you as you walked out.
you didn’t stop. the sound of the door closing behind you felt like the only closure you could give.
-----
the elevator doors slid open with a soft chime as you stepped out, your gaze fixed on the notes you were scrolling through on your phone. it wasn’t until you looked up that you froze in your tracks. standing just a few feet away, waiting for the next elevator, was mina.
she was there in a crisp white blazer paired with tailored trousers, the kind of outfit that made her look effortlessly sophisticated. her hair fell neatly over her shoulders, tucked behind one ear to reveal pearl earrings. the mall’s lighting caught her just right, giving her an almost otherworldly air that made your breath catch.
your heart skipped a beat, and instinct took over before your mind could process. you stepped back into the elevator, jamming the close button with more force than necessary. the doors slid shut, leaving you staring at your slightly disheveled reflection in the mirrored walls.
what are you even doing?
you smoothed a hand over your clothes, tugging at your collar and brushing your hair back into place as if it would somehow prepare you. your palms felt clammy, and your heartbeat drummed in your ears.
“why am i acting like this?” you muttered under your breath, your tone frustrated. “she’s just mina. i shouldn’t be afraid of her.”
but the words felt empty, and deep down, you knew why. there was something about her presence that always made you feel like you were on uneven ground. still, the thought of running away didn’t sit right with you either.
mustering what little courage you had, you pressed the button to open the doors again. they slid apart, and you stepped out, only to find the hallway empty. she was gone.
confused, you glanced around before cautiously moving forward. as you turned a corner, you spotted her near one of the mall’s indoor fountains. her back was to you, but it was unmistakably her.
before you could decide whether to approach or leave, she turned. her eyes locked on yours immediately, like she had been expecting you.
“we need to talk,” mina said, her tone calm but resolute.
your breath hitched, and for a moment, you felt frozen, caught between unease and something you couldn’t quite name.
after a pause, you straightened your shoulders, trying to project confidence you didn’t fully feel. “fine,” you said, doing your best to sound composed. “let’s talk.”
you weren’t sure if you were convincing her—or yourself.
-----
the private dining room at the top of the myoui skyscraper was a picture of opulence. floor-to-ceiling windows showcased a glittering city skyline, while the soft hum of classical music filled the air. a table set for two rested in the center, the glow of candlelight casting a warm hue over the elegant decor.
you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, your fingers curling around the glass of water in front of you. the room felt too grand, too suffocating for a conversation you weren’t ready to have.
mina sat across from you, her appearance as immaculate as ever. her tailored black dress, paired with understated diamond earrings, only emphasized her composed demeanor. her posture was perfect, her hands folded delicately on the table, yet there was something in her gaze—soft but piercing—that made your chest tighten.
“thank you for agreeing to meet,” she began, her voice calm but measured.
“like i had much of a choice,” you muttered, glancing at the untouched plate before you.
she tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable. “you could’ve ignored me.”
“and let you keep hounding me? no thanks,” you retorted, your tone sharper than you intended.
a faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “i suppose persistence runs in the family.”
you leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms. “so? what is it you want this time, mina?”
she hesitated, her gaze dropping briefly before meeting yours again. “i want you to work for me.”
you blinked, caught completely off guard. “excuse me?”
“i want you to join the myoui corporation as the head of our legal team,” she said evenly, her tone leaving no room for ambiguity.
a laugh escaped you, bitter and incredulous. “you’re joking.”
“i’m not,” she replied, her voice steady.
“you really think I’d leave my current job to work for you?” you scoffed, shaking your head. “what kind of game are you playing, mina?”
“this isn’t a game,” she said quietly, though her words carried weight. “i need someone i can trust in that position. and i want you."
“trust?” you repeated, the word sour in your mouth. “you don’t trust me, mina. you never did.”
her expression faltered for the first time, a flicker of something unspoken crossing her features. “that’s not true,” she said softly.
“it’s hard to believe anything you say,” you shot back, your grip tightening around the edge of the table. “especially when—” you hesitated, your breath catching as a memory surfaced, murky and incomplete.
mina’s gaze softened, and the vulnerability in her eyes was disarming. “go on,” she urged gently.
you shook your head, frustration bubbling over. “it doesn’t matter. what matters is that you cheated on me. you broke my trust, mina. why should i believe you now?”
she flinched, her composure wavering for a split second. “you’re right,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “i did. and i’ve regretted it every day since. but that doesn’t mean i’ll stop trying to make things right.”
you laughed again, the sound hollow. “you’re fucking shameless, you know that? offering me a job while spouting apologies. do you really think i’m that desperate?”
“it’s not about desperation,” she said firmly. “it’s about giving you the place you deserve. a chance to stand beside me, not behind anyone else.”
her words hung heavily in the air, and for a moment, you couldn’t find a response.
“why are you looking at me like that?” you blurted out, your voice tinged with unease. “are you trying to seduce me or something?”
mina’s lips parted in surprise before a soft, humorless laugh escaped her. “no,” she said, shaking her head. “but i didn’t think you’d forget me so easily. or believe someone else over me.”
your chest tightened, anger and confusion swirling in equal measure. “what’s that supposed to mean?”
she hesitated, then stood, her movements slow and deliberate. “it means that i’m willing to do whatever it takes to make you remember who we were. to make you see me for who i really am—not the person someone else has painted me to be.”
you pushed your chair back, standing abruptly. “save your speeches, mina. i’m not the same person you once knew. i’m not that foolish, naive idiot anymore.”
“i know,” she said, her voice steady despite the sadness in her eyes. “but that doesn’t mean i’ll stop fighting for you.”
her words struck a nerve you couldn’t ignore, but you forced yourself to turn away, heading for the door.
as your hand gripped the handle, her voice stopped you. “don’t let someone else’s version of the truth define yours.”
you paused, her words cutting deeper than you cared to admit,.
“you said you're willing to do whatever it takes to make me remember,” you said without looking back. “maybe you should start by leaving me alone.”
and with that, you left, the weight of her words following you out into the night.
-----
the car moved smoothly through the city streets, the hum of the engine a faint backdrop to your thoughts. you leaned back in the leather seat, scrolling aimlessly through your phone. it was supposed to be a quiet evening, nothing to complicate the uneasy calm you’d managed to maintain since that dinner with mina.
“take me back to my apartment,” you told the driver, your voice distracted as you tapped on your phone.
“yes.” the driver replied, the sound of the turn signal clicking as they merged into the appropriate lane.
just as you were about to close your phone, a notification popped up on the screen. your brow furrowed as you opened it—a qr code, sent from an unfamiliar number. beneath it was a name that caught your attention: strike & pitch corporate center.
you stared at the name, the vague sense of familiarity gnawing at the edge of your mind. the logo—a baseball bat crossed with a home plate—meant nothing to you, but something about it tugged at a memory you couldn’t place.
your fingers hovered over the message details. the sender was listed simply as you.
“what the hell?” you muttered under your breath.
the driver glanced at you through the rearview mirror. “everything okay?”
“change of plans,” you said abruptly, your tone sharp. “take me to... this place.” you held out your phone, showing him the address embedded in the qr code.
the driver hesitated. “are you sure?”
“just do it,” you snapped, a surge of frustration rising in you—not at the driver, but at the sense of disorientation that had become all too common lately.
as the car shifted direction, you stared out the window, gripping your phone tightly. the name, the logo, even the act of receiving the message—it all felt like a cruel game. like someone was nudging you toward something you weren’t ready to face.
strike & pitch corporate center. why did it feel like you’d been there before
-----
as you stepped out of the car, the cool evening air enveloped you, biting at your skin. you hadn’t planned to be here, but the cryptic invite and the tug of something unexplainable had guided you to this unfamiliar, yet eerily nostalgic place. you clutched your phone tightly, staring at the faint glow of the qr code on the screen as you approached the entrance.
“welcome back,” the staff member at the door said, scanning the code. their tone carried a warmth that felt misplaced, like they knew something you didn’t.
you frowned, brushing past them. “back?” you muttered under your breath. the familiarity of the place clawed at your memory, a strange sense of déjà vu wrapping around you as you walked through the corridors.
the space was cavernous, its high ceilings illuminated by soft, artificial light. baseball memorabilia lined the walls, and the faint scent of leather and chalk filled the air. your eyes landed on a rack of bats. almost instinctively, you picked one up, the weight of it settling comfortably in your hands.
“huh,” you murmured, gripping it tighter as you made your way to the pitching machine. standing in front of it, you set yourself up, the bat raised.
the machine whirred, and you swung. the ball connected with a satisfying crack, soaring into the net at the other end. a rush of adrenaline pulsed through you, but before you could savor the moment, the sound of footsteps caught your attention.
"you didn't miss." a cold voice said and your mind whirled some memory surfacing before you shake your head refusing to remember.
then came the sound of heels clicking against the floor. you turned, and there she was—mina.
she was stunning, her tailored black dress suit fitting her perfectly, exuding elegance. but it was her expression that unsettled you. there was no coldness, no detachment—just a quiet sadness that made you shift uncomfortably under her gaze.
“what are you doing here?” you asked, your voice sharper than intended.
she held up her phone, her eyes steady. “you tell me.”
on the screen was the same invite you’d received.
you blinked, your confusion deepening. “i didn’t send that.”
“are you sure?” mina’s voice was calm, probing.
before you could respond, the lights dimmed, and a soft whirring sound filled the space. a projector came to life, casting a video onto the far wall.
your breath caught.
the first scene was unmistakable: your wedding day.
mina appeared on the screen first, seated in front of a vanity mirror. she was a vision in white, her wedding dress clinging to her frame like it was designed just for her. her makeup was flawless, yet her hands trembled slightly as she adjusted her veil.
“this is stupid,” past mina muttered, avoiding the camera. “why would i need a video like this? i don’t...” she trailed off, her reflection catching her eye.
“i don’t even know why i’m doing this,” she continued, her voice softening. “but if i’m watching this someday... maybe something’s gone wrong.” her lips pressed into a thin line. “maybe i’m regretting something. maybe i’m...” she faltered, shaking her head.
“just turn this off,” she said firmly, her voice laced with frustration. “turn it off and go back to work.”
there was a pause, and she glanced down, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her veil. “but if you’re still watching... i hope it worked. i hope i didn’t ruin it.” her voice broke slightly, and she looked away, blinking rapidly.
the screen shifted to another scene: you.
your past self sat in front of the camera, dressed in formalwear. you looked nervous, fidgeting with your hands, but there was a small, tentative smile on your lips.
“uh, hi,” you began awkwardly, glancing away before forcing yourself to meet the camera. “so... i guess this is for the future?” you chuckled nervously, running a hand through your hair.
“this isn’t what i imagined for myself,” you admitted, your voice quieter. “an arranged marriage wasn’t part of the plan, but... i guess life happens.”
you hesitated, your smile fading slightly. “i’m scared,” you confessed. “i don’t know her that well, and... she scares me a little. but...”
your past self looked down, then back up, determination flickering in your eyes. “but i want this to work. i want to be good to her. and i... i hope she’s good to me.”
your voice softened even more, as though speaking directly to your future self. “just... don’t make her cry, okay? promise me that
the screen went dark, and the lights came back on. you stood frozen, the weight of the past pressing down on you. you stood frozen, staring at the blank wall where your past self’s words had just played, echoing in your mind. beside you, mina was unnervingly still, her gaze fixed on the floor. the weight of the moment was suffocating, a mix of confusion, anger, and something else clawing at your chest.
a staff member appeared, breaking the quiet. they approached mina first, handing her a bouquet of white lilies.
“mrs. myoui, these are yours.” they turned to you, “you rented out the space about two months ago and asked us to deliver mrs. myoui her favorite flowers. you used to come here often.”
“when?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
“three years ago,” they repeated, “and mrs. myoui was with you the last time. i think you guys were only developing your relationship back then.”
a small envelope was perched delicately on top of the flowers. mina hesitated for a moment before taking it, but before she could open it, your hand shot out, snatching the envelope from the bouquet.
“give me that,” you muttered, ripping it open. the paper inside felt fragile, like it might disintegrate under your touch.
the words written were unmistakably yours.
another happy anniversary, my love. i don’t know if i deserve you, but i’ll spend every day trying to. here’s to us.
your breath hitched, and a bitter laugh escaped your lips. “what the hell is this?” you said, holding up the letter. “why would i write something like this? why would i celebrate a marriage with someone who—”
“who what?” mina interrupted, her voice calm but tinged with sadness. “who hurt you? who made mistakes?” she took a step closer, her eyes soft but steady. “or someone who loved you, despite everything?”
you stared at her, anger flaring. “don’t twist this around. you cheated on me, mina. what are you trying to prove?”
mina flinched at your words, her composure cracking just slightly. “i don’t blame you for moving on,” she said quietly, her voice wavering. “but you didn’t move on. you erased me. and now, you won’t even question why.”
“because there’s nothing to question!” you shot back, your voice rising. “you think i’d believe anything you after everything you’ve done?”
mina stepped closer, her gaze unwavering now, piercing through you. “then don’t believe me,” she said firmly. “but don’t believe jennie, either.”
you froze at the mention of her name, a chill running down your spine. “what are you talking about?”
“she didn’t protect you,” mina said softly, the weight of her words sinking into the air. “she isolated you. she fed you lies about me because it benefited her. because she wanted you to depend on her.”
your jaw tightened, your grip on the letter trembling. “that’s not true. jennie’s always looked out for me.”
mina let out a hollow laugh, shaking her head. “looked out for you? she made sure you’d never question what she told you. she kept you away from me because she knew if you ever remembered... you’d realize the truth.”
her words hit like a hammer, each one cracking the foundation of your certainty. your gaze dropped, unwilling to meet hers, and instead, it landed on her hand. the light caught her wedding ring, the delicate band glinting softly.
you stared at it, your mind a chaotic mess. you couldn’t look at her anymore. you couldn’t think straight. the past you thought you knew, the anger you’d clung to—it all felt unsteady, like a house of cards ready to collapse.
“you don’t have to believe me,” mina said, her voice softer now, almost pleading. “just... don’t let her keep doing this to you. think for yourself. remember who you were.”
her words hung in the air as you turned away, the letter crumpled in your fist. your heart was racing, your mind screaming for clarity that wouldn’t come.
“i don’t know who i was,” you muttered, more to yourself than to her.
mina took a step back, her gaze lingering on you. “then figure it out,” she said quietly. “but don’t let someone else decide for you.”
her words followed you as you walked away, leaving her standing there with the flowers in her hands, a sad, defeated look on her face.
-----
you stepped out of the car, your legs feeling heavier than usual as you approached the towering gates of jennie’s mansion. the chill in the night air wasn’t enough to explain the cold that settled deep in your chest. this wasn’t the first time you’d walked into this house, but tonight, everything about it felt... off.
the staff at the door greeted you with their usual professionalism, but their eyes lingered on you a moment too long, like they knew something they weren’t saying. you nodded briskly and entered, the echo of your footsteps against the marble floors amplifying the unease curling in your stomach.
each step closer to her room felt like crossing an invisible line, one you weren’t sure you could come back from. the hallway stretched endlessly, dim light pooling around your feet with every step. when you reached her door, you hesitated, your fist hovering in the air for a moment before knocking. the sound was hollow, unnervingly loud in the quiet.
“come in,” her voice called from the other side, smooth and detached, with an edge that made your chest tighten.
you pushed the door open and stepped inside. the smell of expensive perfume mixed faintly with the sharp tang of alcohol, wrapping around you like a suffocating haze. jennie was sitting by the window, draped in a silk robe that caught the dim light just right. her hair was loose, a little messier than usual, and a glass of amber liquid dangled loosely in her hand. she turned to look at you, her lips curling into a faint, unreadable smirk.
“well, if it isn’t you,” she said, her tone light but edged with something you couldn’t place. she raised her glass slightly in mock salute.
you didn’t sit down immediately, your eyes scanning the room. “what’s going on with you?” you asked, your voice steady but tinged with concern. “why are you drinking like this?”
she let out a soft laugh, the sound low and hollow, like a melody missing its key notes. “you’re worried about me,” she said, almost to herself. her gaze flickered to the glass in her hand before meeting yours. “that’s... sweet. it feels nice.”
the way she said it—like the idea of you caring for her was foreign—made your stomach churn.
“what’s so funny?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.
“nothing,” she said, waving her glass slightly before taking another sip. “it’s just... ironic, i guess.”
“ironic?” you echoed, confused and irritated by her evasiveness.
she didn’t answer, her gaze distant as she stared out the window.
you exhaled sharply, deciding to cut through whatever game she was playing. “i didn’t come here for this,” you said firmly. “i have a question—”
“hold that thought,” jennie interrupted, standing abruptly. “i need another drink.” she glanced back at you over her shoulder, a ghost of her smirk returning. “want one?”
“no,” you said curtly, watching as she sauntered over to the door probably going to her own bar.
as soon as she disappeared from view, a faint buzzing sound drew your attention to the coffee table. her ipad screen lit up with a notification: footage system – recent upload available.
your curiosity spiked, your gaze darting between the ipad and the doorway where jennie had disappeared. after a moment’s hesitation, you picked it up, your fingers trembling slightly as you unlocked the screen.
the notification led to a video—grainy footage from a hidden camera. the thumbnail showed jennie and bambam in a car, their faces illuminated by dim interior lighting.
your heart thudded in your chest as you pressed play. the video was silent, but their body language spoke volumes. jennie leaned in close to bambam, her expression one of sharp intensity.
you zoomed in on the footage, trying to piece together the context.
the sudden sound of jennie’s footsteps snapped you out of your focus. your hands moved quickly, exiting the video and locking the ipad before placing it back down, your heart racing as you leaned back in your seat, feigning nonchalance.
jennie returned, another glass in hand. she didn’t seem to notice anything amiss as she sat down across from you, her movements fluid but slower than usual.
“so,” she said, swirling the liquid in her glass. “what was it you wanted to ask?”
you hesitated, your mind still reeling from the video. you struggled to gather your thoughts, your fingers twitching slightly in your lap.
“never mind,” you said finally, your tone tighter than you intended.
jennie tilted her head, her smirk returning but softer this time. “don’t ‘never mind’ me,” she said, her voice playful but with an edge. “you came all the way here. what is it you wanted to know?”
you took a steadying breath, trying to push aside the unease. “what’s going on with you, jennie? why are you like this?”
her smirk wavered, just for a moment, before she looked down at her glass. “do you ever think about just... leaving all this behind?” she asked, her voice quieter now, almost wistful.
“what?” you asked, caught off guard by the sudden shift.
“the states,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “we could go there. start fresh. wouldn’t that be nice?”
you blinked, trying to make sense of her words. “what are you talking about?”
jennie smiled faintly, but there was no joy in it. “it’s funny,” she said, almost to herself. “being abandoned by everyone you care about. it’s lonely, but... freeing, in a way.”
her words hit you like a slap, but you didn’t let it show. “are you sure i was the one who was abandoned?” you asked, your voice cutting through the tension.
her mask cracked. her eyes widened ever so slightly, and for the first time, she looked genuinely vulnerable.
“do you think i’m lying?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, but it carried the weight of something raw and unguarded.
“it’s not that...” you started, but the words caught in your throat.
“then what?” she pressed, leaning forward. her gaze was piercing now, stripping away whatever defense you had left.
you stood abruptly, needing to get out of the suffocating room. “we’ll talk when you’re sober,” you said, your tone clipped as you turned toward the door.
before you could take another step, her hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist. her grip was firm but trembling, her fingers cold against your skin.
“don’t go,” she whispered, her voice breaking ever so slightly.
you looked down at her hand, your stomach twisting. after a long pause, you gently but firmly pushed her hand away.
“goodnight, jennie,” you said, your voice quieter now but no less resolute.
as you walked out of the room, you could feel her gaze burning into your back. the soft clink of her glass against the table and the sound of her shaky exhale followed you down the hallway, echoing in your mind long after you’d left.
-----
the room felt like it was closing in on you. everything about this space—your desk, the bookshelves, even the faint scent of coffee in the air—should’ve been familiar. but it wasn’t. not anymore.
you sat at your desk, phone in hand, your thumb hovering over jihyo’s contact. a shaky breath escaped your lips before you pressed call.
“hello?” her voice came through, warm but cautious.
“jihyo.” your voice cracked slightly, and you cleared your throat. “i need a favor.”
“what’s wrong?”
“i lost my phone,” you lied. the words felt like gravel in your throat. “and i need mina’s number. can you send it to me?”
there was a pause, heavy and almost unbearable.
“...you’re calling her?” jihyo finally said, disbelief in her tone.
“yes.”
“okay. give me a minute.”
the call ended, and you set your phone down, staring blankly at the wall. your chest felt hollow, the weight of the past few days pressing harder than ever.
your gaze wandered, landing on the small safe tucked in the corner. something about it tugged at you—a faint echo of a memory just out of reach.
without thinking, you got up and knelt in front of it. the keypad stared back at you, taunting.
you tried a few random combinations, each failed attempt chipping away at your patience.
and then, as if whispered by a ghost, a date surfaced in your mind. march 24, 1997.
you froze. the thought alone was enough to make your chest tighten.
hands trembling, you typed: 032497.
the lock clicked. the sound reverberated through the silence, startling you.
inside, neatly placed, was a leather-bound notebook, an envelope, and a charm—a delicate four-leaf clover encased in glass.
your hand hesitated over the charm first, a flicker of something—familiarity? longing?—coursing through you. setting it down, you picked up the notebook, its worn edges soft under your touch.
just as you opened it, your phone buzzed. jihyo’s text lit up the screen with mina’s number.
you stared at it for what felt like an eternity, your hand hovering just above the device. the thought of calling her felt like plunging into ice water, but the lingering ache from the diary’s words pushed you forward.
you picked up the phone with trembling hands, thumb hesitating over the number before pressing the call button.
the line rang once, twice—each second dragging like an eternity.
“hello?” mina’s voice came through, soft but cautious, and it hit you like a punch to the gut.
you swallowed hard. “mina.”
a pause. the way she said your name next was barely above a whisper. “is this really you?”
“i... we need to talk.” your voice was firmer than you expected, but inside, your heart was racing.
mina was silent for a moment, and you could hear her take a steadying breath. “what is this about?”
“where are you?” you asked, dodging the question.
she hesitated before answering, her voice carefully neutral. “at home.”
“i’m coming over,” you said without waiting for her permission, ending the call before she could respond.
you set the phone down with a shaky hand, exhaling a breath you didn’t know you were holding. the tension in your chest didn’t ease—instead, it grew.
silence returned, but the weight of it felt different now. your gaze drifted back to the notebook, the pull of it irresistible.
sitting down on the floor, you opened it carefully, as if the pages might crumble beneath your touch.
the first line of handwriting stopped you cold. it was yours—messy, uneven, but undeniably yours.
you inhaled sharply as the first entry stared back at you.
april 2nd, 2023
the day we signed the marriage papers, i couldn’t look her in the eyes. i felt like i was selling my soul—or maybe just giving it away for nothing in return. she sat there, perfectly calm, her pen gliding across the pages like it was just another business deal. i wanted to scream at her, ask her why she was so okay with this, but instead, i just signed my name and sealed my fate.
when we left the gala she turned to me and said, “this is the best decision for both of us.” i almost laughed. i wanted to ask her, “best decision for who? you or your family?” but i didn’t. i just nodded and let her lead me into this life i didn’t ask for.
your chest tightened, and a dull throb echoed in your head. a blurry image flashed—a ring, her hand slipping it onto yours. your breaths grew shallow.
may 3rd, 2023
i don’t know what possessed me to start writing this, but... here we are. it feels kind of weird to pour all of this onto a page, but maybe it’ll help me figure things out. maybe it’ll remind me of why i agreed to this whole... arranged marriage thing. why i agreed to mina.
she’s cold, distant, and sometimes I think she hates me. but then... she’ll do something small, like bring me tea when i’m up late or adjust my tie before a meeting, and suddenly it’s like the ice cracks. i see her warmth, even if she doesn’t realize it’s there.
i don’t know what the future holds for us, but... i hope we can make this work. i hope she lets me in. i hope she doesn’t regret choosing me.
your breath hitched. suddenly, like a tide crashing over you, an image surfaced: mina, seated across from you in a sterile restaurant with her mother, her expression unreadable but her gaze piercing.
the ache in your chest deepened as you turned the page.
june 10th, 2023
we moved in together today. the house feels more like a museum than a home—cold, empty, too perfect. she barely said a word the whole time, just directed the movers like a conductor leading an orchestra. i tried to make conversation, but every time i spoke, it felt like my words hit a wall and fell to the ground.
that night, i sat alone in the living room, staring at the boxes i hadn’t unpacked. she walked in, her face as unreadable as ever, and handed me a cup of tea. “you should get some rest,” she said, her voice soft but distant. i wanted to tell her that rest was the last thing i needed, that i needed to feel like i wasn’t completely alone in this, but instead, i just nodded and watched her walk away.
august 27th, 2023
we had our first real fight today. it was about something stupid—her working late and not telling me. but somehow, it turned into this huge argument about communication and respect. for the first time, i saw her lose her composure. she snapped at me, her voice sharp and full of frustration, and for a moment, i thought she hated me.
but then, just as quickly, she softened. she apologized. i didn’t even know she was capable of that. “i’m not used to this,” she admitted, her eyes avoiding mine. “to... us.”
it wasn’t much, but it felt like a crack in the armor she always wore. for the first time, i thought that maybe—just maybe—there was a real person underneath all that perfection.
your hands trembled, the notebook growing heavier in your grip. you squeezed your eyes shut, but it didn’t stop the flood.
you saw her smile—soft, unguarded, so unlike the mask she wore for everyone else. it wasn’t just a memory; it was a feeling.
you flipped through the pages quickly, each word cutting deeper than the last.
december 1st, 2023
hiro came into our lives today.
it was mina’s idea to have an heir. at first, i thought she was doing it for appearances, to play the part of the perfect wife in the perfect family. but when she held him for the first time, i saw something in her eyes i’d never seen before: warmth.
she spent hours with him that first night, rocking him to sleep, whispering to him in japanese. i didn’t understand most of what she was saying, but it didn’t matter. the way she looked at him, the way her voice softened—it was like she was a completely different person. for the first time, our house felt like a home.
hiro.
the name hit you like a thunderbolt. flashes of a small boy—dark, curious eyes, a shy smile—flickered in your mind.
“hiro,” you whispered, the name feeling both foreign and familiar on your tongue.
your hands shook as you turned the page, desperate for more.
february 14th, 2024
valentine’s day. i didn’t expect her to even acknowledge it, but she surprised me. when i came to work that morning, there was a small bouquet of flowers on the table and a handwritten note. “thank you for putting up with me.” that was all it said. no grand declarations of love, no flowery prose—just a simple, honest message.
later that night, we sat together on the couch, hiro asleep in her arms. she leaned her head on my shoulder, and for the first time, it didn’t feel awkward or forced. it just felt... right.
may 30th, 2024
mina smiled at me today—not the polite, practiced smile she gives to everyone else, but a real, genuine smile. it was because of something stupid hiro did—he tried to feed his toy dinosaur some rice, and when it didn’t work, he threw the toy across the room in frustration. mina laughed so hard she had tears in her eyes, and when she looked at me, it was like she was letting me in on a secret.
in that moment, i realized something: the cold, distant woman i married was gone. in her place was someone who cared, someone who felt, someone who was learning how to love. and i think—no, i know—that i love her too.
your vision blurred as tears filled your eyes. the memories were rushing back, each one hitting you like a tidal wave.
the notebook slipped from your hands, landing open to another page.
you turned to the final entry, the ink slightly smudged as if it had been written in a rush—or through tears.
if we grow old together, i don’t want to forget you, mina. i don’t want to treat you like a stranger and forget. you’re the only person i want to remember.
as you read, the memories came rushing back—mina’s laugh, her touch, the way her walls slowly came down over time.
you remembered the way she looked at you the day hiro was born, the way her hand lingered in yours just a little too long. you remembered the sound of her voice as she read bedtime stories to hiro in japanese, her soft laughter as she stumbled over the english translations.
and most of all, you remembered the way she smiled at you that night on the couch, her head resting on your shoulder, her guard finally—finally—down.
it was like a dam had broken inside you, the memories flooding back all at once, overwhelming and painful and beautiful.
as you moved to stand, your gaze landed on the open notebook once more. a faint metallic glint caught your eye, and you reached down to pick up the lucky charm that had fallen earlier.
your fingers brushed over its smooth surface, the glass cold against your skin.
you looked back at the diary, looking at the final page again, where your past self had poured everything out in raw, desperate handwriting.
“i don’t want to treat you like a stranger and forget. you’re the only person i want to remember.”
the irony of it all felt like a cruel joke.
your fingers curled tightly around the charm as you turned to leave, stuffing it into your pocket. you didn’t bother closing the diary, leaving it open on the desk like a scar you couldn’t bring yourself to cover.
whatever awaited you at mina’s, it couldn’t hurt worse than this.
at least, that’s what you told yourself.
-----
you were gripping the steering wheel so tightly your knuckles turned white. the road ahead blurred through your tear-streaked vision, headlights casting fleeting shadows on the empty streets. your heart felt like it was caught in a vice, the weight of your emotions threatening to drown you.
you dialed jihyo’s number, voice breaking as you spoke. "jihyo, please follow my location... i need you to come." you didn’t give an explanation—there wasn’t time. your hands were shaking as you hung up.
your hands fumbled to send your live location as you navigated towards the address mina had given you. the snowy streets seemed endless, every passing moment a reminder of the distance between you and her.
"i’m sorry," you whispered to the empty car, to yourself, to mina. "i’m so sorry for everything. for hurting you." your voice cracked. "for forgetting you."
meanwhile, miles away, a notification pinged on jennie’s phone—a tracker alert. her jaw tightened as she opened the app, her fury mounting as she saw your car’s movement.
"what the hell are you doing?" jennie hissed under her breath, slamming her glass of wine down as she grabbed her coat and stormed out of her room.
the cold air bit at you the moment you stepped out of the car, but it didn’t register. all you could focus on was the lump in your throat, the suffocating guilt, the overwhelming fear that you wouldn’t make it in time.
the address mina had given you echoed in your head like a mantra. and there, through the flurry of snowflakes, you saw her.
mina.
she stood just outside her penthouse, wrapped up against the cold, her face illuminated by the harsh lights of the building. she spotted you immediately, and for a moment, her expression softened—relief flooding her features as she began walking briskly towards the lane.
you mirrored her movement, your heart pounding in your chest as you closed the distance. you were so close.
"stay there!" mina shouted, her voice sharp but trembling with emotion. "don’t move—i’ll come to you!"
you nodded, tears still streaming as you stood frozen on your side of the lane, the red light glowing between you. the snow muffled everything except the sound of your racing heartbeat.
but as she waited, a car suddenly came screeching from the side, its headlights blinding. before you could react, someone grabbed you, yanking you back. the world spun as you felt yourself being dragged, your cry swallowed by the sound of a truck roaring past mina’s view.
mina’s steps faltered, her eyes wide with confusion as the truck cleared the lane, and you were gone.
"no!" her voice cracked, rising in pitch as panic set in. she ran to the spot, her breaths ragged, her heart pounding in her ears. "where are you?! where did you go?!"
she spun around, her wide eyes scanning the empty street, her chest heaving. "this can’t be happening," she whispered, her voice shaking as she stumbled forward, desperate.
but you were gone.
minutes passed. the snowfall grew thicker, masking the world around her. mina’s breaths came in sharp gasps now, her composure crumbling as the realization set in.
"where are you..." she murmured, her voice breaking. she stumbled to the curb, gripping the icy edge of a lamppost as her legs threatened to give out.
she stopped, suddenly still, her breath coming in short, panicked bursts.
"this can’t be happening," she whispered, more to herself than anyone else. her hands gripped her head, her knuckles white with the effort. "no... no, not again..."
minutes later, jihyo arrived, stepping out of her car with wide, worried eyes. "where are they?"
mina whirled around, her voice breaking. "they were here! i saw them—they were right there!" she pointed to the spot across the lane, her hand trembling.
jihyo pulled out her phone, quickly accessing the tracker. "i’ve got their location," she said, her voice firm.
mina didn’t wait for an explanation. "get in the car," she ordered, her tone urgent.
the two women climbed into jihyo’s vehicle, the tracker blinking with every second as they sped off into the night.
mina stared out the window, her fists clenched so tightly her nails bit into her palms. her mind raced with fear and dread.
"just hold on," she whispered, as though willing the universe to listen. "please, just hold on."
-----
you woke with a jolt, your head pounding, confusion clouding your mind. the room you were in was unfamiliar, cold. disorienting. the soft rustle of footsteps echoed through the silence, growing louder, and your pulse spiked. instinct kicked in, and before you could even think, you grabbed a vase from the nearby table, clutching it like a weapon. you squeezed your eyes shut, your heart pounding in your chest as you held your breath.
the footsteps grew closer. closer. the door creaked open. without a second thought, you swung the vase with all your strength. it collided with the man who entered, sending him stumbling back, groaning in pain. you didn’t wait for him to recover. you bolted.
you ran as fast as your legs could carry you, into the living room, trying to make sense of your surroundings. and then you saw her. jennie. standing in the middle of the room, the barrel of a shotgun resting casually in her hands, her cold gaze locked on you.
the sight of her hit you like a punch to the gut. flashes of your past with jennie, your past engagement, the trips to the kim family’s hunting grounds—everything you once thought you knew about her rushed back, only to feel utterly wrong in the moment.
memories flickered and died, their edges sharp and disjointed. you couldn’t grasp them, couldn’t hold onto them long enough to make sense of anything.
your mind was racing, but your body was frozen. you couldn’t move.
the bodyguard, the one you’d knocked out earlier, entered the room, disheveled, his face twisted with guilt as he bowed to jennie. "sorry, miss," he muttered, his voice low. "i failed."
jennie waved him off, her voice ice-cold. "it’s fine. you’re dismissed." she didn’t spare him another glance as he hurried out of the room.
it was just the two of you now.
jennie took a step forward, and you instinctively took a step back. her eyes locked on yours, her gaze piercing through you. "what are you doing?" she asked, her voice deceptively calm. "visiting mina?"
the words twisted in your chest. everything in you screamed to lie, to avoid the confrontation, but you couldn’t. "did you take me against my will?" you spat, your voice trembling despite the anger.
her eyes hardened, her lips curling into a cold smirk. "i didn’t want you to get hurt," she said, her tone eerily smooth. "mina's manipulation runs deep. you can’t see it, but i can. i couldn't let you go back to her. not after everything she’s done to you."
you shook your head, struggling to keep your composure. "i—" you hesitated, your thoughts jumbled. "i was there because i read a book," you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. "it had information about mina… and our marriage."
a flicker of doubt crossed jennie’s face, but she quickly masked it. her eyes narrowed slightly, her hand tightening around the shotgun, as if it would somehow give her control of the situation. "a book," she repeated, her voice dripping with skepticism. "you expect me to believe that?"
you rushed to recover, trying to regain some sense of control. you forced a smile, one that felt wrong on your lips. "maybe it was someone copying my handwriting," you said, almost sweetly. "but you… you could’ve just taken me back home, jennie. you don’t have to do this."
"jennie, let's go back home. i'm sorry for doubting you, i won't ever do it again. i promise." you mumble your hands shaking as you tried to appear confident.
for a moment, jennie didn’t respond, just watching you with those cold, calculating eyes. you could feel her presence, heavy, suffocating. her fingers brushed your cheek, a touch so gentle, it almost made you flinch. "no," she said simply. "we’re leaving for the U.S. tonight. at midnight."
the words felt like a slap. your stomach dropped, your mind spinning. "what?" you asked, your voice shaking. "no, jennie. i—"
she cut you off, her voice cold, final. "don’t fight me on this. you’re coming with me, whether you like it or not."
your pulse quickened. "no," you repeated, shaking your head. "jennie, please. i—"
before you could say anything more, the door crashed open, and the guards stormed in, grabbing you roughly. you fought back, your body thrashing as they overpowered you, dragging you through the hallway and into a private bedroom.
your heart raced in your chest. you were panicking, trying to think of a way out, but your mind was a blur. the guards shoved you into the room, tossing you onto the bed with a force that made you fall while your leg bumped the bedside table. you tried to scramble to your feet, but the door slammed shut behind you with a deafening thud. you groan at the pain settling and and sat down at the floor.
you were trapped. suffocating. everything felt like it was closing in.
you didn’t know how to escape. you didn’t know how to fix this.
and yet, you couldn’t stop fighting. you wouldn’t give up. not yet.
-----
the car came to a jarring stop, tires skidding slightly on the icy road as jihyo glanced nervously at the imposing gates ahead. the storm was worsening, with thick snowflakes swirling like a suffocating veil, obscuring the land beyond. mina barely noticed. her eyes were locked on the ominous wooden sign by the gate, the words carved deep into the aged surface: “BEWARE KIM’S PROPERTY.”
her breath clouded in the freezing air as she stepped out of the car. jihyo scrambled to follow, calling out, “mina! wait! what are you doing?”
mina didn’t answer. her mind was racing, her heart pounding in her chest. she could barely feel the cold biting at her skin as she took in the high stone walls and shadowed periphery of the property. every instinct screamed danger, but that didn’t matter. not when they could be here.
jihyo caught up, grabbing mina’s arm. “this is insane! look at this place! we don’t even know if they’re already gone!”
mina yanked her arm free, her voice sharp and unyielding. “i know they’re here, jihyo. i can feel it.” she turned to face her, eyes blazing despite the storm. “call the cops if you want, but i’m not waiting for anyone.”
jihyo hesitated, fear and worry evident on her face. “mina, this isn’t—”
“just do it!” mina hissed before turning back to the gate. she crouched low, her sharp eyes scanning the grounds beyond. the guards were spread out, moving methodically through their patrols, but the snowfall worked to her advantage, obscuring her from their view.
clenching her fists to steady herself, she edged along the wall, searching for any sign of an opening. her breath came in shallow gasps as the cold air burned her lungs. her coat wasn’t nearly enough for this weather, and her fingers were quickly going numb, but she pressed on.
finally, her hand brushed against a patch of uneven stone near the base of the wall. squinting through the storm, she realized it wasn’t just stone—there was a narrow drainage grate embedded in the ground. it was small, barely big enough for someone her size to squeeze through.
mina knelt, her heart hammering as she tugged at the grate. it didn’t budge. she cursed under her breath, glancing over her shoulder at the guards in the distance. her fingers fumbled with the cold metal, pulling harder until her palms ached. the storm muffled most sounds, but she couldn’t risk making too much noise.
finally, with a grating screech that made her flinch, the metal shifted. she slipped inside, landing awkwardly on the frozen ground below. the narrow tunnel smelled of damp earth and rust, the faint trickle of melting snow dripping somewhere nearby. she crawled forward, her knees scraping against the uneven surface.
the passage seemed endless, and for a moment, panic set in. her breath came faster, her chest tightening as the walls pressed in around her. but then she saw it—a faint glow at the other end.
mina emerged into a small utility shed, the interior dimly lit by a flickering overhead bulb. it must have been part of the property’s maintenance area, though it looked like it hadn’t been used in years.
she pushed the door open just a crack, peering out. the main estate loomed ahead, its towering structure dark against the snowy backdrop. guards were stationed closer now, their heavy boots crunching through the snow as they patrolled.
mina’s pulse quickened. she had no idea how she would get past them, but there was no time to think. she adjusted her coat, pulling it tighter around herself to blend into the shadows as best she could.
the snow made it harder to move quietly, every step leaving tracks that could give her away. she hugged the wall, slipping between hedges and outbuildings, her heart lurching every time a flashlight beam swept too close.
then, as she rounded a corner, her foot caught on a patch of ice. she stumbled, barely catching herself before hitting the ground. the noise drew the attention of a nearby guard.
“who’s there?” the man called, his flashlight cutting through the darkness.
mina’s breath hitched. she pressed herself against the wall, praying the storm would mask her presence. the guard moved closer, his footsteps crunching louder with every step.
her fingers brushed against something in her pocket—a small, loose rock she’d picked up earlier without thinking. she gritted her teeth, then tossed it toward the opposite end of the yard. the faint clatter was enough to draw the guard’s attention, and he turned away, muttering curses as he went to investigate.
mina exhaled shakily, her legs trembling as she forced herself to move again. she was close now. just a little further.
then she saw it—a side entrance, half-hidden by an overgrown hedge. the door was locked, but as her hand brushed against the handle, it gave way with a faint click.
a rush of relief flooded her as she slipped inside, her heart pounding in her ears. she was in.
the interior was dark and unwelcoming, the faint smell of gun oil and wood lingering in the air. it looked like some sort of storage area—rows of cabinets lined the walls, along with hunting gear that seemed meticulously maintained. the eerie silence made her hyperaware of every sound she made, from her shallow breaths to the soft crunch of snow still stuck to her boots.
mina moved cautiously, staying close to the walls as she navigated through the room. every shadow seemed to shift, every creak of the old wooden floorboards setting her nerves on edge. the estate was much larger up close, and it was clear she was nowhere near the main living quarters.
just as she turned a corner, a sudden sound made her freeze.
footsteps. close. deliberate.
her heart jumped into her throat as she pressed herself flat against the wall, her hands trembling. a flashlight beam swept across the room ahead, casting long, menacing shadows that danced across the walls.
“thought i heard something…” a low voice muttered, the guard’s tone sharp with suspicion.
mina bit down on her lip, her breath barely audible as she gripped the edge of a nearby cabinet for balance. her mind raced, weighing her options. run? hide? fight? none of them seemed feasible, not with the guard just a few feet away.
the footsteps grew louder, and she could see the edge of the flashlight’s beam creeping closer. she shifted slightly, her hand brushing against something cold and metallic on the cabinet—a hunting knife, still in its sheath. she didn’t think; she just grabbed it, tucking it into her coat.
the guard’s shadow loomed larger, the beam of light now just inches from her hiding spot. her pulse thundered in her ears as she backed further into the darkness, every instinct screaming at her to move, to escape, but her legs refused to obey.
“i swear i heard something,” the guard said again, stepping fully into the room. his flashlight swept over the cabinets, the hunting gear, the floor—and then, just as it began to drift toward her corner—
a loud crash echoed from somewhere deeper in the estate.
the guard cursed, spinning on his heel. “damn it. what now?” he muttered, hurrying toward the noise.
mina didn’t move for a long moment, her breath coming in quick, shallow bursts as she listened to his retreating footsteps. she clutched the knife tighter, her palms slick with sweat despite the freezing cold.
finally, when the silence stretched long enough to feel safe, she forced herself to move, her legs trembling as she slipped further into the estate.
but the reprieve was short-lived. another sound reached her ears—not the crash this time, but something softer.
a voice. faint, distant, yet unmistakable.
“mina…”
her blood ran cold, her steps faltering.
it wasn’t possible. was it?
she turned slowly, her breath hitching as she strained to listen. the voice came again, clearer this time.
“mina…”
her name, spoken in a tone that sent shivers down her spine. it wasn’t the guard. it wasn’t anyone she expected.
before she could process what was happening, the beam of another flashlight lit up the hallway just ahead of her.
“there! someone’s here!”
her heart stopped.
-----
you pressed your ear against the cold wooden door, listening for any sounds beyond it. muffled footsteps and occasional voices filtered through, but nothing distinct enough to tell you how many guards were stationed nearby.
your mind raced. you needed to get out of here—but how? the barred window offered no escape, and the door was locked from the outside.
in a moment of desperation, you banged on the door, feigning panic.
“help! i need help!” your voice cracked, laced with urgency.
the footsteps outside stopped.
“what’s wrong in there?” a gruff voice called.
“please, it’s an emergency!” you continued, your tone shaking. “there’s glass everywhere, and i think i cut myself. i’m bleeding!”
the handle jiggled, and you stepped back, holding your breath.
the door creaked open, revealing one of jennie’s guards—a burly man with a skeptical look on his face. his eyes swept the room before landing on you.
“where’s the glass?” he asked, his tone wary.
you widened your eyes, feigning distress as you gestured vaguely toward the table.
“it—it fell over there,” you stammered, taking a small step closer to him.
he turned his head slightly, and that was all you needed.
with a swift, calculated movement, you clenched your fist and drove it into his jaw. the impact sent a sharp pain shooting through your knuckles, but it was worth it—the guard staggered back, stunned.
before he could recover, you grabbed the back of his head and slammed it against the doorframe. he crumpled to the floor with a groan, unconscious.
your chest heaved as you stepped over his limp body, adrenaline coursing through your veins.
the hallway stretched out before you, dimly lit and eerily quiet. you moved quickly, trying to make sense of the maze-like layout.
muffled voices filtered through the walls, catching your attention. you froze, pressing yourself against the wall beside it.
you peeked around the corner. jennie stood by the fireplace, her back to you, one hand holding the phone while the other rested casually on a shotgun.
the sight made your blood run cold.
the memory hit you like a freight train—the long hunting trips to the kim family's private grounds, jennie’s eerie calm as she taught you to aim. it was all too familiar, yet so jarringly wrong in this moment.
“…yes, everything is under control,” jennie’s voice carried through, calm but laced with a strange edge.
a man responded, his tone low and familiar, though you couldn’t quite place it. your chest tightened, the sound pulling at something buried in your memory, but there was no time to linger on it.
rounding a corner, you froze.
mina.
she was crouched near a window, her eyes scanning the area looking at the guards patrolling.
"mina..." you whispered annoyed and slightly shocked wondering what she's doing here. your breath was caught seeing her holding what appeared to be a hunting knife.
you whispered her name once again low, but urgent. a guard was rounding the corner, the beam of his flashlight sweeping closer to where mina was hiding. he muttered something into his radio, his voice low but sharp, signaling that he was seconds away from discovering her.
your body moved before your mind could catch up. you spotted a breaker box on the wall nearby, its metal panel slightly ajar. without hesitation, you yanked it open and scanned the switches in the dim glow of a nearby emergency light.
the guard’s flashlight beam shifted, now aimed directly toward mina.
“someone’s here—”
you flipped the main breaker switch, plunging the hallway into total darkness.
“what the—!” the guard’s voice rang out in confusion, followed by the sound of his hurried footsteps as he stumbled blindly in the dark.
mina’s silhouette turned sharply in your direction, her expression barely visible in the faint emergency light.
“come on,” you hissed, motioning for her to follow.
she hesitated, her breathing unsteady, before rising to her feet and moving toward you.
“what the hell are you doing here?” you whispered, your voice barely above a hiss.
“trying to get you out,” she shot back, standing up. her expression was a mixture of relief and exasperation.
“mina, this place is dangerous—”
“you think i don’t know that?” she cut you off, grabbing your arm. “we need to move. now.”
behind you, faint noises of confusion and shuffling echoed through the halls. guards barked orders, their flashlights cutting weak beams through the pitch-black maze of corridors.
you reached the door, its cold metal handle freezing to the touch as you twisted it open. the icy wind slapped your face, but freedom was close.
“come on,” you urged, pulling mina through. the two of you slipped outside, the snowstorm swallowing the faint sound of voices yelling within the estate.
but as you stepped out into the open air, you glanced back—just in time to see a flashlight beam bouncing erratically through the window, followed by the unmistakable silhouette of jennie.
for a moment, she stood frozen, her sharp gaze sweeping the now-empty hallway inside. then, realization struck.
you saw it—her head tilting slightly, lips parting in disbelief. and then rage.
jennie moved like a predator, yanking a shotgun off the rack by the door and shoving past the confused guards who stumbled out behind her.
“they’re out there,” she barked, the fury in her tone cutting through the chaos.
mina tugged on your sleeve. “we have to go.”
you nodded, your grip tightening on her hand as you broke into a sprint. the snowstorm worked in your favor, the thick flurry obscuring you from view as you darted toward the treeline.
but jennie was relentless.
behind you, the crunch of heavy boots through snow grew louder, the distinct metallic click of the shotgun’s safety being turned off making your blood run cold.
“you think you can just walk out?” her voice rang out, sharp and furious.
you didn’t dare stop, your breath ragged as you pushed mina ahead of you.
“keep going,” you urged, glancing over your shoulder.
through the swirling snow, you saw the faint glow of jennie’s flashlight slicing through the darkness, drawing closer.
mina hesitated for a second, looking back as well. “she’s—”
“don’t stop,” you interrupted, pulling her along. “we’ll make it.”
but the storm was thick, and the sound of jennie’s pursuit was unrelenting. every step felt like a gamble, each second another chance for her to close the gap.
you knew it was only a matter of time before she caught up.
-----
the snow fell heavier now, the bitter chill cutting through the thin fabric of your coat. you staggered forward, your steps uneven and slow, each one a monumental effort. your leg throbbed from earlier, the pain pulsing in sharp waves up to your hip, but you kept moving.
"just... a little more," you muttered under your breath, barely audible over the crunch of snow beneath your boots.
mina was ahead, glancing back every few seconds, her eyes sharp and full of worry. "we don’t have time for this," she said, urgency laced in her voice. she moved to your side, slipping an arm under your shoulder to help support your weight.
"no," you rasped, your voice breaking. you pushed at mina’s arm weakly. "you go first. just... get out of here. i’ll catch up."
mina stopped, glaring at you with a mix of frustration and desperation. "don’t you dare say that to me."
you gave a bitter laugh, your breath visible in the frigid air. "you don’t... understand. i’m slowing you down. if something happens..." you paused, your voice trembling. "i can’t lose you again."
mina froze, the words hanging between you like a weight too heavy to carry. but then she shook her head, her jaw tightening as she gripped your arm tighter.
"stop talking like that," she said firmly, her voice cracking just slightly. "we’re getting out of here together."
your legs buckled slightly, and mina adjusted quickly, holding you upright. "mina," you whispered, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. "i’m sorry."
"for what?" mina hissed, trying to move you forward.
"for forgetting you." the words came out broken, each one heavy with guilt. "for leaving you behind… for not being there when you needed me most."
"stop." mina’s voice was sharp, her breath hitching. "this isn’t the time for this."
"but it’s true," you said, your head dropping slightly. "i forgot everything about you. about us. i..." your voice faltered. "i don’t deserve you."
"i—" you started again, but she shook her head sharply, her grip on your arm tightening even more.
"don’t," she said, her voice trembling. "don’t apologize right now. this isn’t the time, okay? we can talk about all of that later, but right now, you need to focus on getting out of here. i can’t do this without you. do you understand me?"
the sound of distant engines broke through the air, pulling you out of the moment. the glow of headlights pierced the trees, growing brighter with every second.
"we have to move," mina said, her voice steady despite the panic in her eyes.
"okay," you murmured, nodding slightly. "okay."
meanwhile, back at the entrance, jihyo was surrounded by chaos. the cops had arrived in full force, tactical teams storming the hunting grounds, their voices crackling through radios. a helicopter roared overhead, its spotlight cutting through the snowstorm.
jihyo’s phone buzzed in her hand, but she barely registered it. her focus was on the team moving in, her heart pounding in her chest. "find them," she urged, her voice shaking.
inside the estate, jennie stood before a wall of cctv monitors, her eyes scanning frantically. then she saw it—a glimpse of you and mina, your figures barely visible as you disappeared into the woods. her jaw clenched, and without hesitation, she grabbed the shotgun leaning against the wall.
"they’re not getting away," she muttered, storming out.
the guards scattered as jennie shoved her way through, ignoring the commotion around her. she didn’t wait for backup or explanations, her sole focus on the escapees. the crunch of snow beneath her boots echoed in her ears as she reached her car, the shotgun clutched tightly in her hands.
back in the woods, you and mina trudged forward, the snow blurring your vision. you stumbled again, nearly collapsing, but mina caught you, her arms trembling from the effort.
"you’re not stopping," mina said firmly.
"mina..." you whispered, your voice weak. "i..."
"you can apologize later," she snapped, though her voice wavered. "just keep going. please."
far behind you, the sound of an engine roared to life. jennie was on the move.
-----
the snow fell quietly, coating the ground in a soft, thick blanket. every step felt like a battle, your legs shaking from the pain of being thrown earlier. you leaned on mina for support, her presence grounding you when everything else seemed to be slipping away.
"thank you... for everything," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the wind. it felt like you were saying goodbye, like the weight of everything—every betrayal, every lie—was crashing down on you all at once.
mina’s grip on your arm tightened, her face hard with determination. "don't say that," she muttered, her voice steady despite the tension in the air. "we’re not done yet. we're getting out of here, together."
your legs faltered again, and you stopped for a moment, guilt clawing at your chest. "i... i regret suspecting you. all this time..." you trailed off, the weight of your own emotions nearly crushing you. mina was here with you, and yet you’d spent so long doubting her. you couldn’t make sense of it.
"it’s not your fault," mina whispered, her voice low, but there was a softness in it that cut through your pain. "we’ll fix this. stay with me." she pulled you closer, moving with you through the snow, her footsteps quick and purposeful.
but far away from where you and mina were, jennie’s car sped down the winding road, tires screeching on the icy pavement. her face was a mask of fury, eyes cold and unblinking, focusing on the road ahead. she spotted the figures of you and mina walking through the trees, her heart pounding in her chest. the sound of helicopter blades overhead, the rising wail of police sirens, it didn’t matter. all that mattered was you.
she slammed her foot on the brake and jerked the wheel, sending the car to a stop. she didn’t care about anything else—she grabbed the shotgun from the passenger seat and stormed out into the cold, her breath coming out in sharp bursts, her grip on the weapon tight enough to turn her knuckles white.
"you’re making a mistake," jennie shouted, her voice sharp, venomous. she marched forward, the snow crunching under her boots as she advanced toward you and mina. "we agreed! we were going to leave together! come back to me now, and i'll turn a blind eye. everything can go back to the way it was."
you could barely stand, your legs giving way as you leaned more heavily against mina. the pain in your body, the pressure of the situation—it was almost too much to handle. "i’m sorry," you said, barely able to form the words through the lump in your throat. "even when i didn’t have my memories... i couldn’t choose you. my body... rejected you." the words tasted bitter, but they were true. you could still feel the unease, the way your chest tightened whenever jennie was near.
jennie’s face twisted in disbelief, but it quickly morphed into something darker. her eyes burned with rage. "why? why do you feel like that?" she shouted, her voice breaking with frustration, with hurt, with anger. “why?!” jennie shouted, her voice a raw mix of anger and desperation. she took another step closer, her face twisted in fury. “i waited! i fucking waited! why, after everything, does it have to be this way? why is it always mina?”" her eyes flashed, her entire body radiating fury. "i waited for you! i was patient. i tried to understand, so why... why would you feel uneasy around me?"
“you don’t understand—”
“then explain it to me!” jennie screamed, her voice echoing through the woods. the shotgun in her hands trembled, and for a moment, her tears seemed to overpower her rage.
“because you’re not her,” you choked out, tears spilling over. “because even when i forgot everything, something in me still remembered her. she’s the one i choose, jennie. not you.”
mina stepped forward, her voice sharp and protective. "jennie, stop. it’s over. they’re with me now. just let it go."
but jennie’s rage only intensified, her entire demeanor changing in an instant. "it’s NOT over," she spat, her voice shaking with fury. "you don’t get to choose! you made a promise, and i’ve waited too long for this."
she moved closer, her voice desperate now, but still full of anger. "we can start fresh. just come back to me, please. i’ll forget all of it. we can fix everything, we can be happy again."
she reached out, her hand trembling slightly but firm. it was as if she was offering you everything—control, power, redemption, and yet, all you could feel was the suffocating weight of her possessiveness, the coldness that came with every word. you took a shaky breath and stepped back.
"stop," you shouted for the first time, your voice breaking through the noise, through the confusion, through the chaos. "stop it, jennie. snap out of it." your voice cracked under the weight of the emotion, of everything that had built up. "i’ll never choose you. over my dead body."
for a moment, there was nothing but the sound of the helicopter, the wind, and the silence that followed. jennie’s face faltered for just a moment—a split second where the facade of calmness, the softness in her eyes, disappeared completely. rage burned in her chest, and the mask shattered. the pleading, the calmness—it was gone. in its place was something terrifying.
she looked at you, her mouth curling into a snarl, her grip on the shotgun tightening. "over your dead body," she hissed, voice low and deadly.
the tension was unbearable. you could feel the weight of her anger, the pressure of her presence pushing down on you like a vice. mina was standing between you and jennie now, her face set in a look of fierce determination. she was ready to protect you, no matter what.
and just as the helicopter overhead cast its blinding light onto you and mina, the sirens echoing louder and louder, jennie’s face twisted with something almost... feral. she looked at you one last time, the fury in her eyes unmistakable, before she turned and gripped the shotgun like it was the only thing left keeping her together.
the cops were closing in, their sirens deafening now, and jennie knew the game was over. but that didn’t stop her from staring at you as if she was willing to burn everything to the ground to keep you by her side.
she raised the shotgun, her eyes filled with murderous intent, but she didn’t fire. not yet.
-----
the air was thick with tension, the distant hum of helicopters and the blaring sirens creating an almost suffocating atmosphere. red lights from the police lasers flickered in the distance, casting an eerie glow on the snow. jennie stood there, unyielding, her body trembling with fury as she pointed the shotgun directly at you and mina.
"drop the weapon!" a voice boomed from a police megaphone, echoing through the cold night air. "now! or we will be forced to take action!"
the words fell on deaf ears. jennie didn’t budge. she was seething, her grip tight on the shotgun, and her eyes burned with a kind of desperation and rage that made your heart race.
“if i have to take you with me to keep them—then so be it!” jennie shouted, her voice full of venom and madness. she gestured toward you with the barrel of the gun, her eyes wild with a twisted possessiveness. then, without warning, she pointed it toward mina.
“no!” you shouted instinctively, your heart hammering in your chest. but before you could even react, jennie’s finger tightened on the trigger.
the sound of the shot echoed through the night air, deafening in its intensity. but it wasn’t mina who cried out in pain. it was you.
you threw yourself in front of mina, instinct overriding your fear. the blast of the shotgun was deafening, reverberating in your bones as the impact hit. the force of the shot struck you in the shoulder, sending you flying back. your knees buckled beneath you as the searing pain exploded through your body. your whole arm felt like it had been torn open, the heat of the injury spreading quickly.
you gasped for air, but all you could feel was the suffocating pressure in your arm. your vision blurred, and you collapsed into the snow, the cold wetness against your skin mingling with the warmth of the blood pouring from your wound. the snow around you was quickly stained, crimson soaking into the pristine white, each drop a mark of your struggle.
“no!” mina’s voice cracked, sharp with panic. she was beside you in an instant, her hands trembling as she pressed against your wound, but there was too much blood. her eyes were wide, her face pale, and you could hear the desperation in her voice. “don’t you dare! don’t you dare leave me!”
she was wailing now, a raw, guttural sound that echoed in your ears. tears poured down her face, and she shook you gently, her hands desperately trying to stop the bleeding, but it wasn’t enough. the blood soaked through her fingers, the warmth of it slowly leaving your body. she didn’t care. she didn’t care that she was covered in your blood. all she cared about was you, and that was slipping away.
she was frantic, panicked, and terrified. her face, usually so composed, was twisted with fear. "why did you do this?" she cried, her voice breaking. "why didn't you listen to me? why didn’t you stay back? please don’t leave me!"
your blood soaked into her hands, but she didn’t care. she didn’t care that her clothes were stained. all that mattered was you. you were still alive, still breathing, but she was losing you all over again. she collapsed onto you, pressing her cheek against your chest, as her sobs wracked her body.
meanwhile, jennie stood a few yards away, her fury barely contained. she had just fired that shot, and now you were on the ground, your blood staining the snow—and she couldn’t comprehend it. her face twisted with disbelief and rage as she saw you fall. her chest heaved with every breath, and her grip tightened on the shotgun, her knuckles white with tension.
but before she could move, a sudden flash of red appeared on her chest. the red dot of a laser, sharp and precise, gleaming in the cold, followed by more, dotting her chest, her arms, her legs. the snipers had zeroed in on her. they were tracking her every movement, the weapons aimed at her from all directions.
jennie froze, her eyes widening in realization as the laser sights pinned her down. she could hear the crackle of the police radio, the shouts from the officers closing in, but she didn’t care. she raised her shotgun, glaring at mina with pure, seething anger.
“you—” she gritted through clenched teeth, her voice shaking with fury. “you… will never take them from me. i will make them stay with me, one way or another.”
she aimed the shotgun directly at mina, but before she could fire, a shot rang out—loud and clear. jennie staggered back, her body jerking as she collapsed to the ground. the shotgun fell from her hand, her grip loosening, and she let out a strangled gasp.
her face twisted in agony, the pain from the bullet in her side overwhelming her, but her eyes were still burning with rage. she reached for the gun again, but the effort was futile.
as jennie lay on the cold ground, mina’s sobs grew louder. she was beside you, crying out your name, her voice trembling with fear. “no, no! please, don’t leave me…” she wailed, cradling your head against her lap. “please! i can’t lose you! i can’t…”
“help! someone, please—don’t let them die! don’t let them—”
she couldn’t finish the sentence. her voice broke as she sobbed uncontrollably, her hands still pressing to your shoulder, trying to stop the bleeding, but it was no use. the blood kept pouring, the darkness creeping in, and mina couldn’t save you.
“please, don’t leave me,” mina begged, her voice raw and frantic, clinging to the last shred of hope. “i can’t lose you again… please…”
the sound of sirens and helicopters filled the air as the police closed in, but mina’s eyes never left you. the snipers had done their job, and now it was just the waiting—waiting for the paramedics to arrive, waiting for a miracle.
but mina wasn’t waiting anymore. she was crying, wailing, begging you to stay, to fight, to not leave her again. her heart shattered with each sob, and she held you tighter, as if trying to somehow hold you together, keep you from slipping away.
-----
the world around you spun in a blur. everything felt distant, too far away to touch. your body was numb, your skin cold, and your vision—fading. you could feel yourself being moved, dragged, the rough motion jolting your body, but the pain barely registered anymore. everything felt so heavy.
the only thing you could focus on was the stretcher beneath you, the soft whirring of the ambulance, the cold air biting at your skin as they rushed you away. the blood was still pouring from your shoulder, staining your clothes, and the coldness in your veins spread like a creeping tide, slowly drowning you.
voices echoed around you—sharp, urgent. the paramedics shouted orders to each other, their voices blending into the chaos. someone was yelling into a radio, demanding the hospital prepare for an emergency. amidst the noise, one voice stood out—jihyo.
“they’re losing too much blood! you have to move faster!” her voice was steady but desperate, each word edged with fear. she was running alongside the stretcher, her hand gripping your uninjured arm. her eyes were wide, panicked, darting between your face and the paramedics.
“stay with us, boss.” jihyo urged, her voice cracking as she tried to sound strong. “don’t close your eyes, do you hear me?”
her words were sharp, cutting through the fog in your mind. you wanted to respond, to reassure her, but the strength wasn’t there. your eyelids felt like lead, your body heavier with every second.
then, you saw her—mina. her face streaked with tears, her eyes wide with a fear you’d never seen before. she stood at the ambulance’s open doors, trembling as she hesitated, unsure if she should climb in. jihyo turned to her, grabbing her shoulder and practically shoving her inside.
“go! stay with them!” jihyo barked, her own tears glistening in the harsh red and blue of the emergency lights. “don’t leave them alone.”
mina stumbled into the ambulance, her hands clutching the edge of the stretcher as the doors slammed shut. her breath was shaky, her entire body trembling as she crouched beside you.
“mina…” your voice was weak, barely a whisper. you forced the words out, needing to know. “are you… okay?”
mina’s breath hitched, and for a moment, she stared at you, frozen. then, as if something inside her shattered, she shook her head. “it’s you who’s hurt! it’s you!” she sobbed, her hands gripping the stretcher’s edge so tightly her knuckles turned white. “why… why did you do this? why do you always—” her voice broke, and she buried her face in her hands for a moment before looking at you again. “you’re the one who got shot, not me! don’t ask me that!”
you tried to lift your hand, to reach for her, but your body wouldn’t obey. the effort was too much. instead, you rasped, “live for… sana... momo... hiro…”
“no,” mina choked out, shaking her head violently. her tears fell freely now, dripping onto the stretcher. “you don’t get to say that. you don’t get to give up. you need to live. for me. for hiro. please…”
your eyelids fluttered, the darkness creeping in, but you managed a faint smile, the corners of your lips barely lifting. “it’s… going to be okay…”
“no, it’s not!” mina cried, leaning closer, her hands now on your chest, as if she could keep your heart beating through sheer will. “it won’t be okay if you’re not here!”
the paramedics worked frantically, shouting updates to the driver. the ambulance lurched, the lights inside flickering as it hit a bump in the road. you barely noticed. your vision tunneled, the edges darkening.
“don’t leave me…” mina whispered, her voice breaking. she pressed her forehead to your shoulder, her sobs muffled as she clung to you. “don’t you dare…”
you blinked slowly, the tears in your eyes slipping down your cheeks. you could see her, hear her, but the world was slipping away, fading into nothing. her face, her voice, everything was becoming a distant echo.
and then, with one last breath, a single tear slid down your face.
the world went dark.
-----
end of the series.
a/n — thank you :)
❝ you're my spouse on paper, however you're not my responsibility.❞
synopsis — a series of misfortune.
word count ! — 19k
— myoui mina x reader !
notice — heavily inspired by @neoplatinum, aswell as cozuzi and a bit of queen of tears.
disclaimer ! — this story is a work of fiction. the portrayal of characters, events, and relationships does not reflect the real lives or personalities of any individuals mentioned. themes of infidelity and emotional conflict are explored, but the intention is not to glamorize toxic behavior.
series masterlist !
part six !
no one expected to see myoui mina on her knees.
and no one expected it to happen here, in the crown jewel of the myoui empire: the grand hall atop their most iconic skyscraper. the building was a statement in itself—glass walls offering a panoramic view of the city, chandeliers so massive they seemed to drip stars, and marble floors polished to such a gleam you could see the judgment in every guest’s reflection.
the air was thick with tension, despite the luxury surrounding them. the elite of the elite had gathered to celebrate mina’s birthday—family, business partners, and power players from around the globe. but now, their polite conversations and champagne toasts had been replaced with stunned silence as they watched the poised heiress shatter her own pedestal.
mina’s voice cracked as she spoke, her tears catching the golden light. “please,” she said, her words raw, desperate. “i know i’ve failed you. i know i don’t deserve your forgiveness, but i’m asking for it anyway. for the sake of what we’ve built, for the sake of our family... please, give me another chance.”
the weight of her words rippled through the crowd, the gasps and murmurs too faint to drown out the plea. her parents sat in their seats of honor, their faces frozen in shock. her father’s jaw tightened, a muscle ticking in his temple as though he were restraining himself from standing and ending the spectacle. her mother’s lips were pressed into a thin line, her gaze flickering between mina and you, as if she couldn’t decide who to blame for this unraveling.
her father, however, was the first to move. his chair scraped loudly against the floor as he stood, his gaze narrowing at mina. the murmur of the crowd fell silent in an instant as he made his way to her. with a single, decisive step, he knelt before her, his towering presence casting a long shadow over her small, trembling frame. he looked down at his daughter, his expression a mixture of disappointment and quiet fury.
“mina,” he said in a voice so cold it made the room feel even colder. “what mistake have you made?”
his words hit harder than any accusation, the weight of his disappointment more crushing than any public reprimand. mina’s breath caught in her throat as she struggled to meet his gaze. the pride of the myoui family—who had once been unshakable, indomitable—was now undone by her own actions.
“father...” mina whispered, her voice breaking, “i—i failed them.”
“failed them?” her father’s voice cut through the air, sharp and unforgiving. “you’ve failed yourself.”
there was a long silence as mina trembled in place, her head bowed low, her eyes never leaving the floor. the weight of his words was unbearable.
but then, after a long pause, her father’s expression softened—just barely. he leaned forward, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. whispering to her “fix it, mina. do what you need to do to fix this. but remember,” he added quietly, his voice hardening again, “there are consequences for everything.”
mina nodded weakly, swallowing hard against the lump in her throat. she couldn’t bear to meet his eyes, but she knew she had to.
without another word, her father stood, his gaze moving toward you with a final, unreadable look. and then, with the same composure that had carried him to the top of the world, he turned and walked back to his seat.
near the edge of the room, sana stepped forward, adjusting her grip on hiro. the toddler blinked sleepily, his head resting against her shoulder. “he shouldn’t see this,” sana said quietly, her tone uncharacteristically grim.
you glanced at her, torn between gratitude and guilt. hiro murmured something incomprehensible, one tiny hand clutching the fabric of sana’s dress as she turned toward the elevator. the soft ding echoed as the doors slid open, the sound cutting through the suffocating silence.
“i’ll take him downstairs,” she added, not waiting for your reply. the elevator doors closed, taking hiro—and his blissful unawareness—with them.
you returned your gaze to mina, her tear-streaked face a stark contrast to the gleaming perfection of her surroundings. the chandeliers above cast halos of light, but none of it seemed to reach her.
“stand up,” you said, your voice low, barely audible.
she flinched, her hands pressing harder against the marble floor. “not until you tell me there’s a chance,” she whispered, her trembling voice pulling at something deep inside you.
“this isn’t the time or place for this,” you replied, your tone sharper than intended.
“it’s exactly the time and place,” she countered, her voice rising, cracking under the strain. “if not now, when? i need you to know that i’m willing to do whatever it takes to fix this. even if it means humiliating myself in front of everyone here.”
a wave of whispers rippled through the room as the guests exchanged shocked glances. mina’s mother finally stood, her carefully crafted poise slipping. “mina,” she began, her voice brittle, “what are you doing?”
“what i should have done a long time ago,” mina replied, her gaze unwavering as it met yours.
the weight of her vulnerability was suffocating, the intensity in her eyes unbearable. you clenched your fists, your nails biting into your palms as you forced yourself to hold her gaze.
“get up,” you said again, softer this time, but no less firm.
she hesitated, her tears pooling at the corners of her eyes. when she finally rose, her legs trembled, and her movements were slow, deliberate. the room seemed to exhale collectively as she stood, her vulnerability stark against the grandeur surrounding her.
“i’ll prove it to you,” she said quietly, her voice only for you. “every day, i’ll prove it. you don’t have to forgive me now... just don’t give up on us.”
the room was silent again, but this time, the tension was unbearable. you glanced around, the judgmental stares of the crowd pressing against you like a physical weight.
without another word, you turned and walked toward the balcony, the cool night air rushing to greet you as you stepped outside. the city stretched out below, glittering and alive, a sharp contrast to the heaviness in your chest.
the distant hum of the city filled your ears—cars moving like tiny specs far below, the muffled echoes of life continuing despite the chaos in yours. the sounds from the grand hall behind you were dulled, a faint murmur through the thick glass doors.
inside, mina’s gaze followed you. her composed facade had crumbled, leaving behind a woman who looked utterly lost. her hands trembled as she clasped them in front of her, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. she didn’t notice sana returning until the sharp sound of heels clicked against the marble behind her.
“what the hell was that, mina?” sana’s voice was low but laced with a simmering frustration.
mina flinched, her head snapping toward her friend. “sana—”
“no.” sana cut her off, stepping closer, her tone sharper now. “you don’t get to say anything right now. do you even realize what you just did?”
mina swallowed hard, her gaze darting between sana and the glass doors leading to the balcony. “i was trying to show them—”
“to show them what?” sana’s voice rose slightly, and a few heads turned in their direction. “that you’re desperate? that you’re sorry? do you think a grand gesture like this fixes anything?”
momo stood a few feet away, her wide eyes darting between the two. her usual playful demeanor had been replaced by stunned silence, her lips parting as if to interject before thinking better of it.
“sana,” mina started again, her voice faltering.
“no,” sana said firmly, leaning in closer. “listen to me, mina. you better mean it. because if you don’t—if this is just another one of your calculated moves—you’ll lose everything. not just them. everything.”
mina’s lips parted, but no words came. her gaze drifted back toward the balcony, her expression raw, vulnerable.
“they deserve better than this,” sana added, her voice softening just slightly. “better than the half-hearted promises you’ve given them before. so if you’re going to fight for them, you’d better mean every damn word you said out there.”
for a moment, no one spoke. momo finally broke the silence with a quiet, “sana...”
sana sighed and ran a hand through her hair, her anger giving way to a flicker of weariness. “just think about it, mina. and if you’re not ready to give it everything, then... maybe it’s time to let go.”
she glanced at the balcony, her expression softening as she caught sight of your silhouette against the city lights. shaking her head, she turned back to mina one last time. “don’t waste this chance.”
as sana walked away, momo lingered for a moment longer, her mouth opening as if to speak before closing again. she finally shook her head, muttering something under her breath before following sana.
mina stayed rooted in place, her chest tightening as she turned back to the glass. through the faint reflection, she could see you standing on the balcony, shoulders tense, lost in thought.
she wasn’t sure how long she stood there, but when she finally crossed the room, it was almost as though her body was moving on its own. she didn’t care about the eyes still on her, didn’t care about the judgment that lingered in the air. all that mattered was you.
she reached the balcony doors, her breath shaky as she slowly slid them open. the chill of the night air brushed against her skin, but it did nothing to numb the gnawing ache inside her.
you didn’t turn around immediately, still lost in the sea of thoughts that had pulled you away from her.
"please," she whispered, stepping forward, her voice desperate and raw. "please, don’t walk away. i can’t lose you. not like this."
you finally turned to face her, eyes dark with the weight of everything that had happened. her heart beat so loudly in her chest that she could hardly hear herself speak, but she needed you to hear this. everything.
“i’m sorry," she gasped, taking a shaky step closer. "i know i’m not the person you thought i was, but i’ll change. i’ll prove it to you. i’ll make up for everything. every lie. every mistake. just please... give me the chance.”
her knees buckled beneath her, and she fell to the ground again—no longer as a gesture, but out of sheer, raw vulnerability. she crawled to your feet, pressing her forehead to the cold floor, her tears staining the marble. “please, don’t leave me. i’m begging you... i need you.”
and in that moment, something shifted. the world around her became nothing but a blur. all she could hear, all she could see, was you.
the silence between you stretched, unbearable. then—slowly, like a crack in the dam—it shattered.
the weight of the moment pressed on you so heavily that you couldn’t hold it back anymore. everything you had bottled up, everything you had been running from, finally came crashing down.
you stepped forward.
you didn’t know what would come next. you didn’t know if you could forgive her.
but for the first time in months, you didn’t know if you couldn’t.
you had the power to either crush her, or to give her a chance to redeem herself.
-----
the air was crisp as you followed mina across the tarmac, the weight of hiro in your arms grounding you as much as it exhausted you. the boy was still sleepy, his head resting on your shoulder while you dragged your carry-on behind you. the hoodie you’d thrown on was doing its job, shielding you from the cold, but the heaviness in the atmosphere had nothing to do with the weather.
mina walked ahead, her silhouette stiff, every step deliberate. neither of you had spoken much since you left her family’s estate. the words you’d thrown at her days ago still hung between you like a barricade.
you hadn’t meant for it to come out that harshly, but it had. and the way mina had flinched—like you’d driven a stake through her chest—was something you couldn’t shake, even now.
hiro stirred, his tiny fingers gripping your hoodie as you shifted him slightly to ease the strain on your arms. mina glanced back briefly, her face unreadable before she turned away again.
awkward silence stretched until you reached the hangar where your private jet awaited. hiro finally wriggled out of your hold, his energy returning as he waddled toward the small lounge near the boarding steps. you let out a sigh, rubbing your shoulder as you watched him with tired eyes.
“blabla!” hiro called out excitedly, pointing at something.
before you could respond, someone bumped into you—hard enough to make you stumble back a step.
“oh! i’m so sorry!”
you turned to see her—a tall woman with delicate features, her long hair tied back in a sleek ponytail. she was bowing repeatedly, her face flushed with embarrassment.
“it’s fine,” you said quickly, holding your hands up to reassure her. but before you could step back, she moved closer to bow again, and the awkward proximity made you stumble slightly.
“i wasn’t looking where i was going!” she said, her voice soft but frantic.
“really, it’s okay,” you repeated, taking another step back.
“is it?” another voice cut in, sharp and icy.
mina was suddenly there, her hand on your arm as she stepped between you and the woman. her gaze was sharp enough to slice steel, directed entirely at the flustered stranger.
“my spouse isn’t usually bumped into,” mina said coolly, her lips curving into a tight smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “perhaps you should watch where you’re going next time.”
“i—i apologize!” the woman stammered, bowing again.
you raised a hand, hoping to diffuse the situation. “really, it’s fine, mina. let’s just—”
“tzuyu,” mina cut you off, her eyes narrowing slightly as recognition flickered in her gaze. “you’re part of the board, aren’t you?”
the woman—tzuyu—nodded quickly. “yes, ma’am. again, i’m so sorry for the inconvenience.”
“good,” mina said, her tone curt. “then let’s not have this happen again.”
tzuyu bowed one last time before practically fleeing. you barely had time to process what just happened before mina grabbed your wrist, tugging you gently but firmly toward the plane.
“mina,” you began, but she didn’t look at you.
“just drop it,” she muttered, her face flushed—whether from annoyance or something else, you couldn’t tell.
hiro tugged on your hoodie as you passed, and you scooped him up automatically, letting his babbling fill the silence as you boarded. once inside, mina busied herself making hiro comfortable, tucking him into one of the cushioned seats with a blanket and his favorite stuffed animal.
you, meanwhile, collapsed into your own seat with a sigh, leaning your head back and closing your eyes.
“hello, welcome.” a flight attendant’s voice broke through your thoughts. “can i get you something to drink?”
you shook your head without opening your eyes. “no, thanks. just… tired.”
mina glanced at you briefly but said nothing, her focus returning to hiro.
“can’t wait to get back home,” you mumbled to yourself, your voice low. “back to work, away from all this.”
but even as you said it, the weight of mina’s gaze lingered—silent, heavy, and impossible to ignore
-----
the biting chill of korea’s winter clung to you like a second skin as you stepped off the private jet. bundled in your hoodie, you adjusted your hold on hiro, who was fast asleep in your arms, his small breaths warm against your chest. mina walked ahead, her heels clicking sharply on the frosted pavement, her posture stiff and unyielding. not a glance back, not a word exchanged. the tension hung heavy between you, so thick it was almost visible in the cold night air.
the sleek black van idled nearby, its warmth promising but offering no reprieve from the icy atmosphere you carried with you. the driver hurried to open the door, and you stepped inside carefully, settling hiro into the baby seat. his little head tilted as he stirred but didn’t wake, his soft features a stark contrast to the storm brewing around him.
you slumped into the seat, leaning back with a weary sigh. the hum of the heater filled the silence as you stared out the frosted window. the city lights blurred past in streaks of gold and white, their brilliance muted by the fog of your exhaustion.
“where should we head? home or...?” the driver asked tentatively, glancing at you through the rearview mirror.
“work,” you murmured, straightening up. “i need to get to the office. there are contracts waiting for my signature.”
the words hung in the air for a moment before mina’s voice sliced through, her tone cold and final. “home.”
you turned to her, your brows knitting together in disbelief. “i’m not going home, mina. there’s too much to—”
“you’ve done enough,” she cut in, her voice sharp enough to draw blood. her gaze didn’t meet yours, fixed instead on the city beyond her window. “you’re coming home. with us.”
you stared at her, the disbelief slowly morphing into frustration. “mina, i’m not going to sit around and pretend everything’s fine. i have responsibilities—”
“and i don’t?” she snapped, her voice rising for the first time. “do you think i’m just sitting there, doing nothing, waiting for you to forgive me and fix everything?”
your jaw tightened, and you leaned back against the seat, looking away. “you don’t get to dictate where i go or what i do anymore.”
mina’s lips pressed into a thin line, her hands gripping her arms tightly, as though holding herself together. the tension between you was a thread pulled taut, ready to snap. the driver kept his eyes firmly on the road, his discomfort palpable.
hiro stirred, a soft murmur escaping his lips, and both of you froze. you leaned over instinctively, adjusting his blanket and smoothing his hair. the sight of him, so peaceful, so untouched by the chaos surrounding him, made your chest ache.
mina’s gaze softened for a fleeting second as she looked at hiro, but when her eyes met yours again, they were guarded. she turned back to the window, her reflection in the glass fractured and distant.
the van pulled up to your home, the large gates creaking open to reveal the sprawling driveway. you sighed, running a hand through your hair as the driver parked.
“we’re here,” the driver announced quietly, as though afraid to break the uneasy quiet.
you unbuckled hiro from his seat, cradling him in your arms as you stepped out into the cold once more. mina followed, her heels clicking against the pavement, her silence cutting deeper than any words could.
as you entered the penthouse, the warmth of the interior did little to thaw the frost between you. a soft light spilled into the hallway, and a familiar scent of lavender lingered in the air. you handed hiro off to the nanny that was newly hired, watching as his tiny form disappeared up the stairs, oblivious to the storm brewing below.
mina stood at the foot of the staircase, her arms crossed tightly, her gaze fixed on a point far away. you hesitated, your feet rooted to the floor, unsure whether to speak or retreat.
“this isn’t how it’s supposed to be,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper but heavy with emotion.
“no,” you agreed, your voice quieter now. “but it’s what you've given me.”
the words hung in the air, heavy and unyielding, as you both stood there, two people caught in the wreckage of something that was supposed to be unbreakable.
without another word, you turned toward your private office, leaving mina alone in the dimly lit hallway, her figure framed by the soft glow of the chandelier.
-----
you only stayed in the penthouse for one day before retreating back to your apartment, throwing yourself into work with a vengeance. the hours were long, the demands relentless, but that was exactly what you wanted. anything to avoid the haunting silence of home, or the accusing look in mina’s eyes. your wedding band, once a constant on your finger, was gone—discarded in a moment of anguish when the truth of mina’s betrayal had surfaced.
mina, however, still wore hers. the platinum band sat delicately on her finger, a cruel reminder of vows she’d broken but couldn’t bear to fully let go of. she twisted it absently as she sat in the empty penthouse, her figure small against the expanse of the leather couch. a half-empty glass of wine sat forgotten on the table, its contents staining the pristine white carpet beneath.
the quiet of the night was almost suffocating in its intensity. mina sat curled on the corner of the plush leather couch, her hand trembling as she traced the rim of the wine glass. she wasn’t much of a drinker—her tolerance was abysmal—but the silence of the penthouse felt unbearable, gnawing at the edges of her sanity. the normally pristine space felt cavernous and cold, its emptiness amplified by the absence of you.
her eyes lingered on the wedding portrait above the fireplace. she’d chosen the spot carefully, making sure it would be the first thing anyone saw upon entering the room. now, it mocked her—the image of happier times, of promises she had shattered with her own hands. the weight of it was too much, and she set the glass down abruptly, spilling a few crimson drops onto the white carpet. she didn’t care.
meanwhile, you lay sprawled across the bed in your dimly lit apartment. the air conditioning hummed faintly, a poor companion to the storm raging inside your chest. your face was buried in your hands, shoulders trembling as you tried to keep the sobs silent, even though no one else was there. your body shook with every shuddering breath, the effort to contain your grief only making it more suffocating.
“get it together,” you muttered to yourself, voice hoarse. but the words held no weight. tears slid between your fingers, falling onto the rumpled sheets below. you’d been strong for so long, keeping everything bottled up, but now, in the privacy of your empty room, the dam had broken.
back in the penthouse, mina’s hand shook as she reached for her phone. she wanted to call you, to hear your voice, even if it was laced with the anger and hurt she’d caused. but the fear of your rejection froze her in place. instead, she opened the photo gallery on her phone. picture after picture of the life you had built together stared back at her. your wedding day, family vacations, candid moments with hiro. they felt like memories of a life that belonged to someone else.
she pressed her hand to her mouth, a choked sob escaping despite her best efforts. the wine had dulled her edges, and the loneliness made her raw.
at your apartment, you sat up abruptly, wiping your face with the sleeve of your hoodie. the absence of your wedding band felt like a phantom limb—its absence more painful than its presence had ever been. you stared at the empty space on your finger for a long moment before pulling your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them like a shield.
the two of you were only miles apart, yet your pain was mirrored—different expressions of the same unbearable weight. the night stretched on, each passing second carving deeper into the silence.
and in both of your rooms, the same portrait hung on the wall: a smiling family, a love that once seemed unbreakable, now a ghost of what it used to be. the frame was steady, unchanging, even as the people within it crumbled under the weight of their choices and regrets.
------
mina’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles whitening as she stared ahead, the lights of the city blurring past the windshield. she’d driven aimlessly for what felt like hours, trying to summon the courage to face you. every time she thought she could, the memory of your empty gaze and clipped words stopped her cold.
“just let me work, mina.”
those words played on a loop in her mind, a reminder of the distance she’d created—a chasm that seemed insurmountable. but tonight, she couldn’t bear it anymore. the weight of your absence had become too much.
she found herself parked outside your office building. it was late, but she knew you—knew you would still be inside, drowning yourself in work. the sight of your car in the lot confirmed it. her chest tightened as she stepped out into the cold, the crisp air biting at her skin.
when she reached your office, the faint glow from under the door told her you were still awake. she hesitated, her hand hovering over the doorknob. for a moment, she considered walking away, sparing herself the humiliation of your rejection. but the thought of losing you completely pushed her forward.
she knocked softly.
a pause. then your voice, muffled but clear: “come in.”
mina stepped inside, her breath hitching as she saw you. you were slouched at your desk, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened, and hair disheveled. papers were strewn across the surface, but it was the deep circles under your eyes that hit her the hardest. you looked exhausted—not just physically, but emotionally drained in a way she’d never seen before.
“mina,” you said, your tone flat as you leaned back in your chair. “what are you doing here?”
she closed the door behind her, her fingers trembling. “i… i needed to see you.”
you didn’t respond, your gaze shifting back to the papers on your desk. the dismissal stung, but she pressed on, stepping closer.
“please, just listen to me,” she pleaded, her voice cracking. “just for a moment.”
you sighed, pushing back from the desk as you stood. the movement startled her, and she stepped back instinctively. “mina, it’s late. i have work to do.”
“and i have things to say,” she shot back, surprising both you and herself with the force of her words. “i know i’ve… hurt you. more than i can ever make up for. but i can’t keep…” her voice faltered, and she clenched her fists at her sides. “i can’t keep pretending i’m okay with this distance. with you not being home. with us being strangers.”
your jaw tightened, and you turned toward the door, your silence heavier than any words you could have spoken. mina panicked, her hand darting out to grab your arm. the contact made you freeze, but you didn’t turn to face her.
“don’t go,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “please. i’m sorry.”
you pulled your arm away gently but firmly, your eyes still avoiding hers. “mina, don’t make this harder than it already is.”
“harder?” her voice broke, tears streaming down her face. “it’s already unbearable, don’t you see that? i can’t—”
“stop,” you interrupted, your tone sharper than you intended. your own emotions were threatening to surface, and you couldn’t let them. “mina, don’t make me fall in love with you more. please.”
her breath hitched, her grip on your arm tightening as if she feared letting go would mean losing you forever. “i’m sorry,” she whispered again, her words tumbling out in desperation. “i’m so, so sorry. i know i don’t deserve another chance, but i can’t… i can’t let you go.”
you finally looked at her, your own eyes glistening with unshed tears. her broken state mirrored your own, but the weight of her actions still loomed between you.
“mina,” you said softly, your voice thick with emotion. “you already did.”
her knees buckled, and she leaned closer to you, clutching the fabric of your sleeve like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. “please,” she begged, her sobs wracking her body. “don’t leave me like this. i’ll do anything. just tell me what to do.”
you looked down at her, your heart aching with a mix of love, anger, and devastation. her once-elegant composure was completely shattered, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to touch her.
“i don’t know if i can do this,” you said quietly, your voice barely audible.
a beat of silence passed, heavy and suffocating, before you gently pulled away from her grasp. turning toward the door, you left without another word, the sound of her broken sobs echoing in your mind long after you were gone.
-----
the neon lights of the bar cast a hazy glow over the bustling scene, the music thrumming in your chest as you leaned back against the worn leather of the booth, a drink cradled loosely in your hand. chaeyoung’s laughter echoed from the center of the room, where she was surrounded by friends, her birthday celebration in full swing. despite the noise and cheer, you felt adrift, your gaze fixed on the amber liquid in your glass, swirling it absently.
but it wasn’t just the drink occupying your mind. across the room, mina’s silhouette caught your attention. she was talking to a man, her expression relaxed, her laugh effortless. it was as if the vulnerability she’d shown you had been a distant dream. your chest tightened, the sight of her so at ease with someone else twisting the knife that had already been lodged there.
you took another sip, the alcohol doing little to dull the sting. just as you contemplated leaving, a familiar voice broke through your haze.
“well, isn’t this a surprise,” nayeon said, sliding into the booth across from you. her sharp eyes quickly assessed you before glancing toward where your gaze had been fixed. “ah, i see. drinking alone while your wife mingles. classic.”
you frowned, setting your glass down. “it’s not what it looks like,” you muttered, though even you weren’t sure what it was.
nayeon’s grin widened as she signaled the bartender. “no judgment here. let’s just say you look like you could use another drink.” she ordered a round of shots, her energy a stark contrast to your somber mood. when the glasses arrived, she pushed one toward you. “here’s to… whatever this mess is.”
you clinked glasses with her reluctantly, downing the shot in one go. the burn was sharp, momentarily distracting you from the scene across the room. nayeon followed suit, her laughter unguarded as she set the glass down with a thud.
“so,” she started, leaning forward with a conspiratorial smirk. “what’s eating you tonight? don’t tell me you’re pining.”
you stiffened, but before you could respond, her gaze shifted, and her teasing demeanor faltered. she’d caught sight of mina, whose own gaze was locked on the two of you. nayeon raised an eyebrow, her smile returning. “well, this just got interesting.”
mina’s expression was unreadable as she turned back to her conversation, though the tension in her shoulders was evident. nayeon didn’t seem to notice—or maybe she didn’t care. she leaned in closer to you, her perfume a mix of something floral and heady. “let’s make her jealous. might be fun.”
“nayeon, don’t,” you warned, your voice low, but she only laughed, brushing it off.
“oh, come on. you need to loosen up.” she poured another shot and pushed it toward you. “maybe it’ll help you stop staring at her.”
you hesitated but eventually took the shot, the liquid heat coursing through you. nayeon, on the other hand, was clearly starting to feel the effects of the alcohol. her laughter grew louder, her movements looser, and her words less filtered.
“you know,” she drawled, resting her chin on her hand as she looked at you. “your name’s too long. can i call you mine?”
you froze, caught off guard by the sudden shift. “what?”
nayeon leaned closer, her lips quirking up into a flirtatious smile. “you heard me. mine. has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
before you could process her words, a shadow fell over the table. you turned to find mina standing there, her eyes blazing as she looked between you and nayeon.
“that’s enough,” mina said, her voice icy as she placed a firm hand on nayeon’s shoulder. “they're not yours.”
nayeon blinked up at her, surprised but not entirely displeased. “oh? and who do they belong to, then?”
mina’s gaze snapped to yours, her expression softening for the briefest moment before hardening again. “mine.” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.
nayeon raised her hands in mock surrender, sliding out of the booth. “well, that’s my cue. have fun.” she shot you a wink before sauntering off, leaving you alone with mina.
mina sat down beside you, her presence overwhelming. you could feel the tension radiating off her as she turned to face you. “we need to talk.”
-----
the night air was heavy, the quiet hum of the car engine the only sound as you gripped the steering wheel tightly, your jaw set in a firm line. the smell of alcohol lingered, and every so often, a hiccup or slurred word broke through the silence. mina sat in the passenger seat, head lolling against the window, her makeup smudged and her usually pristine appearance completely undone.
"you’re so mean," she muttered, her words barely coherent. her fingers fumbled with the edge of her dress, and she turned her head toward you, her glassy eyes filled with a sadness that only seemed to amplify in her drunken state. "you used to smile at me, you know? now… now you just look through me. like i’m nothing."
you sighed, your grip on the wheel tightening as her words dug into you. "mina, just sit back and stay quiet. you’re drunk."
"drunk?" she repeated, laughing bitterly. "yeah, i’m drunk. drunk on how much i miss you. does that count?"
her words were slurred but hit with surprising precision, each one slicing through the barriers you’d tried so hard to build. you kept your eyes on the road, ignoring the sting in your chest.
"stop talking," you muttered, your voice low and strained. "we’re almost home."
she didn’t listen, of course. "home," she whispered, the word catching in her throat. "does it even feel like home to you anymore? ‘cause to me, it’s just… empty. it’s just walls and furniture without you."
you pressed your lips into a thin line, refusing to respond. she let out a soft, broken laugh, slumping further into her seat.
when you finally pulled up to the penthouse, you turned off the engine and sat there for a moment, your hands still gripping the wheel. mina didn’t move, her head resting against the window as silent tears streaked her face.
"come on," you said quietly, opening your door and walking over to her side. you helped her out, her body leaning heavily against yours as you guided her to the elevator.
she stumbled, nearly tripping over her own feet, and you sighed, wrapping an arm around her waist to steady her. "why do you do this to yourself?" you muttered, half to her and half to yourself.
"because," she slurred, leaning her head against your shoulder. "it’s the only way i can forget. forget how much i messed up. forget how much i still…" her voice cracked, and she fell silent.
when you reached the penthouse, you led her inside, the familiar scent of the place making your chest tighten. the space felt suffocating, every corner filled with memories you didn’t want to confront. you helped her to the bedroom, easing her down onto the bed. she grabbed your wrist before you could pull away, her grip surprisingly strong.
"don’t go," she whispered, her voice raw. "please. just… just stay."
you froze, the vulnerability in her voice making it impossible to move. "mina, you need to sleep this off. we’ll talk tomorrow."
she shook her head, her tears falling freely now. "no. no, we won’t. because you’ll just leave again. you always leave."
her words shattered something inside you, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned on the wall. she clung to you, her fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt as if letting go would mean losing you forever.
her breath hitched, and she collapsed onto the bed sitting down, clutching at the sheets like they were the only thing keeping her grounded. "you were enough," she sobbed. "you’ve always been enough. i was the one who wasn’t. i was weak, and i was stupid, and i don’t deserve you. but please, please don’t leave me."
you closed your eyes, holding back tears. "you already left me the moment you let someone else touch you," you said, your voice breaking
mina let out a choked sob, falling to her knees in front of you. she grasped at your hands, her tears falling onto your skin as she looked up at you, her face a mess of desperation and regret. "i’m begging you," she whispered, her voice trembling. "don’t say that. don’t give up on us. i love you. i’ve never stopped loving you."
you stared down at her, your heart breaking at the sight. this wasn’t the composed, elegant woman you married. this was someone who had been utterly unraveled, stripped of every bit of pride and poise.
"mina," you whispered, your voice trembling. "i don’t know if i can do this. i don’t know if i can survive loving you and hating you at the same time."
"it wasn’t supposed to matter," mina whispered, still on her knees in front of you, her hands trembling as they reached for yours again. "it happened so long ago—before we even had hiro. i was stupid, and it was during those early months when everything felt... uncertain."
you stood frozen, her words sinking in, but instead of clarifying things, they only added fuel to the storm swirling inside you. "uncertain?" you echoed, your voice sharp, bitter. "i was uncertain too but i never did that to you. what were you even uncertain about?"
mina flinched but didn’t break eye contact, tears streaming freely down her face. "about myself," she admitted, her voice raw. "about whether i could be the person you needed me to be. and i failed. i made the worst mistake of my life. but i swear to you, i haven’t been with anyone else since. you’ve kept me grounded—you’re the only thing that’s kept me sane."
you laughed, but it was hollow, broken. "grounded?" you repeated, shaking your head. "why should i believe that, mina? why should i believe anything you say when you’ve already shown me how easy it is for you to betray me?"
her face crumpled at your words, and for a moment, you thought she might shatter completely. but then, she looked up at you, her dark eyes wide and desperate, and she said something that made the air in the room feel impossibly heavy.
"because i’ll prove it," she whispered, her voice trembling. "i’ll transfer everything—every cent of my wealth, every asset, every share in my company. i’ll sign it all over to you. if that’s what it takes to make you believe me, then i’ll do it."
your breath caught in your throat, the sheer weight of her words leaving you stunned. "what?" you managed, your voice barely above a whisper.
mina pushed herself to her feet, her movements shaky, her hands clutching at your arms like you were the only thing keeping her upright. "you said i don’t understand what it means to fix this. but i do. i know it’s about trust, and i know i have to earn that back. but if this is the only way to show you how serious i am—how much you mean to me—then i’ll do it."
you stared at her, your mind reeling. "mina, that’s—do you even hear yourself? why would you do that? why would you give up everything?"
"because none of it matters," she said, her voice breaking. "the money, the power, the name—it’s nothing without you. you’re the one who keeps me grounded. you’re the only thing that’s ever felt real in my life. if giving it all up means keeping you, then so be it."
you staggered back, her words hitting you like a tidal wave. this was the same woman who had built empires, who moved through the world with an elegance and confidence that left everyone in awe. and here she was, willing to tear it all down just to keep you.
"mina..." you whispered, your voice faltering. you didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to process the sheer enormity of what she was offering.
she stepped closer, her eyes locked onto yours, pleading. "please," she whispered. "don’t walk away from this—from us. i’ll do anything to prove to you that i’m worth another chance."
you sank into the nearest chair, your legs no longer able to hold you up. your mind was a chaotic mess of emotions—anger, heartbreak, disbelief, and something you couldn’t quite name.
"do you even understand what you’re saying?" you asked, your voice shaky. "if you give everything to me, you lose your leverage, your status. you’re the one who’s supposed to benefit from this marriage, mina—not me. i’m... i’m nothing compared to you."
"don’t say that," she said firmly, kneeling in front of you again, her hands clasped together like she was praying. "you’re everything to me. i didn’t marry you for leverage or status. i married you because i love you. and i was too much of a fool to see how much i was risking until i almost lost it all."
you looked down at her, your heart breaking all over again. her once-composed, elegant persona was completely gone, replaced by someone stripped raw, utterly vulnerable. this wasn’t the mina the world saw—the untouchable heiress, the queen of control. this was the woman who had made a terrible mistake and was now begging for the chance to make it right.
but even as her words pierced through the walls you’d built around your heart, the pain lingered, heavy and suffocating.
"mina," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "i don’t know if i can do this. i don’t know if i can forgive you."
"then don’t," she said quickly, her voice trembling but determined. "don’t forgive me—not yet. just... let me try. let me stay by your side. let me prove to you that i can be the person you deserve."
you closed your eyes, your head falling into your hands as her words echoed in your mind. part of you wanted to believe her, to take her hand and let her pull you out of the darkness. but the other part—the part still reeling from the betrayal—kept you frozen in place.
"i don’t know if it’s that simple," you said, your voice barely audible.
"it’s not," mina agreed, her voice breaking again. "but please, just give me the chance to make it right. give me the chance to show you that we’re worth fighting for."
you didn’t respond, too overwhelmed to speak. the room was silent except for the sound of her quiet sobs and the distant hum of the city outside.
and for the first time, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t as ready to give up on her as you thought.
-----
you didn’t know how it happened, but you found yourself back home. maybe it was the weight of hiro’s tiny hands reaching out for something familiar, or the quiet way your chest ached when you passed the empty penthouse in the city skyline. you’d only been gone a few days, but you hated to admit how much you missed the place—and her.
so, here you were, standing at the base of the stairs in matching pajamas mina must’ve sneakily packed in hiro’s bag. your first morning back, the air was light yet unfamiliar, filled with the quiet possibility of something new.
the sound of faint clattering came from the kitchen. it wasn’t a noise you associated with mina—she wasn’t the type to cook. but as you stepped closer, curiosity getting the better of you, the sight before you made your jaw drop.
mina was there, standing in front of the stove, her hair tied up in a messy bun. she wore the same silly pajama set as you, except her sleeves were rolled up awkwardly, and there was flour smudged on her cheek. the smell of kimchi jjigae filled the air, warm and nostalgic, and for a second, you wondered if you were still dreaming.
“what… what are you doing?” you finally asked, breaking the spell.
she startled, spinning around with wide eyes, a spatula in her hand. “oh! you’re awake!” she smiled nervously, and you noticed a slight blush creeping up her neck. “i’m cooking breakfast.”
you raised an eyebrow, glancing around at the chaos of ingredients strewn across the counters. “you do know we have private chefs for this, right?”
“i know,” she said quickly, fiddling with her spatula. “but… i wanted to make it myself. for you. and hiro.”
the way she said it—so soft, so tentative—made something stir in your chest. but you pushed it down, choosing instead to pick up hiro from his baby chair and set him down safely nearby.
“what’s all this supposed to be?” you asked, moving to the counter and grabbing a knife.
“your favorite,” mina said quietly, glancing at you from the corner of her eye. “kimchi jjigae.”
you blinked at her, caught off guard by the admission. “you remember that?”
she nodded, her lips curving into a small, almost bashful smile. “of course i do.”
the room felt oddly still for a moment, the weight of her words lingering between you. shaking off the strange warmth creeping into your chest, you focused on chopping vegetables.
but in your distraction, the knife slipped, nicking your finger.
“ah—” you hissed, pulling your hand back as a bead of blood appeared. before you could even react, mina was by your side, grabbing your wrist with both hands.
“yah! are you okay?!” she asked, her voice frantic as she dragged you to the sink.
“it’s just a small cut,” you muttered, embarrassed at her overreaction.
“small cut? do you want it to get infected?” she scolded, her brows furrowed in genuine worry as she rinsed the wound under the tap.
you watched her fuss over you, her lips pursed and her movements precise. it was such a familiar sight that it tugged at something buried deep inside you. you couldn’t help but stare at her, noticing the way her nose scrunched in concentration, or how her cheeks were still dusted with flour.
when she finally looked up, her concern turned into hesitation. “sorry,” she mumbled, stepping back as if realizing she was being too much. “i didn’t mean to—”
“yah,” you interrupted, your tone soft. “you’re my wife. aren’t you supposed to take care of me?”
mina froze, her eyes wide and her cheeks turning a bright shade of red. “i—I mean—yes, of course!” she stammered before scrambling to find the first aid kit.
you bit back a laugh, watching her flustered movements. when she returned, she knelt down beside you, her hands trembling slightly as she patched up your finger.
“there,” she said softly, tying the bandage neatly.
“you’re getting better at this,” you teased, unable to resist.
mina pouted, crossing her arms. “yah, you try cooking and dealing with your clumsy self at the same time.”
you grinned, a chuckle escaping your lips. “well, i wasn’t the one who decided to make breakfast from scratch.”
“i wanted it to be special,” she admitted, her voice quiet but sincere.
your chest tightened at her words, and before you could stop yourself, you reached out to brush the flour off her cheek. mina’s eyes widened, and you quickly pulled your hand back, clearing your throat.
“don’t burn the food,” you said, turning toward the stove.
mina blinked before rushing to turn off the heat. “oh! the jjigae!” she yelped, her panicked expression making you laugh out loud.
hiro giggled from his chair, clapping his tiny hands as if he understood the humor of the moment.
you shook your head, rolling up your sleeves and moving to help her. “come on, let’s finish this before we starve,” you said, grabbing the spatula from her.
side by side, the two of you worked together in the kitchen, your movements clumsy but strangely synchronized. for the first time in a long time, the penthouse felt warm—not just from the food, but from something deeper.
as you set the table and watched mina playfully feed hiro a tiny spoonful of broth, you caught yourself smiling. maybe, just maybe, you thought, this could work.
but, of course, that only happens in happy stories.
-----
you didn’t know how it happened, but somehow, you found yourself sitting on the couch in the dim glow of the city skyline, a half-empty glass in your hand and a storm raging in your head. work was a blur, the alcohol wasn’t helping, and the faint ache of exhaustion was settling deep in your bones.
the quiet was shattered by the soft footsteps against the hardwood floor, followed by the sharp flick of the light switch.
“you're good at avoiding stuff.”
her voice was low, smooth, and unhurried. you didn’t need to turn to know it was mina. the faint scent of her perfume reached you before she did, intoxicating and inescapable.
“i’ve been working,” you replied curtly, your gaze fixed on the amber liquid swirling in your glass.
she stepped closer, the sound of her footsteps deliberate, echoing in the silence. “at this hour?” she asked, her tone carrying a dangerous edge.
you didn’t answer, your silence an act of defiance—or perhaps exhaustion.
“you look gorgeous,” she said suddenly, her voice soft yet commanding, as if she was stating an undeniable fact.
you froze, the words catching you off guard. you glanced at her briefly, only to regret it instantly. she was standing there in a black silk robe, loosely tied at the waist, revealing just enough to make your thoughts falter. her hair was a cascade of dark waves, her gaze sharp and unyielding.
you quickly looked away, feeling the warmth of the alcohol creeping up your neck. “don’t say things like that,” you muttered, trying to steady yourself.
“why not?” she asked, stepping closer until she was standing directly in front of you.
“mina, just—”
“you’ve been drinking,” she observed, cutting you off. her eyes flicked to the glass in your hand before meeting yours again. “and thinking. i can tell.”
you sighed, leaning back against the couch. “why are you doing this?” you asked quietly, the words heavy with frustration. “why are you trying so hard now? do you think i’ve forgotten? sometimes i still see him. i still hear his voice.”
her expression didn’t waver, but something darker flickered in her eyes. “bambam?” she asked, her tone calm, almost unnervingly so.
you nodded, gripping your glass tighter.
she crouched down in front of you, her movements slow and deliberate. “he’s gone,” she said softly, her voice a mix of assurance and finality.
you blinked, your brows furrowing. “what do you mean?”
she tilted her head, her lips curling into a faint smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “he won’t bother us anymore,” she said simply.
“mina, what did you—”
“do you trust me?” she interrupted, her gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.
you hesitated, the weight of her words sinking in.
“i’ll make this simple,” she continued, her voice dropping to a whisper as she leaned closer. “you’re mine. and i’ll do whatever it takes to keep it that way.”
your breath hitched as she placed a hand on your thigh, her grip firm and unyielding.
“if i fail again, everything i have—my wealth, my power, my name—it’s yours,” she said, her voice laced with both vulnerability and menace. “but let me make one thing clear.”
her fingers traced a slow, deliberate line up your jaw, forcing you to look at her. her smile softened, but her eyes were anything but gentle.
“if you ever think about betraying me, if you ever look at someone else—” her smile widened, almost playful, but her voice dropped an octave, sending a shiver down your spine, “you’ll regret it.”
“mina—”
“shh,” she whispered, pressing a finger to your lips. “you think i’d let that happen? with this kind of face, you have time to look at someone else?”
her laugh was soft, almost musical, but there was a razor-sharp edge to it. “i’ll make sure you never even think about it,” she said, her tone sweet yet chilling.
she climbed onto your lap with practiced grace, her robe slipping slightly, exposing more of her skin. “do you know why, darling?” she asked, her hands cupping your face.
you swallowed hard, your mind a whirlwind of emotions.
“because you’re mine,” she said softly, her lips brushing against your ear. “every part of you—your heart, your body, your soul—it belongs to me. till death do us part.”
her fingers tightened slightly, her nails grazing your skin as her smile turned almost feral. “you’ll stay by my side, and i’ll make sure you never want to leave.”
you were trapped in her gaze, a mix of fear and desire pooling in your chest. and as her lips finally met yours, her kiss was both a promise and a warning, leaving you breathless and utterly consumed.
-----
you didn’t know what you expected to find when you stepped into the penthouse parking lot, but it certainly wasn’t this.
five sleek, pristine ferraris stood in a perfect row under the soft fluorescent lights, their curves gleaming like a scene ripped straight out of a luxury car commercial. and there, standing awkwardly in front of them, was dahyun, bowing deeply, her professional demeanor strained with urgency.
“i sincerely apologize for the delay,” she said quickly, straightening up but keeping her head slightly bowed. “president myoui gave strict orders for these to arrive before you returned. we miscalculated the delivery schedule, and—”
you blinked, holding up a hand. “wait, wait—hold on.” you gestured vaguely at the cars, your heart racing faster than you’d ever admit. “are these… for me?”
dahyun nodded, a polite smile tugging at her lips. “yes. president myoui insisted on options to suit your taste.”
“options,” you repeated dumbly, staring at the cars like they might vanish if you blinked too hard.
the surrealness of the moment hit you all at once. the smell of expensive leather, the shimmer of custom paint jobs, and the quiet hum of dahyun’s professionalism—it was ridiculous, absurd, and so mina that you couldn’t help the grin tugging at your lips.
“this is insane,” you muttered, running a hand through your hair before laughing to yourself. you turned back to dahyun, who seemed amused by your reaction despite her formality. “okay, seriously, is this a prank?”
“not at all,” she assured you, bowing again. “please enjoy.”
you nodded, still grinning like an idiot, and immediately pulled out your phone. your fingers shook slightly as you dialed mina, the excitement bubbling over like you were calling someone for the first time.
she answered on the second ring, her voice smooth and cool as ever. “yes?”
“mina,” you blurted out, pacing in front of the cars, “did you—” you gestured wildly at the line-up, even though she couldn’t see you. “did you send me five ferraris?”
there was a pause, and you swore you could hear the faintest hint of amusement in her voice when she replied, “is that a problem?”
“a problem?!” you exclaimed, laughing. “who just—who sends five ferraris to their spouse like it’s nothing?!”
“you said you liked it, it was your dream car.” she said simply, her tone feigning indifference.
“i said i liked cars, not that i needed my own showroom,” you shot back, still laughing.
“do you like them?” she asked, her voice softening ever so slightly.
you stopped pacing, your grin fading into something more genuine. “yeah,” you said quietly. “i love them.”
“good,” she replied, the single word carrying a warmth you weren’t used to hearing from her. “i have to go. let me know if you need anything else.”
before you could respond, the line went dead, and you stared at your phone for a moment, the reality of her gesture settling over you.
meanwhile, at her office, mina leaned back in her chair, a rare smile tugging at her lips as she added another note to her packed schedule: buy gift personally.
it was unusual for her. she rarely handled gifts herself, preferring to delegate such tasks. but for you, she wanted it to be perfect.
you were worth the effort.
-----
the evening started innocently enough, with you saying yes to a night out with mina, despite the nagging doubts at the back of your mind.
it wasn’t a lavish affair, not by her usual standards at least. she picked you up at your work at seven, dressed in a simple black dress, her makeup subtle but enough to highlight the sharp lines of her face. "you look good," she said, her tone casual, but the way her eyes lingered on you betrayed the her. you, in turn, felt a tinge of heat rise to your cheeks, muttering something about how she wasn’t so bad herself.
it started with dinner at a small, cozy restaurant tucked away in a quiet alley. mina insisted she’d found it herself, which made you raise an eyebrow in disbelief. she laughed at your skepticism, pointing out that even she wasn’t above googling "romantic spots for two." the food was exquisite, but what stood out more was the atmosphere between you both. it wasn’t strained anymore. you weren’t tiptoeing around each other like you used to. there were shared smiles, quiet laughter, and even a playful argument over the last piece of grilled meat that ended with her sliding it onto your plate.
"you need it more," she teased. "you’ve been working too much."
"look who’s talking," you retorted, earning a soft chuckle from her.
next was an impromptu stroll through the park. mina slipped her arm through yours as you walked under the glow of fairy lights strung between the trees. she talked about hiro, about how he’d started mimicking some of your mannerisms. "he even tries to furrow his brows like you do when you’re concentrating," she said, her voice tinged with amusement. "it’s adorable."
it felt… normal. like how things might’ve been if everything hadn’t gone wrong before. you found yourself smiling more, laughing at her little quips, and even teasing her back when she stumbled slightly on the uneven path. "elegant as always," you commented, earning a playful shove from her.
"watch it," she said, her tone light, though the corners of her mouth twitched with the threat of a smile.
as you walked further, the two of you passed a small stall set up along the path. colorful trinkets and charms hung from strings, swaying gently in the breeze. mina paused, her eyes narrowing at the sign that read, 'lucky charms for a fortunate life!' she glanced at the items, her lips tugging into a skeptical pout.
"60k won for a clover leaf?" she muttered, crossing her arms. "what’s so special about it? did it grow on a mountaintop blessed by the heavens or something?"
you couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you, and the vendor, a cheerful older man, grinned at mina’s sharp tone. "it’s not just any clover," he said, holding one up like it was made of gold. "these are the four leafs of clover. they bring true luck, especially for love."
mina raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "true luck? or a lighter wallet?"
you leaned against a nearby post, trying to stifle your laughter as she continued her interrogation. "do people really buy these?" she asked, glancing at you briefly as if for backup.
"all the time," the vendor said, undeterred by her skepticism. "you’d be surprised how much people will pay for a little bit of luck."
mina sighed dramatically, shaking her head. "well, i’m not one of them." she turned to you, jabbing a finger in your direction. "and you’d better not be, either."
"wouldn’t dream of it," you said, still grinning.
as the two of you walked away, mina muttered under her breath about overpriced leaves, and you couldn’t help but laugh again, the sound spilling out into the crisp night air. moments like this—moments where her sharp wit clashed with your quiet amusement—felt like tiny pieces of the puzzle falling back into place.
"you’re insufferable," she said, but there was a softness in her voice, a warmth that melted into the cool evening.
"and yet, you love me," you teased, your voice light.
she looked at you then, her expression softening as she reached for your hand, her fingers lacing through yours. "yeah," she said quietly, her gaze steady. "i do."
later, you found yourselves parked along a quiet street, a convenience store’s neon sign glowing faintly in the distance. mina had insisted on buying ice cream, claiming it was the perfect end to the night. you stepped out of the car, glancing back at her briefly as she adjusted her seat, her figure illuminated by the faint glow of the streetlights. "don’t take too long," she teased, her voice laced with a playful warmth that tugged at your chest. you nodded, offering a faint smile before heading to the store, the cool evening air brushing against your skin.
when you came back, ice cream in hand, you froze.
a truck barreled down the street, its headlights cutting through the darkness like knives. it was heading straight for mina’s car.
time slowed as a cold dread seized your chest, each second dragging like an eternity. your voice ripped through the night, raw and desperate, as you screamed her name. the truck's headlights glared like accusing eyes, cutting through the dark before the devastating impact—the shattering of glass, the screech of twisting metal—obliterated the fragile calm of the evening. it wasn’t an accident; the way the truck veered directly into her car made it clear. the driver didn’t stop. instead, the truck sped off, its taillights vanishing into the darkness as if it had been waiting for this moment. the sound of metal crumpling, glass shattering—it was deafening. your legs moved before you could think, the ice cream dropping from your hands as you sprinted toward the wreckage.
"mina!" you yelled, desperation choking your voice. flames licked at the edges of the car, smoke billowing into the night sky. you reached the door, pulling at the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. panic surged through you as you pounded on the window, the shards cutting into your fists. "mina, please!"
you didn’t care about the blood dripping from your hands or the sting of the glass embedded in your skin. all you could think about was her—trapped, hurt, or worse. "don’t do this," you muttered, tears blurring your vision as you slammed your fist against the window again. "don’t leave me."
and then, through the haze of smoke and panic, you heard a voice. "what are you doing?"
you turned, heart stopping for a moment before it kicked into overdrive. she was standing a few feet away, disheveled but alive. "mina," you whispered, your legs nearly giving out as you stumbled toward her. she caught you, her hands firm on your arms as she looked you over.
"you’re bleeding," she said, her voice laced with both concern and frustration. "why would you—"
"i thought you were in there," you interrupted, your voice breaking as you leaned your forehead against her shoulder. "i thought—"
she softened, her hands moving to cradle your face, tilting it up so you’d look at her. "i’m okay," she said gently, her thumbs brushing away the tears streaking your cheeks. "i was out before it happened. i’m fine."
but you weren’t. the weight of the moment slammed into you all at once, your legs giving out beneath you as you collapsed to your knees. your hands, slick with blood, trembled against the rough pavement, every shallow breath catching in your throat. the world around you blurred, the distant heat and crackle of flames fading into the background as the adrenaline drained away, leaving only the hollow ache of fear and relief. mina followed, kneeling in front of you and reaching for your hands. "let me see," she murmured, her voice steady despite the slight tremor in her fingers.
she worked quickly, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket and wrapping it around your hand to stem the bleeding. "you’re an idiot," she said, her tone scolding but her touch impossibly gentle. "why would you do something so reckless?"
"because it’s you," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. you looked at her, really looked at her, and saw the fear she was trying to mask. "i can’t lose you."
for a moment, she didn’t say anything. then, she reached up, cupping your cheek as she leaned in, her forehead resting against yours. "you won’t," she promised, her voice firm. "i’m not going anywhere."
the sound of distant sirens broke the moment, and mina stood, pulling you up with her. "come on," she said, her arm slipping around your waist to support you. "let’s get you cleaned up properly."
you let her lead you away, your mind still reeling from everything that had happened. but one thing was clear: she was still here. and for now, that was enough.
-----
the phone rang once, twice, before a voice finally emerged from the shadows, its tone low and distorted, like something lurking just out of sight.
"you know what happened, right?"
the words sliced through the air, sharp and unsettling, as though they weren’t meant to be heard, but still found their way to jennie’s ears. her lips curled into a thin, cold smile as she pressed the phone closer, her fingers tightening around it with a force that felt unnatural, as if she could crush the very pulse of the speaker through sheer will.
"yeah," she replied, voice laced with ice. "mina’s fine."
the silence that followed was suffocating, thick with the tension of something unsaid, something dangerous. jennie’s breath was calm, controlled, but her heartbeat—faint but insistent—pounded in her ears. her eyes, dark and unreadable, flickered toward the shadows that clung to the room like secrets, as if the walls themselves were closing in on her.
the voice, now frantic, pushed through the tension. "do you realize what you’ve done? you’ve nearly destroyed everything. she could’ve died, jennie."
jennie’s smile grew wider, colder, a dangerous gleam in her eyes. her voice was a whisper, like a predator speaking to its prey.
"so what? she’s still alive. that’s all that matters." her words dripped with something darker, something obsessive. there was no fear, no hesitation. only a need, a craving that twisted deep inside her chest.
another pause. a breath. then, the voice, now trembling with disbelief. "this isn’t just a mistake anymore. you’re playing with fire, and you know it."
jennie’s laugh was soft, almost too soft, like the rustle of leaves in the dead of night, unsettling in its quiet. "fire?" she mused, her voice turning heavier, each word infused with something chilling. "fire is what I’m made of." she let the silence stretch between them, letting her words settle into the air. "and fire... fire always consumes what it touches."
the voice faltered, perhaps realizing the magnitude of what jennie was saying. "you don’t understand—"
"oh, I understand," jennie interrupted, her voice cutting through the line like a blade, smooth and merciless. "I understand everything." she leaned back in her chair, her eyes fixed on something unseen, something distant—her thoughts dark and consuming. "I understand that nothing matters unless it’s mine. not mina. not anyone."
there was a shift in the room, as if the air itself had thickened, darkened, pressing in on her. jennie’s breath came a little quicker now, her voice lower, heavy with the weight of her obsession.
"she was always a means to an end," jennie continued, her words slipping out like a secret, something venomous and raw. "but you know... she was never the end." her fingers drummed against the arm of her chair, slow, deliberate, as if she were counting the seconds until everything fell apart.
"you’ll destroy yourself," the voice warned, the fear in it more evident now. "this isn’t just about her anymore. this is about you."
jennie’s eyes closed for a moment, as if savoring the weight of the words. when she opened them again, there was something darker there—a glimmer of madness, the edge of an obsession that had taken root in her soul. her next words were a whisper, a promise wrapped in a threat.
"no," she murmured. "it’s about getting them back."
the voice on the other end was silent, too scared to respond, but jennie didn’t need an answer. her obsession was too deep, too consuming to be stopped. she could feel it burning inside her, the desire, the need to reclaim what she thought she had lost.
her hand tightened around the phone, knuckles white. the shadows seemed to shift, closing in on her, but jennie didn’t care. she was already far beyond the point of no return. the game was no longer a game—it was a hunt.
and she wasn’t going to stop until she had what she wanted.
until they were hers again.
the line went dead, but the cold, lingering feeling of her presence remained, like a shadow following you in the dark, relentless and inescapable.
-----
the room was dim, the air heavy with the scent of lingering dinner and the faint trace of lavender from the bedside lamp. the soft hum of the night outside filtered through the window, but inside, there was only the quiet, steady rhythm of hiro’s breathing as he slept in the middle of the bed. his tiny form was a gentle presence, a reminder of everything you were fighting to keep safe. you sat on the edge of the bed, your bandaged hand cradled in your lap. the dull ache from the injury was sharp enough to feel, but it was the reminder of the chaos—the fear—that lingered most in your chest.
mina shifted beside you, her warmth a soft comfort as her gaze focused on you instead of hiro. "how’s your hand?" she asked, her voice soft, the concern in it enough to make your heart ache in return.
"it hurts," you replied, your voice low, barely audible, as if you were still trapped in the moment of panic from earlier. you didn’t meet her eyes. the fear was still there, curling around your throat, tightening it.
she sighed, her voice gentle yet tinged with something like exasperation. "you’re a lunatic, you know that?" she said, leaning forward slightly, her fingers brushing against your hand with careful tenderness, mindful of the bandages. "trying to break into the car like that—it could’ve exploded. do you have any idea how dangerous that was?"
you finally met her gaze, eyes wide and vulnerable in a way that made her breath catch in her throat. "i thought you were in there," you whispered, the words heavy with the weight of the truth you’d been too afraid to voice. "i thought i was going to lose you."
her expression softened instantly, the sharp edge of her frustration melting away. she reached out, her fingers threading through your hair, tucking a loose strand behind your ear in a gesture that was both gentle and possessive. "why would you even think that?" she murmured, her voice now laced with tenderness. "i got out before it happened."
"why did you leave the car?" you asked, your voice trembling just a little. "how did you get out?"
there was a brief pause, and then mina glanced down, almost shy. she laughed softly, the sound light and teasing. "i went back to that little stand we passed earlier. the one selling lucky charms," she said, her tone playful, like she was admitting a secret. "i saw a four-leaf clover, and... well, i didn’t want to risk it, you know? i thought maybe it could bring us some luck." she gave you a sidelong glance, almost sheepish. "i wanted to surprise you with it."
you blinked, disbelieving. "a lucky charm?"
"yes," she said, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips. "it worked, didn’t it? maybe it really is lucky."
the relief washed over you in waves, but the tension still coiled in your chest. you couldn’t help but mutter, "don’t do that again. don’t leave without telling me."
mina moved closer then, her face softening as she studied your features with a look that seemed to search for something deeper than just a response. her lips curved into that teasing smirk, but there was something warm and reassuring in her gaze. "you were so scared," she said, her voice light, but there was a deeper affection hidden in the teasing. "would you really lose it if i was gone?"
without a second of hesitation, you answered. "yes."
the smile faltered for just a moment, replaced by something softer, more vulnerable, before she lowered her gaze to hiro, her fingers brushing over his tiny hand. "if i was gone, who would take care of you?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "would you... find someone else?"
the question hit you like a stone, a weight so heavy you couldn’t speak. your heart thudded painfully in your chest, your mouth dry, and all you could do was stare at her, speechless.
when you didn’t respond, she gave a shaky laugh, the sound fragile in the quiet room. "you’d better not," she said, her tone light but with an edge, like she was trying to mask the vulnerability in her words. "i’d be rolling in my grave if you did."
"mina—" you started, but she cut you off, her eyes sharp and insistent.
"i’m serious," she said, her gaze locking onto yours, fierce despite the softness. "you’re mine, you hear me? no one else."
your throat tightened as you nodded, the words barely escaping your lips. "i hear you."
mina smiled then, and it was different—soft, sure, and reassuring. she leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead, her lips lingering just a moment longer than usual, the warmth of her touch grounding you in the moment.
"good," she murmured against your skin. "because i’m not planning on going anywhere."
you exhaled shakily, reaching for her hand, your fingers trembling just slightly. "don’t," you whispered, your voice breaking. "don’t ever leave me."
her fingers tightened around yours, the strength in her grip a promise. "i won’t," she said, her voice steady, unwavering. "not now. not ever."
later, after the night had settled and the quiet of the room wrapped around you both, mina reached for something from the bedside table. you barely noticed it at first, too focused on the comfort of her hand in yours. but then she pulled out a small, secured charm—a four-leaf clover, encased in a delicate, ornate keychain. it was the one she’d bought that day. her eyes softened as she held it up for you to see. "i know it sounds silly," she said quietly, almost to herself, "but… i figured we could use all the luck we can get."
you looked at her then, your heart swelling with something fierce and protective. she wasn’t just holding onto a lucky charm. she was holding onto you, to the promise of things yet to come. and in that moment, the world outside the room didn’t seem so scary anymore.
"i’ll keep it," you whispered, your fingers brushing over the charm. "always."
------
the quiet of your private office felt almost suffocating, the stillness pressing against your chest as you sat at your desk. the soft, golden glow of the lamp illuminated the surface, casting long shadows across the room.
your gaze fell to the small object in your hand—a pressed four-leaf clover encased in a delicate glass frame, you turned it over slowly, the faintest hint of mina’s perfume lingering on it.
she had given it to you last night, her fingers brushing yours as she pressed it into your palm. “i figured we could use all the luck we can get." she’d said, her voice so uncharacteristically tender that it lingered in your mind, more than the charm itself.
your lips pressed into a thin line as you placed the clover on the open notebook in front of you. the pages, worn but well-kept, bore the weight of thoughts, memories, and fleeting moments you couldn’t let slip into the void.
your fingers hesitated over the clover for a moment before you gently folded the notebook closed, the charm now hidden within its pages.
you stood slowly, moving across the room to the safe tucked discreetly behind a cabinet. the keypad beeped softly as you entered the code, the lock clicking open with a muted finality.
carefully, you placed the notebook inside, setting it in its usual place amidst unassuming files and folders. as you closed the safe, the heavy thud of the door sent a faint echo through the room.
you stood there for a moment longer, staring at the locked safe as if you could see through the metal, as if the notebook was calling to you, tugging at the edges of your mind.
it wasn’t the notebook itself that weighed on you—it was what it held.
your chest tightened, and you let out a quiet breath, running a hand through your hair. this wasn’t just any night, and the clover wasn’t just a gift. somehow, it felt like a message, though you weren’t entirely sure of its meaning yet.
but for now, the notebook—and whatever truths it held—would stay hidden, locked away until the time was right.
“are you still in there?”
mina’s voice broke the silence, smooth and steady but carrying a faint edge of curiosity. her footsteps were soft against the hardwood, drawing closer.
your pulse quickened as you turned off the desk lamp, plunging the room into darkness. quickly, you shut the safe, twisting the dial to ensure it was locked tight.
“just finishing something,” you called out, your voice calm despite the unease curling in your chest.
the door creaked open slightly, and you could see her silhouette framed by the faint light from the hallway. her gaze flickered to you, sharp and unreadable, before she tilted her head.
“come to bed,” she said simply, her tone carrying no room for argument.
you nodded, brushing your fingers over the edge of the desk one last time before stepping away. as you walked toward her, you cast a glance over your shoulder at the closed safe, its secrets now buried once more.
mina’s hand found yours as you stepped out of the room, her touch grounding you in the present even as your thoughts lingered on what the future might hold. some things weren’t meant to stay hidden forever—but tonight, at least, they would remain a mystery.
-----
the amusement park was alive with vibrant colors and the shrill laughter of children. hiro clung to your hand as you walked toward the gates, his little legs moving with newfound confidence. "slow down, buddy," you chuckled, though you couldn’t hide the proud smile on your face.
"he’s been practicing," mina said softly, her tone warm as she watched hiro toddle beside you. she adjusted the strap of the backpack she carried, the sight of her dressed casually in jeans and sneakers a rare treat.
"pah-k," hiro said, pointing excitedly toward the carousel near the entrance. his words were still a little clumsy, but his excitement was unmistakable.
"park, that’s right," you encouraged, your heart swelling at his progress.
the three of you started with the carousel. mina held hiro steady on one of the painted horses, her hand never leaving his back as the ride began to spin. his laughter rang out, pure and unrestrained, and you couldn’t help but snap a few photos. mina glanced at you, her expression softening when she caught you grinning at them.
"what?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"nothing," you said, lowering the camera. "you just look... happy."
"well," she replied, turning back to hiro, "i am."
the day unfolded in a series of simple joys: hiro’s delighted squeals on the kiddie rides, the way he clutched a balloon animal almost as big as he was, and the rare but genuine laughs that escaped mina whenever hiro did something particularly adorable—like trying to feed her a bite of his ice cream and smearing it all over her face instead.
at one point, you found yourselves in front of a photo booth. "should we?" you asked, holding hiro’s hand as he tugged at your leg, clearly curious about the colorful backdrop.
mina hesitated but then nodded. "why not?"
the three of you crammed into the tiny space, hiro perched on your lap. the first photo was a simple smile, but by the second, hiro had grabbed mina’s sunglasses and placed them crookedly on his head. the final shot captured all three of you laughing, hiro’s little hands reaching up to touch mina’s face.
"this one’s going on the fridge," you said, holding the photo strip like it was a treasure.
the day ended with hiro fast asleep in his stroller, his tiny fingers clutching the edge of his blanket. the faint glow of the setting sun bathed the park in warm hues, casting long shadows on the pavement. you and mina walked side by side, the soft hum of the evening settling between you.
hiro stirred slightly in his sleep, his lips parting in a tiny yawn. mina crouched down to adjust the blanket, her movements careful and deliberate. as she stood, she glanced at you, a rare softness in her expression.
"look at him," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "he’s growing so fast."
"too fast," you replied, a gentle laugh escaping as you brushed a stray strand of hair from your face. "remember when he couldn’t even sit up on his own?"
mina nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "and now he’s running around, bossing us both around like he owns the place."
"well, he kind of does," you joked, nudging her lightly with your shoulder.
she laughed—a genuine, melodic sound that seemed to echo in the quiet of the evening. then, as if on a whim, she reached for your hand, her fingers intertwining with yours. the gesture was simple, but it carried a weight that made your chest tighten in the best way.
"we’re doing okay, aren’t we?" she asked, her gaze flickering to you, searching for something unspoken.
"yeah," you said, squeezing her hand gently. "we’re doing more than okay."
just as the moment settled into something quiet and serene, hiro stirred again, this time with a small, sleepy voice. "ma... 'ceam..."
mina blinked, looking down at him with an amused smile. "ice cream?"
hiro nodded, his eyes still half-closed but determined. "ma... 'ceam..."
you couldn’t help but laugh. "you’ve already had more ice cream than anyone your size should, little man."
mina crouched down again, brushing her fingers lightly through his soft hair. "how about we have some at home tomorrow, hmm?"
hiro seemed to consider this for a moment before letting out a soft "kay" and snuggling deeper into his blanket.
"he’s relentless," you said, watching as mina stood back up, shaking her head fondly.
"wonder where he gets it from," she teased, her tone light but her smile lingering as she looked at you.
"definitely not me," you replied with mock indignation, earning a quiet laugh from her.
as you walked toward the car, the gentle weight of mina’s hand in yours and the quiet sound of hiro’s breathing filling the space, you felt a sense of peace you hadn’t experienced in a long time. and as mina leaned her head against your shoulder, her voice soft as she whispered, "thank you for today," you realized that this—these little moments of joy and togetherness—was all you’d ever need.
-----
it wasn’t often that you had people over for dinner, but when sana insisted she and momo come by, you didn’t have the energy—or the heart—to turn her down.
mina was already in the kitchen by the time you got home, sleeves rolled up and hair tied back, focused on chopping vegetables. "you’re late," she said without looking up, but there wasn’t any bite in her tone, just quiet acknowledgment.
"got held up," you replied casually, shrugging off your coat. you could feel her glance at you out of the corner of her eye, but she didn’t press. the knock at the door came a little earlier than expected, and when you opened it, momo was the first to step in, her brows knitting in concern as she looked you over.
"where have you been?" she asked, her voice low but firm, as if she’d been holding onto the question for a while.
"relax, momo," you said, brushing off her concern with a soft laugh. "i’m fine."
"you don’t look fine," she countered, crossing her arms. "seriously, what happened with you?"
before you could answer, sana appeared behind her, balancing a bottle of wine in one hand holding it like a trophy "don’t interrogate them the second you walk in," she said, nudging momo with her elbow. "hi!" she beamed, pulling you into a quick hug before stepping inside.
momo followed close behind, lugging a bag stuffed with snacks. "i don’t trust whatever mina’s cooking," she declared loudly, earning a sharp look from the kitchen.
momo lingered for a second, her gaze still searching your face, but eventually, she sighed and followed sana in. mina called out from the kitchen, "don’t just stand there. set the table."
hiro, ever the opportunist, toddled toward momo, his tiny hands reaching for her leg. she barely made it three steps inside before he latched on, clutching her like his life depended on it. "oh, great," she muttered, trying to walk with hiro clinging to her. "i’m a jungle gym now."
"you love it," sana teased, already kicking off her shoes and flopping onto the couch like she owned the place. "he knows you’re the fun aunt."
mina didn’t bother looking up from where she was chopping vegetables, but her voice carried the faintest hint of amusement. "if you’re going to invade my kitchen, at least make yourself useful."
momo grinned, depositing her bag on the counter before grabbing an apron. "fine. but don’t blame me if your food turns out better than usual."
hiro trailed after her, giggling as she dramatically tied the apron on, only for her to immediately trip over him. "kid, you’re gonna be the death of me," momo groaned, picking him up and pretending to glare. he just giggled harder.
meanwhile, sana wandered over to where you were sitting, wine bottle already uncorked. she plopped down next to you, handing you a glass. "so," she started, glancing toward the kitchen where momo was now trying (and failing) to chop onions under mina’s sharp supervision. "who would’ve thought miss ice queen over there would turn into the domestic goddess of the century?"
"you say that like she doesn’t still have a mean streak," you replied, taking a sip.
"oh, she definitely does," sana agreed, raising her glass. "but look at her. she’s wiping mashed potatoes off hiro’s face like a pro. it’s disgusting how cute she’s become."
you laughed, glancing over at mina. she was, indeed, wiping mashed potatoes off hiro’s cheek, her expression soft despite the chaos around her.
the peace didn’t last long. momo, with all the confidence in the world, added a heaping spoonful of what she thought was sugar to the stew. mina’s head snapped up, eyes narrowing. "momo," she said slowly, "what did you just do?"
"uh, seasoning?" momo replied, looking entirely too pleased with herself.
mina stalked over, dipping a spoon into the pot and tasting it. her face twisted immediately. "that’s salt."
chaos erupted. mina started lecturing momo on the basics of cooking, while momo defended herself with increasingly ridiculous excuses. "it’s fusion cuisine!" she argued, waving the spoon in the air. "sweet and salty is a thing!"
sana, of course, took this as her cue to stir the pot—literally and figuratively. "i mean, she’s got a point," she said, barely containing her laughter. "mina, maybe you’re just not ready for momo’s genius."
"genius is a strong word," you muttered, trying to keep a straight face as hiro made a beeline for the bag of snacks momo had abandoned. you swooped in just in time, lifting him into your arms before he could dive in. "nice try, buddy."
by the end of it, the stew was deemed unsalvageable, and everyone ended up sitting on the living room floor, eating instant ramen straight from the pot.
sana nudged mina as they ate, her grin mischievous. "well," she said, "at least your life is more fun now."
mina, to everyone’s surprise, actually smiled. "maybe," she said, her voice soft, but there was a warmth in her eyes as she looked around the room—at you, at hiro, at the friends who’d turned a disaster into something laughable.
and for a moment, everything felt perfect.
------
the snow tapped gently against the window of your office, a rhythmic backdrop to the otherwise quiet room. you were at your desk, pretending to work, though your focus had splintered the moment mina walked in unannounced.
she didn’t knock—she never did. instead, she strolled in with the air of someone who owned the place, shrugging off her coat and draping it casually over the chair opposite you.
“you’re late,” you teased, not looking up.
“traffic,” she replied, her voice clipped but smooth. she stepped closer, her heels clicking softly against the hardwood floor. “besides, i thought you’d appreciate the company.”
your lips twitched. “is that so?”
“mm-hmm.” mina stopped beside you, her perfume—a subtle mix of jasmine and something darker—settling over your senses. she placed her hands on the desk, leaning just enough to draw your attention.
“what are you working on?” she asked, peering at the scattered papers in front of you.
“nothing that can’t wait,” you said, turning to face her fully. the way she looked tonight—her blouse slightly unbuttoned, her hair tousled as though she’d been running her fingers through it—made it impossible to care about anything else.
mina raised an eyebrow, a small, knowing smile playing at her lips. “really? since when do you leave work unfinished?”
“since you became my distraction,” you shot back, your voice low.
her smile widened, and she rounded the desk slowly, her fingers brushing lightly against the edge as she moved. “i don’t mind being a distraction,” she said, her tone almost casual, though the look in her eyes was anything but.
she stopped behind your chair, her hands settling on your shoulders. her touch was firm yet gentle as she leaned down, her breath warm against your ear.
“you’ve been too tense lately,” she murmured, her fingers starting to knead at the knots in your shoulders.
you exhaled sharply, caught off guard by the unexpected tenderness. “mina—”
“don’t argue,” she interrupted, her voice a soft command. “just relax.”
her hands worked their way down, the pressure of her touch melting away the day’s stress. but it wasn’t just the massage that had your pulse quickening—it was the way her lips brushed, feather-light, against the side of your neck.
“you know,” she began, her voice laced with amusement, “hiro mentioned something interesting the other day.”
“oh?” you asked, though it was hard to focus on anything with the way she was slowly undoing your tie, her fingers brushing against your collar.
“he said he wants a sibling.”
you froze, her words sinking in. “did he now?”
mina hummed in response, her hands sliding down to rest against your chest. “he’s been very persistent about it. keeps asking when we’ll ‘make’ him one.”
your breath hitched as she leaned closer, her lips grazing the shell of your ear. “so… what do you think?”
you barely registered the sound of papers scattering as she pushed them aside, perching on the edge of the desk. her legs bracketed your chair, drawing you closer until there was nothing between you but the sharp edge of want.
“i'm supposed to be working" you murmured, though even as you said it, your hands betrayed you, finding the smooth fabric of her blouse and sliding upward.
“you are,” mina teased, her smile dark as she tilted your face toward hers again. “just… multitasking.”
whatever semblance of restraint you had left snapped as she pulled you toward her, her lips descended on yours, the kiss starting slow but quickly turning heated, desperate. the tension that had been building all night snapped like a live wire as her hands slid under your shirt, her nails dragging lightly against your skin.
papers crumpled beneath her as she was pressed against the desk, the weight of her body a distraction you didn’t want to resist. her name spilled from your lips like a plea, your control slipping entirely as she smirked against your mouth, victorious.
her hands threading into your hair. the office door, locked and forgotten, muffled the sound of her quiet gasp as you stood, pulling her against you.
by the time the city lights began to blur together through the window, your desk was an afterthought—papers scattered, tension replaced by something headier, more raw.
-----
the sun poured into the kitchen through half-drawn curtains, bathing everything in a warm, golden glow. the smell of coffee lingered in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of toast from the breakfast you barely managed to throw together. mina sat across from you, looking unfairly radiant for someone who’d made you completely lose your composure the night before. she was scrolling through her phone, a small, amused smile tugging at her lips.
hiro toddled over, his tiny legs carrying himself clumsily as he reached for mina’s hand. “mommy, why are you smiling so much?” they asked, their innocent eyes blinking up at her.
you froze, mid-sip of coffee, nearly choking as a blush crept up your neck. mina’s smile widened slightly, but she didn’t even flinch. instead, she scooped hiro up, placing him in her lap.
“because mommy’s happy,” she said smoothly, ruffling their hair.
hiro tilted his head, clearly unsatisfied with the vague answer. “why?”
you coughed, trying to mask your embarrassment, and quickly stood. “who wants more toast?” you asked, your voice a little too chipper.
mina shot you a knowing glance, her eyes glinting with amusement. “i’m happy because they made me laugh last night,” she said, her tone deceptively sweet.
you nearly dropped the plate you were holding. “mina,” you warned under your breath, giving her a sharp look.
she just shrugged innocently, brushing a strand of hair from hiro’s face. “what? it’s the truth.”
hiro giggled, oblivious to the underlying tension in the room. “they’re funny,” he declared proudly, clapping his hands.
“oh, they are,” mina replied, her lips quirking into a smirk. “in so many ways.”
you groaned, turning away before she could see the mix of frustration and flustered panic on your face. “i’m making more toast,” you mumbled, desperate for an escape.
but even with your back turned, you could feel mina’s gaze burning into you—teasing, playful, and just a little too smug. it wasn’t fair, really. not when she looked like that, sitting there with hiro in her arms, acting as if she hadn’t completely undone you just hours before.
hiro, still seated on mina’s lap, turned to her with wide eyes. “mommy, what are we doing for christmas?”
mina tilted her head thoughtfully, her hand absentmindedly smoothing down hiro’s hair. “well, that depends. what does my little hiro want for christmas?”
hiro beamed, his excitement bubbling over as he clapped his hands together. “a sibling! so i can boss them around!”
you spun around from the counter so fast you nearly dropped the knife you were using to spread butter. “hiro!” you exclaimed, half-choking on a laugh.
mina blinked, caught off guard, before dissolving into soft laughter. “a sibling, huh? you really want it that bad?” she repeated, her eyes sparkling as she looked at you, her smile carrying just the faintest hint of mischief. “what do you think about that?”
“i think hiro needs to learn patience,” you muttered, your cheeks heating up again as you avoided her gaze.
hiro nodded solemnly, as if considering your words, before turning back to mina. “but christmas isn’t that far away! it’s soon! maybe santa can help!”
mina kissed the top of their head, her laughter soft and full of warmth. “we’ll see, sweetheart,” she said gently, her eyes flicking back to you, an amused smile playing on her lips. “we’ll see.”
as hiro continued to chatter about all the things he wanted for christmas, you caught mina’s gaze across the table. and despite your embarrassment, you couldn’t help but smile back. because, as chaotic as it all was, this was your family—and nothing could ever replace it.
-----
it started like any typical afternoon, but with that special, rare feeling—everyone together, enjoying a simple day. the sun hung low, casting a golden glow over the riverside, where you, mina, sana, momo, and hiro wandered aimlessly, soaking up the last bits of warmth before winter fully settled in.
hiro was running ahead, laughing as he shouted something about being faster than the wind. his scarf fluttered behind him, almost like he was competing with the leaves, which had already started to fall. momo had a handful of roasted chestnuts, playfully smacking sana’s hand away each time she tried to grab one, earning a dramatic eye-roll from sana. “those are for everyone, momo!” she teased.
mina, ever the careful one, kept a hand on hiro’s back as he leaped ahead, his tiny feet barely keeping up with his excitement. “you know,” mina said with a smirk, “if he keeps running like that, he’ll be faster than you soon.”
you couldn’t help but laugh, strolling ahead to grab hot drinks for everyone. the air was crisp but lively with chatter and the occasional distant hum of passing cars. everything felt right, easy. the kind of day where you could forget about everything else.
then it all came to a halt in a single, horrifying moment.
the shriek of tires—sharp, sudden—split the air like a crack of thunder. you didn’t even have time to process what was happening. everything went from warm and carefree to chaos in the blink of an eye. the car, speeding toward the crosswalk where mina and hiro stood, seemed like it appeared out of nowhere. the driver’s face was frozen in panic, eyes wide with fear as they struggled to control the vehicle, but it was too late. the car was on a direct path toward them.
hiro froze, his tiny hand slipping from mina’s grasp as he stared, terrified.
“hiro!” mina screamed, her voice splitting through the air. and without thinking, your body moved on its own.
you bolted.
the ground blurred beneath your feet as you charged forward. mina’s desperate shout was drowned out by the blood pounding in your ears, each second feeling like an eternity. the car came closer—closer—until all you could think was that you had to get to him, you had to get hiro out of the way.
“no!” mina screamed, her voice breaking just as you reached them. you pushed hiro away, shoving him toward safety with everything you had, but the car—it hit you.
the sound of metal crunching against bone was the last thing you registered before everything went black.
the force of the impact threw you like a ragdoll, sending you flying onto the hood of the car, your body twisting violently before slamming onto the cold pavement. a sickening crack echoed in your ears, and pain exploded—sharp, unbearable—as you struggled to breathe, blood filling your mouth with each jagged inhale. your vision was a blur of red, the edges of your sight dimming as the world around you spun into oblivion.
mina’s voice broke through the chaos, but it felt like she was shouting from a distance, muffled and distorted by the ringing in your ears.
“stay with me, please—don’t close your eyes!” her voice cracked, raw with panic. her hands were there, hovering above you, desperate, unsure where to touch, as she frantically tried to stop the bleeding. the feel of her trembling fingers was the only solid thing in the storm of confusion. “stay with me,” she repeated, softer now, broken.
hiro’s cries echoed in the background, his small voice sharp with panic. “what happened? mama?” he wailed, his words coming out in a rush of terror. the sound of his sobs shattered something inside you, but it was all you could hear—the faint sound of him calling your name.
“momo, call an ambulance!” sana’s voice was urgent, trembling. you felt the weight of her panic in the air.
the world was spinning, and you couldn’t focus on anything. your body was numb, heavy with pain, but your mind couldn’t quite keep up with it all. through the dizzy haze, you could feel mina’s hand clutched tightly around yours. the warmth of her skin, her touch—a lifeline in the blurring chaos.
her voice broke again, softer now, filled with fear. “please don’t leave me,” she whispered, her voice trembling. tears streamed down her face, falling onto yours as she begged you to hold on, to stay with her.
your head spun, every movement sending a ripple of pain that made your vision swim. the world narrowed to just her face—the only thing that seemed real in that moment.
the sirens wailed in the distance, growing closer, but everything around you felt like it was slipping away. the world was no longer clear—just a mess of flashing lights, muffled sounds, and the strange weightlessness that came with losing consciousness.
but amidst it all, mina’s voice cut through the fog, soft and steady. "you’re going to be okay," she whispered, her voice like a thread of warmth in the cold, hard darkness. "i’m here. i’ll be here when you wake up." her words were a lifeline, her tone gentle but firm, as if trying to convince not just you, but herself, too.
she was holding your hand, fingers intertwined with yours, her touch grounding you in the chaos. the pressure of her grip was reassuring, like a promise she was trying to keep. "i won’t leave you," she murmured, her voice breaking slightly, but she still spoke with that quiet strength of hers. "you’re not alone. just hang on for me, okay? just a little longer."
the pain was there, sharp and blinding, but beneath it, there was something else—a fleeting sense of comfort, a feeling that no matter what happened, mina was there. that small, fragile promise was all you could cling to in that moment. and, just before everything faded away, you heard her voice one last time.
"please, don’t go. i need you."
and then, the world went silent.
-----
the darkness felt endless. you floated somewhere between the ache in your head and the muffled sounds of the world outside the haze. a rhythmic beeping was your constant companion, its steady pulse both grounding and disorienting.
when your eyes finally fluttered open, the room spun—sterile white walls, the faint buzz of fluorescent lights, and a sharp antiseptic smell that made you wince. it took a moment to realize you were lying in a hospital bed, the blankets heavy against your legs, an iv needle taped to your arm. you blinked, trying to piece together how you got here, but the memories felt slippery, distant, like trying to hold water in your hands.
and then you saw the figure by the window. small— too small, unmoving, silhouetted against the orange glow of the setting sun.
you blinked again, straining to focus. they turned slowly, the light casting their face in shadows until they stepped closer.
the woman—soft, familiar, and hauntingly beautiful—tightened her lips into a mask of gentle concern. "you don’t remember me?" her voice trembled, the control slipping ever so slightly.
you stared, still lost, trying to make sense of it all. something about her felt like it was supposed to trigger a memory, but it didn't. her face… it was almost there, but it didn’t fit, like trying to remember a dream you couldn’t quite grasp.
"i’m jennie," she said softly, her lips curving into a bittersweet smile. "kim jennie. we… we were together. before everything."
there was nothing. no recognition. just a flicker of something in your chest, something tight and unfamiliar.
her was voice fragile. you could only blink, still unsure, the name doing nothing to ignite recognition.
"yes," jennie whispered, leaning in closer, her voice thick with emotion. "you’ve been through so much," she continued. "the accident… it was bad. the doctors said you might not remember everything right away."
the word accident bounced around in your head, disjointed and foreign, like it belonged to someone else. you tried to make sense of it, tried to remember, but your mind just couldn’t hold onto anything concrete. there was a sharp emptiness, a blank space where the details should've been. it didn’t seem real.
jennie’s face, so full of concern, almost made you believe it. she sounded so sure, so confident, like she was the one who had been there through it all. but the fog in your mind refused to lift, and the weight of everything felt off, out of place.
you blinked, trying to focus on her words, but they came at you like distant echoes, fading before they made any sense. she was here now. she said she’d promised to be here. but the memories of the accident were too far, too jumbled, and you just couldn’t piece it all together.
"i know you don’t remember," jennie murmured, as if reading your confusion. "but i’m here. i promised i would be."
the uncertainty lingered. your head was spinning, but one name broke through the haze.
"mina?" you whispered, your throat dry, the name slipping out without thought.
at that, jennie’s eyes darkened, her expression twitching with something unreadable for a split second before she masked it with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. the calm mask was slipping, just a little.
"mina…" she repeated slowly, her voice tight. "she was your ex. we… we were together before. i was the one who really cared about you."
your chest tightened at her words, but you couldn't bring yourself to ask more, the confusion still swirling in your mind.
jennie leaned in closer, her voice lowering to a softer, more personal tone. "you see, mina—she didn’t care about you like I did. she lied and cheated on you, she forced you into that marriage, remember? we were happy before she took you away from me."
her words were heavy, but everything in you felt like it was being pulled apart. you didn’t know who to trust, and the more she spoke, the more you questioned everything. jennie’s acting was so convincing, and yet, something about it didn’t sit right. but you couldn’t fight the exhaustion, the dizziness clouding your thoughts.
"this was us," she whispered, showing you a photo of two smiling faces, your face, your past life—unrecognizable to you. "before everything. before she ruined it."
you couldn’t process any of it. the image didn’t spark anything in you, just more emptiness.
"you don’t remember much," jennie continued softly, brushing her thumb over your hand. "but i’ll help you. we can start over, together. just give me time. you’ll see, everything will make sense again."
you stared at her, unsure, the quiet ache of confusion overwhelming everything else.
"rest now," she said, her voice lowering as she pressed a kiss to your forehead. "when you wake up again, i’ll be here. just like i promised."
the door clicked softly behind her as she left, her footsteps fading, leaving only the silence. and in the silence, the name "mina" echoed in your mind. you couldn’t remember who she was, but somehow, you knew you had to.
and you felt as though you were losing something. something important. something you should’ve held on to.
-----
the sterile walls of the interrogation room felt suffocating as mina sat, her hands clasped tightly together. the fluorescent lights above buzzed with an unsettling hum, and the cold, clinical atmosphere made her feel even more isolated. her mind raced, thoughts jumbled and frayed at the edges. her heart was still pounding from the moment she’d left the hospital, and now, here she was, accused of something she couldn’t even begin to understand.
"we need answers, mina," the detective’s voice broke through the silence, stern and unwavering.
her eyes flickered to the door behind her, as though she could will the situation to end, for someone to walk in and rescue her from the mess she was in. but no one was coming. the only sounds were the sharp click of a pen and the steady ticking of the clock on the wall.
"please," mina’s voice cracked, desperation seeping through the cracks in her composure. "my spouse is in the hospital. they’re hurt. i need to be there when they wake up. i promised them i’d be there. i can't… i can’t be here right now."
the detective didn’t seem moved. "we understand your situation, mina, but we need to know what happened. bambam’s disappearance isn’t something we can ignore. we have to get to the truth."
mina's breath hitched. the name bambam felt like a cold knife against her chest. she knew nothing about what had happened to him, and yet she was being dragged into this mess. everything felt like a nightmare, spinning out of control.
"i’m telling you, i don’t know where he is. i wasn't involved with anything." mina pleaded, her voice trembling now, her calm facade finally slipping. "please, just let me go. my spouse needs me. i promised i’d be there when they woke up. i can't just—"
"we understand your concern, but we have to investigate all possibilities," the detective interrupted, showing no sign of relenting. "we have reason to believe you know more than you’re telling us. bambam’s disappearance is linked to a larger situation, and you’re involved. the sooner you cooperate, the sooner this ends."
her chest tightened. it wasn’t supposed to be like this. she should’ve been with you, should’ve been at your side, making sure you were okay. instead, here she was, caught up in something she couldn’t control. the uncertainty of the situation was like a weight on her shoulders, crushing her as each passing moment felt like it stretched into eternity.
meanwhile, at home, sana and momo were doing their best to keep things together for hiro. the two of them had taken up the responsibility of watching over him, offering gentle smiles and reassuring words, though both were equally anxious inside. hiro clung to their hands, sensing the tension but unable to fully understand what was happening. sana squeezed his small hand in hers, offering him a soft smile. "it’s okay, baby," she said, voice steady, though her heart raced with worry. "everything’s gonna be okay. don’t you worry about a thing."
but deep down, she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was wrong, something that was slipping through their fingers, out of their control.
momo stood by the window, gazing out into the distance as if hoping for some sign that things would return to normal, praying that mina would come back, and that everything would be alright. but she didn’t know what was really happening, the chaos unfolding in the background, the twisted game that kim jennie had set in motion. none of them knew how deep the web was tangled now.
they were so close to losing everything, because of a certain kim. and none of them could even see it.
------
end of part six.
a/n — lmao i'm too tired to do anything most days, i was supposed to write after 3 of my tests but i was too drained lol. but i perfected each one so im happy, been playing too much games aswell. :') please add some story ideas in my inbox because the next chapter will be the last.
I'm sorry for not updating my series ( vow undone ) this week is me and my gf first anniversary and I'm planning the whole week to surprise her, fortunately chapter 6 and 7 are in my draft and just need to improvise it. also I'm still finishing my research and interviewing people on sat-sunday. ☹️ and rn I'm doing another proj + graphic designing for some business so i don't have time to do anything rn 😇🚬
oh thank goodness it was mina cheating on reader cuz like i couldn’t imagine cheating on mina with sana.
i’m guessing sana and reader are just platonic… wouldn’t mind if not tho 😏
a part of me also saw mina and bambam coming. he was suspicious asf.
BUT I DID NOT SEE SANA LIKING BAMBAM COMING TFFFFF TELL ME THATS A LIE SHE JUST DIDN’T WANNA SAY SHE LIKES THE READER??? CUZ EVEN MOMO THINKS THIS !!!!!!!
how many more chapters we have until the end 👀
ooh, anon.... i was supposedly planning to end it at chapter five however i got a little to carried away with writing more scenes for mina and reader to showcase more of the love and so it will hit harder when reader finds out, however now I'm still a bit confused on how many more chapters left but i will plan to make it long since obviously our mina needs to grovel and I'm not stopping until I personally can forgive her for doing that 😞🙏
i had thoughts in changing the pair however it's a bit too late.. lmao i got hurt so bad by mina i wanted to change it to sana 🥹 honestly i think that's a great job.
❝ you're my spouse on paper, however you're not my responsibility.❞
synopsis — the betrayal hits harder when it comes from someone you thought had your back.
word count ! — 10.4k
— myoui mina x reader !
notice — heavily inspired by @neoplatinum, aswell as cozuzi and a bit of queen of tears.
disclaimer ! — this story is a work of fiction. the portrayal of characters, events, and relationships does not reflect the real lives or personalities of any individuals mentioned. themes of infidelity and emotional conflict are explored, but the intention is not to glamorize toxic behavior.
series masterlist !
part five !
your fingers hover over the screen as the video ends, but you don’t move. the room feels colder, quieter, suffocating in its stillness. you blink, but the tears that well up refuse to fall, blurring the edges of everything.
your chest feels tight, the kind of ache that spreads, starting small and then consuming you, piece by piece. your hands tremble, gripping the usb drive like it’s the only thing keeping you anchored.
because you know. deep down, you know.
you try to take a breath, but it hitches, a sharp, jagged thing that only makes your head spin more.
“fuck,” you whisper, the word cracking as it leaves your lips.
the realization feels too big, too heavy to hold on your own. you stand abruptly, pushing back your chair so hard it scrapes against the floor, the sound grating.
you need answers. you need someone to tell you why.
grabbing your coat and keys, you shove the usb drive into your pocket and head for the door, not even bothering to lock it behind you. the drive to sehun’s office is a blur. the tears don’t fall, but your chest burns with the effort of holding them back.
it’s only when you burst through his office door that the dam finally starts to crack.
“you,” you choke out, voice already raw.
sehun looks up, startled, his usual smirk wiped clean off his face when he sees yours.
“hey, what’s going—”
“don’t,” you cut him off, your voice trembling. you take a step closer, your hand gripping the back of a chair like it’s the only thing keeping you upright.
he stands, his brows knitting in concern—or maybe it’s guilt. “okay, let’s take a breath—”
“don’t you fucking tell me to breathe,” you snap, your voice breaking.
the anger rises first, sharp and hot, and before you know it, your fist slams against his desk. the pain shoots up your arm, grounding you for just a second before you’re looking at him again, eyes wild and brimming with unshed tears.
“you knew, didn’t you?” your voice shakes, but the words spill out anyway. “you knew what was on that drive, and you still gave it to me.”
sehun’s face hardens, but there’s something softer in his eyes—pity, maybe. you hate it.
“listen—”
“no, you listen!” you’re shouting now, the tears finally spilling over, hot and relentless. “do you have any idea what it’s like? to see that? to feel like your entire life is a fucking lie?”
your voice cracks on the last word, and you falter, your shoulders trembling as the weight of it all comes crashing down.
you sink into the chair, burying your face in your hands. the sobs come, harsh and unrelenting, ripping through you like a storm.
“why?” you whisper, your voice muffled but desperate. “why the fuck didn’t you tell me? why would you let me find out like this?”
sehun steps closer, his expression conflicted. he hesitates, and you feel the weight of his gaze, but you can’t look at him.
“i thought…” he starts, then stops, running a hand through his hair. “i thought you deserved the truth. even if i'm your enemy and even if it hurts.”
you laugh bitterly, wiping at your face. “well, congratulations. it fucking hurts. you've defeated me.”
he sighs, leaning against the desk, watching you like he doesn’t know what to say.
you don’t wait for him to figure it out. you stand, your legs shaky but determined, and head for the door.
“wait—”
“don’t,” you cut him off, your voice hollow now. “just don’t.”
and with that, you’re gone, leaving him and his half-formed apologies behind.
-----
the house is unnervingly quiet when sana steps inside, calling out, “hey? you here?” her voice echoes faintly in the stillness. it wasn’t like them to leave without saying anything.
she looks around, her gaze darting to the empty couch and the untouched pile of toys in the corner. she frowns. it was rare for the place to feel this lifeless, and a strange unease creeps in.
“they better not have forgotten we had plans,” she mutters under her breath, slipping off her shoes.
she’d come over to hang out, and return something she borrowed, something you had been frantically searching for last week. she’d laughed about their scatterbrained tendencies at the time, but now, standing in the oddly quiet house, the humor felt distant.
her gaze catches on the faint glow coming from the slightly ajar office door. they never leave their office like that.
curiosity gets the better of her. “are you in there?” she calls, stepping closer.
the desk is a mess—papers scattered, a mug half-empty, and the laptop on but unattended. her eyes land on the screen. a downloaded video file is open, frozen on the first frame.
she reaches out, brushing the mouse to wake the screen fully. the video stutters to life, and her breath catches as the image sharpens.
mina.
with him.
sana freezes, her stomach plummeting as the scene unfolds before her. her heartbeat thunders in her ears, and she stumbles back a step, the chair bumping against her leg.
“no,” she whispers, her voice shaking.
her phone is in her hand before she realizes it, dialing their number with trembling fingers. it rings, and rings, and then cuts to voicemail. she curses softly, trying again.
still nothing.
panic surges. sana presses a hand to her forehead, pacing the small space. she glances at the screen again, her chest tightening painfully at the implications.
thinking quickly, she scrolls through her contacts and dials mina instead. the line barely connects before mina answers, her tone calm, composed, and unaware. “sana? what’s wrong?”
“where are you?” sana’s voice is sharp, trembling with urgency.
“what?” mina sounds taken aback. “what are you—”
“where are you.” sana cuts her off, her voice rising.
mina pauses, clearly unsettled. “at myoui residence. why? what’s goin—”
but sana doesn’t wait to hear more. all she can think is that you're probably with mina. she hangs up mid-sentence, shoving her phone into her pocket as she storms out of the house.
her hands tighten around the steering wheel as she speeds toward the myoui residence, her mind racing with every possible scenario. the image of the video lingers, vivid and damning.
“damn it, mina.” she mutters under her breath, the weight of what she’s just seen pressing down on her chest.
-----
you could feel the anger seeping into every inch of your body as you drove to the myoui residence. the tight grip on the steering wheel, the pounding in your chest, the way your pulse seemed to quicken with each passing second—it was all too much. you were trying to keep it together, trying to maintain some kind of calm, but every thought of what had been happening—the lies, the betrayal—pushed you closer to snapping.
when you finally pulled into the driveway, your fingers still gripping the wheel like you might break it, you took a deep breath. calm. you had to be calm. but you knew that as soon as you stepped out of the car, it was all over.
you walked up to the garden, taking slow, deliberate steps, trying to compose yourself, but it didn’t help. your eyes immediately landed on the scene before you—mina, sitting there, too damn composed as always, and bambam, joking with momo and laughing like nothing in the world mattered. momo was playing with hiro, and there it was. that was the moment.
your heart pounded in your ears. they were here. he was here. everything you had been holding back was threatening to break.
you took one more deep breath, tightening your jaw as you walked over to the butler. “take hiro inside. now.”
the butler didn’t ask questions. he just nodded, understanding the tension in the air. within moments, he had hiro in his arms, retreating inside the house, leaving you alone with them.
suddenly, rushed footsteps entered the garden but you paid no attention.
sana’s voice broke through the air then, frantic and high-pitched, practically running as she rushed toward you, her face a mask of panic. “yah! are you okay?” she asked, her hands reaching for you, trying to make sense of what was happening.
but you couldn’t even look at her, not with the way your rage was bubbling up inside you.
mina, watching from her spot, saw right through it. for the first time, she was confused. her calm, collected expression never wavered, but you could feel the tension crackling between you two.
“what’s going on?” mina asked, her voice deceptively soft, like she hadn’t just thrown you into this mess.
before you could answer, bambam stood up, still smiling like a damn idiot. the sight of him made your blood run cold. it was the last straw. you didn’t think, didn’t plan, didn’t care. you moved faster than anyone could stop you, rushing at bambam and slamming your fist into his face.
the first hit landed with a sickening crunch, his head jerking back. he barely had time to react before you hit him again, and again, your fists connecting with his face,—each blow fueled by the seething anger you could no longer control.
“you think you can just come in here like this? like you’ve done nothing wrong?” you spat, throwing another punch, this one aimed at his nose. your knuckles cracked against his bone, the sickening pop of bone ringing in your ears.
bambam swung back, his fist connecting with your lips, the pain sharp and instant. blood dripped from your busted lip, but you didn’t care. you kept going.
mina tried to step in, reaching for your arm, but you shoved her off with a violent force that sent her stumbling backward. her shock and confusion were clear, but it didn’t matter. not right now.
“stop! what are you doing!?” momo's voice cut through the chaos, frantic, as she rushed forward, hands gripping your arm in a desperate attempt to pull you away. but you shrugged her off with a force so brutal that she nearly lost her balance.
sana stood frozen, her face pale, eyes wide with fear. she tried to say something, to call out, but you were too far gone.
it wasn’t until your fists slowed, your breath heavy and ragged, that you finally pulled back. bambam was on the ground now, panting, bloodied, and dazed. you stood over him for a moment, chest heaving as you wiped your lip with the back of your hand, smearing more blood across your face.
then you turned your eyes on mina, and the anger was so intense, so palpable, that it felt like the air itself was burning.
you turn to mina then, your eyes dark and furious. your lip is split, but you don’t care. you pull out the USB from my pocket, the one that’s going to show her exactly how far this shit’s gone, and you throw it at her with everything you've got. the impact is sharp, and she flinches as it hits her chest.
“figure this shit out,” you muttered, your voice low and threatening.
momo stood there, shocked, unsure of what to do as she knelt beside bambam, checking on him, her face a mixture of confusion and disbelief.
you took one last look at mina, but she didn’t move, didn’t try to comfort you like she always did.
instead, you turned your gaze to sana, who was still standing off to the side, clearly terrified, but she was the one you let approach you. she hesitated, but only for a second, before stepping closer, reaching out with caution.
mina’s gaze flickered between you and sana, and for the first time, she seemed to understand. she didn’t move.
you stepped back from sana’s touch, but you let her get closer. because it was never going to be mina. not now.
-----
you turn around, throwing the wedding ring down the concrete floor, but before you could even get out of the garden, you heard her voice.
“wait!” mina’s voice cracked through the air, sharp with panic. “please, what happened!?”
but you didn’t stop. you didn’t even look back. you couldn’t.
you knew she was standing there, her hand reaching out, but you couldn’t—wouldn’t—let her have this.
and then, you heard the sound of footsteps. someone running, frantic, close behind you.
it was sana.
“hey—hey!” she called out, her voice trembling. you didn’t stop. you couldn’t. but she didn’t hesitate. she came after you, her steps faster, more urgent than mina’s ever could be.
you didn’t care. you didn’t want anyone. you didn’t want to feel this anymore.
you reached the outside, silently cursing at how giant this place was when you just wanted to get to your car, soon sana was there, standing in front of you, out of breath. “please,” she begged, voice cracking. “let me in. just—just stop.”
but you didn’t stop. you couldn’t stop. not until—
you broke.
it happened all at once. all that control, all that anger, every piece of you that had been holding it in for so long just collapsed in on itself. your chest tightened, and the tears you’d been fighting so hard to keep back came pouring out. sobs wracked your body, violent and raw, like you couldn’t breathe.
sana didn’t say anything. she just wrapped her arms around you, pulling you close as you fell apart in her embrace. it wasn’t like the hugs you’d had before, not with her, not with anyone. this was different. this was you—shattering—and sana was there, holding you together with everything she had.
"i can't do this anymore," you choked out between sobs, your hands clutching at her as if she were the only thing keeping you from falling completely apart. “she—she’s been lying to me. she’s been cheating. i—I saw it. i—saw it, sana."
her hands were trembling as she held you, and you could feel her own breath hitch in her throat, like she was trying not to cry with you. she didn’t say anything at first. she just let you break.
but you needed to get it out. needed someone to hear it.
“she hurt me, sana. she did it—and she doesn’t care. did i even fucking matter?” your voice broke, and you couldn’t keep going without falling deeper. “i’ve been so fucking stupid. i thought—i thought maybe she cared, but—fuck, i—i thought she was mine.”
the words burned your throat as you cried harder, a deep, aching sob that felt like it was ripping you open. sana didn’t let go. she held you tighter, her arms around you like a lifeline. but even that wasn’t enough. nothing was enough to fix this.
you didn’t know how long you stood there, sobbing in her arms, but when you finally pulled back, your face was soaked with tears, your lip still bleeding from the fight, your chest heavy with emotion.
sana looked at you, her face pale, eyes wide, but she wasn’t scared. she wasn’t pulling away. she didn’t look at you like mina did. sana saw you—really saw you. and for the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t feel alone.
“i’m sorry,” you whispered, barely able to get the words out. “i’m sorry for being like this, for—for everything.”
sana’s eyes softened. her hands gently cupped your face, her thumbs brushing away the tears, the blood. she didn’t say anything for a long moment, but when she finally did, her voice was barely above a whisper.
“you don’t have to be sorry,” she said, her voice cracking, like she was holding back just as much as you were. “you don’t have to carry this alone.”
and in that moment, for just a second, you felt something. something close to hope. because sana—sana—was the only one who didn’t look at you like you were broken. like you were something to fix.
you closed your eyes, letting the tears fall freely, letting yourself feel it all—the hurt, the loss, the betrayal—and in her arms, for the first time in a long time, you finally felt like it was okay to fall apart.
------
the bar was a haze of dim lights and murmured conversations, but to you, it was just noise. you were slumped over the counter, swirling the amber liquid in your glass like it held the answers to every question you didn’t dare ask.
“another,” you mumbled, your voice hoarse. the bartender hesitated but poured anyway, his eyes flickering with concern.
your phone buzzed on the counter, her name lighting up the screen. mina.
you stared at it, the weight of her name pressing down on your chest until it hurt. when it stopped ringing, you exhaled shakily and knocked back your drink.
“you look like you’ve been through hell,” a voice chimed beside you.
you turned sluggishly, eyes landing on a woman with a bunny smile and a glint in her eyes.
“you don’t know the half of it,” you muttered.
she extended a hand, her confidence cutting through the haze. “nayeon.”
you blinked at her hand, then shook it half-heartedly. “nice to meet you, nayeon.”
“your turn,” she said, leaning on the counter. “what’s your name?”
you hesitated, the weight of the question heavier than it should’ve been. finally, you gave it, your voice quiet.
“so,” she said, resting her chin in her hand, “what’s got you looking like the world’s most tragic main character?”
you barked a laugh, hollow and bitter. “life. that’s all.”
“well, lucky for you,” she said with a playful grin, “i’m excellent at making people forget their problems.”
her words hung in the air, an unspoken offer. and for a moment, just a moment, you considered it.
but then you saw her—mina, not here, but in your mind. the way she looked at you when she thought you weren’t watching. the way she whispered your name like it was something sacred. and then the memory twisted, her face replaced by that night. her betrayal. her lies.
“thanks,” you said, your voice cracking, “but no.”
“no?” nayeon echoed, clearly surprised.
“i have a wife,” you said, and the words felt like a knife to your chest. “even if she doesn’t deserve it, i made a vow.”
nayeon’s smile faltered, and she nodded slowly. “you’re a good one,” she said softly. “even when it hurts.”
"for better, for worse" when she left, the silence was deafening.
“you’re a goddamn mess,” a familiar voice broke through, sharp and cutting.
you didn’t need to look to know who it was. “go away, sana.”
“not a chance,” she said, sliding onto the stool beside you. “do you have any idea how many times i’ve had to drag your sorry ass out of here?”
“too many?” you shot back, your tone dripping with sarcasm.
“exactly,” she snapped.
you sighed, the weight of her words crushing you. “what do you want me to say, sana? that i’m fine? because i’m not.”
“i don’t want you to say anything,” she said, her voice softer now. “i just want you to stop destroying yourself.”
you laughed bitterly. “you don’t get it. you don’t know what it feels like to love someone so much it physically hurts. to have that love shattered.”
“stop talking nonsense,” she said, her tone steady. “i do know what it looks like when someone’s drowning.”
her words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe.
“come on,” she said, standing and offering you her hand. “let’s get you out of here.”
you stared at her hand, your vision blurring. and for the first time in a long time, you let someone pull you out of the darkness.
outside, the night air was cold and biting, but it felt almost cleansing.
“you don’t have to do this,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible.
“do what?” she asked, glancing at you.
“be the one to save me.”
she stopped walking, turning to face you. “i’m not trying to save you,” she said quietly. “i’m just trying to remind you that you’re worth saving.”
"doesn't make sense." you mumble sassily as you let her dragged you chuckling slightly at her offended expression.
but as her words sank in, you felt something shift—just a little, but enough to make you believe it might be true— but, ofcourse you're too stubborn.
-----
the office was too quiet, save for the faint hum of the city outside, muffled by the walls of glass that once made her feel untouchable. myoui mina sat in the dim light of her desk lamp, her hands trembling as she stared at the photograph in her hands. your smile, so bright and genuine, next to hers, a practiced elegance she could barely recognize now. and in the corner, hiro, beaming in a way only innocence could bring.
the frame was cracked, the glass splintered across your face. she hadn’t meant to drop it, but now it felt fitting. she set it down gently, her fingertips lingering on the jagged edge of the frame.
the myoui name had always stood for power, poise, and perfection. mina embodied it effortlessly—every step, every glance calculated, every word weighed with precision. she was untouchable, a pillar of composure even under the harshest scrutiny.
but tonight, myoui mina was crumbling.
“i ruined it,” she whispered, her voice raw. it wasn’t just a statement; it was a confession, one she’d been too proud to make aloud until now.
her breath hitched, her chest tightening as the memory clawed its way back to her. she hated bambam for pushing her, for planting the seed of insecurity she thought she’d outgrown. his words still echoed in her mind from that night—dripping with something she mistook for comfort, laced with just enough poison to make her falter.
"you deserve better than this," he had said, his hand brushing against hers. "they're way too busy with work, what if they have someone else too?"
she hated herself more for listening, for letting his words crawl under her skin and fester until they became louder than your love.
her fist slammed against the desk, papers scattering. “stupid,” she spat, the word aimed at herself. “so fucking stupid.”
her sobs started low, breaking through the practiced calm she always carried. she glance at the picture frame reaching for it as she slid off the chair, her knees hitting the hardwood floor with a dull thud. her hands clutched the picture frame at her chest, as if she could tear out the guilt that was choking her.
she sat on the cold floor of her office, the world she had meticulously built feeling like it was closing in on her. her pristine dress, usually a symbol of her unshakable authority, was rumpled, stained with tears. her hair, always styled to perfection, clung to her damp face.
"you loved me," she cried, her voice cracking. "you loved me, and i... i threw it away. for what? for what?"
the room spun, the weight of her actions crushing her. she thought of your face, the way it looked the last time you saw her—betrayed, disappointed, as if the very sight of her was a burden. she had done that. myoui mina— the epitome of coldness had turned her warm love into resentment, warmth into coldness.
“why did i listen to him?” she whispered, tears streaming down her face. "why wasn’t i enough?"
she tried to steady herself, but the weight of it all pressed her back down. she clutched the frame to her chest, the broken glass cutting into her palm. the pain was sharp, and droplets of blood started to drip down her hand, but it was nothing compared to the ache that consumed her.
she had been the picture of grace, of strength. yet here she was, on the floor, pleading to a god she didn’t even believe in.
“please,” she cried, her voice hoarse. “please... let me fix this. i’ll do anything. anything.”
she crawled to the edge of her desk, her bloody fingers fumbling for her phone. the screen lit up, your picture staring back at her. she dialed a number she hadn’t used in years, her voice shaking as the call connected.
"it’s me," she said, barely above a whisper.
"i need you to... take care of something. i don't care how. i'll give you that damn company if you want to."
-----
it was late, and the silence of the room was suffocating, broken only by the occasional clink of ice in sana’s glass. she sat across from you, her playful demeanor dulled to something sharper, something simmering beneath the surface. you were frustrated, the weight of everything pressing down on you like a vice, and sana—sana of all people—was here trying to tell you how to feel.
“you wouldn’t understand,” you snapped, pacing the room. “you don’t know what it’s like.”
she stiffened, her lips thinning as her grip tightened on the glass. “don’t i?” she said quietly, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and something else—hurt, maybe.
you glanced at her, frowning. sana rarely looked anything other than confident, but now her eyes were glassy, her jaw tight.
“remember when i resented you?” she asked, the words coming out clipped, like they were dragged from some deep, hidden place.
you blinked, confused. “yeah, i remember. you never said why, though.”
she laughed bitterly, setting her glass down with a sharp clink. “because i didn’t want to admit it. not to myself, and definitely not to you.”
“admit what?”
her gaze met yours, steady and unflinching now. “that i liked bambam. and bambam—he liked mina.”
the words hit like a small crack in the foundation of your understanding. “...what?”
sana leaned back, crossing her arms. “since we were kids. he was always looking at her like she hung the moon, and she—” her voice broke slightly before she caught herself. “she treated him like he was her little brother. never gave him a chance. but that didn’t matter to him. and i was always in her shadow.”
“why resent me, then?” you asked, still grappling with the revelation. “i couldn’t control that.”
she hesitated, her bravado faltering. “because i thought—i thought you’d be just like her. like you’d walk in, marry her, and look down on me too. like you’d make everything worse.”
you stared at her, the sharp edges of your frustration softening as you watched her struggle to keep her composure. “sana...”
“i know—,” she interrupted, her voice softening. “back then, i was insecure. jealous. i was convinced you were going to ruin everything just by existing.”
you let out a dry laugh, running a hand through your hair. “sana, if i could’ve ruined everything by existing, i’d have done it years ago.”
she snorted despite herself, the tension breaking slightly. “okay, fair. but still... i hated you for all the wrong reasons. and when bambam and mina—when i saw that video... it felt like it was happening all over again.”
you looked at her, and for the first time, you didn’t see the bright, confident sana everyone else saw. you saw someone who’d been carrying a weight for far too long.
“i get it now,” you said quietly. “you don’t hate me. you hated what i made you feel about yourself.”
she nodded, her expression unreadable. “yeah. and i hated how easy it was for you to just... fit in. like you belonged here more than i ever did.”
“sana,” you said, leaning forward slightly. “you belong here. more than i do.”
she blinked, startled by your honesty. “you’re just saying that because you feel bad.”
“no, i’m saying it because it’s true,” you replied, managing a faint smile. “and because if you don’t, who’s going to annoy me into staying sane?”
she finally laughed, the sound breaking through the heaviness in the air. “you’re such a sap when you’re exhausted.”
“and you’re still annoying,” you shot back, but there was no bite to it.
for a moment, neither of you spoke. you just sat there, two people who’d been at odds for so long finally finding common ground.
“thanks,” she said quietly, after a long pause. “for not being the person i thought you were.”
you shrugged, leaning back against the couch. “anytime.”
the silence that followed wasn’t heavy this time. it was almost... peaceful.
-----
the rain batters down relentlessly as mina steps out of her sleek black car, her stilettos sinking slightly into the muddy ground. she’s dressed in a pristine, tailored coat, the sharp lines of her outfit untouched by the disarray she feels inside. her hair, always perfectly styled, now clings to her face, the rain smudging her usually flawless makeup. it’s a picture of elegance—on any other day, she’d look untouchable.
but today, she looks ruined.
her legs feel like lead as she climbs the steps to sana’s door. her chest heaves with the weight of a hundred unspoken words, the cold rain doing nothing to numb the fire of regret burning in her lungs.
she knocks once, twice, and then her fist pounds against the wood, her desperation bleeding through. the polished, composed woman the world knows as myoui mina is nowhere to be found.
when sana opens the door, her breath catches—not because mina is standing there, but because of how she’s standing there. the regal heiress, who has never known hunger, never tasted real rejection, is utterly wrecked. her soaked clothes cling to her trembling frame, the harsh rain accentuating the cracks in her usually impeccable facade.
“sana,” mina rasps, her voice raw and trembling. “please. tell me where they are.”
“what the hell are you doing here?” sana asks, her tone sharp, though her eyes flicker with unease. she’s never seen mina like this—not even close.
mina steps forward, her knees buckling slightly, and without warning, she collapses to the ground. she doesn’t care that the expensive fabric of her coat is now caked in dirt. her head bows low, her hands pressed together like she’s offering her soul.
“i need to see them,” mina whispers, her voice cracking. “please. tell me where they are. i’ll do anything.”
sana flinches. this is not the mina she knows. this is not the woman who moves through life untouchable, who always has the upper hand.
“get up,” sana snaps, trying to steel herself against the flood of emotions threatening to pull her under.
mina shakes her head violently, her wet hair whipping against her face. “no. not until you tell me.”
“you’re making a fool of yourself,” sana says, though her voice wavers. “look at you. this isn’t you.”
“don’t you think i know that?” mina cries, her voice rising as her composure shatters. “do you think i care? i’d give up everything—everything, sana—if it means i can fix this. please, just… just tell me they’re okay. tell me they don’t hate me.”
sana’s lips press into a thin line, her jaw tight. she looks away, unable to bear the sight of mina begging like this.
mina’s knees buckle slightly, but she forces herself to stay upright. “i was scared, sana,” she says, her voice trembling. “i was scared of how much they mattered to me. i thought… i thought if i sabotaged it first, it wouldn’t hurt as much if they ever left. but i was wrong.”
“no shit,” sana mutters, crossing her arms.
“i destroyed everything,” mina continues, tears streaming down her face, indistinguishable from the rain. “but i can’t just give up. i can’t let this be the end.”
sana looks away, her lips pressed into a thin line. the sight of mina—always so composed, so untouchable—reduced to this mess of tears and desperation is unsettling.
“why are you even telling me this?” sana asks, her voice softer now, though her expression remains guarded.
mina takes a shaky breath, her shoulders slumping. “because you’re the only one who knows where they might be. and because…” she hesitates, her voice breaking. “because i need someone to tell me if it’s even worth trying anymore.”
sana’s jaw clenches, her hands curling into fists. she hates this—hates seeing mina, drenched and desperate, breaking apart in front of her.
“you’re pathetic,” sana says, her tone biting. “you’ve had everything handed to you on a silver platter your whole life, and now, when it all comes crashing down, you can’t even face it.”
mina nods, her tears falling harder. “i am pathetic,” she whispers. “i know that. but they’re everything to me, sana. they’re the only thing that’s ever made me feel…” she trails off, struggling to find the words. “like i could be more than what people expect me to be.”
sana exhales slowly, her expression softening despite herself. “they loved you, mina,” she says quietly. “probably more than you deserved. and you threw that away.”
mina lets out a broken sob, sinking to her knees on the wet porch. her hands press against the ground, her head bowed as she cries. “i know,” she whispers. “but please… please… just tell me where they are.”
sana hesitates, her heart twisting at the sight. this wasn’t the mina she knew—the cold, calculating heiress. this was someone raw and human, stripped of all pretense.
“even if i did,” sana says softly, her voice laced with sorrow, “what makes you think they’d want to see you like this?”
mina looks up at her, her face a portrait of anguish. “i don’t know,” she admits. “but i have to try. because if i don’t…” her voice cracks, and she presses a hand to her chest. “i’ll never forgive myself.”
sana stares at her, arms crossed tightly, her face a mask of disbelief and guarded pity. “you think crying in the rain is going to fix this? you think they’ll just forget what you did?”
mina shakes her head violently, droplets flying from her soaked hair. “no,” she whispers, her voice barely audible above the rain. “i don’t expect forgiveness. i don’t… i don’t deserve it.” her voice breaks, her shoulders trembling as she forces herself to continue. “but i need them to know… it wasn’t because i didn’t love them.”
sana’s expression hardens. “and that makes it better? what were you thinking, mina? how could you do something like that to someone who gave you everything?”
mina raises her head, her tear-streaked face a mixture of anguish and raw vulnerability. “i was scared,” she admits, her voice shaking. “i didn’t know how to love them the way they deserved. i didn’t know how to let myself be loved. do you know what it’s like to grow up in a world where every connection is transactional? where every ‘i love you’ comes with strings attached?”
sana’s jaw tightens, her silence an unspoken acknowledgment of the truth in mina’s words.
“they were different,” mina continues, her voice rising with desperation. “they saw me, not my name, not my title. just… me. and that terrified me. because if they left—if i ever lost them—it would destroy me.”
she presses a hand to her chest, the pain almost suffocating. “so i did what i thought i had to do. i distanced myself. i… i made a mistake, a horrible, unforgivable mistake, because i thought it would hurt less if they hated me first. but it doesn’t. it doesn’t hurt less, sana. it hurts more than i ever thought possible.”
sana looks away, her throat tight as she struggles to hold onto her anger. “you say all this now, but what about then? what about when you made that choice?”
mina bows her head, her tears falling freely. “i wasn’t thinking. i was selfish and scared and so, so stupid. i didn’t think about what it would do to them, to us. all i could think about was how much it would hurt if i let myself love them completely and they left me.”
her voice breaks, and she collapses further onto the ground, her hands gripping the wet earth. “but they didn’t leave, sana. they stayed. they gave me everything. and now… now i’ve lost the one thing that made me feel alive, and it’s my fault. it’s all my fault.”
sana’s chest tightens at the sight of mina—the composed, untouchable heiress—reduced to this trembling, broken figure. this wasn’t the mina she knew. this was someone raw and desperate, someone who had finally realized the weight of her own actions.
“you’re a mess,” sana says quietly, her voice tinged with both anger and pity. “you always thought you were untouchable, didn’t you? but look at you now. you’ve destroyed yourself for them.”
mina nods, her sobs choking her words. “i have,” she whispers. “and i’d do it a thousand times over if it meant they’d hear me, if it meant they’d give me a chance to make this right.”
sana sighs, running a hand through her hair. “you can’t just beg your way out of this, mina. they’re not some business deal you can negotiate. this is their heart, their trust. and you shattered it.”
“i know,” mina cries. “i know i can’t fix this overnight. but sana, please… tell me where they are. tell me what to do. i’ll give up everything—my name, my fortune, all of it—if it means i can have them back. i’ll spend the rest of my life proving to them that they’re my everything.”
sana’s hands clench into fists, her own emotions warring within her. “you want my advice?” she says after a long silence. “start by figuring out why you deserve a second chance. because right now, mina, i don’t think you do.”
sana stares at her for a long moment, her emotions a storm of anger, pity, and something she can’t quite place.
sana doesn’t respond immediately. she turns her head, her gaze fixed on the rain streaking down. when she speaks again, her voice is barely above a whisper.
“you’re pathetic, mina.”
mina doesn’t argue. she just kneels there, her head bowed, the weight of her guilt pressing down on her like a physical force.
“but they love you,” sana adds, almost reluctantly. “for some reason, they love you. so maybe… maybe you still have a chance.”
mina looks up at her, hope flickering in her tear-streaked eyes. “do you think so?” she whispers.
“don’t ask me,” sana says, turning away. “ask them.”
with that, sana steps back and closes the door, leaving mina alone in the rain.
mina collapses completely, her forehead pressing against the cold, wet ground. her sobs echo into the storm, a haunting sound of grief and regret. this wasn’t just about losing you—it was about losing the one chance she had at being more than the hollow shell her upbringing had created. and it was her fault. all her fault.
-----
the buzz of your phone stirred you from a restless sleep. you squinted at the clock on your nightstand—2:34 a.m.—and groaned. dragging your hand across your face, you grabbed the phone, your voice heavy with fatigue.
"who is it?"
a small, hesitant voice came through. "it's me."
you froze, the weariness in your bones suddenly eclipsed by a familiar ache. "mina?"
"yeah," she murmured, almost like she didn’t expect you to pick up. "sorry for calling so late. i know you’re... probably tired."
"what do you want?" you asked, your voice flat, as you sank back into the bed.
there was a pause, and for a moment you thought she’d hung up. then, softly, she said, "we’re going back to myoui town. it’s my mom’s birthday next week."
you rubbed your temples, exhaling slowly. "okay?"
"hiro’s been crying," she continued, her words gentle, deliberate. "he misses you, but i thought it’d be nice for him. and for my mom. she... she really missed you too, you know."
"yeah, well," you said, cutting her off, "tell her that that maybe she shouldn't."
"that’s not—," she said quickly, her voice breaking slightly. "you’ve always been good to us of course she will..." her words trailed off, and the silence that followed felt like a weight pressing down on your chest.
"why are you telling me this, mina?" you asked, shifting under the covers. "you don’t need my permission to go."
"i know," she said softly. "but i thought you’d want to know. about hiro, at least. and..." she hesitated, her voice trembling. "i just wanted to check on you."
"i’m fine," you said, though the exhaustion in your voice betrayed you.
"are you?" she asked, the regret heavy in her tone. "i know i’m the last person you want to hear from, but i worry about you. i—" she stopped, taking a shaky breath. "i can’t stop thinking about... you."
you closed your eyes, the familiar ache creeping back in. "don’t do this right now, mina."
"i’m sorry," she whispered. "i just... i wanted you to know. and i wanted to say thank you. for picking up. for still being good to hiro, even when you hate me."
you stayed quiet, too tired to argue, too drained to tell her how wrong she was. you didn’t hate her—not entirely. but you couldn’t forgive her either. not yet.
"i hope you’re okay," she said after a moment, her voice so small it made your chest tighten. "i hope... one day, we’ll be okay."
"i—" the words caught in your throat, and you clenched your jaw, swallowing hard. you didn’t know what you wanted to say, or if you even had the right to say anything at all.
you can hear hiro’s laughter echo faintly through the phone, and you closed your eyes, the sound twisting the knife deeper. you could picture him there, carefree and happy, unaware of the mess surrounding him.
"take care of him," you said finally, your voice strained. "just... make sure he’s okay."
"i always do," mina replied, and there was a weight to her words that made you ache even more.
the line went quiet after that, neither of you willing to hang up but both too drained to say anything else. eventually, you ended the call, dropping the phone onto the other side of the bed and burying your face in your pillow.
the thought of them leaving—of her leaving—was a sharp reminder of just how much had slipped through your fingers. and yet, all you could do was sit there, alone in the darkness, trying to convince yourself that it didn’t matter.
but it did. fuck, it did.
-----
mina adjusted hiro’s jacket for the third time, her fingers tugging gently at the fabric to make sure it fit snugly against the chill in the air. the little boy was more interested in the blossoms overhead, his tiny hands reaching skyward as they walked through the old town.
“you like that, hm?” she murmured, her voice soft, almost lost in the gentle breeze. hiro giggled in response, his face lighting up with pure delight.
she smiled, despite herself.
it was quieter here than in the city, the hum of life replaced with the rustle of leaves and the faint sound of a bell in the distance. her parents had always said this place felt timeless, and for the first time, mina felt it too.
but that weight in her chest—the one that had settled there ever since you’d stopped coming home—it hadn’t eased.
hiro babbled something incoherent, his chubby little hand pointing toward a cluster of vibrant pink blossoms hanging low on a branch. mina crouched down, lifting him in her arms to bring him closer.
“careful,” she said, her tone laced with a tenderness that had become second nature with him. he grabbed at a petal, his grip clumsy but enthusiastic.
she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket but ignored it for now. instead, she reached for the camera app, snapping a picture of hiro against the backdrop of the blossoms.
he looked so much like you in moments like this.
her heart clenched as she stared at the screen.
after a moment’s hesitation, she opened your chat. the thread was mostly one-sided these days—updates on hiro, little notes about his milestones, reminders that she was trying.
trying to keep you tethered. trying to remind you there was still a place for you here.
she attached the photo and typed:
“hiro loves the blossoms. he’s so curious about everything here. thought you’d want to see this.”
her thumb hovered over the send button. for a split second, she thought about deleting it. but she hit send before she could think too hard.
hiro wriggled in her arms, and she adjusted her grip, letting him rest his head against her shoulder. she started walking again, her heels clicking softly against the cobblestone path.
her phone buzzed, and she fumbled to unlock it, her breath hitching when she saw your reply.
“looks good. bet hiro’s loving it. you look…”
her heart skipped, her thumb scrolling slowly.
“miss you.”
she froze.
the words blurred slightly as her eyes filled with an emotion she didn’t want to name.
you miss me? after everything? after i broke us?
hiro babbled again, drawing her out of her spiraling thoughts. she kissed the top of his head, her lips brushing against his soft hair.
with trembling fingers, she replied:
“we miss you too.”
it felt like a small step.
a tentative bridge.
her chest ached as she added another message:
“mom’s birthday is soon. she’s been asking about you.”
she slipped her phone back into her pocket, her gaze lifting to the blossoms again. they were beautiful, fleeting.
please come back to us, she thought, her arms tightening protectively around hiro.
as they reached the edge of the path, she glanced at her phone once more, hoping, praying.
when your reply came, she exhaled shakily.
heavily disappointed she let herself move slowly glancing at hiro sadly while pointing at some falling leaves seeing hiro babble excitedly made her heart clench and she let herself drown in her thoughts.
-----
you sit at your desk, fingers aimlessly scrolling through the same set of documents you’ve been staring at for hours. the work isn’t hard, but the focus? yeah, that’s another story.
your eyes flicker to the family photo on the corner of your desk. it’s the one mina insisted on framing—a candid shot of the three of you during a rare moment of peace. hiro’s baby grin, your awkward smile, mina’s soft, rare laugh.
your chest tightens.
a soft buzz on your phone pulls your attention. it’s a picture from mina: her holding hiro in her arms, standing against a backdrop of vibrant cherry blossoms. hiro’s chubby little hand is reaching for a petal, his face lit up with curiosity. she’s smiling—soft, maternal, and glowing.
"hiro loves the blossoms. he’s so curious about everything here. thought you’d want to see this."
you stare at the screen longer than you mean to. a knot of emotions you don’t quite know how to unravel builds in your chest—annoyance, longing, maybe even something bordering on desperation.
you set the phone down, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. maybe it’s the way she looks so damn serene in that picture, like she hasn’t turned your world upside down a hundred times over.
or maybe it’s because it’s been too long. too long since you’ve felt her touch, heard her laugh, even fought with her properly.
before you realize it, your thumbs are moving.
“looks good. bet hiro’s loving it. you look…” you hesitate, then type, “beautiful.”
a pause. delete. rewrite.
“miss you.”
short, simple, but it feels like ripping your chest open. you hit send before you can second-guess it.
and the second it’s gone, you’re frozen.
what the hell did you just do?
you stare at your phone like it’s going to explode, the words glaring back at you as if mocking your moment of vulnerability. for a split second, you think about chucking the damn thing across the room, but then—what if she replies?
your hands are clammy, your heart’s racing, and suddenly your office feels ten degrees hotter. you pace back and forth, running a hand through your hair like it’s going to do anything to untangle the mess you’ve made in your head.
“what is wrong with me?” you mutter under your breath. “am i drunk? i’m at work! i haven’t even had a drink!”
you stop mid-step, gripping the back of your chair like it’s the only thing keeping you upright. your mind replays the text over and over, each loop digging deeper into your pride. miss you.
the audacity. the weakness.
you glance at the framed photo on your desk—the one of mina holding hiro on her hip, the both of them laughing under the sunlight. your chest tightens, and you groan, dragging your hands down your face.
“this is so stupid,” you hiss to no one in particular. “she’s probably laughing right now. probably showing her mom, ‘look at this idiot, still hung up on me.’”
but even as you say it, you know it’s not true. mina’s not like that. or, at least, she wasn’t.
you sit down heavily in your chair, glaring at your phone like it’s personally betrayed you.
god, why did i have to send that? why couldn’t i just say… nice blossoms? or cute kid? or nothing at all?
your phone buzzes, and you nearly fall out of your chair scrambling to grab it.
the notification lights up the screen:
“we miss you too.”
your breath catches.
it’s not much. not an apology, not an explanation, not even a promise. but it’s enough to make your shoulders sag, the knot in your chest loosening just a little.
you sit there for a moment, just staring at the message, letting it sink in.
and then another message pops up.
“mom’s birthday is soon. she’s been asking about you.”
you blink, reading it twice, three times, like the words are in a language you’re still trying to learn.
your thumb hovers over the keyboard.
“tell her advance happy birthday;”
you hit send, and this time, there’s no panic.
no pacing, no muttering, no spiraling.
just… quiet.
you sit back, exhaling slowly, staring at the photo again. maybe you’re weak for her. maybe you always will be.
you set the phone down and stare at the photo again. your thumb rubs over the edge of the frame absentmindedly.
you’d go.
maybe it’s for hiro. maybe it’s for mina. maybe, just maybe, it’s for yourself.
-----
the traditional myoui family estate in japan was alive with celebration, the grand hall filled with the soft clinking of glasses and the hum of polite laughter. mina stood near the entrance, perfectly poised as always, though her hands fidgeted slightly—a rare display of unease for someone so collected.
her mother’s sharp voice broke through her thoughts. “mina, where is your spouse? it’s my birthday, and yet they’re nowhere to be found.”
mina straightened her posture, masking her discomfort. “they’re busy with work,” she began, her tone measured but unconvincing. “something urgent came up—”
“work?” mrs. myoui interrupted, her lips pressing into a thin line. “on a day like this? unacceptable. i don’t understand? do they think work is more important than my birthday?"
before mina could stammer out another excuse, the double doors to the hall swung open, stealing everyone’s attention.
“apologies for the delay,” you announced, stepping in with a confident stride. a bouquet of lavish flowers in one hand and a beautifully wrapped gift box in the other, your presence immediately commanded the room.
mina’s breath caught, her carefully composed facade momentarily cracking.
“fashionably late as always,” mrs. myoui said, her disapproving tone softened by the glint of amusement in her eyes.
you bowed politely, offering the flowers to her. “only for the most important occasions, mrs. myoui. i hope these can make up for my tardiness.”
she chuckled, accepting the gifts. “you always know how to charm your way out of trouble.”
“it’s a skill i’ve perfected,” you quipped, your voice light. but as your gaze shifted to mina, the warmth in your tone faded, replaced by a distant professionalism. “myoui mina,” you greeted curtly, with a nod that felt colder than the winter breeze.
mina’s jaw tightened, but she forced a smile. “thank you for coming,” she said softly, her voice betraying a hint of vulnerability.
you didn’t respond, turning back to her mother instead. “it’s an honor to celebrate such a special day with your family.”
as the evening wore on, you maintained a polite but distant demeanor, mingling with the guests and exchanging pleasantries. mina, meanwhile, found her attempts to approach you rebuffed at every turn. when she brushed her hand against yours while passing, you didn’t react. when she tried to make small talk about hiro, your answers were clipped and polite, but devoid of warmth.
from across the room, she watched as you charmed her family and the guests, her chest tightening with a mix of regret and longing. every time you glanced her way, it was with a composed indifference that stung more than outright hostility.
it wasn’t until later in the evening, as the festivities quieted down, that mina found herself standing alone near the balcony. she turned when she sensed you approaching, her heart leaping for a brief moment. but your focus wasn’t on her—it was on hiro, who was being carried by one of the family attendants.
you reached out, taking hiro into your arms with practiced ease. “hey, buddy,” you murmured, your voice softening as you cradled him close. mina watched, her throat tightening as she took in the sight of you and hiro together.
when your eyes finally met hers, there was a flicker of something—an unspoken tension, a shared history that neither of you could escape. but just as quickly, you turned your attention back to hiro.
as the evening progressed, the guests began to drift toward the dining hall, leaving mina and you momentarily alone on the balcony. the cool night air brushed against her skin, but it wasn’t the chill that made her shiver—it was the frigid distance you’d placed between the two of you all evening.
“you’re good with him,” mina said quietly, nodding toward hiro nestled in your arms, his tiny fingers clutching at your shirt as he drifted off to sleep.
you didn’t look at her. instead, you kept your gaze on hiro, gently adjusting the blanket around him. “he’s my son. it’s not exactly a choice.”
the words landed like a slap, and mina’s breath hitched. she took a step closer, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her dress. “i didn’t mean it like that,” she said softly. “i just… i wanted to thank you for coming. it means a lot to my family.”
finally, you turned to face her, your expression unreadable but your eyes sharp. “i didn’t come for your family, mina. i came for hiro. let’s not pretend otherwise.”
but it feels like a blatant lie with the way your jaw clenched almost disgusted at yourself for feeding yourself lies.
her composure faltered, and she bit her lip, her gaze dropping to the ground. “i know i’ve hurt you,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. “but i’m trying—”
“trying to what?” you interrupted, your tone cutting but quiet enough not to wake hiro. “fix what you broke? erase what happened? you think showing up with a smile and a few kind words will make everything better?”
she flinched, visibly shrinking under the weight of your words. “i’m not asking you to forgive me overnight,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “but i miss you. i miss us. and i’ll do whatever it takes to make things right.”
you scoffed, shaking your head. “missing someone doesn’t mean much when you’ve already proven how little you cared when it mattered.”
her eyes glistened, and for a moment, she looked utterly vulnerable—a stark contrast to the poised heiress the world knew her as. “that’s not true,” she said, her voice breaking. “you have no idea how much i—”
“don’t,” you said firmly, cutting her off. “don’t stand here and tell me how much you cared while i was the only one crying trying to pick up pieces of myself.”
mina’s hands clenched into fists at her sides, her eyes pleading as she stepped closer. “please,” she said, her voice cracking. “that's not— i've also—"
“good night, mina,” you said curtly, brushing past her as you carried hiro inside.
she stayed on the balcony, frozen in place, the weight of your words crushing her. she blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill, but it was no use.
as the door clicked shut behind you, mina sank onto the balcony railing, the sound of the distant laughter and celebration inside only amplifying the silence that now surrounded her. she had always been so sure of herself, so in control—but tonight, she felt small, powerless, and utterly lost.
-----
the quiet streets of the traditional japanese town were bathed in soft moonlight, the air carrying the faint scent of blooming wisteria. myoui mina sat on the edge of a wooden bridge, a bottle of sake beside her, her poised demeanor long abandoned. she was disheveled, her elegant blouse slightly wrinkled, her usually sharp eyes glassy and red-rimmed.
in her hand, she held a small daisy, its delicate petals trembling between her fingers.
"they like me," she murmured, plucking a petal and letting it drift down into the stream below. her voice was tinged with mockery, a hollow laugh escaping her lips.
"they like me not." she tore the next petal with more force, the bitterness in her tone cutting through the stillness of the night.
hidden just beyond the bridge, you leaned against the corner of a nearby building, out of sight but close enough to hear every word. you’d stumbled upon her by accident during your aimless walk— aimless? or did you just see her leave the residence and was worried? no— it doesn't matter. you couldn’t bring yourself to leave.
mina continued her ritual, her voice growing quieter with each petal. "they like me… they like me not…" her hands trembled, and her lips pressed into a thin line as she fought back the tears threatening to spill.
when she reached the final petal, she stared at it for a long moment.
"they like me," she whispered, her voice cracking. she gave a bitter, humorless laugh, tossing the petal into the water. "as if. they don’t even look at me anymore."
her laughter died, replaced by a shaky breath. "i don’t like them either," she muttered, the lie barely holding together. "i hate them."
she froze, the words hanging in the air like a broken promise. then, as if something deep inside her had shattered, her shoulders began to shake.
"i don't like them," she repeated, her voice breaking completely. "i love them. i love them so much."
her head dropped into her hands, and she began to sob openly, her elegant facade crumbling like a fragile mask. "i love them," she choked out, the admission spilling from her lips like a dam bursting. "and they hate me. they hate me, and i deserve it."
your heart ached at the sight of her, the woman who once seemed untouchable now falling apart before your eyes. you wanted to step forward, to say something, but your feet remained rooted to the ground.
mina’s sobs echoed in the quiet night, her vulnerability cutting through you in a way you hadn’t expected. but instead of approaching, you turned away, your chest tight with an unspoken heaviness.
you walked away slowly, your steps careful and silent, leaving her alone on the bridge. the image of her broken figure stayed with you, etched into your mind, and as much as you tried to push it aside, it lingered, a painful reminder of everything unresolved.
behind you, mina remained on the bridge, her cries fading into the stillness of the night, unaware that you had been there all along.
-----
the morning sun painted the myoui estate in warm hues, the tranquility of the traditional japanese town a stark contrast to the tension simmering beneath the surface. you wandered the garden aimlessly, still dressed in your rumpled pajamas, the cool breeze doing little to shake off your lingering exhaustion.
the faint sound of footsteps made you glance up, and there she was—myoui mina, beautiful as ever despite the shadows of sleeplessness beneath her eyes. her gaze locked onto yours, determined, though something fragile lingered behind it.
"we need to talk," she began, her voice even but strained.
you sighed, dragging a hand through your hair. "about what, mina? i don’t have the energy for this."
"we have an interview this afternoon," she said, stepping closer.
that caught you off guard. "an interview? for what? we’re not doing any gala or charity event."
"it’s about us," mina clarified, her words deliberate. "our marriage. how we fell in love."
your brow furrowed, and a humorless laugh escaped your lips. "are you kidding me? mina, we don’t need to answer any of that. it’s useless."
mina squared her shoulders, her voice gaining an edge. "it’s not useless. it’s about keeping your dignity. your name. your reputation."
you stared at her, incredulous. "my dignity?" you snapped, the fatigue giving way to anger. "you want me to sit there and talk about a marriage that doesn’t even exist? why don’t you do it, mina? you’re good at putting on a show."
her expression faltered, but she held her ground. "how can i?" she asked, her voice cracking despite her effort to keep it steady. "it’s for couples. they’ll know something’s wrong if you’re not there."
your frustration boiled over, your voice rising. "then tell them we’re fine! tell them we’re doing great, that we’re more in love than ever!" you stepped closer, your words sharp and cutting. "Lie, mina. You’re good at that too, aren’t you?"
her breath hitched, but she didn’t respond, her eyes searching yours desperately.
you took a step back, shaking your head.
"you’re my wife on paper, mina. not my responsibility."
the words hung in the air like a slap, the finality of them echoing between you. mina stood frozen, her composure cracking.
you didn’t wait for her reply—not that she had one. and as you walked away, the ache in your chest twisted, sharper than ever, because deep down, you knew:
it wasn’t her who had lost everything. it was you.
-----
end of part five.
a/n — i'm so sorry for this shitty chapter bruv it's my birthday and it's like 1:43AM, i've been drinking and i have a throbbing headache. I decided to rush this so i apologize deeply for any wrong doing because frankly i don't even remember what i wrote.
