Archive of Our Own

Today is the first day of summer.

The best day of the year by far and also the day this year that you are going to start dating. 

Neither of those things are connected to the other beyond two threads. One, you came home to Rhode Island from DC a year ago today, and two, you’ve had enough of your life being this solitary, quieted existence. You do the same thing every day - wake up, have your housekeeper-provided breakfast, go to the office where you file papers in your solitary cubicle and are unsure of what you even do, come back to a prepared dinner, and go to sleep. You don’t think it’s a crime to want variety in your days. 

But why dating in particular?

Since you’ve been single your entire life, save for one consuming crush you had in your childhood which never amounted to anything. So, why not. Why not go out and see what Providence has to offer beyond the gates of your home. The single ladies on your floor go to these singles mixers every month and always invite you to them even though you are not friends. There is no reason for you to deny them any longer. 

Though the flier you stole from the bulletin board - you couldn’t recall the details of the event despite looking at it every time you used the photocopier - is beyond cheesy. The graphic heart decor and abhorrently nauseating punchline of From Sangria to Soulmates reminds you of the way you used to doodle in your notebooks when you were a teenager. After realizing that your crush was a crush and not you being best friends with your old housekeeper’s son. 

It was so long ago he’s just a memory now. But you’ve never forgotten drawing those arrow-pierced hearts in the margins, tracing your initials together between the lines, writing out your signature with Mrs. at the front and his last name at the end. Hoping that whenever you ran into each other at home, he gave you that cute smile of his because he liked you back and not because his dad taught him good manners. 

But according to your mother, he’s married now. You’re convinced he’s off living the greatest life he could, wherever he moved with his dad when he stopped working here. 

He never did like you back. 

That is why today, on the first day of summer, you are going to finally start dating. 

—

After you turned sixteen, your parents offered for you to pick another room in the mansion, redo to better suit your current tastes. But you liked your old room, the pink silk canopies, pink-and-white furniture sized up from a pretty doll’s house, a pink rug that made it so you never had to step on the marble floor. 

Now you wish you had taken them up on the offer. 

Not to redecorate, but to move into another room in the house that didn’t have a cavernous amount of space swallowing you up. So you could fall asleep and not hear your hard breathing echoing, could wake up and look out the window without feeling like your only friends were the morning birds. That way, you could get ready for a date and not wonder if a person might judge the extravagance of the empty space in the mirror's reflection behind you. 

Yes, part of the reason why you want to start dating is to ensure that one day there'll be more people living in this mansion than just you and the replacement housekeeper....

....Who you don’t dislike, but don't particularly like either. Your mother sent him to your doorstep mere weeks after you moved back home. You complained and complained that you were older and responsible enough to take care of chores, but there’s no arguing with your mother. He’s just different from your old housekeeper, in so many ways that you don’t want to list out. That will make you more annoyed with him than you are supposed to be. Ugh, fine.

But here’s one. He’s lived here a year and you’ve never seen him smile. How odd is that? 

Speaking of your mom, once you pin her pretty diamond bluebird brooch to your blouse, you figure you may as well give her a call and let her know what you’re doing. Over the past year she’s become increasingly nosy as to your personal business… despite living somewhere where there’s absolutely nothing to do that she could be nosy about.

She answers the phone midway through the first ring like she always does. “Bluebell?,” and she sounds surprised. 

Why does she sound surprised? You talk on the phone at least once a day. More often than not it’s twice a day, and if she had her way, you’d call her every hour to give her an update. 

“Mom? What’s wrong?” you ask. 

She clears her throat, then there's no longer any surprise or worry beyond her outright statement, “Just surprised to see that you’re calling.”

“I call you all the time.” You hope she doesn’t hear your impudence, but her tsk ing noise forces you to be as cheerful as expected, “Anyways, I’ve decided to go on a date!”

You’re honestly expecting a nuclear meltdown, since you decided this on your own and gave her no chance for input. You will accept anything between that and full-on supportive acceptance, the latter of which you’re sure would only come if you were dreaming. 

Here comes the surprise-worry again, at a decibel that hurts your ear, “What?! A date?!”

That’s not bad. That’s better than you were expecting. 

“Well, this dating activity that women at my office go to,” you clarify, hoping to calm her down. “I think it would be interesting.”

You are not trying to find a soulmate or a husband or even a boyfriend. You just want to meet people that are not your fifty-year-old coworkers or the sullen man in the guestroom quarters that can’t be bothered to smile. She should know from meeting your dad that crossing paths by chance could change your life forever. 

All of a sudden, she is subdued while asking the follow up, “Why is that?”

“Because I want to. I’m tired of living in this house alone.” Your statement echoes off the edge of your vanity as if to demonstrate your loneliness. 

She should know you’ve been here by yourself while she’s with your dad in DC for his job, so what is the problem here? It’s not like she can just decide to come back and be with you since she plays a vital role in his career as well.

“I could come home if you wanted me to,” your mother suggests in her super tender mothering tone, as soon as you think it. 

Why would she offer that, though? The two of them are so busy at the White House nor do they enjoy returning to your family home, since they haven’t been back once in the past year. It doesn’t hurt your feelings - that’s their priority, just like living here is yours. You point it out to her in case she forgot, “You and Dad have a lot of stuff to do in DC, plus you’re already coming home for my birthday at the end of the month. It’s just a date event.”

“Yeah…” She whispers the one syllable in such a forlorn manner that you realize she’s sad about it. Like, a little heartbroken if you’re reading this right.

“Mom, I’m twenty-eight years old, there’s nothing wrong with that.” Just because your parents have decided to become prudes about your personal life (when they never were before) doesn’t mean that you’re going to stop doing what you want.

A deep pause follows, where she’s silent because she knows she can’t argue back yet is preparing to do so anyways. You position your thumb over the END CALL button because when she makes a fuss you’re going to hang up. You’re over this talk and over feeling like a kid again.

But when it finally comes, it’s not an argument or a scolding or anything bad. She just continues the conversation, words drifting through the speaker with a pillowed, soft undertone that you aren’t sure if you’re making up, “Did you tell Jaehyun?”

What? 

“Why would I tell him?” you ask, genuinely confused. 

“So that he….” This pause is even longer than the previous one, and her anxious exhales only add to your confusion, “He can clean the place in preparation for any visitors.”

This place is already spotless, it’s his job to keep it that way and you have no intention of making a mess big enough for him to need to clean. That’s pretty much the only thing you like about him, his cleanliness. 

“I guess I can?” You agree to her ridiculous request, hear her tiny noise of surprise, and suddenly put it together why she would bring up you having a visitor. Feeling your cheeks burn in embarrassment, you hiss into the speaker so that no one in this empty house will hear, “Mom, I’m not going to have sex with anyone!”

This is the first time you actually start to doubt going out and doing this. The idea of having sex with a stranger you’ve barely spoken to isn’t one that you want to contemplate. You know you have to feel very comfortable with the person before you do, maybe that’s why you can’t remember the last time you actually did have sex. 

She gets just as flustered, chokes over her backtracking, “I… I didn’t mean t-that, I just… You like your… your space!”

You do but you don’t. It’s an endless dilemma.

“It’s not like I’m going to marry the guy,” you point that out despite the wording on the flier. “It’s just a date.”

Which is funny for you to say, since if your old housekeeper’s son ever confessed he liked you back, then you went on a date with him and had sex with him and did all the things your mother is implying, you would’ve married him the very next morning. None of the men you’re going to meet at From Sangria to Soulmates are ever going to compare. She shouldn’t worry. 

“Okay, then. Be safe. Don’t be late!” She seems satisfied yet not, and still gives you that ages-old reminder of your tardiness that you thought you grew out of. You’re not sure what will make this less of a harrowing idea for her to process. Having a forever love like she has with your dad is going to be hard to obtain, but what can you do? She set the standard high, she always has.

“Bye, Mom!” You feel stupid for resorting to avoidance, however, you’re her only daughter and getting love from you is all she ever wants. “Say hi to Papa!”

You want to tell her that it’s fine if he calls on his own sometimes, instead of sitting there and listening to her conversations. But you know he’s been busier than ever after the last election, so you can’t get selfish and should leave it at that. 

“Bye, my bluebell.”

You don’t get it. Why does she still sound so sad at the thought of you going on a date?

—

You’re near to the bottom of the staircase leading into the foyer of your house when you bump straight into Jaehyun. 

You rarely cross paths during the day because you’re at the office, on the weekends you tend not to spend time with each other. You avoid each other, really.

Or, you avoid him…. since he tests the limits of your mother’s reminders to not say anything if it isn’t going to be nice. He’s too quiet and too closed off and too unfriendly, and has been since he showed up at your door at the beginning of last summer. 

You left DC to come home out of your own volition, feeling sick and lonely there since it wasn’t for you. You thought you could re-start your adult life by taking care of your family’s storied mansion and making it your full-time preoccupation. But your mother suggested a job and sent over a housekeeper and all you could do was deal with it. Signed the completed papers Jaehyun had in his briefcase - it was your mother’s handwriting on them, you triple checked before she called you about it - and employed him obediently.

You really did not want to, though. 

After almost taking your head off with his broad shoulder, Jaehyun does not attempt to apologize or express remorse. He just stares with ill-concealed disinterest and greets you like he always does, “Hello, miss.”

You miss your old housekeeper so badly. He used to call you by your first name, and you loved how he said it, like it was something special to him. His son made your name sound like his most honorable secret, had a nickname for you that made you feel like the most privileged girl in the world. 

Now Jaehyun always calls you miss. 

You’re not the miss, you’re not the head of this household or even his employer. You don’t sign his checks. You’re just you.

No reason to have an actual conversation if he’s not going to apologize, you open the door to leave when what your mother said on the phone makes you pause. He hasn’t left the foyer, it’s disrespectful for him to do so while you’re still around, and even though you don’t want to talk to him, you have to. Your mom is going to be pissed if you don’t.

You turn around and sigh, “Jaehyun.”

His cheek catches on his shoulder when he turns to look at you, and you’re struck by how handsome you find him for once - dark brown hair windswept even indoors, matching dark eyes always sparkly no matter the emotion, neat boundaries of his face chiseled and elegant. But he just. Doesn’t inspire anything in you.

Perhaps a little stirring of something, maybe. Maybe. It comes when his dark eyes dip to take in what you’re wearing, navy pleated skirt, nice blouse, bluebird pin, so different from the jeans and coverup cardigans you wear to the office. The stirring seems positive, feels positive, until his lips purse with obvious disapproval. “Were you not satisfied with the laundry I collected?”

Now nervous for no reason, you clutch at your purse and answer with a non-answer, “I am going out.”

“Where?” 

Why does he care? Like you said, your family will pay his checks either way, and on top of that, nowhere does his job description ask him to be your chauffeur. You’ve never told him your business before this, why start now? But you suppose you would like someone to know where you are. Just in case you get murdered by a strange man at this dating event. 

“I have decided to attend a singles mixer at the country club." The barebones details that would help him aid a police investigation. 

“Singles mixer?” Another annoying thing about Jaehyun is that he likes to repeat everything you say. You don’t get if he thinks you’re dumb or if he’s the one who’s dumb.

He certainly sounds like the dummy, and you decide to be sarcastic in return, “An event where single individuals meet with each other in a group setting? Hello?”

“A date?” Jaehyun repeats again. 

This time, a corner of his annoyingly perfect eyebrow dips in annoyance, making you even more annoyed with him. Your mother’s even, cool tone wraps itself around your mind and reminds you of the rules of etiquette you should follow. But his eyebrow does it again and…. you are not your mother. 

Your eyes narrow with swift judgment and you confront him for everything his gestures said his mouth didn’t, “Is it really so impossible that someone like me would be interested in dating? Or that someone might be interested in me in return?”

These were questions you asked yourself so many times when trying to get over a childish crush that never worked out. The answers from your parents were always the ones you wanted to hear, You’re our special little bluebell, of course someone is going to fall in love with you one day.  What about the answers that you need to hear, though?

Jaehyun’s hands twist together and he bites at the corner of his lip while processing what answer to give you that won’t get him fired. He settles on a quick, terse, “No.”

Not that you wanted this to turn into a full-on argument or screaming match, but you’re disappointed he leaves it at that one word and nothing else. It makes you doubt the sincerity of his answer, since he doesn’t give you accompanying proof. You remember he also just doesn’t like talking, which is cool. You don’t like talking either and never have. It takes a special person to get anything out of you.

 “Then I will be going.” Out of nowhere, your cheeks dare to flame with returning embarrassment, and before you know it, you’re blurting the addendum before you decide not to, “There is no need to clean the house, I do not anticipate bringing any guests over.”

You don’t want to bring a guest over. Jaehyun being aware you’re potentially going to have sex makes you crawl with so much discomfort you want to hurl on his house slippers. His handsome features twist in strangeness, making it clear he does not want to process that possibility either. You hold your purse close and reverse the steps you took when you were brave and confronting him, then… in an unfamiliar iteration of softness that doesn’t feel right coming from Jaehyun's mouth, “Have you spoken to your mother about it?”

Is the summer just making everyone emotional or something? Why is this a tear-jerking topic for all parties involved? Except for the most important one, aka you.

“Yes,” you confirm without hesitation. She was the one who told you to tell him!

And again, why does he care? It’s not any of his business. You would never ask if he called his mother before going on a date - of which you’re sure he goes on many. How can he not while looking like that?

That seems to convince him this situation isn’t just you losing your mind, though he might continue to think that of you in private. Your mother is the head of the household, even more so than your father is, so if she thinks it’s okay, he has no place raising an issue with it. And he doesn’t attempt to, he just purses his lips in his version of a smile without smiling and says lowly, “Understood. Have a pleasant night, miss.”

You really don’t like being called miss. You used to have a better nickname. 

It made you feel…. Pretty. 

—

The man sitting across from you is quite pleasing facially.

On a scale from one to Jaehyun he is sitting firmly in the center. But on the scale from one to your old housekeeper’s son, this man - Doyoung, sorry, you’re just forgetting to read his name tag - Doyoung is fighting a losing battle. But everyone would lose that battle and you don’t want to date someone only because of their face. You hope they extend the same thoughts to you.

At least you weren’t late.

Doyoung does have a nice smile, he flashes it every time he’s about to say something, “So, are you from here or just a transplant for work?”

You seriously underestimated how much a date would involve giving up personal information. You don’t want to tell him about who you are and where you live. It’s not something you typically like to have become public knowledge, since that always opens up potential for you to get taken advantage of.

“From here,” you keep it short and sweet instead. “You?”

He nods and smiles again. “I was born and raised here, in the hospital over–,”

“That’s cool,” you say as you take a sip from the water glass, which isn’t as cold as Jaehyun makes the water at home. 

You don’t meet very many people that are from around here, even though it’s a decent sized city. But that’s the particular consequence of living alone in the mansion on the outskirts oand never having a reason to come down here. It’s not as fun when your parents and your… friends aren’t here with you. 

You put down your glass and ask a question that is just as important to you as the last, “What did you study when you were in school?”

The smile this time is flashier than ever, like Doyoung expects you to be taking a photo of him when he begins his drawn-out explanation, “You know, I was going to specialize in medicine until I was given the opportunity to work on Capitol Hill with my uncle for a summer, so I switched to political science–,” 

That is just annoying. 

No wonder he has that fake-handsome aura. Everyone who’s involved in politics and the political world is 'super douchey' - a direct quote from your best friend that his father used to scold him about - regardless of gender. Except for your dad. You really hope Doyoung doesn’t recognize you. You should ask your mother next time you speak if people here still know who you are. 

“And are you in politics now?” You are aware it’s his turn to ask you something, but you have to know.

That was the main reason your friendship with the housekeeper’s son stuck so firmly. You didn’t want to be trapped in the political sphere with only your parents, meeting only their political friends, dating only their political sons. He was so nice and humble, down-to-earth and normal in a way you didn’t appreciate until your heart gave you no choice. And your parents never wavered on liking him as much as you did. They saw him as a borrowed son just as much as his dad saw you as his only daughter. 

“I’m working on a campaign for the potential new democratic senator for Rhode Island. There’s a special election at the end of the month after the old one left for the White House last year. Remember?” You wonder if your dad might know who will take the other senator's place by his side. But you’re better off not calling and asking in the middle of this date, in case you tip this guy off that you’re connected. 

At least he’s a Democrat, ugh. 

Actually… your mom and dad met while they were working on different campaigns. It wouldn’t be bad for you to fraternize, though it wouldn’t be preferable. 

You’ve already mentally crossed him off your list, but the clock for this date says you still have ten minutes. You ask a mindless followup, “Where did you go to school?”

“Does that really matter?” Doyoung doesn’t sound enthusiastic about it when you assumed he would’ve taken an opportunity to brag. 

You’re curious more than anything and it certainly doesn’t come from a place of elitism since you went to Brown. But ugh, he’s looking at your neatly pressed clothes now, the Chanel logo in place of buttons, the diamonds on your brooch. You wore this since you didn't know what to wear on a date - you’ve never been on one! Now he thinks you’re elitist, and you swear you aren’t. You fell in love with the son of someone who worked for your family, that should be proof enough.

His mouth twitches, and his smile isn't convincing as a backdrop to his answer, “I went to Stanford.”

A strange jolt snaps through you at the mention of him going to school across the country. You are well aware it happens, and may even be the best opportunity for an individual. But the thought of leaving a place like this for somewhere that couldn’t be more of the opposite, a state you hate more than any other in the country for reasons you can’t articulate? That’s what you would describe as a ‘turn off,’ per the horny ladies of your office. You get that it’s weird and illogical to have that reaction considering Stanford is a top school but you cannot help it.

Which is so odd of you. But again, why would anybody leave?

“Is that bad?” He’s confused that you’ve found it upsetting instead, getting all excited and gold dig-y. He points out a reaction you hadn’t felt, “You’re frowning.”

“No,” you lie, unaware of a way to formulate your thoughts clearly. 

Doyoung seems satisfied enough and begins to change the subject, “What about–,”

“Why are you here?” He gives you a terse glance for interrupting him, but it’s something you can’t help.

You don’t know when you became this way, unable to handle long answers or sit there in silence while another spoke. You couldn’t say a single word to the housekeeper’s son for a long time since you were so shy, but at some point you became comfortable enough to speak for hours without breaking, listening and learning, sharing everything with him. Now it feels like your brain cannot be in one place long enough to hold onto any patience.

“I don’t know. I’ve been single for a long time.” Doyoung’s answer is valid since you have been as well, but your definitions of single are surely different. “What about–,” 

Your mind reacts before you remember not to interrupt again, “Do you want to get married?”

“Whoa, isn’t that moving too fast?” He doesn’t seem intelligent if he thinks that is what you were implying.

“Not to me,” you clarify and feel stupid that you have to do so. You don’t want to get married to this random man, who moved to California when he didn’t have to and puts what looks like a whole can of hairspray in his hair.

Doyoung appears relieved he will not be engaging in this fantasy marriage with you, yet he still answers politely, “Yes, of course. I’d love to get married, have one or two children.” 

It’s almost enough to get you to look past the Stanford thing, but that still lingers and bothers more than you want it to. Also, that vague answer leaves you wondering where he wants to settle down, here or there. You just have to ask, “And what about–,”

“I’ve been talking about myself for the last ten minutes,” Doyoung cuts you off this time, and when he laughs, you’re unsure if it’s at you. “Tell me more about you.”

Some people claim to be an open book, but you’re the opposite. No, actually, you’re just an empty book, there’s not much enticing about you. Nor do you know what should be enticing enough for someone to want to get to know you better.

“I’m just….” You search for one little fact, a strand of something, but nothing comes to mind beyond what he's already read on your intro card, “I’m twenty-eight, I live here, I work at Neo Banking as an administrator.” You can’t even tell him what you do there, since you don’t know yourself. Your mom got you the job through an old friend of a friend, they hired you and gave you enough responsibilities to keep you busy. You don’t think Doyoung would find that topic interesting.  

He doesn’t seem to find anything about you interesting though. “That’s it?”

“Yes?”

You can tell him you like bananas. You know that for sure. 

“You asked me all those questions and that’s all you have to offer?” Now it’s clear that he’s annoyed and is no longer trying to hide it like he’s been doing the whole time. 

But you don’t have anything to offer. You’re twenty-eight and have never been on a date, your longest crush is on a man who is married and doesn’t remember you, and you live alone in a massive house that is far too small for lonely old you and your sullen new housekeeper. 

“I um. I.... yes," you answer again, unable to think of anything else.

You watch as Doyoung hides his eye roll, and in the process of doing so makes eye contact with a beautiful woman standing at the bar. You can predict what’s about to happen perfectly, he turns back to you with that nice, big smile for the last time and says politely, “It was so lovely to meet you.”

The date timer goes off, and he’s by her side before the person in charge has stopped it. Okay. She’s his problem now. 

Maybe she’ll be from California or something. 

—

The walk to your room involves passing his, ugh.

It was never an issue when you and the housekeeper’s son had rooms side by side and played anywhere that you wanted while you were children. Now you have to tiptoe by his bedroom every time. The door is open tonight, which it almost never is. You’re curious if he’s as uptight alone as he is with you, so you peek inside. Then you make eye contact with Jaehyun, steaming his dress shirts right by the door, and he promptly slams it on you.

Yeesh. That was mean. 

The hinges creak open and he comes out of his room like your intrusive internal thoughts summoned him. He closes the door behind him before you can see inside again, and bluntly asks, “Did you need something?”

“No,” you answer just as bluntly.

You get that it’s his job to ask but you don’t need anyone to do anything for you, you never actually tell him to do anything - he just does what his contract says. You still don’t know why your mom insisted on you having a housekeeper when you were taught to do chores by the man who knew best. 

“How–,” Jaehyun calls after you, loud and hard to miss, and you almost fall down turning to make sure you heard him correctly. His mouth is parted in surprise at his involuntary outburst, and he swallows that loudness down to ask in his usual, cultivated timbre, “How was it? The… date?”

Why does he care?!

Seriously, you tried not to think about his weirdness while you were at the mixer and you were quite successful. You’re not interested in having him involved in your business. You wonder if your mother whined about how much she missed you, asked him to check up on you, and now he’s going above and beyond. That’d be atypical of him but.... who knows.

Fine. Just in case, you should answer. 

“It was fine.” You’re satisfied with leaving it like that and Jaehyun seems to be, too. Then you’re unfortunately reminded of how the first of your five failed dates today hated the way you kept things short. So you force yourself to add on, “He was my age and worked in politics.”

“Ughhh.” You’re not sure if Jaehyun is trying to crack a joke with his terse eye roll and shoulder shimmy combo, but it’s not funny. It’s the kind of joke that you and your dad and your best friends could make, since they knew how much of that distaste was valid and real. 

Does he even know what your father does? 

Jaehyun stops laughing when he sees that you’re not, and the sudden, awkward silence compels you into adding on more, “Seems respectable. Good job, good education, wanted marriage and kids.” All things that you want in a partner, yet your dealbreaker was there and it was firm. You shrug to conceal your true level of disappointment, “Anyways, goodnight, Jaehyun. No need to keep the lights on.”

He didn’t have to keep the entire house lit up, as if he anticipated you breaking your promise to bring a person home. It was nice he stayed up and waited though… because of the whole 'murdered by a stranger' thing. 

As soon as you say it, Jaehyun doesn’t head back to his room. His right hand clasps around the knuckle of his left ring finger, a habit he’s had since he started, and he wonders, “Are you going to go on another?”

Surprisingly, you’re not deterred by the thought of attending another of these events. You met five guys and none of them were a match, but Doyoung did  have the superficial traits you wanted. With more exposure and experience, you’ll be able to refine your list of said traits, becoming more likely you’ll find the person you want. 

You nod. “Yes, the mixers are weekly–,”

“No,” Jaehyun cuts you off and you appreciate him for it. At least it doesn’t feel like you’re the only one doing it. “With this guy you told me about.”

“No.” You don’t want to, no matter how much you thought his outward qualities were nice. Doyoung went to Stanford, which is in California, and that is a deal breaker for you. 

You doubt Jaehyun will understand that, so you hope he doesn’t make you explain.

“Why not? He sounds nice.” Jaehyun argues back with a subtle half-smile, before he quickly tacks on a bizarre addendum, “I want some of those things, too.”

Yes, you think most people want a serious relationship, marriage, and kids one day. But that’s not your business to know, just as you don’t want him to know yours! You’re not sure if he’s in a relationship or not! You don’t even know when his birthday is!

You figure that if you have no one to tell your freaky little reservations to, you may as well tell him since he is paid to cater to your whims. You make yourself comfortable with the idea of him knowing some of it, then find yourself saying all of it, “He’s from around here, but went to school in California. That was beyond strange to me.”

Who would want to leave a town as beautiful as Providence for California? Red flag. 

Jaehyun lifts his eyebrow and that strange stirring returns, despite his inclination to argue, “Well, I’m from here.” Not a surprise, you read this on his employment forms and Google later told you he was born in the same hospital you were–,  “But I lived in California for a while, since that’s where my mom’s from. Am I strange?” 

The stirring evaporates into steams of aversion that boil your chest. You did not want to know that detail, and yes, you find him very strange for that. The way he acts does not line up with what you expect of him in your head. You tell him as such, leaving out your true feelings, “This place is too nice to leave. Who would do that?”

 “Understandable,” Jaehyun responds as his fingers twist around that knuckle again. The half-smile returns, infinitely more charming and honest than the ‘real’ one you were presented with on the date. “I’m sure he wants to see you again, though.”

That skips past the stirring to make you feel funny. It’s nice of him to say but he doesn’t have to. That sort of thing is not in his contract.

“I doubt it. I didn’t know what to say,” you admit, the barrier of discomfort now shattered.

You had nothing to say, but you don’t want to tell Jaehyun that. 

“What’s wrong with that?”

“There wasn’t anything interesting about myself I could say.”

He doesn’t know you well enough to realize you haven’t always been like this. You don’t know what changed. It’s like your brain thinks it has so many interesting stories to tell but won’t ever bring them out. You’re just boring and bland now, and you think you’re supposed to prefer it that way.

He leans against the doorframe of his room and his smile deepens just a little bit. “What about the fact that you like to golf?”

Your heart pretzels into itself. 

“How do you know that?” How does Jaehyun know that golfing is your thing? Or at least, used to be? You haven’t swung a golf club in a while, not since you’ve returned home. Maybe you should call your dad and ask him to come up and go golfing with you - that would make things seem less strange. 

And you still don’t understand how Jaehyun knows this. 

“Miss, I clean your clubs every Friday and you never decide to actually go when I set them out,” he reminds you through a burst of his usual tension. “If you’re not ever intending to, then tell me and I will stop.”

That’s right, he always puts them at the bottom of the stairs and suggests that you go to the country club after you’re done with work so. You don’t ever want to and always wonder if it's something your mother set him up to do. Can’t be a proper DC daughter if your golf skills aren’t fine-tuned for socializing. Also…. cleaning your old clubs is part of his job? Why is he being like this, acting like your dismissal of your hobby is some kind of personal attack.

“It doesn’t matter if I intend to or not, it’s your responsibility,” you respond with equal measures of terseness. “Goodnight, Jaehyun.”

You miss your old housekeeper and the way it felt like he was your dad’s brother and a part of your family. He really did become part of your family after he divorced his wife. He wasn’t just an employee who did things he was asked. 

You really hope his son has a nice family now, too. You wish you had one of your own. 

—

The date mixer was outdoors today, on the pier by the Providence River that you grew up going to.

Jaehyun left a beautiful periwinkle summer dress out after you left a note with your finished breakfast plate saying that you needed one. Not talking about it was better, just in case he decided to remind you of your shortcomings again.

All in all, you’re having a better time now that you’re not in an enclosed space with a stranger. You could wander off between your dates and not feel like you had to stick around if you didn’t want to. Guy number four is giving you a better chance than you’ve had with all eight dates so far, including the first man today who scolded you for being ten minutes late. It was only ten minutes! You got stuck looking at a nest of baby robins by the driveway and forgot where you were going.

Anyways, Jooheon - sorry, the nametag is there - was born and raised here in Providence, hasn’t left, works at the Apple Store and has already promised you a discount. And he is sooooooooo handsome. Like, you have a hard time looking at his face, he’s one of those pretty people, with double dimples and everything. 

You’re a huge sucker for dimples, apparently. 

“So, what do you want to do when you grow up?” He’s funny, too, but not particularly smart. That’s a drawback according to your list, yet you’re keeping an open mind since everything he says makes you laugh. Maybe you don’t want a smart man like you always thought you did? Dumb is fine, too. You feel dumb every day. 

You giggle, “We’re already grown up!”

His smile is your favorite out of the eight men you’ve met so far. The dimples could make anything he says sound utterly romantic, “You know what I mean! As big adults!”

Now armed with the information Jaehyun gave you, you finally have an answer, “I wanted to be a professional golfer!” 

You were pretty good and on your way to going pro if the number and quality of your clubs are any indication. You’re not sure why it never worked out, though. Just a that’s life kind of thing, you suppose, not every kid who’s good at golf turns into Tiger Woods. And it’s not like your father would ever allow you to use nepotism to reach your goals. 

“I can totally see you golfing,” Jooheon laughs with a particular fondness, takin in the sight of you in your fancy dress and cocktail glass when everyone here is in linens and drinking beer.

“Why is that?” You’ve already pointed out the differences, but you want to hear his - surely interesting - thoughts. He doesn’t seem as judgmental as Doyoung was, which you really, really like.

“You look like a golf girl!” he exclaims, lost for words to explain. “Very… golfy!”

What does that even mean? He doesn’t seem articulate and you need your partner to be, especially in times where you can’t formulate your own thoughts and require outward assistance. Jaehyun doesn’t mind having that as part of his duties, he does it all the time for you. A boyfriend shouldn’t mind either. 

“You’re pretty too, haha.” At least Jooheon likes to give out compliments and means them–, “Ooh, that seagull is pretty!”

Never mind, he probably thinks everything is pretty.

You’re curious about how he sees the world through this innocent lens, so you echo back, “What do you want to do when you grow up?”

You don’t want it from him, necessarily, but one day you want someone to answer that they’d like to spend every day by your side. And you hope that when you’re asked in turn you’d give the same heartfelt answer instead of the literal one. 

“I want to be a…. bumble bee,” Jooheon whispers in your ear with utmost seriousness.

What? Okay, this man is just not it for you. 

“No, like…” You try not to let the frustration show because he doesn’t seem like a bad person. “What do you do outside of work?”

“I model.” Jooheon answers and strikes a pose, drapes himself across the pier railing to look like a painting.

 He pulls this pinched yet expressionless face that makes you want to laugh so badly you turn away to make sure you don’t insult him. Sure, he’s a ‘model,’ in the sense that you’re sure the most he’s ever done is have his picture taken by his friends. By doing your best to be polite and turning away until your rude smile disappears, your gaze sticks to the line of shops on the other side of the pier. You spot a familiar figure walking out of the grocery store with a bunch of bags.

Is that…

A confused question hits you, “Why is that man looking at us?”

You meet eyes with Jaehyun from a distance and feel weirdly compelled to acknowledge him. At least it’ll give you a five second break to stop thinking about this strange date that you’re on. You lift your fingers and trace out a tiny wave, and since his hands are full, you assume he’s not going to do anything back despite he’s clearly seeing you.

Until Jaehyun’s mouth crooks into a visible partial smile and he starts walking towards you, faster than he does when you’re at home together. You wonder if you looked like you needed help. It’s not that bad, Jooheon is just dumb and asks weird questions. Yet the more you think about it, the more you realize that your partner being smart is a bullet on the list you want to keep. 

Your old housekeeper’s son was very smart. 

Once his dad caved and let your dad start paying for him to go to private school with you, you fought in all your classes for top rankings to the point that your peers thought you hated each other. And you spent all your time studying at home together to the point that your parents sat you down separately and asked if you had too much attachment to each other. Then promptly let you continue on when they found out you were only studying.   

Once Jaehyun is close enough, you take a very obvious peek in the bags and find them stuffed to the brim with the ridiculous junk food that you’ve found yourself attached to for the past year. Never have you eaten this poorly, not since you were a junior in high school and stressed beyond belief. You could just order these snacks in secret to save yourself the embarrassment, but Jaehyun insists on doing this and has every week since he started. 

You don’t mind that he always puts the Ding Dongs on top anymore. It’s kind of funny. 

Jaehyun’s eyes flick behind you to where Jooheon is doing his hair with a comb while looking into his front camera. You bite your lip hard from laughing again, and when you look at Jaehyun, he’s doing the exact same thing, mouth caught tightly to not make a sound. It only breaks apart so he can swiftly and lightly mouth at you, Are you okay?  

Yes, you mouth back right away, so he’s not more worried than he has to be. This blanket of unexpected comfort comes to protect you from the water’s coolness. You didn’t think he’d ask like that. You didn’t think he’d ask at all.

You clear your throat and Jooheon almost drops his comb in the water, surprised to see another man in your circle. You make sure you’re a respectable distance away so that your relationship won’t be misconstrued, then do the requisite introductions, “Jooheon, this is my housekeeper, Jaehyun.” 

They shake hands without exchanging pleasantries, the situation beyond awkward on both ends - for your housekeeper to be forced to meet your date, for your date to meet another man tangentially in your life.  Jooheon shoots a goofy smile in your direction while Jaehyun remains his usual closed-off self.

There’s an otherworldly moment where they both turn to face you at the same time, and it feels like your entire lung system collapses in on itself.

They look almost exactly the same. 

You’ve spent this whole afternoon swooning in your head over how handsome Jooheon is, yet you’ve only thought of Jaehyun as handsome in a few rare instances. His cold, closed off demeanor dimmed his beauty in your eyes, shrouded further by the dark circles and worry that are highlighted points of focus on his face. But in a direct comparison like this, Jaehyun is equally as handsome as your dumb date. Maybe even more. 

He’s still not quite as handsome as your housekeeper’s son and this time you know exactly why.

Once you both breached the borders of shyness with each other, he laughed all the time. You don’t have a memory of him that isn’t twinged in his deepening, perfect chuckles, and that happiness made him look so beautiful.

Out of nowhere, Jooheon breaks the plane to scrutinize you, vocalizing something that hadn’t crossed his mind before, “Wait, a housekeeper? Does that mean you’re rich?”

Jaehyun gets visibly tense beside you, just like you feel your muscles preparing not to react. You hate bringing that information up and always have, a disparity in income was the biggest worry you had in that potential relationship which never worked out. Your parents always reassured you that money was something they never cared about - yours was hard earned by your ancestors and not a gift - and that they wouldn’t care if you didn’t marry a wealthy son of one of your dad's colleagues. 

Jaehyun must sense you’re exceedingly uncomfortable, since he doesn’t start to walk away until you straighten from a posture of discomfort. You decide to be honest and answer with vague nonchalance, “I do have some money.”

You wish you hadn't been convincing enough to get Jaehyun to leave. It would’ve been nice to have some backup and not want to backtrack your answer when Jooheon gets excited.

He is more enthusiastic about your date now than he has been the whole time, more than discussing his aspirations to be an insect. He wastes no time blurting a request, “What do you think about investing in my business?!”

Um. You don’t actually have any investable money, it’s all legacy money that was built from years and years of your family members being public servants. And you’re not supposed to give it out. According to your lawyers, you can only share your trust with your husband, not anyone who you’re dating. 

“It’s called Bee Yourself. It’s face painting for kids’ birthday parties and I can also model for it....”

Jooheon continues to detail his inane startup idea and you let out a quiet, hidden sigh of relief. That is harmless and nothing bad at all considering how many people would’ve tried to take greater advantage of you for your money. But it’s not what you hoped for, as soon as you gave him any money for anything, you would no longer be equals in the relationship. 

All you can do now is hope that staring at his handsome face for the rest of the conversation will be enough to make up for the rest of his flaws.

—

It’s such a nice night out. You decide to walk home instead of ruining your mood further by taking the bus. 

You barely make it off the pier before you spot a familiar head of dark hair waiting by the bus benches. No grocery bags to be seen around him, which means… Jaehyun went back to the house while you were on your date and returned to pick you up. You don’t realize how quickly you’re walking until your mind starts to think about what you’re going to say and you’re already at the side of the bench.

You end up almost shouting at him, “What are you doing here?!”

Jaehyun jolts so hard his shoulder blade makes a noise against the wood. He turns the wrong way first, before facing you with this expression of complete, consuming surprise. “Miss?”

“What are you doing here?” you repeat, in case he didn’t hear you. He knew you were down here and hadn’t gone home yet. What, did he think you were going to run screaming? Or did he just want to see you for some reason?

“I didn't think you should be walking around on your own at night.”

Ah. What is he? Your dad? 

“This is Providence,” you remind him. “Nothing bad happens here.”

At least, not like it does in other places like California… or DC. 

When Jaehyun makes no move get up to escort you home, you take that as a signal to sit on the bench. You tuck your dress under your thighs so you’re warm and look at the old taco shop across the way, your favorite place to eat in the whole city.  The housekeeper’s son told you one day he had tacos from there after school since it was all he could afford. You’d never tried it before, so you begged to be taken there and he went along with it. Then you just… never stopped going together. 

Jaehyun gives you a banana that was concealed in the pocket of his spring jacket without you needing to ask. After starting, he quickly learned you’ve loved doing this for no particular reason, having a random banana at the end of the day - even if you're full from dinner and dessert.

When your cheeks are filled with like, half the banana, he takes the opportunity to ask, “How was the date?”

He is not sly at all, he knew that plying you using your favorite snack would get him answers you otherwise wouldn't have given up. 

“It was fine.” You say it like that partially to antagonize him for the bribery, partially because your mother's wisdom chooses that moment to return. You don't have anything nice to say.

Jaehyun dares to shoot you a funny look, all furrowed eyebrows and sucked-in cheeks, which you’ve never seen him do before. While it doesn’t look that comfortable on him, you kind of don’t mind it either.

Your mouth twists in amused regret, and you finally admit, “He was not particularly intelligent.”

The handsome face was not enough to make up for the flaws, no matter how much you wanted it to. 

“Do I look like I play golf?” you switch topics so that you can get his opinion. “He called me a golf girl.”

If he didn’t clean your golf clubs every Friday, would Jaehyun know? The dress he laid out today was made in such delicate periwinkle satin it wouldn’t inspire a thought of your old sport. And it’s not like you bring golf up in discussions without needing to be reminded to. 

“What even is a golf girl,” Jaehyun blurts.

At least you’re on the same page, re: being completely confused by that. 

“Maybe I look like a golf club is what he meant,” you mutter to yourself, trying to re-imagine your proportions in the mirror as an extrapolation of the equipment you have. When nothing comes to mind, you turn to Jaehyun with such innocent earnestness, “Do I look like a golf club?”

His gaze gets weighed down with a particular poignancy you can’t pinpoint the origin of. Then that, in turn, forces the right side of his mouth up into more of a smile than you’ve ever seen him give you. You realize he has a charming little dimple there that pokes out with the pressure, and turns into a fully bloomed crescent moon when he shakes his head and denies, “No, you do not.”

You cannot comprehend why you keep feeling bizarre around him. Not when you never used to before.

You end up flustered when he continues to stare and that one dimple gets so deep you could poke your finger into it. That fizzy, funny, floating feeling prods you into saying something totally random, “He also told me he wanted to be a bumblebee when he grew up.”

You wanted to be a flower once, but you were also three years old. The only thing that stuck around after that was the nickname that your parents created from it. 

Jaehyun tries to hold in his laugh and fails, ending up chortling with his cheeks puffed out like yours were when you gobbled up the banana. His chuckles come out in this symphony of true happiness that may as well be him speaking in a language you cannot understand. You sit there, dumbfounded yet entranced, and watch him appear even more handsomely enchanting. 

“A bumblebee? That’s just… that’s ridiculous,” he says in between hearty guffaws that come from deep in his soul. “Are you going to see him again to unpack that?”

You smile and his falters a little and you want to tell him you’re only smiling because his laughter is so contagious. But sudden shyness swallows you up, you end up clutching the banana close and denying quietly, “No, of course not. There was nothing to unpack, he was just not for me.”

Jooheon was really quite handsome. But if you’re looking to spend time with a handsome person who doesn’t annoy you, you will spend time with Jaehyun instead. He is just as handsome, especially when he smiles to himself at the end of your sentence and his little dimple comes peeking out again. 

“I agree,” he hums, and even that tiny noise is filled with lingering amusement. 

Does he agree because he knows details about you beyond what’s shared as employer and employee? You don’t know anything about him in return, and this is the first time you’re feeling regretful about it.

“Do you have money?” you ask out of nowhere.

You may not know him, yet you’ve noticed that Jaehyun wears nice clothes like the old housekeeper did, regardless of the ‘no dress code’ stipulation in the contract. Always the neatest pressed shirts and slacks, ties if you’ve decided to dress nice, pajamas that are silk and rarely seen. He does not strike you as the kind of person who cares about fashion, though, since he never seems to care what you wear in turn. 

Jaeyhun thinks about his answer, and you wonder if he is in the same financial situation as you are. He reacted the same way you did at Jooheon's question, and now he's carefully phrasing his response, “Some. Not a lot, though, since it was a gift.”

“Is that the reason you took this job?” You didn’t do the interview, didn’t seek out his motivations to clean house for a twenty-eight year old recluse, didn’t stop to think that there may have been something pushing at him to do this, not just for the check.

 He just showed up with the signed forms and you accepted it.

Jaehyun smiles to himself, a smile you would’ve missed if you hadn’t already been staring at how nice his face is when surrounded by the gorgeous glow of the sunset. And you realize the smile was a prelude to his joke, “To get the other half of that ‘some money’ back.”

Satisfied with himself and his off-brand humor, he tries to take the banana from you to finish it since it’s now mushy. But you hold it the opposite direction in a petulant display and you glare at him. Not mad and not rude, but wanting a serious answer to a serious question. When he realizes that you are not going to let go of the fruit until he responds the way that you want, his fingers reach out in a final flutter, before his hand twists around his knuckle. 

“I needed……” He hesitates for a long time, a long, long time, a time that feels too expansive for you to describe with the vocabulary you have. Before the heavy poignancy in his eyes weighs against your shoulders in a reciprocal load, and he finishes the rest so quietly you realize that you can't hear because you were holding your breath, “A job.” 

That’s it? This is truly just a job for him?

His fingers turn white with how tightly he’s holding himself, yet he continues to speak like nothing is out of the ordinary, “I apologize for not being to the same standard as your old housekeeper was. Your mother spoke highly of him when she hired me.”

You suppose it was foolish to anticipate becoming best friends with Jaehyun in the way that your old housekeeper was best friends with your parents before he moved away with his son. They were as sad as you were when he left in hopes of saving his marriage, and so much of your lasting bond with them stemmed from that sorrowful, confusing time.

Now melancholy to an extent that you hoped the summer wouldn’t allow, you hand Jaehyun the banana and concede equally as softly, “It’s okay. Don’t worry.”

At least he tries. That’s all you can ask for.

Jaehyun lets his elbow brush by yours, a moment of contact that's like he's snaked a hand right into your chest to grab your heart, and he murmurs, “Let’s go home, miss.” 

He takes the banana from you and it’s impossible not to allow yourself a second where your fingers brush to see what might follow. He doesn’t seem to notice, he just finishes your snack and throws the peel in the trash beside him like he felt absolutely nothing. But you didn’t. You felt that something stirring again, your brain dipped to an unknown place that isn’t here and is now taking its sweet time returning. 

You don’t know where it went, but you let Jaehyun drive you home in hopes that the journey will inspire you to seek out those answers in the future. 

—

You’re not sure what happened or how you got here, but the darkness you’re stuck in is suffocating and tangible. A few more seconds in here and you’re going to be unable to breathe. 

You thought you were okay at first. Figured your eyes were just closed and it was hard to make sense of what was the lovely shadow of your eyelids and what was the world cruelly stealing your sight. But when you forced them open, the darkness didn’t go away. Now you’re being enveloped in it like a poisonous plant picks its prey, and no matter how valiantly you attempt to escape, you fail. It grabs you and grabs you and the pinpricks of light left in your vision get smaller and smaller to an almost incomprehensible degree.

And right before your eyesight disappears into the consuming blackness - not a symptom of you falling asleep but an interminable condition you are never going to heal from - you see the bright outline of your sweet dad’s face, right before he’s swept into the void first–, 

Your vocal cords aggravate themselves through whatever stricken noise you let out. Before the expanse of black filling up your consciousness streaks with pure gold, from the light streaming in through your… window.

“Miss! Wake up! Wake up!”

You open your eyes when your hand goes aflame with heat, to find Jaehyun in your room with the door is wide open behind him. You were loud enough for him to hear in the hallway? Your body twists painfully in the sheets when you try to sit up and figure out what's going on - he’s kneeling on your bed in the old sweats he uses when he decides to wash the windows, and your fingers are clenched tightly around his as if you’re a tiny child. 

You used to have these silly bad dreams all the time and was  never able to make them stop despite the coddling and love your parents gave you. It wasn’t until the housekeeper's son started sleeping with you in your bed, platonically, with him on his side and you on yours with your fingers caught in the middle, that you stopped having them.

But they were never to the point of this true, tangible terror. And they never involved your dad. 

Jaehyun helps you sit up and keeps his hand linked firmly around yours. You try to make better sense of your situation, yet your head fills with the mindless, disorienting cotton of grogginess. Why is it so dark but also light in here? You grasp his hand hard to remind yourself that you’re in real life and not dreaming, and your mouth feels like it’s filled with cotton too, “W-what h-happened?”

You don’t remember falling asleep in your room, or coming in here in the first place. 

“You went to take a nap before your… date tonight and I heard you c-crying.” His voice breaks on the last word, a tangible burst of emotion that is uncharacteristic of him. It is only when his warm, dry fingertips brush the dewdrops on your cheeks do you realize how hard you must’ve been weeping while you were unconscious. “Are you okay?”

You press your free hand to your chest to physically feel for yourself how you’re supposed to answer, since just searching your emotions isn’t enough. Your body seems to be empty. Not sad or upset, but hollow. Like you’re missing something.

“What was your dream about?” Jaehyun presses you for more, worried now. “Do you remember anything?”

No. 

And you do not know why you are scared to tell him that. 

“You said I had a date?” You sidestep and incriminate yourself all at once, but you don’t remember that scary detail. What’s left in your brain is the darkness of the dream. Within that, there’s no room for the happiness and delight that comes from dating.

“Yes, but….. yes, you were.” His fingers flit against your cheek and his touch brings you completely back from wherever your consciousness was sent. 

You remember now. You were eating a banana rice cake to prepare for an evening of drinks and got into bed while you were changing clothes, making the mistake of thinking you’d only nap for five minutes and leave. You had to go to the lake park to meet up with the other singles, you’re not making any of this up. Nor do you want to let this paralyzing moment affect you. You want to stick to the plan that you’ve formulated, and do not want to become a person that is high maintenance and unable to control their emotions.

Your dull gaze crosses to Jaehyun’s, glittery with fret and all the things he can’t say. It doesn’t feel like your words are coming from you, they’re from some blanked-out creature in another universe, “Oh, okay. I’ll be back later, then.”

When you try to get off the bed, you end up entangled in this peculiar braid of existence with Jaehyun, since he does not read your cue and holds onto you for a moment that is interminably long. His hand squeezes your shoulder and you feel his entire arm press across your back, before he lets go and moves aside without escalating. Physical touch is not in his job description, as much as it calmed you down. 

You stand up with your bag in hand, and it hits him that you're serious about your intentions. He gets up to try and reach for you again, not intending to do this if he knew it'd help you leave. “Wait, you’re still going? You don’t have to if you don’t want to–,”

“I am an independent adult and I can make my own decisions,” you inform him with as much subtle haughtiness as you can muster, what wouldn’t earn a scolding from your mother in the instance he might tell on you. 

You want to go. This is what you decided you wanted to do and you are done changing your mind about things. 

The wording was a little harsh, sure, but you didn’t expect Jaehyun to react like he does. He stumbles aside when the words seem to hit him in a physical blow, catches himself on your prissy pink desk chair so that he doesn’t fall over. You can tell that he is pissed, assumed you wouldn’t dare have the audacity to say something like that. You’re well aware that you’ve upset him.

But this is your boundary. 

Nothing he can say or do will change your mind, and you leave him there without a second glance to contemplate that reality. 

—

You’re not sure if you’re experiencing lingering side effects from the dream or if the lake in your neighborhood has turned into a giant black sinkhole. You’re assuming it’s the former since everyone at this event is laughing and not screaming–, 

“Hello?”

What was that dream about? What was the point of it? 

It was so strange and unexpected considering you feel that particular emptiness around you all the time, but it's never been bothersome. You don’t know what it means and you don’t know what changed. 

“Hello?!”

You blink out of your daze and see a guy - not a guy, your date, whose name is Kevin according to the nametag you didn’t check - standing in front of you and holding a glass of wine out. Doesn’t he know you don’t drink? You don’t like it, not to mention it makes you sick every time you decide you might like it. It also makes you make bad decisions. 

Too bad the drinking age isn’t eighteen. 

Otherwise you could’ve gotten drunk and kissed the housekeeper’s son before he moved away and got married.

“I am sorry.” You can tell you’re being quieter than usual, there's a subtle shakiness settled into your limbs as you take the wine from him. You check if you’ve put on a smile for him, and cannot feel anything but terse numbness in your face. You’re still caught deep in that dream and now you’re fighting a losing battle to claw your way out.

“Are you good or whatever?” Kevin doesn’t use the most delicate phrasing. Not like Jaehyun, who never makes you feel bad regarding the things about you that you can’t really explain. 

The housekeeper’s son never had to do that kind of thing either, since you never acted like this back when he knew you. 

“Yes, I. I had a rather upsetting afternoon, but….” You keep it together as best as you can in this public environment, while wearing this sky blue blouse that itches, with this stranger staring at you. And when you realize you cannot bring yourself to be honest with him, the emotions start to rush in, “But… but I am alright. How are–,"

“Then why did you even come to this? You were almost an hour late.” Kevin gets straight to the point, no nonsense in the way that Jaehyun is yet with none of his soft consideration. “I’m here to find a wife, you know.”

And you’re here to find a husband more than you thought you were at first. The longer you look for someone the more confused you get. How is it possible you’ve been single for this long and haven’t found anyone? You thought one person would like you, it makes no sense you haven’t been married this whole time to a man who loved you completely. 

“Okay,” you whisper. 

You can’t make yourself say anything, despite your brain screaming a thousand different ends to that sentence. What the hell is wrong with you?

“Okay?” His singular word sounds far more angry than you think you deserve. 

He’s upset. Jaehyun didn’t get upset. 

Kevin closes his eyes when the echo of his irritation echoes back to him, and composes himself enough to give you a tersely polite parting greeting, “Sorry, lady. You seem like you have stuff you need to work on. Have a good night.”

He walks away and it’s good that he does. That way he won’t get more annoyed by the shuddering, extended exhale you let out when the cool breeze and the relief bombard you at once. 

You do have a lot of things to work on. 

You take a large sip of your wine, enough to cut the volume in two. You hate how it still stings while it’s going down your throat and end up flinging the remnants into the grass, discarding the glass right after. Feeling the frustration feed into your flustered state and your flustered state building your frustration, you don’t bother to stick around for the second, third, fourth, or fifth dates tonight. You just pick your purse back up and head towards the exit of the park. 

You’re going to walk home tonight. It’s not far from here to your house and you don’t want to…. bother anyone else by calling and asking for help. 

—

You almost scream when you get home.

It’s not like you expected to see anyone in the foyer when you unlocked the door, least of all Jaehyun anxiously sitting outside his room at the top of the stairs. You're loud enough to catch his attention - his eyes widen and he closes his door right behind him, a habit which you still find so bizarre.

But you’re so relieved to see him, you end up blurting, “Jaehyun!”

He stands up in a fit of anxiety and comes down the stairs two at a time, the fastest his long legs can take him. He’s already talking a mile a minute before he’s even in front of you, “Bluebi–, Miss. How was your date? Tell me?”

He stops two feet away from you and even that space is enough to have you crawling in unfamiliar sorrow. You find yourself retreating into the lingering darkness, which is comforting now that you have nothing and no one else to turn to. Only… when you look into Jaehyun's beautiful face and his eyes that are always so shiny, you remember that he is not the man that made you feel bad for being yourself.

You can be honest with him. He is the only person you have for that. 

“He was not very nice to me,” you whisper forlornly.

You brace for the worst, that he’s going to close off into his typical stoicism. Or worse, return to his dramatics from this afternoon. But Jaehyun lets his face soften into this totally overwhelming, affectionate expression which makes him look as squishy and soft as a charming loaf of bread. 

“Oh, noooooo. I’m so sorry,” Jaehyun almost sounds like he’s whining he’s that upset for you, and right away he holds out a hand. “Come on, come on. It’s okay.”

But you can’t. You’re stuck there with a wounded heart and a muted mouth and you want to get it out before you get smothered in comfort.

“He was actually kind of mean.” You told Kevin the honest truth of what was going on in your day and he didn’t care. Then he equated it to you not being a good wife. A good wife. That sets your heart racing at a pace that makes your chest hurt, your vision shrouds in a veil of fresh tears when you glance up at Jaehyun and feel forced to ask, “Do you think I’d be a good wife one day?”

Is that why your housekeeper’s son never liked you back? Can men just tell? 

Jaehyun does a curious thing that you do not expect, he goes so completely still it's as if he was sent into the frigidity of winter with no chance of survival. You watch him watch you and you do not think he breathes once. 

His voice plunges to an impossibly quiet depth, “Why are you asking me that?”

“I don’t know,” you whisper, now doused in fear. 

You do not know why you felt the need to have Jaehyun answer that. He’s always around you, he knows that you like golf and bananas, plus your mom hired him, so she must’ve thought you'd get along. He’s extremely intelligent and knows things you can’t comprehend, he should be able to interpret this. And above all, he may be one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen, he can tell you about the experience of dating and… loving people. 

Jaehyun still doesn’t move except for letting his beautiful irises meld into the path of yours. You’re on the edge of your existence as you wait for him to step back from the edge of his and make his moving mouth actually create words, “I think that… marriage is a partnership. And whether or not you’d make a good wife has nothing to do with how you’d actually be as one. There’s a whole other person involved.”

That is very logical. It sounds like something your housekeeper and your dad would say at the same time to their kids together. A good relationship takes two people, you have to remember that it’s never just you. 

Letting antique shyness cradle you in a hug, you feel your soul blush as you stare at Jaehyun and warble, “Okay, but maybe just pretend you were my husband. What do you think?”

You feel utterly trite as you back up one tiny step, then hold your hands out to the side and show yourself off to him. The pretty outfit he picked that matched your tastes, hair nicely done in a braid and not just a ponytail, no makeup because you couldn't recall how you did yourself up in your mother’s lipstick to impress silly boys.

Your nerves dare to spark when you don’t get a reaction right away, but when you do a full ballerina spin and your skirt flutters around you like a bluebird’s wings, Jaehyun… smiles. He smiles from ear to ear in a full, blossomed, beautiful crescent grin that doesn’t remotely convey the full breadth of happiness he’s radiating. 

He has two dimples. One little moon on each side of his mouth. 

“If I was your husband...” He exhales hard, eyes running this ragged road over the map of you on display. You feel sick with anticipation waiting for what's to come. “I’d think that there’s no getting better than you.”

Your heart skips enough beats to ensure that you might be stuck in these clouds for the rest of your life.

You laugh it off as quietly and bashfully as you can, “You’re being ridiculous.”

He falters hard and you're unsure why he didn’t expect the brush off when you’ve never been comfortable with compliments. But Jaehyun hits his stride in the middle of his anxiety and it transforms him completely. The smile dips into a diagonal, enticing smirk, and he flirts with you, “Maybe I am.”

Before he steps back and holds out his arms in a subtly funny mockery of how you just showed off to him. Even while wearing the navy silk pajamas he waited up in, even exhausted down to his bones the way he is most of the time, he’s incredibly beautiful.

Even your housekeeper’s son wasn’t as quietly confident in himself, and the more you force the comparison in your head, the more you realize there’s nothing to be forced. The two of them have the same overall kind, genuine good aura. Like, exactly the same. As if the son grew up and became Jaehyun himself, which is... unfortunately not true despite your desperate wishes for it to be. 

But you’re satisfied right now with Jaehyun and his charming little smile and funny stance, and his voice goes so deep when he teases you, “What do you think about me?”

You think he’s exactly your type. 

No way are you going to tell him that, though. 

Your nose wrinkles with the same tickles of fondness you’ve felt around him lately, and giggles season into your shy attempt at flirting back, “You’re not the worst man in this town.”

Jaehyun groans with heavy, false disappointment, and it might be the most honest expression of emotion that you’ve received from anyone.

Your heart feels compelled to edit the statement, “You’re the second best housekeeper I’ve ever had.”

That feeling is blown out of the water when you see his proud smile, which makes his face literally glow with effusive delight. 

He holds out his hand again and you have no reason not to obediently go to him. But when you’re by his side, he doesn’t touch you right away. You hover close so that you don’t miss a second of watching him reach into his pajama pocket to pull out… a banana. He waves it around with grand affectation and the giggles hurt your stomach when he adopts a horrible British accent to tease you with, “A banana for your troubles, blue-, Miss?” 

Then he boops you on the nose with it. 

The gesture is so overwhelmingly kind that you let out a gross noise of relief and jump to hug him. You know it’s crossing a boundary because he’s your family’s employee, but he’s offered it twice now and you can’t say no. He’s big and hugs so nicely and he smells… like…. like….. something you’ve smelled before. 

Ah. Yes, nutmeg. 

He always knows to put your favorite spice into whatever he bakes for you. You’re still not sure how he figured that one out.

You’re satisfied with that half-second of contact, but he does not let you go. The end of the banana presses into your shoulder blade when his palms spread tightly into your back to hold you as close as he can. Where his face is buried in your neck, you’re able to pinpoint when his features scrunch into your skin, like he’s desperate to savor the feel of you for as long as he needs. 

“Jaehyun,” you whisper into the soft tuft of his hair tickling your nose. 

He holds you even closer, to a point you didn’t think you could reach, where you are honestly unsure of where his body ends and yours begins. “Yes?”

“I don’t want a banana,” you complain as gratefully as you can, knocking your shoulder into the fruit in his hands. 

You don’t want just fruit, you want it to be something fruity and sweet.

He pulls out of the hug so he can see your face, yet he doesn’t let go of you. It is all so much to have him holding your arms, watching his smile return, hearing his sweet suggestion, “I’ll make this banana into Bananas Foster for you.”

Aw. How did he know? Your face must really be giving it away that your sweet tooth is insatiable–, Oh, your mom must've put it on the list of meals to prepare for you since she couldn’t while she was in DC. By the end of their time here, your housekeeper and his son didn’t even have to ask what you wanted.

He links your hands together and you like the feeling of being protected even at your smallest point. You go into the kitchen with him, a place that you haven’t spent much time in since you’ve moved back, and you worry you’re going to feel uncomfortable or out of place there. But Jaehyun sits you on a stool less than a foot away from him and then never steps away the entire time he’s making your dessert. 

By the time you’re falling asleep with your chin propped on the counter, ready for bed before he’s even served you the dish, you cannot remember a single bad feeling you experienced today.

—

When you wake up in your bed the next morning, you don’t remember eating the Bananas Foster or what they tasted like, nor do you know how you ended up in your room. Your last memory was watching Jaehyun’s broad back flex through his pajama shirt while he cooked. 

But your cheeks hurt from smiling, and on your bedside table there’s a little plastic container of nutmeg-infused fried bananas for you to take to work.

—

After what happened last week, you didn’t exactly want to go to today’s mixer. 

You even told Jaehyun this morning - after you said no to the golf clubs - that you were going to come right home from the office and you could eat dinner. But the ladies seemed so excited that you asked around and found it was being held at the botanical gardens. You love the botanical gardens, more than almost anywhere in Providence. So... you changed your mind.

And since it’s been a week, you think that you’re over it. You didn’t anticipate the melancholy of your first big failure to linger this long, and you do feel better, sitting here at a table next to your favorite sprig of bluebells. They’re the flower you wanted to be when you grew up, and this was the only table that was open when you walked in half an hour late. 

It felt like serendipity. 

However, you still aren't forward enough to approach anyone. You wish Jaehyun was here, he would know what to do–, 

Through a sweeping crack in the vine garlands, a handsome man - not as handsome as Jooheon, more approachably so, and... nowhere near Jaehyun - comes running in late. You cannot believe he’s even later than you. He has his pick of the remaining single women but goes right for your table, talking quickly by the time he's made an impact on the chair,  “Sorry I’m running late. I had three existential crises in my car trying to decide whether or not I wanted to come to this.” 

That’s funny. So did you. 

He sets his camera down on the table with a thud, then exhales and inhales so deeply you feel the rush of air where you are in your seat. You take that private moment to scrutinize him, and you like what you see. Even though he’s not quite your type, he’s really handsome, with long black hair and a button nose, these huge eyes that can’t stop blinking. You squint to see if he’s brushed in the same outlines as a teen boy who was everything to you, and it's hard tell. Maybe. 

Also, you need to remind yourself that he’s married. You can’t be leading your heart on a journey that ends with it being left in a dead-end ditch. That path is still too enticing for your brain to forget. 

He finishes fidgeting and smiles at you, honest and kind, full to the brim with nerves. You find yourself copying him and warbling, “Same!”

Then, his nerves dissipate and his grin deepens to the point that you see… two tiny, comma-shaped dimples marked at the corners of his lips. Your heartbeat escalates, though you don’t fly off the handle when he turns on the charm, “I think I made the right choice. You?”

“Maybe.” You’re flirting with him. You’re flirting with him.

He can read it without further interpretation and the way he leans on his elbow to observe you has your blushed embarrassment creeping in, “Ooh, now I’m going to have to switch that maybe to a yes by the end of this. I’m Seungcheol.”

You tell him your name in turn and it feels natural to shake hands after that - not as a business proposal but as a genuine greeting of two people for the first time. You’re unsure if you’re supposed to feel a consuming rush of excitement or not. Right now, you’re pleased and primed for more, not too eager and not too subdued. This is a strange new world you’re in, but you don’t mind exploring it with him.  

“Honestly, I get nervous coming to these things,” Seungcheol admits, and it's not to get a reaction out of you. “This is the first time I really haven’t.”

He really knows what he’s doing, hmm? You like it. 

“Same,” your quiet sigh slips into the warm night air, then prods you into remembering what your dates have disliked about you. You apologize in advance, “I might not have a lot to say. Sorry.”

He doesn’t make you want to talk in the way that Jaehyun does, but you aren’t exactly shying away from it. It’s hard to describe and you hope he'll understand. 

“Why are you sorry?” Seungcheol’s smile is easy to read - he thinks you’re funny but not in a negative way. “How much do you really have to say to a stranger?” 

It's interesting, you know, that he says it that way. Jaehyun was a stranger when he showed up at your home and even though you didn’t want to talk to him, you never had a problem doing so. You certainly don't have one now, both of you are inclined to talk more than you ever have. And Jaehyun said your predisposition for silence wasn’t an issue to him, either. You have nothing to be ashamed of if you try and fail here. You can just go home to him. 

“How about we tell each other one fact to start this off?” It takes you about ten years’ worth of bravery to suggest that, let alone to suggest it first.

“Just one? That seems doable.” 

He’s so nice about it. He’s really nice, truly beyond kind. 

“One fact, hmm.... Okay.” He brainstorms first and you’re more than happy to wait for him. Until he shakes himself out of his stupor and laughs sheepishly, now having a hard time making eye contact with you as a lead-up to his admission, “I don't know why I'm thinking, I should start with this. I'm married and divorced.”

That doesn’t bother you whatsoever or register as a blip on your emotional radar. Your old housekeeper ended up getting divorced from his son’s mother and it didn’t make him a bad person. That time was fraught with a metric ton of sadness that you still haven’t forgotten. You don't mind as long as Seungcheol is not still married.

His mouth opens, bamboozled that you took it as well as you did. “Really? A lot of women are bothered by that.”

It doesn’t bother you and there’s nothing else to say.

You shrug in casual indifference and move to change the subject, “Give me a real fun fact, then.”

He doesn’t have to be so serious right away. He could to tell you his favorite color is pink or he’s liked hippos since he was five and you’d be more than satisfied. 

Seungcheol grits his teeth, flustered with nothing coming to mind, and ends up blurting, “I don’t like bananas?”

Dealbreaker alert! 

Well, it would’ve been, but all you feel is at peace with him not liking your favorite fruit. Your housekeeper’s son didn’t, that’s how the tradition started in the first place. His dad would send him off to bed with a banana for dessert to curb his sweet tooth, he’d give it to you since he hated them, and you happily helped by eating it. He always regretted it at his yearly physical, when the potassium levels in his bloodwork came back low and his dad scolded him–, 

Wait. 

Your housekeeper’s son didn’t like bananas just like Seungcheol doesn’t. And he has been married - and could be divorced - but the point is that he has been married.

Is he….?

He laughs at himself for being ridiculous and it outlines his face in such earnest handsomeness you start to fidget in your seat. “What’s your fact? Please tell me you like bananas. Someone out of the two of us needs to be getting the proper potassium.”

He knows the joke. You can’t believe it. 

“I do, don’t worry.” You’re suddenly breathless. You don’t care if he'll end up viewing you as a crazy person in the next five seconds, there is one specific question that you need to ask, “I have to know if you plan to leave the state in the future. Especially for California.” 

The real deal breaker is, and always has been, the willingness to be apart from you with no reflective damage. 

“That’s not a fun fact,” he points out the technical flaw in your response, but…. does not make a face or a disparaging comment.

“It's just a dealbreaker for me, I don't know,” you murmur without further explanation, the litmus test for compatibility here. “It’s a fact, not a fun one.”

The thought of people leaving you hurts in a brand of pain that you are unable to tolerate, one you don’t think you’ve ever deserved. You do not want to be uprooted, made to face the unexplored Milky Ways without proper preparation, thrown into fetid waters with an expectation that you'll know how to survive. You do not want to be left alone, that is your simplest request. 

“Well………..” He drags that one word out way too far and you’re sure it’s the beginning of the end. It becomes just the beginning though, when he makes a sour face to go with his caustic comment, “My ex-wife lives in Cali, so no.” Before he taps his camera and reveals, “And I used to be a national breaking news photographer, but I’m over it now. Still like the picture aspect, got tired of traveling and not being able to have a family. Or a nice, clean house.”

Yes. Yes, yes, yes. You want to grow old here with everyone you love in this one beautiful city, have the house filled with liveliness again so it’s not just you and your unfamiliar sorrow. And you want the space to be spotless as it's been since the moment you knew what a home was. 

He wants a clean house. A clean one. 

Seungcheol is caught up in the moment just as you are, it takes him an extra breath and an additional flutter of his lashes to bring himself back to reality. He lets out a shy chuckle of his own, before stretching out and sighing, “Enough about me, I want to know a fun fact about you.”

He wants to know you, he wants to understand you, and those are the first two steps in wanting to be by your side forever. 

You gather up the plucked stems and leaves of your courage, dig down to their roots of bravery, and know exactly what you want to tell Seungcheol, “I play golf.”

Play, not played. 

You want to be the girl that still plays golf, since you have never been able to figure out why you stopped. And you are damn good at it. 

If you think Seungcheol’s comment of, “I bet you’re good at it, too,” sends your feelings into the atmosphere, the smirky, proud smile he displays at the idea of you crushing your competition leaves you circling another galaxy.

Oh, he's perfect. He must be him.

—

“And, ladies and gentlemen, that means our time is up!”

The end of the event comes creeping around like a little gremlin you don’t want to acknowledge. You hadn’t anticipated it would be so fast and so soon… because you’ve had fun and talked with Seungcheol the whole time. Neither of you went on a single other date. You check the clock to make sure it’s at the final 0:00, and you make a disappointed face to yourself. When you peek to try and figure out how Seungcheol feels about it, he’s already looking as disappointed as you are.

He doesn’t try to hide it, he just lets it grow and grow, culminating in his wildly suave, easy line, “I still think I made the right choice. You?”

You cannot believe you almost went home after work and missed meeting your soulmate for the second time. 

You know he wants you to say yes outright and confirm his feelings so he won’t have to suffer through waiting. But you loved the way flirting made you feel earlier, and damn it, you’re doing it again, “Maybe.”

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow into a windswept strand of his bangs that’d fallen in the midst of this excitement. You warm over with happiness when he does that, since your old friend used to do the exact same. Before you almost swoon off your chair when he takes it a step further, “Will another date perhaps nudge that maybe?”

You don’t know. Will it? 

—

On your way home, people cannot stop staring because your literal giddiness has you smiling like a fool. 

You like Seungcheol. You like him a lot. It’s the closest you’ve felt to being normal in a long time, and you’re sure it’s because he’s your old housekeeper’s son. Or at least so close to it that you can pretend they’re the same. He's not closer than Jaehyun is but close in the same way. You don’t know how to explain it.

You cannot wait to tell Jaehyun who you met, and thank him for giving you the confidence–, 

As soon as you step inside the house, you hear a bedroom door slam then the frantic sound of Jaehyun running. He comes to the top of the stairs and… he’s panicked beyond belief. You didn’t think panic was an emotion he was capable of, but it’s streaked his face white and has him breathing hard beyond the exertions of running.

“Where the hell were you?” he exclaims as he flies down the stairs fast. “I called you five times! Are you okay! Did you get into an accident!”

You had your phone on silent to be respectful, then you didn’t want to interrupt the date to check your phone because you were having such a good time. Seungcheol wrote his number on a piece of paper like a respectful, romantic gentleman and you wanted to have this conversation with Jaehyun in person. That’s why you didn’t call. You're not going to tell him you had a good time anymore, he doesn’t look like he’s happy and you don’t want rub it in. 

You grab onto your purse strap and say quietly, “I am sorry, I was at the date mix–,” 

“You went to that stupid thing?!” You’re surprised Jaehyun is voicing his displeasure so openly… and loudly. He’s the one who’s been encouraging you to go to these things!

“It is not stupid.” You keep your cool in the way that he does, “I am trying my best to find a partner.”

At least you’re trying. He just sits at home and cleans, you were wrong when you assumed he had a bunch of girlfriends!

“By going out with jerks?!” Jaehyun’s voice echoes off the marble in the foyer, making him seem louder and madder than ever. “You haven’t exactly met any winners going to these! If you need to be reminded, the last one made you cry!”

He needs to be careful with where he’s taking this conversation, otherwise he’s going to be the next man to make you cry.

“They are not all jerks!” you argue back with him like a child and feel stupid for doing so. 

“Yes, they are!–, Wait.” Jaehyun catches himself in the middle of his sentence and his gross exhale is not far from him getting the wind knocked out of his lungs. He scrutinizes your face, drilling past the shell of confrontation and tracings of new anxiety, straight to subtle freshness that you can’t let go of, and his face slackens. “You liked one today.”

You feel like melting into the floor, you're so embarrassed that Jaehyun found out that easily. How could he even tell? Sure, you felt giddy and showed it on the bus home, but it wasn’t life-changing or existence-altering. Should you tell him you think you found your long-lost crush again? That might change his mind.

“You liked one today?” he repeats, little cracks of something in his tone making it not aggressive now.  “Seriously?”

You don’t dignify him with an answer but that conveys it well enough. Jaehyun scoffs out loud, lets his face show all of his hidden distaste. You thought he’d be happy for you since he's shown signs he might actually care about your feelings. Now you have to be brave enough to have this uncomfortable conversation. 

But he doesn’t let you, he has a lot of his own questions to ask and is determined to get through them first, “Who was he? What happened? Are you going to see him again?”

You think back to less than an hour ago, how happy you were on the walk through your favorite flowers to the parking lot. You were joking with Seungcheol about how you’d have to get a banana split and split it for real at your next dinner. You don’t know why Jaehyun’s trying to ruin it for you. 

It takes far less courage than anticipated to call him out, “Why are you so mad?!” 

“Because!” He demonstrates his anger so clearly, yet you don’t think he realizes that he’s doing it. 

“That is not an answer!” you fire back. “That is a word!”

Your shrill voice rebounds from your lungs into your heart, striking you with the arrow of desire to get Jaehyun to tell you that he likes you. The phrase you never heard from your housekeeper’s son, the only way to prove that he is - or isn’t - who you think he might be. Having feelings for you is the only possible reason he has for acting like this.

And like Jaehyun can sense what you’re probing for, he settles back into the cradle of nonchalance he might’ve been born in, and says in the dullest tone possible - which does not help his case, “Never mind. I’m not mad, I’m happy for you, even. That’s just great.”

He’s being fake and you hate it more than any drop of indifference he’s served before. 

“Jaehyun, he was very nice to me. And funny. And handsome.” Those are all traits that Jaehyun has too, and listing them out like that has you more confused than you want to be. 

You’re not supposed to like your employee, you learned that one the hard way.

Only. 

There is one thing that differs between the two of them, and pointing it out has you sighing in sweet relief, “And he made me feel happy.”

For those two hours you were there in the botanical garden, you were the girl who played golf and laughed at the most ridiculous things because her heart didn’t know anything other than unadulterated happiness. You loved every single second of feeling like that.  As soon as you say it, you watch the fighting sparks die in Jaehyun’s eyes, almost immediately replaced with the glittering gossamer of what looks like… tears. 

“Happy?” he whispers. 

His fingers loop around the knuckle on his ring finger, and you are not sure what to make of his reasons for being nervous right now. He should know that you’re not lying to him. 

You feel girly and smitten as your own fingers twist up around themselves. “Yeah. Really happy. He made me laugh the whole time.” 

Then you smile widely at Jaehyun, to show him that you’re not mad at him for thinking the worst. You almost lost the love of your life and you’re pretty sure he came back to you, that might be the happiest thing that’s ever happened to you.

“I thought…. I…” He hesitates hard enough for you to feel it, then bites his lip and gives up in the middle of his sentence. 

“You thought what?” You don’t want him to weasel his way out of this like he does with so many other conversations that you’ve had.....

“I thought I made you happy, too.” Jaehyun says it before you’ve closed your mouth at the end of your sentence.

He stares straight into your eyes to give you no avenue of escape. Your brain instantly starts to ache when faced with the task of rearranging your memories into facts, but you push through with a determination unseen before. 

Jaehyun did make you happy. You were alone and falling apart for reasons you still don't understand and having his presence here was reassuring despite everything. If you keep things at their simplest, he knew things about you, took care of you, made you smile, followed you around. Did all of that without asking for anything in return from you. 

He did make you happy. He did.  

“You do, but....” The words get stuck in your smog-lined throat and all that thinking you did was for nothing. Because the moment he starts to come close to you, nothing is left in your mind beyond the fact that his nutmeg smell is so good and familiar. You want to stick your nose in his shoulder like you did when you hugged and hope you remember the right reason why it is so. 

“But what,” Jaehyun prompts, just as his fingers flit to touch your waist. 

He should know better than to expect any coherence out after that. His touch is familiar, too, like the first time he held you was nowhere close to being the first time. 

“But you said you went to California,” you murmur, to the slip of skin you can see in between the buttons of his shirt. 

If only he hadn’t done that. Then the two of them would’ve been tied and the choice would’ve been easier–, 

“I came back, though.”

Your breathing and heartbeat are rendered useless when Jaehyun says it with such confident affection, making sure the same sentiment is reflected in his gaze. You don’t know why you’re thinking of him as your housekeeper’s son right now. You know he isn’t since your first love would never treat you this way, but your heart just won’t let this go. 

You don’t know anything more about him than what he’s chosen to show you, yet you wish desperately that Jaehyun lied and said he never left.

You let go of every restraint you’ve had when it comes to him and reach to hug him again. You hold him so close, unaware and indifferent as to whether or not he holds you in return. You don’t want him to go, and this is the only way you can convey that and steal the memory of his comforting smell to lock away in your mind forever.

Pulling back sooner than you want to, you realize it’s because his hands are splayed across your back and moving you that way. Your noses catch by purposeful accident and you're stickity-stuck there with him, foreheads touching and his breath coaxing yours out to meet his. His mouth, which says such wonderful things, is so close. He could just kiss you and be done–, 

“If you want me to kiss you,” Jaehyun beckons, each ministration of his mouth drawing out the desire in yours, “You have to say.”

You stare at his pretty pink lips before you try to conjure up the feeling of doing this for the first time - the wonder, the fear, the impossible excitement for the unknown to follow. But it doesn’t, and you find yourself lodged in a corner of thinking that this isn’t anything new. There’s a ball of overwhelming something lodged in the middle of your heart, drowned out with how confused you are. Seriously, you breathe and feel your head spin with the level of puzzlement he induces.

You decide you don’t want to. You like this other man, who doesn’t make you feel as if you’re turning yourself inside out to make sense of why your heart keeps running towards him. 

You step away, fast and without warning, and Jaehyun exhales with harsh weightiness as he stumbles inelegantly into the space where you just were. You hug yourself so that you aren’t inclined to miss the feeling of him, and cannot look anywhere near his face when you whisper your non-denial, “I’m going to bed. Goodnight, Jaehyun.”

Your eyes remain trained on the ground as you head for the stairs, unable to fathom the sight of him becoming stiff and closed off again. You don’t want to see him that way at your hand, you don’t. You just avoid him like the lovesick plague he’s infected you with, and barely hear his curt, “Goodnight, Miss,” trailing after you. 

You’re Miss again. That’s how you know you hurt him. 

—

You wake up with full intentions to apologize to Jaehyun for whatever came over you yesterday and forced you into acting inappropriately with him. You pick out a shirt for yourself so that he doesn’t have to and steal a banana to share as the most personal of peace offerings. But you only make it down three doors in the hallway before you hear him conversing quietly with someone else.

But not quietly enough for you not to hear.

You know it’s Jaehyun speaking without even having to look, you’ve become that accustomed to the timbre of his voice, “I just don't know if I can keep doing this anymore.”

“Doing what? You're going to have to be way more specific.” The second person in this conversation is older based on the demeanor and energy their words radiate, but they do not seem to be a person you recognize. By that you mean, you are far too disappointed to realize that wasn’t your dad’s voice in this conversation. 

Jaehyun sighs, echoing all the way down to where you’re hidden behind your mother’s favorite antique vase. “You know.... with her.”

A spark of curiosity fans its flame hard, and true nosiness starts to build at the mention of an anonymous woman from your otherwise solitary roommate. You want to know what this is about, no shame whatsoever. Even if it does seem to have a lot of importance to the both of them. 

“I told you that this was going to end up with both of you getting hurt,” the older man reminds Jaehyun, not sternly, not meanly, yet with enough underhanded wisdom to imply that he made a wrong choice somewhere. “I still don’t know why her mother had this idea. I told her she should’ve convinced her to stay in DC.”

Now you’re really nosy. 

“It's not both of us anymore.” You’ve heard this deep exhale from Jaehyun before and every single time it’s hurt you with an unfixable kind of pain, “After her date yesterday, she told me she was happy.”

“Oh, no. Oh, my boy. No.” 

The next breath you take is so loud it feels like it’s ripped out of your lungs by the person Jaehyun’s talking with. You don’t know how it doesn’t give your hiding spot away. They’re talking about you. You. Jaehyun and this man you don’t know are discussing you behind your back and you never would’ve known if you hadn’t come here to apologize. 

You’re suddenly furious. 

You exit your hiding spot in a dramatic flourish of betrayal, and find yourself shouting at Jaehyun, “Why are you talking about me-,” before every cell in your body is caught up in awkward hesitation. You spot the refined older man standing by his side, wearing a suit and an American flag pin, face doused in shock that you’ve appeared. Unsure what to do now, you fold into yourself and clutch your skirt for steadiness as you backtrack into mumbling, “Hello. I didn't think you were going to have visitors.”

The house in general has had a strict no random visitors policy since your old housekeeper’s wife kept showing up out of the blue during the beginning of their divorce. Your best friend hated that. You skipped so much of senior year to comfort him at home. 

That doesn’t matter. 

Yesterday demonstrated that Jaehyun does not care for the rules and instead does whatever he wants.

You take in the sight of the two men side by side, and are able to spot the symmetry between their faces. They share the same sloping nose and rigidly outlined jaw, their eye color is dipped in the same hue, and if the older man wasn’t completely grey you’d find it even more of a parallel. If you soak in their presences beyond their superficial features, they both hold themselves in the same level of placidity… with just the littlest bit of agitation. Why are they agitated? Most visitors to the house seem to have a lovely time, but perhaps your unwieldy entrance did more harm than you intended. 

You put on your brightest smile - that doesn't feel fake - and offer up a proper greeting to the man who has done nothing wrong here, “Welcome to my family home!”

Jaehyun is kind but he had to evolve into showing off that hidden side. Whereas this man, whoever he is, does not have to work hard to be pleasant to you, “This is lovely! It’s so wonderful to meet you and see the place where my son now works.”

This is his father? 

You’re suddenly not as mad about the surprise guest. In fact, this strange aurora of shyness marks out your gaze as you turn to Jaehyun and wonder, “What is your dad doing here?”

“He’s just visiting for the weekend or whatever…” Jaehyun starts off seeming like he doesn’t want to answer you, let alone look at you. But when his father clears his throat in a forceful note of encouragement, he lifts his gaze and answers, “There’s a special senate election he has to vote in. We’re from here, remember?”

An election? Why hasn’t your dad called and told you anything? You usually kept on top of candidates and their platforms regardless if he was running against them or not. And you do remember where Jaehyun said he was from, lost in the more important detail that he went to California with his family. You don’t want to hate his nice dad for that. 

To your horror, you end up blurting that exact thing, “You went to California at some point in the past.” For some inexplicable reason, both their faces light up in the same tracings of consuming joy, and that leaves you confused. “Did I get it wrong?”

“You’re right,” Mr. Jeong confirms quietly. “Jaehyun’s mother is from California as well.”

Oh. 

Well, he never mentioned that part to you. 

And now what’s stuck in the forefront of your memory is that Seungcheol didn’t go to California. That’s what you liked about him the most. 

“Sorry,” you apologize, feeling sheepish. “I’ve been going out on a lot of dates recently.”

Jaehyun’s father glances at him with a particular dew in his gaze that you’ve seen in his son’s, which comes when he wants to stop interacting with you. You suppose it’s weird to hear about the mistress of the house’s dating life during his first trip here. 

“My apologies, I have recently decided to no longer live my life alone,” you awkwardly explain your personal decision to this stranger and hope that he doesn’t judge you like everyone else. It is rare that a human wants to be alone, instead of the circumstances of life giving them no other choice. 

“What a wonderful feeling it is, to experience love for the first time,” Mr. Jeong’s musing is pillowed on a serene cloud of wisdom. You want to steal it and throw it back in his son’s face. 

You felt the faint beginnings of that emotional experience with Seungcheol, and you want to know what it feels like to be completely in love. To fall in love with someone the first day you meet them. To never want to spend another day apart from them. To marry them since you know there is no one else for you. 

Maybe that’s still to come.

“I can’t wait!” you say with equal parts happiness and innocence, beyond pleased that finally someone understands why you made this decision. 

Mr. Jeong seems pleased enough, even smiles at you in a copycat grin with one matching dimple. It softens into an untold bit of contrition as he reaches out to hold his son’s shoulder, just as Jaehyun’s fingers have begun to twist around his ring finger knuckle. Mr. Jeong squeezes his boy to get him to pay attention, then the fatherly warmth drips into his question, “Should we tell the miss that we’ll support her with whatever she wants to do?”

That would be nice! You really, really appreciate Jaehyun’s dad!

They have an entire unspoken exchange in the symmetrical gazes they share, and you cannot decipher it fast enough. 

It takes a lingering second before Jaehyun looks at you with tangible coldness in his gaze - which he hides from his father - and parrots out an obedient answer, “We…,” another nudge from the elder Jeong, “I will support you.”

Okay, then–, 

“We have Number One Observatory on the line for the chief of staff!”

You glance down to the bottom of the stairs and there are Secret Service agents all over your foyer. You didn’t realize Jaehyun’s dad was that important, but you’re happy he took the time to come and meet you. 

“Have a lovely day, miss,” Mr. Jeong says with nothing but pure kindness. “It is certainly nice to be in this place again.”

He takes a sweeping glance around the interior of the hallway, lingering on the bouquets of dried flowers that you haven’t replaced. It’s not just the glow of the afternoon sun that highlights his face, the silvery longing that drifts out of him at every possible point covers him in a swoon of pure nostalgia. You get the way that he feels. Despite the grandiose loneliness that comes with being an occupant here, being a visitor always brings about the explicit sense that there’s no better home than this one. 

Mr. Jeong keeps his arm around Jaehyun as they turn to walk out, and when Jaehyun presses his cheek into his dad’s head despite their height difference, your heart crunches particularly hard. It reminds you of how your old housekeeper and his son used to walk with their heads brushing since they were the same height at the time. But this man is nowhere close to being a housekeeper - that American flag pin and legion of Secret Service agents said it all, he's Chief of Staff to the Vice President - so Jaehyun cannot possibly be him….

You know why you’ve been feeling so turned about by this encounter. It makes you want to call your dad. You can't even remember the last time you spoke to him on the phone and not through your mother as a proxy. You make a firm mental note in the part of your memory that never fades, to call him as soon as possible. The Senate can wait.

Until then, you’re going to have to make do with alternate forms of affection.

“Jaehyun!” you call after him, and he turns around so fast you don’t understand how he doesn’t fall over on the steps and take his dad with him. Having him looking at you again inspires another host of nerves to creep up, so you make yourself say it before you change your mind, “Please have him over for dinner sometime. It’s nice to have friends!”

You don’t think you’ve had a friend since you were eighteen years old. 

You watch vividly as a wince shocks straight through Jaehyun’s features, and he staggers enough for you to catch his dad holding him up. He pauses so long you think Mr. Jeong is going to give up and take over, before a biting answer sneaks out, “He works in DC, so. Probably not.”

Oh. That’s… that’s how your mom knew him. There’s no connection here other than running in the same circles of the city you never wanted to be a part of.

“Understandable,” you whisper. 

The more you tell yourself not to be disappointed - since you’re not a part of their family and thus don’t require any priority - the more you get disappointed. You didn’t just want romantic love, you wanted friendship and all the goodness that came with that, too.

“Yeah,” Jaehyun echoes, curt and indifferent as always. “Goodbye.”

His father nudges him to be politer than that after surely raising him to be a proper gentleman with manners, but Jaehyun doesn’t bother trying. He just turns them both back around to leave. 

His politeness means nothing to you, anyways. 

—

You’ve spent the past week holed up in your room at all times, but you break the second you smell waves of nutmeg slipping under the crack in your door. You can’t avoid Jaehyun anymore, not when he’s made banana bread without prompting. 

You are going to ignore the moral implications of deciding to apologize in order to get some. 

In the hallway, the smell is overwhelming and almost brings you to inexplicable tears as you think about why he might’ve made your favorite dessert on this random Wednesday. But you have to remember that everyone likes banana bread, it isn’t specific to you, and Jaehyun does not care about the greater nuances of your life. 

When you’re about to knock on his bedroom door, it opens first. Your fist rockets through empty space just as Jaehyun walks out, closes the door behind him, and jolts into stillness when he realizes you’re there.

And your mouth, in turn, falls open when you realize that he’s dressed up.

Not just dressed up, he’s dressed to the nines in incredible finery. He’s not just wearing the plain dress shirt and slacks that has become his unofficial uniform. It’s all a lot to take in, the beautiful fitted black suit, the midnight blue skinny tie, the silver cufflinks that match his earrings and tie clip… the bouquet of flowers he’s holding, white with little sprigs of blue in every looped bunch.

“Where are you going?” You’re genuinely interested beyond being nosy. You’ve never seen him look this nice or leave to do anything that wasn’t your chores. Even when his father was visiting you did not see him this put together–, 

“It's my wife’s birthday.”

The collapsing agony that crashes into you must be the reverberations of your heart breaking.

You cannot comprehend the reason why this is overwhelming and acute when you have been telling yourself you have no feelings towards him. Why does the sadness feel as if it’s been transferred into every nerve ending in your body, then forced through those connections to spread throughout all of you? 

You suddenly find yourself unable to speak above a whisper, “You’re married?”

You hope with all your might Jaehyun says no, that this is a harsh joke to get back at you for going on a date and enjoying yourself. Or a misguided bit designed to make you feel better in a roundabout way. 

He shifts the bouquet in his hands so you have no choice but to perceive the stack of rings on his left fourth finger. One in braided gold that fits him perfectly, the other in peachy pink with a string of fluttery diamonds that squeezes his knuckle in a too-tight, yet fond embrace. 

Two rings, shiny and proud and just a teaspoon sad. 

“Yes,” Jaehyun affirms with so much tangible pride baked into the word that you do not know how to move on from this.

The emotions you can’t process come in spirals - disappointment, turbulence, full and actual heartbreak-induced confusion. Jaehyun is married? Then why was he upset about you going on a date? Why has he been doing all of this for you? Why did he almost kiss you?  You thought maybe his feelings went above and beyond his job but they clearly didn’t. 

He is married. 

You realize you’ve come to stand incredibly close to him while scrutinizing the rings on his finger. But more than that, he let you approach him, destroying another boundary you should’ve never crossed. You take a gigantic, shattering step back so you’re standing face to face, molded into a quaking statue as you take in his smitten expression. 

You don’t know anything about him, and you never did. So the right thing to do - to honor the person you wanted him to be - is to let go of whatever you’re holding onto when it comes to him. 

“Enjoy your night,” you murmur quietly.

He gives you a tight smile of acknowledgement and without another word, hefts the bouquet in his hands and walks down the steps. It’s going to be a nice night for his wife indeed, she gets to see him dressed up like that, gets to receive flowers he picked out, gets to go somewhere beautiful to celebrate another year they shared together. 

The hollowness that stems from watching him leave the house almost consumes you.

When the door latches shut, your phone rebounds in a shrill ring. You hope with all of your might that it's Seungcheol calling you and you’re going to forget all about this.

“Hello?”

“Bluebell!”

“Hi, Mommy!” You’re excited regardless, hearing from her is enough to make you feel better. “Why’re you calling?”

A poignant exhale rushes through the speaker and douses your ear in sadness, before it is completely erased in her über cheerful, “Happy birthday, my girl!”

Oh! It’s your birthday! 

You totally forgot, you’ve been so consumed in something else - someone else - that you haven't spent time cherishing the things that matter. You’re turning one year older and you’re so happy that you get to live life for another three hundred and sixty-five days.

“Thank you!” You can’t believe you didn’t remember your own birthday. Too funny. “I guess I forgot! Maybe I’m aging, Mommy!” 

Twenty-nine is practically over the hill!

“No, you’re going to be my baby forever.” Her little sigh means she’s absolutely crying, her sniffle gives it away as she asks, “Did you do anything fun today? Did Jaehyun take you anywhere?”

Why would he when his wife’s birthday is also today? His wife’s birthday is today. You and his wife have the same birthday, no wonder he was always so perplexed around you. He probably had it in his mind the whole time that you were her and got his intentions crossed up. You can’t be mad at him for that, can you? 

You brush off the sudden blow, and put on your brightest voice just in case someone is listening in. “Can I talk to Papa! I was really missing him.”

Nothing makes a problem better than getting a big bear hug from your dad.

But your mother hesitates answering for so long that you check the phone twice to make sure you didn’t hang up. You feel beyond weird while waiting, and her eventual answer is delicately phrased, “Papa can’t make it on the call right now. But you’re going to get a card from us in the mail! I don’t think I can make it up this time.”

Aw. Okay.

He’s really busy, which means that she's really busy since they insist on being a package duo wherever they go. That’s the problem with being a senator’s wife, you get it. It would’ve been nice to have him around so he could hear about what’s been going on. He was always good with your boy problems. You cannot count the number of hours he sat around with a patient heart and a warm hug and listened to you cry about your housekeeper's son leaving you. 

He left to get married, apparently. Everyone got married but you, and now you’re just stuck going on these dates. 

You have no choice but to accept that with wistful regret, “Okay.”

“Happy, happy, happy birthday!” She trills, this the happiest you’ve heard her in a long time. “I’m so glad you were able to have this one. Go have fun! Don’t be late!” 

“Me too, Mom. I won’t be.”

You don’t have anything to do, so how could you possibly be late? 

—

This slump feels impossible to bring yourself out of, considering you were not at all prepared for the dark cloud following you due to Jaehyun’s wife’s presence. It’s hard to deal with the knowledge that you’re the only person in your life that’s alone. 

To remedy it, you’re going to go to your favorite spot to eat, then get a birthday treat!

You make it to the pier without incident - you’re ignoring that you forgot what you were doing on the bus and almost rode it all the way back around to your stop again - until you're a foot away from the taco shop you wanted to feast at… and see Jaehyun waiting there on a bench by the water. He’s got his arms stretched out and the flowers are on the seat beside him, but there’s no second person to be found. 

Don’t tell you his wife liked this spot too or something? That would be salt in the wound. 

You glare two little fires into the back of his perfect head of stupid black hair because you’re mad at him. You’re angry, even. But how can you be mad at a man who… is doing something very romantic for his wife. 

Against your better judgment, your feet take you over there instead of into the meat-fueled sanctuary. You know you’re going to regret this when you reach a hand out and your brain doesn’t stop you from tapping his shoulder. 

Jaehyun whips your way with a luminous, colossal smile taking up every inch of his face, yet when he sees you wearing your little plaid Dorothy dress instead of his wife, the smile flickers. Just a little, but it does. You know you’re disappointing in comparison to who he’s waiting for, but he doesn’t have to be blatant about it. 

“What are you doing here?” he grumbles after he realizes that it’s really you. 

You’re confused as to what you’re doing here, too. You were just going out for food and then you saw him and now you’re here. 

“Where’s your wife,” you blurt. 

“I wasn’t sure if she was going to make it.”

“What, so she’s late?” 

After you ask that hypocritical question you have no right to ask, Jaehyun shrugs in a brisk gesture that doesn’t mean anything to you. When you lower your eyebrows in a scrunched frown to convey that was not an answer, he looks out over the water and nods. Hmmph, some wife she is. He even has a bag of food sitting right by the flowers he got her.  

Wait, not just a bag of food, you recognize that dancing donkey logo. He got her tacos from the place you were about to go to, only the best restaurant in all of Providence. Some wife she is!

“Her tacos are going to get cold,” you fuss over the bag like a scoldy old maid, trying to keep it closed and warm. 

That gets Jaehyun to smile, strands of a laugh held back within his control. You have always, always, from the first time you’ve seen it, thought he had a fabulously pretty smile. And now you’re unsure if you’re allowed to find him pretty anymore.

“They are. I’m going to eat them now, I have dessert for her for later.” When Jaehyun is still mid-explanation, you find yourself sinking down on the bench and giving him the most pleading look possible. You will not waste resources, and this will save you an anxiety-inducing trip inside to order for yourself. And before you know it, he has a napkin fixed up with a full al-pastor taco and is handing it your way without even having to see your pleading face. 

At least he’s good for this much.

You decide to eat your taco and wait with him for his wife despite your discomfort. It’s such a beautiful summer night, the kind where the sunset stretches out as long as it possibly can to show off for the mere mortals below, and you love the feeling of the day holding on for dear life. The night always brings far too many questions and feelings. 

And you want this day, your birthday, to last forever. 

You stuff almost the entire taco in your mouth, and once the savory deliciousness hits your tongue, ask through that mouthful, “This is the place that used to do the whole roasted pig, right?” 

He nods, and you’re happy that you remember that. 

“One time, I got this piece of meat that was like a circle with two holes.” You trace it out for him as the snippets of that childhood memory come back to you, “I was so confused as to how meat could look like that, until I realized I was eating finely-shaved pig nose! I wore it on my face!”

You wrinkle your nose and snort like you did at your housekeeper’s son, right before he plucked that tender piece out of your taco and smothered your face in it. You laughed so hard the manager asked you to leave before realizing who you were. You glance at Jaehyun to see if he’s laughing and he’s not, just staring. 

You quickly stop everything. 

“Yeah, I rem–,” He shakes himself back into reality and stops whatever was going to come out, then ends up half-chuckling all the same, “Oh, that’s a great story.”

Okay, he doesn’t have to laugh out of courtesy. You get that only the two of you would’ve found that funny since your best friend was the one person you would go there with besides your parents. There were so many days where you cut class to eat here since there was simply no reason to go. 

“Never mind, I just like their food." You let out a hurtful exhale because all that lovely, spicy food is burning your mouth just as his indifference is burning your heart. When you do, Jaehyun reaches to the other side of the bench and pulls out a cup filled with the restaurant’s signature, creamy, wonderful horchata.

How is it possible he knows everything that you like? 

You peek to see what else he has with him, and the other cup is filled with a bright green liquid that brings back the memory of the cactus juice they used to give you as a palate cleanser at the end of the meal. You couldn’t believe the housekeeper's son liked to drink it as a real drink when it tasted like aged grass to you. You’re happy Jaehyun gave you the one he was going to drink, his wife must have bad taste–, 

“How did you and your wife meet?” You’re nosy and hurt and you ask him because you want to be even more nosy and hurt. 

His fingers twist over the doublet of his rings and you cannot help the nerves at the gesture. You don’t know if you’re ready for this. 

“My favorite girl.” You can feel the love billowing under every breath he takes. He turns to you with his cheek creased with his dimple and he explains sheepishly, “My dad said my first word was her name because she was born right when I started speaking. Our dads were best friends.” 

Oh. This isn’t a casual thing, as casual as a marriage could be. This is a life-long relationship. 

“And then we became best friends, and we were seriously inseparable through every fucking year. Elementary school, middle school, high school. There wasn’t a day we didn’t spend together.” Your mind nags at you that this is all exaggeration before Jaehyun’s grin deepens when he catches you, “I’m serious, we’d either have to be in a physically different country. Not even state, country, otherwise we’d be together. Our parents would try to draw the line at contagious diseases, but we’d just give it to each other and call it a day. She’s the kind of person that would take care of me first even if we were both sick.”

That sounds like the kind of stupid, devoted stuff you and the housekeeper's son used to do when you were young.

“I just saw her as a friend at first, though. Our families were really different,” Jaehyun’s explanation is steeped with what feels like years of contemplation. If you look closely enough at his eyes where they’re latched onto the sunset in the distance, you think you can conjure up the angelic face of the girl who made him feel like this. “I didn’t realize that was not going to be an issue, because I was seventeen and paranoid.”

Hasn’t everyone been seventeen and paranoid once? You certainly were. 

You cannot help but probe further into this love story you find yourself hating, “When did you realize she wasn’t?”

“When I was eighteen,” Jaehyun answers you without looking away from the fading sun. 

Hasn’t everyone been eighteen and in love once? You certainly were. 

“When did you get married?” 

“When I was eighteen.” 

You don’t know why Jaehyun’s quiet, self-deprecating chuckle chips the cracks into your heart even further. You’re a decade past that time in your lives and it’s obvious he still loves her as much as he did then. How can it be that no one has loved you the same?

“Really? That’s early.” You try not to sound judgmental, you swear that was not your intention. You just want to know why he was so convinced he wanted to change his life forever for this person. That’s so early to know. 

You’re twenty-nine now and you still don’t know. 

“Realized then that living apart from her was just… something I didn’t want to do,” Jaehyun says with so much weight behind his words that you feel them by proxy when he glances over and douses you in his serious feelings. 

You get nervous under his stare, you can’t help it, those eyes always do something to you. You feel forced to joke, a bit off-note and not the right time for it, “And now she leaves you with cold tacos?”

His gaze hardens into intense loathing with a quickness you can’t anticipate, and you cower back into the bench because he seems, like, completely furious at you. And then he softens just as completely, into a lovesick version of himself that leaves you feeling unwell listening to his smitten whisper, “She was always just a little bit late.”

The was echoes within your brain like a slimy little bomb designed to destroy only you, then forces you into recognizing that he’s talking in past tense. He’s been talking in past tense. He’s talking in past tense like she was all these things to him at one point in his life, but that point isn’t now. You’re pretty sure she didn’t die, though. If she’d died Jaehyun would be broken. While he is perplexing and frustrating and sad sometimes, this is not the face of a man who loved his wife for thirty years of his life and then watched her die. 

Is it?

“Are you divorced,” you wonder quietly, carefully, the way you would want to be asked about your greatest personal pain. And not at all bringing up the worst case scenario.

It’s late, she didn’t come yet he waited for her anyways, he speaks about her in past tense and only discusses the good stuff. He doesn’t even want to blame her for the cold tacos. 

Jaehyun evades the question hard, “Did you like the food?”

He avoids it like you would if you were asked about your greatest personal pain. 

You do the same evading because you - for some inexplicable reason - want to make him feel better, “Yeah, it’s the place I like to eat at the most. But honestly? I miss my old housekeeper. He used to make the best food.”

That isn’t designed to make Jaehyun feel bad, it’s just an objective fact. Every meal you were served was seasoned and spiced to your liking, then drenched in a downpouring of honest affection. 

He doesn’t seem mad about it, though, just curious. “Oh?”

“Yeah, and I was best friends with his son… so. I kinda had my own thing going on,” you warble out more information than he needs, then you feel the nerves flash. You want to seem like you have something serious of your own to compare this to. And though it's a fool’s hope, maybe he’ll get jealous hearing your story like you did hearing his. 

Jaehyun crosses his arms over his chest and you glance at the bench to one, avoid looking at his arms in the suit, and two, avoid him looking at you while he wonders, “Yeah? What happened?”

It’s taken you a decade to come to terms with the fact that your first love only turned into your first heartbreak and nothing else. 

“He moved away and married another girl.” You give up your greatest secret for the first time ever. No relief comes, only a full stockade of shame that forces your head into hanging low. 

Growing older has not imparted you with the wisdom to understand why he did that and then never tried to contact you again. At least Jaehyun still likes his divorced wife or whoever she is, considering the way he speaks about her is one step away from pure art. Your best friend never talked to you again–, 

“Are you sure about that?” Jaehyun asks out of the blue, almost insinuating that you’re stupid in the question.

Why does he have to ask? Your mom told you what happened right before you moved last summer and you have no reason to believe that’s not the truth. 

You’re about to argue back he doesn’t have to make this feeling worse when a massive yawn rips through your body instead. This was so much talking, you can’t remember the last time you had a conversation that required this much effort. And it was after he stuffed you to the brim with your favorite foods. You’re exhausted in all possible ways.

The sun’s gone now, too, and not even replaced with a moon to cling to. That new moon darkness has you suffocating as soon as you find yourself seeking out the pinks in the sky and finding nothing left but mocking silver stars. 

But Jaehyun doesn’t move to put his arm around you or make any gesture of comfort. Because he’s married. 

“I think I’m going to go home,” Jaehyun announces evenly, with no emotional inflection to acknowledge his wife not showing up to his pre-planned, love-hued birthday celebration.

She really… what is she doing with her life? She better have forgotten him because purposeful avoidance of this is unimaginable.  

He gets up with a thin smile and starts walking away without suggesting that you go together, which is his prerogative on a day like today. You are cognizant enough to give him his space and let him go… until you see the beautiful white and blue bouquet hidden by the trash.

“Jaehyun! The–, flowers.” Your call disappears into a lame whisper because he’s out of earshot faster than you thought he’d be. 

Then you’re standing up faster than you thought you’d be. You’re not going to let him leave these here, not when they’ve been painstakingly wrapped and arranged. 

You scoop up the bouquet and chase after him as fast as you can, only managing to catch up since he’s aimlessly strolling with his hands in his pockets. You try to hand them over, but he’s not looking in your vicinity. Or he doesn’t care for them. Or he doesn’t care. Either way, after three non-verbal attempts at getting Jaehyun to take back his flowers, you hug them to yourself for protection and cannot resist sticking your nose into the tickling blooms. You let their insanely enticing perfume bring you back out of the darkness that you hate. 

You check again to see if there are any happy stars to look at and spot the Hungarian bakery instead - that’s why you came here in the first place, not to have a conversation with Jaehyun. Who you stop by tugging on his arm and pleading, “Can we get some dessert?”

He doesn’t seem to be surprised you’ve caught up with him or that you have the flowers. He just flicks a careless finger towards the lack of lights on the building and points out, “They’re closed, there’s probably something at home for you.”

You can’t read his tone but you’re sure he’s annoyed at you for asking. Sorry, you suppose that having dessert will remind him of his wedding cake and you wouldn’t want to poke that particular bear now, would you?

So you hug the flowers to yourself even closer in case the mere sight of them sends him into a depressive rage, and make sure to be very quiet on the short drive home. You refrain from staring out into the forest or into the sky, because you can see both your reflection and his in the glass. And you can’t be thinking he’s handsome even that way.

You get home, decide to go to the kitchen alone for your dessert and to find a glass to save the flowers - you're going to keep them in your room, where he can't see them. But Jaehyun goes with you. He keeps his distance, doesn’t try to touch you or comfort you when you shiver at the stale air festering in the house, but he goes.

You take the flowers, realizing they’re similar to bluebells in both their shape and color, and put them in the largest drinking glass you can find in the kitchen. You never bothered to learn where your old housekeeper kept all the vases, he always surprised you with fresh flowers himself. You fill the glass up with fresh water while Jaehyun watches you with a confused expression, right before he turns to the wall of cabinets and opens the third one from the left in the fourth row. 

It’s packed to bursting with vases.

Whatever. It’s in his job description, too. 

You put the flowers into the cup and avoid his gaze, then you sit in the little bay window booth to fluff them up and make them look pretty and alive again. Something in this house has to be pretty. It certainly doesn’t feel like you are. 

You hear Jaehyun open the fridge and when you turn back around to see what he’s doing, there’s a plate of… frosted banana bread on the table. 

Then he’s sitting beside you in the booth, his hands clasped before him and his wedding ring concealed, yet his gaze trained right to yours for your reaction. You don’t know what he expects. This is your dessert? Sure, you’re happy, banana bread is your favorite thing ever and is what you always had to celebrate your birthday–, 

“Happy birthday, Miss.”

There’s no candle, but he’s sparked your strange feelings to life regardless. Jaehyun baked it this morning, he baked your favorite dessert this morning. 

Your heart is acting as choked up as your lungs are since you find yourself step beyond breathless, staring into his really beautiful face and wondering out loud like you’re the stupidest person alive, “How do you know it’s my birthday?”

You didn’t say. You didn’t want to because you thought it was strange for him to know.

Jaehyun gets visibly emotional. 

It’s beyond easy to tell that he’s affected by what’s going on, considering you can never pick out his feelings from just one look. Tears in his eyes, his lip shaking, he wants to stare everywhere in this kitchen but at you, it’s all there. It only lasts for a second, before he gathers himself into his buttoned-up persona and answers, “I’m your housekeeper. It was on the forms we both signed.”

The horrific sadness starts to smother you like you suffered through in that dream. You wanted Jaehyun to say something that had meaning to it, to change the way he thought of you in his heart, to lend credence to these strange feelings you have. He makes you so sad, always.

And despite literally everything, you have the irrational thought that kissing him might make you happy.

You blow out a low breath that extinguishes the imaginary candle on his dessert with a pretty, girly birthday wish. Then you lean across the booth to press your mouth to his in a whisper of a kiss. His lips are twinged sour with his cactus drink and sweetened right up by every feeling you’ve built for him in the past month. 

You remember that Jaehyun told you to tell him if you wanted to be kissed. 

So you extract yourself enough to catch his eyelashes fluttering closed and his face stilled into perfection, then you brush your nose against his and whisper, “I would like you to kiss me.”

He’s so surprised his eyes flash open to stare at you and confirm that he hadn’t just imagined that. You watch his lips press together for a moment where you’re sure he can taste the remnants of horchata on your mouth…. and then he kisses you, fantastically hard.

Which ends up being a bit of overkill.

Jaehyun misses his mark and bruises up the side of your mouth with a lilac smooch that you want to remember forever, and he holds you close right after to make up for it. It leaves you with a glimpse at the same sparkly tears anointing his eyes and his quieter than quiet, “Sorry.”

“Why are you sorry, you annoying little man?,” you laugh right into the tickle of his hair, maybe the best feeling in the whole world. 

“For a lot of things,” he whispers.

Then you’re kissing him again, not just a sweep and not just an overzealous bruise against your lips. Your mouths meet with poignant purpose and the kind of quenching, consuming relief that you think you’ve been waiting for. The most surprising thing about it is that Jaehyun meets you in the middle. He doesn’t let you drown in the feeling, he steals it for himself when he presses his lips so deeply into yours the kiss print is branded into your consciousness.

He knows how to tease perfect little exhales out of you, harmonizing with the song of affection he’s written without you knowing. You adore kissing him, as much as you thought you would, but the best part is how closely he hugs you when he does it. He presses his hand through your dress and right against your skin of your back, like he needs to feel that you’re real and you’re there. 

He’s wearing such a fussy shirt underneath his discarded suit jacket, and when you try to tug it to feel his warm reality there under you, it does not budge a single bit. But you cannot bring yourself to stop kissing enough to fully undo it, either. One more tug without movement leaves you whining into the middle of the next kiss and he unfortunately puts a halt to everything you’re doing. 

His nose digs into your cheek as he leaves a sweet kiss there and immediately prompts, “What’s wrong?”

Nothing’s wrong. Nothing at all. 

“Wanna feel you too,” you whisper shyly, more to his nose than to him and punctuated with a smitten scrunch of his shirt under your fingers. 

Not in a sexual way, not remotely close to that implication. You just.... you don’t know. Want to understand all of him. 

With this sultry smirk that fans your candle's flame into impossibly hot fires, Jaehyun unbuttons his shirt so you can see his tee and his chest all exposed. Then he takes your hand and presses it to his heart, to feel his heartbeat and how delightfully alive it is… racing at a pace you can’t keep up with. You don’t think you’ve ever felt a heart crashing hard enough that the blows feel punishing. 

You gather the soft fabric up in your fingers and pull him in close, to give him one more kiss and purposefully brush your nose against his while heading to do what you’ve wanted to do for a while now. You kiss the pristine outline of his right dimple, then you skim your lips over his to press a matching one to the other divot. 

You’ve never seen him blush that hard. You simply adore that shade of cotton candy on him. 

He leans in to kiss the shell of your ear and conjures up a hurricane of shivers when he murmurs there, “Close your eyes.”

You do so, obediently, quickly, reverently, then pucker your mouth in a kissy face so he knows what you want. Jaehyun laughs at the sight of you and the notes twinkle with such pure happiness you know you’ve never heard anything better. 

His lips divot yours apart in a kiss that you accept with all the eagerness in your body, and you steal enough courage to sneak your tongue out and lick at his lip before he pulls away. He doesn’t need to be told what to do next, he crushes his mouth back into yours and the pressure pulls you apart enough for him to slick his tongue past your lips. You have never experienced anything that feels as good as kissing him like this and feeling him everywhere on you. But as soon as this extended feeling of sweetness comes, it’s replaced with an explosion of pure delight, when… a spoonful of banana bread is stuffed in your mouth in lieu of another kiss.

Why do you feel like crying? 

It tastes so good, spiced and tooth-rotting sweet all at once, and it does its very best to remind you of when you were a child. You were so innocent and good, convincing your parents that despite it being smothered in icing made from two pounds of sugar, banana bread had fruit in it so it officially had to be classified as a healthy food.

You asked for it on all your birthdays, even when you turned eighteen. 

You chew, and chew, andchewandchewandchew, savoring this bite like it’s the only one you’ll get. Despite laughing and having it half spill out of your mouth, Jaehyun stares at you like you’re the greatest thing in the world, not caring one bit that you look like a messy dunce.

Then, you have the great privilege of watching as his stunning eyelashes flutter shut so he can brush one last kiss against your frosting-stained lips - you keep your eyes open, you want to know how smitten he looks when he kisses you - right before he whispers against your mouth, “Happy birthday.”

Happy doesn’t seem out of place there anymore. 

“The happiest,” you whisper against his lips in return. “Maybe the happiest birthday ever.”

You certainly cannot remember a day in which you felt more unimpeded joy than this one. You don’t think it’ll ever be erased from your memory. 

You steal the spoon and scoop out a piece for him to share with you, but..... Jaehyun flinches when the bite gets close to him. When you try again, he gulps down this heavy breath and goes pale, before muttering, “I don’t like bananas.”

That’s so funny. Your old housekeeper’s son hated bananas, too. 

“Pleaseeeeee,” you whine, putting on your best little voice, glittery round eyes, the subtle shimmy of your shoulder right into his. “For me?”

He already did all of this for you, the extra favor shouldn’t even count.  

“Ugh, fine,” Jaehyun caves in a second. “I guess I need the potassium.”

His little grin conveys his hidden emotions so you don't have to wonder over them anymore - he's happy, too - then he dutifully parts his lips so that you can feed him his creation. With the cake still in his mouth, you press a sunny smooch to his lips and giggle out just absolute nonsense, “Happy…. day!”

It’s not his birthday but it’s still a happy day for him, too. 

He chews and swallows and it doesn’t seem like the worst thing in the world for him since he ends up smiling from ear to ear. “The happiest.”

You don’t have any thoughts in your head besides Jaehyun and his cute everything. When he truly smiles, a smile that comes from the depths of his heart, it takes up his entire face. You like it so much.

It feels like you talk and kiss for the rest of the night. The absentee moon laughs at you from her hiding place the one time you reluctantly drag your eyes away from Jaehyun’s, but you don't care. You have him, you're not alone anymore. You eat your cake on your own because you’re not going to make him suffer through more, and when he inevitably gets hungry in the wee hours of the morning, you make him a turkey sandwich instead. 

Jaehyun says all sorts of beautiful things that you can’t exactly memorize, but you feel them with you no matter what you do. He’s going to be a part of you forever from this day forward. 

—

In the morning, the sun wakes you up by tickling at your nose.

And then you’re tickled on every inch of the skin on your face. Through the crack in your eyelids you see it’s because your face is buried in someone’s hair. And when your eyes peel all the way open, you find yourself half draped on the kitchen window couch cushion and half draped over… Jaehyun. 

You absolutely cannot be cuddled with him like that. He’s your housekeeper. More than that, he’s married, no matter the number of kisses and sweet nothings you shared last night under the guise of it being your birthday celebration. 

When you look at him, he’s already awake and looking at you, eyes sleepy yet not exhausted, and he’s got some of your hair twirled in between his fingers. It feels far too intimate to be caught like this despite what you’ve done. What, does he think he knows you now? Just because he pretended to remember when your birthday was? 

He tries to kiss you good morning, and you pretend you’re faking a yawn that makes you miss seeing it. You have no clue why he continues to be affectionate, why he’s continuing to cheat on his wife with you when you’ve made it more than clear you want the all-consuming love he has. Not being somebody’s side piece.

He sits up and when you move away from his attempt at putting his arm around you, he gets the hint and instead offers up a halting, “Good morning.” 

He doesn’t call you miss, thinking the decorum of his contract was broken when you kissed him. 

“Good morning, Jaehyun,” you address him the way you normally would.

He unconsciously reaches for your hand despite the nonverbal warning, drags his fingers over your forearm in a pretty pattern you can’t make out. While you like it, it still feels inappropriate. You pull your arm slightly out of reach, the gesture sending your gaze right to the banana bread on the counter, half eaten and marked with two forks. 

This sinking feeling swallows you up out of nowhere, so you get out of the booth and away from him.

Jaehyun follows you. 

And you realize he did so to hug you when you catch his arms outstretched in your periphery before he leans in. When you dart a foot away and crisscross your arms over your body to hold yourself in a protective stance, you see for yourself how his eyes dull in disappointment. 

“Why do you look disappointed with me?” You’re already feeling your anger bubble, but you don’t want to unleash it in case that you're interpreting this wrong. 

“I’m not disappointed,” Jaehyun denies it, but you can see it lingering in his eyes. That’s pretty much the only time you’ve seen them not sparkle.

What? Is he mad you didn’t stoop to having sex with him? You remember there were moments, a particularly deep kiss that left your lips needing his, both of your hands wandering past the boundaries of your clothes, the way his eyes dipped to the elegant curve of your neck every so often.

But it never escalated past the honest bursts of your kissing. And there never was a request, from either of you. 

Your eyes narrow at him. “Are you sure?”

He hesitates longer than half a heartbeat, which means his, “Yes,” is no better than any lie he could’ve come up with.

And because this taken man is giving you mixed signals, churning your entire existence up into unfixable goo, you are going to make yourself clear in return. 

You take out your almost-dead phone from the pretty outfit you wore for the birthday he ruined, then scroll to a contact you didn’t think you were going to use anytime soon. Jaehyun watches you do all of this, and you make sure your eye contact is solid when you press the call button.

“Hello?” Seungcheol’s voice is warm and confident and… loud enough to be heard without needing a speaker. “Wait. No way. Is this really you?”

“It’s me,” you answer, letting out this insipid giggle just to get a reaction. One lift of your eyebrows and a dumbfounded Jaehyun knows exactly who you’re calling. “What are you doing today?”

“Oh, well..... I had a full schedule, but apparently it’s all empty now,” Seungcheol flirts. 

Bingo. You knew you liked this guy for a reason, he puts you first and hasn’t been too proud to make that apparent. 

“Would you like to have brunch with me at the cafe by the pier?” Asking him out like that is a bold move considering you’ve always felt you were the kind of girl who required reciprocal wooing. A gift of tacos and banana bread cake just isn't enough.  

“I absolutely would,” Seungcheol sounds delighted to be able to do even that. “How about eleven?” 

See? He even takes initiative without needing a contract to.

“Fantastic.” It’s easy enough to sound excited, and you make sure to add on like your mom always reminds you, “I’ll try not to be late!”

Then you end the call and stare at Jaehyun coldly, an unbroken twine of disdain twisted between the two of you. If he wanted you in the way he was implying last night, he was about thirty years too late on that one, apparently. You are a single woman. Single. 

“Fantastic,” he grits out in a sarcastic, bitter echo of your enthusiasm, unable to have the room filled with silence any longer. “Would you like me to lay out the dress options for your date?”

Why does he do this? Let his moods flip as if you have some importance in his life in one second, then acting like you mean less than dirt to him in the next. 

“I don’t understand why you continue to be bothered by this.” You say it without imagining the potential consequences of what it’ll do to his emotional state. You cannot care what Jaehyun thinks and feels anymore. He doesn’t make sense to you and never has.

He starts and stops fast, “Because I–,”

“Because you what.” He’s been saying nonsense for far too long now, this is his one chance to say something and mean it when he does. 

“Because I don’t think I’m getting better than you.” 

Jaehyun dares to let his face drift into the same particular dreaminess you've seen before, dares to allow the dregs of hope to emanate from him. He’s anticipating that this one line is enough to bring you back to last night, when all you wanted to do was kiss him and share cake. But he already used that line on you, so why is he using it again? 

He is utterly fucking ridiculous. And you hate cursing more than anything. 

“How does that make any sense when you’re already married?! ” Your jabbing question echoes around the kitchen right before you stab him in the chest like he’s done with you so many times. “No wonder your wife left you.”

Jaehyun is so physically stunned by the sentiment he trips back into the booth and lands with his hand covering his mouth, as if to block himself from processing the words you said. Then he hides his features in his hands completely because… because…. you don’t know why. You don’t fucking understand why he acts like this and you’re sure you never will. But you feel no remorse. If he’s treating you like this while wearing his wedding rings, then no wonder the wife he pines for like a pathetic child chooses to no longer acknowledge him. 

You want to be loved, you do not want to be a ghost’s placeholder. 

So you just leave. You don’t need Jaehyun to tell you not to or to remind you that you’ve been hurt by men before. You’re a capable adult and you do not need him, not when he’s already hurt you, too. 

—

You smooth out the skirt of your prettiest red dress - not blue at all and one you picked out on your own, thank you very much - and when you look up, Seungcheol is smiling at you from across the table.

You’re suddenly nervous. 

You were going to continue attending the mixers and had no problem with that, but this is a second date. And this is with someone you like, so you have to make it work. He’s your one and only shot at getting the love you’ve always wanted. 

“You know, I thought you were never going to call,” Seungcheol muses as he stirs his coffee. 

“You could’ve also called me.” One niggling thing bothers you into asking, “But I’m curious. Why?”

You never gave him any indication that you weren’t happy to do this again. In fact, he was the first person you met who made you consider a follow-up. 

“Thought you had a secret boyfriend or something.”

You think your heart keels over in the middle of your chest, then does so again when Seungcheol gives you a funny, flirty smirk. Did something give you away? Have you been so out of practice with affectionate displays that you left evidence of your secret overnight kissing session for him to see? You’re going to have to tell him it didn’t mean….. anything. 

It was all fake, just like everything else was. 

“You’re just so….” Seungcheol can’t find the words for it no matter how hard he tries, “So, so,” he gets a little carried away with that second attempt, everything about him is so sweet, “I don’t know. I just couldn’t believe you hadn’t been snatched up by someone already.”

You felt that way about Jaehyun. He was kind and good with the house and handsome, attentive and non-judgmental and handsome … you should’ve realized he was married. Clearly, men that seem to have everything don’t ever have it all. 

His fundamental flaw was that he had a wandering eye. 

At least this man likes you for you and not because you’re a stand-in for a wife he had. Seungcheol is divorced and hasn’t mentioned or compared her to you once.

“I feel the same way about you." You say it mostly to be polite but also so he doesn’t realize you’re thinking about Jaehyun. “You’re handsome and nice. Plus you said you’re clean.”

Cleanliness is the most important thing. That’s what your housekeeper’s son was always so good at, keeping things as clean as you needed and knowing it was the one thing keeping the stress at bay when your dad’s job made it seem like you had no control over your life. 

That’s why you fell in love with him in the first place.

“Clean? No.” Seungcheol’s laughter-filled denial is a spiked blow to your chest, driven in deep by his correction, “I meant I like clean spaces. I’m the messiest person ever, I just hire someone to do it for me.”

Is he not…. Is he not him?

That was your only clue, the cleanliness and the general feeling of lightheaded, smitten wonder that came when you were with him. It was nice to have this kind of mindless crush, he’s who you were supposed to like when your mind escaped from thinking about Jaehyun. 

Sungcheol segues the conversation before you’re prepared for it, “You never mentioned this on our other date. Have you been married or in a serious relationship before?”

You know you have to say no, you’re single as any other lonesome penguin struggling to survive out there in the frigid tundra. The word yes catches on your tongue, though, not wanting to be packaged in a lie. But why would you want to say yes to him when you've been single your whole life–, 

Wait, that picture on the TV is familiar. 

“Papa?” you whisper.

Before you can answer Seungcheol, you squint to make sure you’re seeing what you’re seeing. You’re indeed looking at your dad’s formal portrait, handsome and solemn and every bit of the man you love most, plastered on the TV above the bar.

Breaking news from Walter Reed Medical Center here in Bethesda. The Vice President of the United States has apparently shown signs of awakening in the hospital after his accident–, 

You gasp so loudly the entire restaurant turns to look at the commotion. Your dad’s hurt? Your dad?! Your dad is hurt! Oh my god!

Before any of it processes, you escape the restaurant in a flurry of tear-filled struggling, and by the time you’re hidden in the rosebushes at the entrance - what you walked half an hour ago thinking you were just going on a date - you’re breathing so intensely your lungs aren't going to survive this. There’s no way you can be coherent on the phone. But you have to try. You have to call your mom. 

Thank god she never stopped answering midway through the first ring, “Hello?” 

“Mommy!” you practically scream at her, your lungs can’t tolerate anything else.  

“Bluebell?” You can hear the worry in her voice and you don’t blame her because you never act like this, you never feel like this. She’s breathing hard but does not escalate other than asking a neutral, “What’s wrong?”

“Was Papa in an accident?!” you scream again. 

They called him the Vice President but he’s just a senator, right? But that was his portrait, you know it was him. 

You think your heart is in pieces. 

“What?! You remember?” Her exclamation is so loud it makes your eardrums hurt, but it confirms that your heart is never going to be fixed. Even that temporary pain in your ears doesn’t compare to the one branding your chest.

“No, I saw on the news, his… his picture and everything! Did it just happen! Why didn’t you call me!” You’re absolutely furious, you should’ve been in DC hours ago if this just happened! You don’t know why she kept this from you. You’re an adult and she should’ve told you he was hurt, you would’ve taken it fine and dealt with it. 

It wouldn’t have mattered if she told you the truth, why she couldn’t come home for your birthday.

“Bluebell…” Somewhere in the midst of your panic you hear your mom’s calm words like pennies dropped into a well. “The accident happened a year ago.”

The world drops out from under you. The nice view of the river in the distance starts to spiral in your vision and makes you sick to your stomach. 

“What?” You don’t sound like yourself. Who are you? Who are you right now?

Your mother sounds close to a sobbing breakdown when she answers without any sort of control, “P-papa was in an a-accident a year ago–,”

You click the phone call dead before you hear any more nonsense from her. There is a real chance you might sink into the floor and cease to exist if you’re subjected to one additional word. 

No, this is not real. 

You convince your brain to accept that it’s not real, then drown yourself in this pit of strong, strong, strong denial. Then the pressure squeezes you from all angles, hurtling up your insides into your horrified throat and making you dry heave against the wall of the restaurant. You have no idea how you get from hunched over the grass with your senses blacked out, to walking back in past the concerned hostess and heading right back to the table another version of you was sitting at. 

You hover and feel your world collapse again, only for it to flood back into vivid clarity when Seungcheol’s voice slices through your existential paranoia, “Are you okay?”

You do not possess the capability to say yes right now. 

“You said you…” You trail off into aimless wandering, trying to make this make sense despite your brain not cooperating. In fact, it's now protesting by flaring up random bouts of pain that you cannot control. Your eyes screw shut as you try to focus the pain into one throbbing outline on the side of your temple, a pain you haven’t felt in over a year. “You said you worked as a national news photographer, right?”

You think if you open your eyes to see him the nausea will consume you, so you just assume that Seungcheol looks as confused as he sounds, “Yeah? But I haven’t done it since last year, it was all getting to be a bit much for me–,”

“Do you remember covering an accident in DC last year?” That particular space in your memory is this big blur of suffocating darkness. All you have to go on is the crumbs of what your mother just said, and you don’t know if she's reliable or not. 

She lied to you on your birthday, this very well could be another lie. 

“Uh… yeah?” This time, you make sure to look at Seungcheol to catch his reaction, his little eye roll that implies he thinks you’re dumb for asking. You cannot hate him for it, since you appreciate the context - this is apparently something that everyone knows about, yet you still need him to explain it to you, “It happened last January, right after the inauguration. The president, vice president, everyone in the cabinet almost? were in this massive motorcade crash.”

You sit down. You have to, your legs can’t keep you upright anymore.

You feel earnest, terrified curiosity take over and ask, “Did you see it?”

He has to have seen it, this cannot just be a story he heard through the grapevine.

“Yes, that was the last thing I ever photographed at my job,” he whispers to his coffee cup, staring hard so he won’t cry. “It was so awful I couldn’t do it anymore. All those people, together just to celebrate the vice president’s birthday.”

The vice president. That’s your dad, apparently. 

But you don’t remember being in a car crash with him at all. 

“Do you have the pictures?” He looks at you like you’re actually insane for asking, and you feel insane for doing it, too. But then you just start begging, “Please. Please, I need to see them.”

Your head is spinning with the agony that’s settling in and your hazy vision cannot place if Seungcheol's face means he’s decided to call the police on you or go along with it. You don’t blame him, this might be the craziest thing that’s ever happened in your life.

Something must convince him to choose the latter option, since he starts scrolling through his camera roll while explaining, “I might’ve kept the shots of them leaving for the event. What was it again?” Your lungs cease to function, making sure your surroundings are completely silent so you don’t miss his answer, “Oh, yeah. They were all going to play golf with his daughter. She was a golf prodigy or something, I always heard about it when he was in the senate. You golfed, did you know her?”

You feel the two sips of coffee you took burn you from the inside out.

He continues flicking through his photos at a leisurely pace and taps his foot over and over against the tile. You’re getting so anxious that it feels like the café walls are going to close into you, you want to scream at him to hurry up. 

And then he goes, “Ah. One survived my post-quitting mass deletion.”

He turns the camera over and your existence folds in two the second you see it. You don’t need to grab the device to bring it closer or ask him to zoom in on the photo. It’s as clear as fucking day who is in that photo. Not the big group of men in their ridiculously fancy golf clothes and clubs, nor the man you recognize from watching the news every day who must be the president. 

Your eyes are drawn to who's in the middle of the photo, standing in a neat four person row. 

You in a baby blue golf dress, next to your dad in a neatly pressed matching blue golf polo. Grinning next to Jaehyun's father in a matching blue polo of his own…. 

....And Jaehyun, grinning goofily under the plaster of his bangs and his visor. 

You can hear your dad calling you bluebell through the miles separating DC and Providence, and there are tears in your eyes the next time you blink.

Then you actually take the phone from Seungcheol to confirm. Though it doesn’t look like you - your hair is almost twice as long and you don’t think you’re capable of smiling that hard anymore - there is no chance it isn’t you. You and your dad are matching, and you have a massive diamond ring on your left hand. 

A ring. You’re wearing a ring? 

Your senses return through the haze of darkness into laser-focused clarity on the outline of your hand around the club. You feel sharpened. Put together. Like you know everything but you don’t at the same time. You’re wearing a ring in this photo, rose gold, with a comet streak of diamonds across it. 

Your eyes skid across the photo to Jaehyun’s hand where it’s lifted in a peace sign, and…..

....He has a gold band on his fourth finger. Just one.

“I’m sorry.” Your gasp rips out your heart and lungs with it, “I don’t think this is going to work.”

When you look up at him with the picture in your hands, Seungcheol’s gaze darts between the two versions of you that you cannot believe are the same person. He exhales in steep surprise, putting it together for himself that you are indeed the girl in these photos.

But you certainly haven’t been acting like it. 

“Because I have a picture of you?” he babbles, now flustered that you’ve suddenly found a reason to reject him when it was going so swimmingly. “I didn’t even recognize you, I swear, I’m not a creep–,”

You’re out of the restaurant before he can finish the sentence. It’s not going to work, and this time you know why. 

—

The fifteen minute bus ride back to your family home is akin to an arduous, cross-country journey. 

You’re already panting by the time you’re in the door, and your feet take you right to Jaehyun’s room, where he’s…. packing? You can see inside of his room for the first time ever and what you’re met with is the sight of suitcases all over the floor. When he turns and sees you spying into his private space, he tries to box you out with the sheer size of his frame. And since you know what he’s going to do next, you let your anger take over and catch the door with iron strength before he slams it on you.

You enter this standoff where you’re staring at each other with deep, dark loathing pulsing in the space between you. You cannot pinpoint the source of these feelings. It has to be something your insane ordeal at the café unlocked. 

Your bruised brain takes over, asks the most insane question you can think of, “Why have I never seen inside of your room?”

“What?” Jaehyun is just as baffled that’s what you’re opening with, not when there is so much more you need to interrogate him about. He settles back into the same hostility that’s coursing through your veins, “Who the hell cares? It’s my room, it’s in the contract that I have my own private space.”

“Answer the question,” you demand. 

He throws his hands up in the air and exclaims in frustration, “No!”

He is such an asshole.

“Why are you leaving then? Huh? Why are you leaving?” You’re taunting him for god knows what reason, you’re just so fucking angry. 

Is everyone lying to you? Are you in a dream? Are you going crazy! What is going on!

He tries to close the door a second time and you force it to stay open with both hands and all of your body’s strength. He can't believe you’re acting this crazy, so as fast as he can, he lets go of the door and the rebound sends you flying. As you stumble around gathering yourself together, Jaehyun stands there in stillness, continuing to block your view into his room. 

He gives you the most stoic answer ever, “Because I don’t want to do this anymore.”

The crunch of your heart is nothing compared to the plethora of pain you’ve been forced to experience today. 

“Is it because of your wife?” Is he feeling guilt? Is he finally realizing he’s a bad person for taking advantage of you? You, a lonely person who just wants to be loved?

“No,” he denies it again, but this time, he cannot look you in your eyes when he does it. 

That’s enough. 

You want proof, you want to discover he’s been hiding her in here, or at least the memories of her. You’re sure they’re scattered everywhere in your house and under your nose. In the rooms that he kept clean the way that she likes, in the flowers he bought because she adores them, in the food he cooks you that he cooked for her first.

You make a sudden move to stand on your tiptoes and get a view over his shoulder, yet he blocks you by shuffling in that direction. You stumble forward, losing your balance since he’s gotten too close, yet somehow discover this heavenly gap in your vision to see exactly what you wanted - no, needed,  to see. 

The reason why he kept you out all these months. 

While no specific emotion hits you first, you become overwhelmed with darkness like you were at the café. Only this time it’s worse. This time, you actually sink into the door when your knees give way and Jaehyun has to catch you and hold you up. 

Your heart hurts so badly you’re sure you’re having a medical episode. 

You come back to reality to find yourself clutching at your chest and fighting to breathe. You don’t think you calm down until Jaehyun slips one of his hands away from holding you to grasp your chin tightly and get you to focus on hm. 

“Were we……..” He exhales in anticipation and then your words are carved right out of you with a knife, “Were we married?”

You touch your bare ring finger and there’s nothing metallic waiting, yet you swear on your life you can feel the phantom sensation of jewelry there. You nudge your cheek outwards to feel the impression of his left hand against your skin, and make out the double circlets of the rings he was wearing last night on your birthday. 

You slip out of his grasp, but before you fall on the ground Jaehyun catches you for the second time in a heavy, painful rebound. Now gasping for breath and caught in this inelegant tangle of limbs, you slide to the floor together. You’re caught in him, he’s braided around you, you’re staring at each other like you want to do nothing else. You're desperate for the evocations of a time before the present, which have hidden themselves so deeply in your brain. 

His mouth snags in a tiny smile, like he does and doesn’t want to at the same time. And then quietly, to the point your heartbeat drowns his words out, Jaehyun wonders, “You remembered?”

You shake your head. You don’t remember, not at all.

You both were wearing rings in Seungcheol’s photo, but you weren’t sure it was real then. Now you are. You point over his shoulder, to the artifact on his nightstand that evolved your world completely. 

It’s a framed picture of the two of you - your arms looped around his waist in an unbreakable embrace, him squishing you so you’re almost unrecognizable with baby fat glee. You have a veil draped over your hair, which is so big and poofy it covers up half of his face. Both of your smiles shine so brightly there’s a partial glare on the film, and the flash is reflected in his glasses. He’s in a very familiar black suit that you think you saw yesterday.

You’re wearing white, but not an elegant gown. The type of cutoff Lilly Pulitzer dress you would’ve worn when you were a teenager and thought you were sophisticated enough to be your mother… who is the second lady of the United States. 

You were? Are? Married to him?

You don’t know the current status, but that is almost certainly a wedding portrait.  

You glance back to Jaehyun for an answer to your unspoken question, and his beautiful, stony-still face breaks into the softest nod ever. 

Out comes a shattering sob you can’t control, one that shakes you to your very core, “W-what? How is this possible?” 

How is it possible that the great love of his life, the person he’s loved for every single day of the twenty-nine years he’s been alive is…… you. 

“We were best friends for a long time, just like our dads were best friends,” he repeats reverently, holding your shaking hands in his equally as tremulous ones. Only, half of the we this time is you and not some faceless woman. You have to pay careful attention. Everything he’s saying is about you. “Elementary school, middle school, high school. There wasn’t a day we didn’t spend together. I’m serious, we’d either have to be in a physically different country otherwise we were together. Because when your dad was in DC to serve in the senate… we would go with you.” 

He could know this because of his employment forms, or because this information about your family is apparently common knowledge.

But it feels like Jaehyun knows. 

“Our parents would try to draw the line at contagious diseases, but we’d just give it to each other and call it a day. You’re the kind of person that would take care of me first even if we were both sick.” He dares to run a hand over your face where you’re looking at him, soft and gentle, evoking the feeling of what you would’ve done with him if he was burning up from a fever. 

Again, you have no memory of doing any of this, but there’s no chance he could be wrong. It was the…. kind of stupid stuff you and the housekeeper's son used to do together when you were young. 

“I just saw you as a friend, though. Our families were really different.” Jaehyun starts to get teary eyed, the glittering in his eyes transforming into galaxies of grief. He can’t control his shaking any longer, so you grip onto his hands tightly. You can feel for yourself both the rings on his finger, the one on top is the littlest bit too small… and it’s covered with diamonds. “I didn’t realize that was not an issue. Because I was seventeen and paranoid, and couldn’t put it together that the senator of Rhode Island didn’t mind his housekeeper’s son falling in love with his daughter.”

You’re going to fall apart at your heart seams. Your old housekeeper’s son is… is him. It’s Jaehyun.

It makes far too much sense, he is clean and quiet and handsome and good, and his dad was the nicest person that you’ve ever met, save for yours. According to him, they were best friends since college, so of course your father would not have a problem with your…. class differences. 

“When did you realize I wasn’t just a friend?” You remember asking this question during your talk on the pier. Never did you think you would be asking it again and feeling your heart roar back to life like it intends to beat for him forever.

“When I was eighteen,” Jaehyun murmurs. “We moved back to my mom’s hometown in California 'cause she said she was sick of Providence and she’d divorce my dad if he didn’t. And I cried every day for a month 'cause I missed you.” 

You start crying then, the tears fall down your cheeks with hot, lovesick intention, and you blink fast to keep them out of your vision, keep his handsome face as clear as possible. Is that why you were so scared about people leaving you? Why you had this insane dealbreaker based on a state you didn’t have a personal connection to? 

Because of him?

You’re so scared to ask this next question, “When did we get married?” 

“When we were eighteen.” This time, his sheepish laugh drives an arrow of smitten longing straight into you, and he shakes his head like he’s the biggest idiot in the world. “I cried for only a month. I ran away and came all the way back here for you. All I wanted was you.”

Those are the words you’ve been waiting to hear for such a long time. 

“We got drunk…” Whoa, really? “And you kissed me first.” You did what?!” “Then we slept together for the first time.” Jaehyun laughs between every new, ridiculous detail, and you cannot believe any of it, “And in the morning, we went to city hall. When your parents caught us sneaking in before breakfast and couldn’t believe what we did, you said you were an independent adult who could make your own decisions. They said they’d keep the marriage certificate intact if I moved back to take care of you.”

He did, right? He said he came back. 

“And I did,” Jaehyun confirms in his grand, sweeping, affectionate tone. “But only if my dad came, too. He decided to do it by himself, since your family was all he ever needed. After that, your dad thought that Chief of Staff was more appropriate than housekeeper.”

Your heart is going crazy and you are unable to process any of it. You really got married as a teenager to your best friend? And linked your families together forever? That doesn’t seem possible, despite the number of obvious clues Jaehyun still loves you as much as he did then.  

“That is so early,” you whisper shyly.

It is not the kind of rational decision you would choose in this stage of your life. But listening to this beautiful man tell you your story with such reverent care, a story that you do not remember, how could you have not immediately married him the second he came back for you?

“Realized then that living apart from you...” That final word being exchanged from her to you is the most important correction Jaehyun could’ve made, “...was just something I didn’t want to do.”

There’s still tangible weight in his words, like there was when he said them yesterday. Some of it from grieving, some from relief, some from the past, some from the… present.

You venture carefully into the unknown you were unaware you were living, “Like now?”

You’ve been messed up for over a year, he’s been working here for that same time, and you don’t remember him before he showed up at your doorstep. The only memories you have are of the housekeeper’s son that you now are aware was him. How did your timelines match up to this point?

“I wasn’t supposed to be here, love.” That tender word slips past his lips without him realizing, and the pure rush of memory that follows is the closest thing to remembering that you can get. “I... you… you were not okay.”

You are almost glad you don’t have any memory of the accident you were in, or Jaehyun's suffering after. You’re relieved you skipped to this part. 

“My dad and I were in the staff car.” Like you saw in the picture, Jaehyun had to have been there. If it was his father-in-law’s birthday, he had to have been there. He’s okay, though? He doesn’t seem.... like you. “So we were only rear ended. But you got the worst of it. Your papa was… he’s not okay, sweetheart.”

You know that without having to be told, that detail hurts you so deeply.

But you can’t focus on that right now when Jaehyun is still talking, “And you were not okay. You woke up fast, but you were not okay. Your head was not okay. So your mom sent you here to heal on your own, which is…. what you asked for.”

You don’t know if that makes sense or not, but you’re going to choose to trust him on this. Jaehyun has no reason to lie anymore. 

“You. Wanted to try at the start to remember me.” Jaehyun gives you this soft, sad smile that you can feel the grief in down to your very bones. Which means that recalling the details of falling in love with him and cherishing the memories of your marriage was bad for your recovery. “But I would call myself your husband and you’d forget everything you learned. Your mom would have to tell you what happened and you’d cry yourself to sleep. It happened every day.”

It’s hard to imagine how painful this must’ve been for him. And it’s even more unimaginable to contemplate the level of agony you must’ve been in to choose forgetting him over going through that. 

None of that answers the question as to how he ended up being here, loving you anyways.

“Dad stayed in DC. The doctors were hoping that your papa would be okay in no time, plus he had to help the temporary vice president. He suggested I do the same,” Jaehyun exhales as he stares back to your wedding portrait on his bedside table. 

He doesn’t have to say anything further. You poke his sternum in the gentlest of gestures and draw out the rest of his response, “And living apart from me was something you didn’t want to do.”

You understand exactly why he said what he said now, and Jaehyun confirms it when he nods.

He leaves the rest of the puzzle to you. 

His dad called it your mother’s idea. She knew you better than anyone, must’ve thought that if Jaehyun came here as a stranger, you would be more open to learning who he was again instead of your injured brain shutting him out in an effort to survive. So he filled his dad’s role in a place of comfort for you and she called every day to see if you would bring her son-in-law back to life. From a distance, he watched you live in this place - alone yet not - knowing the memories you shared here. 

“So your wife was me the whole time?” you whisper through crushing tears that wet your cheeks, feeling like they’re drowning you and cleansing you at the same time.

This time, he confirms it in his beautiful, deep voice so you cannot misinterpret the movement of his head, “Yes.”

You are his wife. You and Jaehyun have been married for the entirety of your adult lives, and have been in love for the rest of them, too. 

“And you just let me….?” Your voice cracks so hard your sentence slips into oblivion. 

He let you go on dates.

He let you say those awful things to him.

He let you become a person that he couldn’t even recognize. That you couldn't even recognize.

“Yes.” He’s a step past emotional, dangled into grief-fueled hysterics - more so than the night you kissed, beyond the times you fought, everything. You can hear his worry over losing you steeped into every breath he takes. 

That makes you feel his love impossibly hard. You can’t recall a single bit of the story that led you here, can’t remember a single bit of your life from your innocent teenage years to now, but you can feel Jaehyun's unconditional adoration pouring off of him. And it feels ironically right that you lost your memory from the point that you fell in love. 

You were unconsciously searching for that all over again.

“They all reminded me of you,” you blurt as soon as the thought materializes through the silvery grey of regret. “The guy that I liked especially.”

The realizations come swiftly, traits that each one of those men brought to the table were what Jaehyun already had - intelligent to the point of competition, the desire to get married and have kids, superficial physical traits which are so much better on him. The kindness, flirty protection, and harmonious future lives you thought you might build out of a second date. 

You wanted all the traits he had in men that weren’t him, because you didn’t know any better.  

“Can’t get better than me,” Jaehyun murmurs, fingers tickling at your side and finally getting you to smile through your tears.

Maybe you said that to each other in your wedding vows. You’d like to think that you did. You’ll ask him about it just as soon as you’re done here. You want to know it all.

It feels so clear to you then. Not the memories of being with him, since you’re unsure if you’ll have any of them again, but what you want your place in his life to be. 

“Is it were? Or are?" 

You ask the vague question and Jaehyun makes a soft face of confusion in response. You brave reaching out and touching him, sweeping the bangs off his forehead and kissing his cheek softly before you whisper, “You didn’t answer when I asked if you were divorced.”

You feel a pure burst of shyness move through your heart and expand into your extremities, and you hope that’s a memory that will live on into the future. You being shy over the housekeeper’s son and you being shy over the housekeeper’s son who became your housekeeper.

Jaehyun opens his mouth then closes it with a deep-seated look of conviction and suddenly you’re scared of what’s to come. You can’t help it, you think you’ve been subconsciously terrified for this entire year without him. 

Then, you’re frozen watching his thumb fidget off the second ring he’s been wearing. You see the deep indent in his skin where it was too small on him, and the sparkling row of diamonds reflect his shiny, shiny love straight into you. You so wish you could remember him giving this to you, but you’re never going to forget how he wore it all this time in the hopes to give it back.

Jaehyun hands you the ring like he might’ve when you were eighteen and requests, “I would like you to tell me.” 

He takes your breath away with that question. You had no clue the level of the tender tact he operated in whilst you were completely unaware you’d shared this beautiful physical devotion with him before. 

But more than that, he wants to know if you want to divorce and be free to start your own life, without the unknown damages that follow him around as he makes his way back into your heart. Or if you want to stay with him and figure this exhausting web of darkness out together. The idea of doing that seems daunting and impossible right now, but….

Didn’t he say you met each other when he was a baby and you were just born? Isn’t that like what this is?

“Are.” You blurt it a little too fast, are a little too eager, have become a little too smitten. You hide yourself in his arms as the red-hot embarrassment prods you into amending, “I think.”

Jaehyun’s face lights up with unadulterated glee, you catch it before he does a spectacular job of controlling himself into his bare minimum happiness. You swear that the last time you want to be heartbroken over him is right this very second, after recognizing how much effort he had to put in to control himself, in order not upset you and give it away.

You’re grateful for the excitement that lingers in his tiny, hopeful, “Yeah?”

As you soak in the outline of his features you’ve come to adore over the past year - to the same level you grew to love them in the ten years you were married before this - you know that there is nothing about Jaehyun that would make you want to change your mind. Now… or in the future. 

“I don’t know anything about you,” you confess with an open, honest heart. “But yes.”

He’s Jaehyun, he’s the man who cooks for you and lays out your dresses and likes the same taco store you do. He went home to California and came right back to you, and he’s hated bananas his whole life. He…. He. That is all you know about, nowhere close to the laundry list of sweet things your heart is begging for. But you have time.

“Don’t worry.” Jaehyun senses your anxious heart starting to flare and soothes you, finally feeling bold enough to steal a kiss on your cheek after you’ve already done so. You snuggle into him and beckon for one more, and after he does, he gives you a pretty reminder not to fret, “There was a time before where you didn’t know anything about me, either.”

He’s right. And you fell in love with him anyways.

You hug him first, now appreciating how much relief he must’ve drawn from your hugs if you were as comforted by them as you were. How many of these did you share before this? You don’t know the number, and you’re not sure he does either, but you know the tally for your future starts with this one. Soon there will be too many to count. 

You scoot out of the embrace, enough to brush his nose with yours. You give him a cute, flirty look, rooted in the earnest outline of love that has been planted in your heart, and request, “Would you please stay? And tell me a little about yourself…. Jae?”

There’s no way you would’ve called him Jaehyun. You’re pretty sure you called him Jae.

“Sure. I think I fell in love with you the moment we met–,” You kiss him before he's done, you needed to do this first, you want to make up for this torturous year where he had to pretend that you weren’t the love of his life. In the middle of the kiss, you hear Jaehyun sigh out the sweetest amendment possible, “This time, I know I did.” 

Somehow, you know you did, too. 

“One more thing to tell you, my favorite girl.” He’s so relieved that now all his words come out like a little songs. You cannot help but giggle at how silly it is, only to find him suddenly emotional again. 

You want him to be happy, as happy as you feel with no room to be sad, so you lift a shoulder and flirt with him, “How much you love me?”

Just this story is not enough. You want to hear them all.

“I love you more than I can say, but no,” Jaehyun denies softly. Your intertwined hands clench together and you feel the indent of your ring into your palm, before his exhaled, careful reveal shakes every bit of him, “Your papa…. is awake. Should I tell you about me on our way to DC instead?”

You have known about your dad's accident for an hour now, the true details for less than fifteen minutes, but your broken heart always knew that he was not okay. He wouldn’t have left you like this, he never would’ve. You collapse into Jaehyun’s shoulder and start sobbing, feeling the ghost of the girl you used to be escape out through your tears. The only thing that brings you any semblance of control is having him help you slip his ring back on your finger. So you can remember what it felt like on the last happy day you had with your dad. 

You nod, finally feeling like everything has the potential to be okay one day.

“Happy birthday, my bluebird beauty,” Jaehyun murmurs into your hair, as his left hand presses into yours, decade-old wedding rings back where they belong. “Let’s go see him together. Let's do everything together forever.”

fin.