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It was when she yawned she realized there was a world beyond her computer screen. For a moment, her eyes blurs from the onset of tears, but as she rubs the tiredness away, her focus shifts to the environment that she was rotting in for the past fifteen hours. Her office was unusually big, something that she has to get used to. Every piece of furniture was in a sleek, modern design, something that she also had to get used to. She would’ve liked a small ornament, sitting at the corner of her desk, that screamed entirely her, but that would be deemed alien to any visitor that would drop by.
When has she become so concerned by other people’s perceptions? Jennie Kim can’t remember that last time she hasn’t cared, even if it was in her image that she was an indifferent hell-freak of a boss. Deep down, she absorbs every comment, no matter how cruel it may be—because it’s what makes her freeze to the bone, making her the cold witch that she was. But sometimes, it also hurts, and it breaks her heart for quite some time. Then she’ll realize that she’s just human after all. She knows that she’s nothing like what people perceive her to be; but she has to do what must be done, especially since she’s a woman running in a male-dominated field, and that she's breaking barriers faster than anyone has ever witnessed.
She straightens her posture, a soft crack ripping through the chilled, silent room. She also rotates her head around, another series of cracks coming about. Her poor body wasn’t designed to withstand such demanding conditions; long hours of sitting and working and frying her brain to every little thing that comes in her office. Jennie briefly longs for her youth, where her worries revolve around what school lunch she’ll buy and what class she’ll skip next. She then shakes her head to stop her train of thoughts from delving deeper into her vault of memories. She knows better than to recall those moments that will never happen again.
A sigh escapes her lips, she glances at the clock and sees that it was already past eleven. Usually, she would call it a night and head home to succumb to a night of deep sleep. But this time, she felt like a piping hot basin with a quiet simmer of energy pulsating under her skin. This familiar energy calls for a long drink and perhaps, if she's lucky, a companion to share her bed for the night. She remembered passing by a new bar on the ninth street. That seemed like a good place to go to unwind without prying eyes. God knows how much she hates running into an employee out of the workplace.
Some knocking came, and she didn't have to guess who the late-night visitor was. She gathers her materials into a neat pile, tapping the stacked papers on the table so they're ordered.
"Come in," she commands. Not a second later, her business associate Jisoo Kim enters, bearing the same worn-out look on her normally cheery face.
"I was just going to see if you're ready to go," Jisoo tells her. Jennie spots the leather bag slung over her shoulder and the beige coat she has on. The brunette looks around her office in faux distaste. "Spend another hour here and you'll burn out like weed."
"Shut up." Jennie lets a few chuckles slip out. Jisoo's genuine, carefree smile turns into an easy laugh, which they share. When they stopped, Jennie asked, "How long were you done?"
The Jisoo in front of her changed; she wasn't the marketing director of JK Enterprises anymore, but her close friend who has been with her since the beginning. It was in quiet times like these, where they're away from their co-workers or any affiliations with business, that Jennie revels in so much because they were fragile and sweet and could easily slip through her fingers if she blinked too long. Her professional facade breaks down whenever Jisoo's will. Again, it made her feel human and grounded. But what's greater, it made her feel like Jennie Kim and not CEO Kim.
Jisoo shrugs. "Give or take thirty minutes ago. I napped for a while, then when I woke up, I knew right here in my gut that you were finished with work."
Jennie rolls her eyes but sports an amused grin. "Something tells me your gut also wants some food."
"Only when you'll pay, of course." The brunette winks at her. Jennie waves her off and then picks up her car keys and blazer. She shuts off the last of her office lights, before walking alongside Jisoo towards the elevator.
"Are you that hungry? I'm in the mood for some drinking. If you want, we could meet at the bar after you eat?" Jennie suggests, leaning against the smooth railings of the elevator, the cold metal brought her some relief.
"What bar? I could use a drink or two." Jisoo was tapping away at her phone, probably messaging her fiancé that she'll be a bit late.
"Miracle, I think. You've been there?"
"Not yet. Looks casual, though."
“Isn’t it?” Jennie brought out her phone, sending a quick text to her driver that she’ll come with Jisoo. “I hope they serve some good cocktails.”
They bid the night shift guard by the entrance a goodnight before walking out into the city. New York was alive twenty-four hours a day; even at the sky’s darkest everything was buzzing with life. People still walk around like it was daytime and the blinding lights of the billboards hanging at every skyscraper add more to the animation. It took some time for Jennie to adjust to the big city, but when she did, it didn’t take much for her to fall in love with some of its charms. Right on cue, a BMW R8 glides in front of the two, the car window revealing Sungwon, Jisoo’s driver.
“Good evening, Ms. Jisoo, Ms. Jennie.” The driver greets them with a smile.
“Hi, Sungwon.” Jennie waves at him. Jisoo opens the backseat door for Jennie. When they’re both settled in, Jisoo starts stripping her scarf off. “How are you these days?”
The engine purrs to life and they soon take off. Sungwon glanced at the rearview mirror, even his eyes were full of cheer, at the dim of night. “Not too bad. My daughter’s birthday is in three days.”
Jennie hums, “Oh, we'd love to come. I’ll bring a gift for the little girl.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that Ms. Jennie!”
Jisoo taps him on the shoulder. “Come on, it’s not like we’re not family, aren’t we?”
“You’re both too kind to me.” The conversation pauses when Sungwon makes a quick turn. “Shall I bring you two home?”
“Actually, can you drop me off at Motleys? I haven’t had dinner yet,” Jisoo says. “Jennie wants a drink at the bar on the ninth street.”
“Sure.” Sungwon nods, shifting his gear.
Jisoo gets off when the car stops in front of the chicken restaurant. She tightens the hold on her bag and then taps at the glass, prompting Sungwon to lower the window. “You can head home after you’ve dropped Jennie. We’ll be getting a taxi.”
“Are you sure, Ms. Jisoo?” Sungwon inquired, fatherly concern in his eyes.
“It’s not a problem at all.” Jisoo smiles at him. "Take care, Sungwon. Same time tomorrow.”
“Eat well, Ms. Jisoo!” They waved each other goodbye. Sungwon didn't take off until Jisoo was in the restaurant.
The first thing that greeted her was the occasional blink of the front-lit sign that read Miracle, all in bold, white letters. The bar was tucked inside a townhouse building much similar to the Pebble Bar, one that she frequents. The entryway was a bit cramped, but when she entered the main scene, she was surprised to see a lot of elements packed in the place. There were a few standing tables in the middle, the drinking bar was situated on the far left side. A platform was on the front, some instrumentalists preparing their gear. It seems that the night has only begun in this place; there were quite several people, but none that paid her mind the moment she came in. Just as she liked.
Jennie went straight ahead to take a seat on the barstool, rambling off to the bartender her usual vice.
"Negroni to start, please."
The bartender nods, already on his way to make her order. While he's busy, Jennie observes the place more, deciding if this will be another place in mind she'll hang around in the future. The place smelled of something fruity, like a pleasant plum with a floral undertone. A slow, bass-filled bossa nova plays above the speakers, as the light was dim enough to offer an air of mystery. Jennie hums in satisfaction. The Miracle was truly a casual, almost-sophisticated bar that she'd visit again soon enough.
When she's given the negroni, she doesn't hesitate to take a generous sip, not minding that the gin burns her throat harsher than she would've liked. She lets the drink settle on her tongue. It was cherry sweet with a bitter tone. The cocktail wasn't too bad. Maybe she'll order a couple more.
Her eyes drift to the platform again, this time curious as to who'll perform. She glances over at the bartender, and they meet eyes.
"Does a band play every night?" Jennie asks him. The bartender kept his hands busy by polishing some of the whiskey glasses.
"It's an open stage, really. Anyone could take the mic if they want. But we do have a regular jazz band that comes here every Tuesday and Thursday."
Jennie made a sound of understanding. "That's cool."
He smiles at her. "Are you any good?"
"Hm? Oh no, I left that hobby a long time ago," she replies, with a hint of sadness in her voice.
Jennie used to sing a lot, mostly R&B songs since her vocals were strong and sultry. She used to join karaoke's and jam along with her old friends, singing over cheap beers and roasted meat. They were never a boring company. But sadly, as she becomes more involved with her business, especially when she moved from South Korea to New York, she's lost most of her connections back home. The last time she spoke with them was a couple of years ago. She thinks that the memories they've all shared will just stay as an afterthought.
Home. That's a word she never really thinks about. Yet thinking of it now brought a strange feeling over her chest, right in her heart. Some aching, and some longing. Of course, when she thinks of home she's bound to be torn. She hasn't visited Korea in so long but she remembers every little thing about it. She thinks that she'll feel like an alien once she does, so she's reluctant to say if she still considers it home.
New York, on the other hand, makes her feel certain and independent; being part of a bigger world truly did make her powerful. Some sort of reminder that she's on the right path in life. But it also makes her sleepless and unknown and unbearably alone at times even though this has been her home (or shelter; she's not sure what term to even use now) for the past years. Jennie figures that this was the compromise that she has to tolerate—being in a better place will make you lonely.
When the loneliness gets too much she starts to long for the past. Where she was undeniably happier, her friends still talked to her, her worries were smaller, and she still loved her—
"To be honest, you didn't strike me as someone who sings," the bartender confesses out of the blue, snapping her out of her emotional self-harm.
Jennie blinks back to reality. It was always so easy diving right back into her memories, to scour the goodness in the past, but it's the hardest to face the reality that she placed herself in.
"Well, what impression did I give you?" Jennie gave a strained smile, deciding to distract herself by amusing herself with this conversation.
The bartender gave her a once-over. Not particularly the dirty kind—she felt him judge her clothes.
"A mogul," he says after some time.
Jennie snickers, sipping the last of her negroni. "How spot on."
"Bartenders have good eyes." He shrugs. Jennie slides her now empty glass to the bartender. But before she could say her next order, the light visibly dims more, and the background music has halted. A voice came through the speaker at the front, crackled and heavy.
"Our next performer will sing a song from The 1975, titled I Couldn't Be More In Love. Please give it up for Rosie!"
After the announcement, Jennie continued to say her order. A vodka tonic. She glanced down at her phone, and there were still no messages from Jisoo. Deciding to look around, she sees if there's anyone worth her night.
What happened next had been an accident, really. Throwing a look over her shoulder to briefly see who was performing. But the moment a flash of blonde caught her peripheral—she looked again and saw someone she'd never expected.
She can't remember what hit her first. Was it the decade-long feelings that were locked away and buried, now unearthed like dusted sands bringing ancient relics to light? Or the memories that tasted like cheap beers and roasted meat, strawberry chapsticks shared beneath bleachers; memories that felt as warm as the fireplace they used to sleep in, singing John Mayer songs with Australian accents without a care for the world.
Park Chaeyoung—or as she'd call her tenderly before, Rosie, looked just as beautiful, even with her signature blonde hair now cut above her shoulders. The innocent roundness of her cheeks was gone, her face now narrower and more mature. Her eyelids were heavy with smoky makeup, lips rosy like petals of autumn. She wore a charcoal blazer over a seemingly casual outfit that made her seem relaxed with a bit of edge in the eyes.
It was incredible—she changed so much but still so much the same. Jennie can't decide whether to beam with happiness or to cry ugly now that the object of her ten years' worth of yearning is now before her eyes, singing a song from a band they both loved. They even attended their concert; she'd never forget that night because that was when they shared their first kiss with Heart Out in the background.
Chaeyoung grew a little taller and a bit tanner, yet her smile was still the same whenever she was about to perform a song. Excited, nervous, and born ready. Jennie memorized that smile—because she has sung to her countless times in the past. She took the mic out of the stand and then sat on the stool with a lax posture. Her other hand had her phone, where the lyrics were. She then positions the mic in that angle—a specific angle; that makes Jennie realize that she's about to start. Her ears, or more like her heart, opened wide like a cage unbridling a bird to freedom. She listens to every word.
At the best of times I'm lonely in my mind
But I can find something to show you
If you have got the time
Why would I rely on the things that I did right?
She said, "I gave you four years of my life"
Of course, she selfishly assumed that the song was about her. Who else has Chaeyoung been with, in a span of four years? From what she knew, the blonde had been single while traveling all over the world. But then again, that news was five years ago. They’ve known each other for eight years but were lovers for four. Their approach to being in a relationship was truly slow and deliberate; so that’s why to this day, Jennie can’t comprehend why they had ended so soon.
At one point, she played around with the thought that she and Chaeyoung had been long over before the day of their break-up. And just like their approach to become lovers, the descension of their relationship was, too, slow and steady. Maybe they were just too young to realize it or were too young to do anything bold. Sadly, she might never get the answers.
Chaeyoung starts to close her eyes—and my God, it never failed Jennie to become more entranced the more she sang. Chaeyoung’s heart was slowly unraveling before her eyes; she tried not to look away or blink so she could devour every moment of it.
So what about these feelings I've got?
We got it wrong, and you said you'd had enough
What about these feelings I've got?
I couldn't be more in love
She whispers the last line for a bit, like a confession, was taking place and she was a witness. Then, when she opens her eyes again, Jennie swears there was a sheen of tears glossing over. Unconsciously, she gripped the bar’s edge a little tighter, her breathing a little heavier, the vodka abandoned in place. Her heart says to stay and wipe those tears away, but her mind warns her to leave when she still has the chance.
Chaeyoung then nearly shouts the next verse, the vein in her neck protruding—the intensity was so sudden that it made the whole bar stop what they were doing to focus on her. Jennie gets lost again, after so many years, with her voice.
I could have been a great line
I could have been a sign
Or overstay my time
Say what's on your mind
Maybe I'll rely on all the things that made it right
Jennie swears that when she swayed her head, she was looking directly at her. Those piercing hazel eyes that made her weak every morning, that made her calm at the night. Those very same eyes that she saw shattered into pieces the moment she said sorry and goodbye. How she'd like to take all of those words back—
Because I'd give you all the years of my life
And give Chaeyoung the rightful years she's selfishly stolen so they could be together again.
Jennie would like to blame the alcohol, or maybe the song itself for creating this unexpected wave of turbulence that rocked her out of composure. Because then she's never felt so lost yet found, so human yet beyond, so hated yet loved. Jennie knows that she should've left the moment she saw her step on the stage—because then she wouldn't have to hear all of Chaeyoung's unintentional admission of still being in love after all these years.
So what about these feelings I've got?
We got it wrong and you said you'd had enough
But what about these feelings I've got?
I couldn't be more in love
When Chaeyoung sang one more of the same chorus, then ended it all with her sweet yet wobbly smile, she felt like their conversation was over and they were back in the present. The bar erupts into a quiet cheer, save for the one table near the stage where she guesses where Chaeyoung's friends were. They were loud and were hollering all over the place—it made Jennie smile.
She wiped away a tear that she didn't know was there in the first place and drank the now warm negroni in haste. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, shaking, at a loss for what to do next. Her phone rings, and it was from Jisoo. She asks if Jennie was still in the club. Jennie replied that she was coming home instead.
Jennie looked up, and what a grave mistake it was. Because she then saw Chaeyoung get embraced by a tall brunette with a model figure and had legs for days. She looked so happy, returning the hug. Her friends around her cheered—and it felt like they were in their own world away from the bar. She can't understand why the scene made her hurt like no other, but it did, and she felt deserving.
She hadn't realized that she was lingering at her spot for far too long, because then Chaeyoung glanced innocently, and this time, they truly met eyes. Jennie's shaking hands came to a stop. Chaeyoung's grip on the embrace loosens. The feeling that bloomed within was unexplainable. It was akin to coming home after spending years stuck in an isolated room with an eternal winter raging. It was akin to having your insides stirred over and over until you felt like combusting. It was akin to having your wounds shut after the long years spent crying to have them heal.
This indescribable feeling scared the hell out of Jennie.
So as always, like the coward she's always been; she picked up her purse and slammed way too many dollars at the table. She almost sprinted towards the entrance, closing her coat around her as she made her way out.
Her heels met the pavement, then her breath became vapor. It's as if something possessed her; it can't be the chill of New York's night, because then she wouldn't shake this much, or feel this nervous. The earlier energy that she had turned into this tight wound, created the moment she saw Chaeyoung. Her mind involuntarily thought of her again; and how she seemed still so… warm in the eyes. Like Jennie wanted to love her again. A cry claws the insides of her throat. When she swallowed, it felt like it was a big load of something, that made her eyes sting.
Before she knew it, she heard the bar's doors open from behind. Still, she doesn't turn. She knows who came out without looking.
"Jennie!"
Jennie stops, hands still wrapped around herself. Her hold tightens, forming this invisible shield. She slowly turned around—deciding that she should face the inevitable since she's caught, anyway.
Chaeyoung Park from afar looked like a giant—and not the monstrous kind. Something like an idol placed in churches, so tall and all-powerful and crafted with such carefulness and holy. Jennie is not religious by any means. Although seeing her like this—her figure carrying a pinch of potency, blissfully unaware, but makes her want to kneel and worship all the same. She must be going insane, because how does Chaeyoung still affect her this strongly after all these years?
The blonde rushes towards her then slows to a careful walk once she's near enough. She places both of her fists in her pockets, breathing out the same white vapor as Jennie's. For a few seconds—they just stare at one another, marveling, absorbing the changes, because they weren't there for each other when they happened.
"I.. uh, I didn't know you moved to New York," Chaeyoung says after a while. She still had that signature Australian accent, but Jennie thought how weird it was hearing it now that she's older.
Jennie nods slowly. This situation was… ridiculous. Borderline pathetic, even. For God's sake, they were each other's first of everything. First kiss, first love, first making love. Jennie used to call her Rosie when she was still known as Roseanne Park from Melbourne before becoming Park Chaeyoung of Seoul. Chaeyoung used to call her wifey; a pet name that was a joke at first but became more when they agreed to become girlfriends.
They've seen the worst of each other. They've seen the best of each other. They used to be each other's vessel for all of their deepest secrets; their doubts and worries, their desires and despair. They were each other's routine, each other's breath of life; that even a second of apart was enough to draw a deep, scarring cut.
Now it all seems that those three-in-the-morning conversations on the phone, those climbing over the fences to see their favorite band, those sleepovers without really much sleep because they'd spent the night talking, those intimacies that were uniquely shared between them, those arguments that would always leave a bitter taste after; degraded into this, surface, 'how's the weather' chatter that Jennie can't help but despise. It felt like their history was put aside, almost disposable.
But she settles—because this is far greater than leaving the bar without Chaeyoung ever chasing her to talk. She settles; because she doesn't know how else to break herself open again to say all those words, she wanted to say ten years ago.
"No one really knew where I moved." She mirrors her stance, putting her own hands in her pockets. "How about you? What are you doing here, if you don't mind me asking?"
Chaeyoung gave a beaming smile—and her eyes disappeared, a shallow dimple adorning her cheek, just like how it always did before.
"I have an art exhibition, right by the heart of the city."
Jennie parts her mouth in surprise. She exhales, "Really? Wow that's… that's amazing, Chaeyoung." Her tone was airy light.
"Yeah…" Chaeyoung looks down, some of her locks shadowing her eyes.
"No, really. I mean it. You deserve it." She wanted to do more. Like give her a warm, meaningful embrace and whisper more of how she was proud, of her relief, for hearing Chaeyoung finally achieving one of her big dreams. But again, she settles, for a quiet teasing. "You're a big shot now, huh?"
"I think you're an even bigger shot," the artist laughs. She retreats one of her hands from her pocket, vaguely gesturing to Jennie's hair. "Like what's up with the hair?! I never thought I'd see the day you'd dye it other than brown."
"Well, a lot can happen in ten years," she mumbles, shy now that Chaeyoung pointed out her bright auburn hair. The decision was out of impulse, but it made her feel empowered regardless. But under her ex-lover's gaze, with the same fiery hair, she felt more like a schoolgirl in front of her puppy love.
"Ain't that right?" Chaeyoung sighs. What she said after was softer, and genuine. "Change looks good on you."
Jennie feels her cheeks warm.
"Change looks good on you, too."
As before, they spent another while just staring at each other. Jennie would like to know what she was thinking. Does she still think of her pretty? Was she still attractive after a decade has gone by? She wanted to ask more. How college treated her, how Alice is doing these days, does she still stay in touch with their other friends, how she came about having an art exhibition in New York and does she still miss her?
But her desire to prolong the conversation was shattered when the bar's doors opened; a stumbling, drunk woman yelling Chaeyoung's name, beckoning her to come back to their table. Perhaps they've spent too much time talking, encased in their own world, and this was their cue to go back to reality.
"That's my friends. I think they're calling me 'cause they found another bar to hop on," she explains, her tone sober. Jennie just nods. What else could she reply to that?
"Is that so?" She tries to sound nonchalant. "I'm glad we've got to catch up, anyway."
"Yeah. I'm glad to see you, too."
"I must be going. Taxis can be a pain to call around this time of night." Jennie made no move like she was about to go. She stayed rooted to her spot, drinking all of Chaeyoung in because she'll never know when they'll meet again.
"Oh! Yeah, uhm, take care on your way home."
Come home with me. I'm sorry. Forgive me. Let's kiss away what happened last time. Let's wield what we had into something new. Please. Please be mine again. Jennie wanted to melt into her arms and whisper these words. But instead, she replies, "Likewise."
She stares her in the eyes. "See you when I see you, Chaeyoung."
Was it just her or did Chaeyoung look like she had more to say, too?
Jennie can't bear to stay any longer to know if she did.
"See you, Jen," she says, more quietly.
Jennie smiles once more, before turning around to walk away. Her heels were heavy among the concrete, hands clenched tight inside the pockets. The lights of the bar from behind start to dim the further she walks. She can still feel Chaeyoung, her whole presence, her shadow weighing down on her body. The familiar feeling—guilt and regret—drowned her legs into quicksand, making it difficult to move; or rather do the act of walking away from this one opportunity.
She was about a few feet away, when she heard the thrum of boots against the sidewalks, getting louder the more she slows.
"Hey! Wait up!" Chaeyoung yells from a distance.
Jennie turns around again, to see Chaeyoung rushing to get near her. When she stops, white vapors escape her exhales, like a train's steam on a wintry night.
"Chaeyoung? Is something wrong?"
Chaeyoung stares at her, with a meaningful look she can't decipher. Like she was in pain and relief all at once. After what felt like an eternity, she confesses, with a heavy tone.
"Jen, I'm tired."
Jennie blinks at that. "I don't get…"
"I'm tired of… running out of words to say… and not speaking up enough." Chaeyoung moves closer, and she swears her heart lodges in her throat, emotions gripping her neck tight. "If I learned something this past decade, is that life is too fucking short to live in regrets."
"What're you… trying to say?" Jennie looks up to her, her eyes a bit blurred, the tears threatening to spill. If Chaeyoung still had love for her, just as she sang, then this was any indication. A sign of some sort. And she's so fucking scared because this was falling all over again.
"All I want to ask is…" The blonde bites her lip, retrieving something from her pocket. With reluctance, she held the piece of paper towards Jennie. When the auburn-haired took it; it was her business card. Park Chaeyoung. Underneath was her number. "If you're not too busy, I'd like to invite you to my gallery. And maybe get some coffee after?" Her lips were pursed; nervous.
They were back in high school again. Behind the school where the elementary playground was. There were only the two of them. They skipped their fourth period to get tubs of milk ice creams to enjoy the sunset. Chaeyoung had asked her, similarly, if you're not too busy, we could see the new gallery downtown. Maybe get some coffee after. What'd you say? Jennie didn't hesitate to agree.
Although this time, she says; "Chaeyoung, I'd love to, but…"
The image of the brunette clasping her for an embrace after she sang passed by her mind.
"Wouldn't your girlfriend mind?" Jennie knew it wasn't subtle at all, with what she asked. But to hell with it, anyway. Chaeyoung had the bravery of initiating this step of their renewed chapter. She decides to make clear if she were to agree, that they were both available before doing so.
"G-Girlfriend?" Chaeyoung seemed confused, tilting her head to the side; and it was too fucking adorable.
Jennie can't help but bite her lip, swallowing her adoration in. "Yes. Earlier, after the song…"
"Oh. Oh! That's… she's not my girlfriend." The other replies, shaking her hands in disagreement. "Ashley's like my sister. I don't have anyone right now who'd mind us hanging out."
"If that's the case, I'm not too busy, then," Jennie lies. Tomorrow might be her busiest schedule yet. With two events happening in one day, she has to go back and forth from New York to Paris to attend both. But that didn't seem to matter now. She could always adjust to those affairs.
"Really? God, that's… great. I'm so… so glad to hear that." Chaeyoung breaks into a toothy grin—and it might've been the happiest that Jennie saw her after a while.
She can't help but smile on her own, the blonde's joy was infectious.
"Well, see you tomorrow, then," Jennie promised.
"Yeah. See you."
They linger, for a few minutes or so. Before nodding at one another, hearts seemingly refreshed and fulfilled. Chaeyoung, after the conversation, rejoined her friends to live the night. But this time, the happiness made her glow so much that it didn't go unnoticed by those around her. Jennie, on the other hand, despite going home in an empty, spacious penthouse, felt warmness bloom from her chest—and it was so foreign, and unexpected, that it made it difficult for her to sleep that night.
They both look forward to tomorrow, and it could result in so many outcomes. But one thing's for certain. This time around, they are never letting each other go again.