Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Miyeon was a city girl, born and raised. She had lived in Incheon, sometimes with her parents, sometimes without. She had a cushy office job where promotions came easily, mostly because she was good-looking.

Having grown up being told her beauty was her power, it felt natural to let the world orbit around her. If people gave her things she didn’t deserve just because she was easy on the eyes, who was she to argue? Being a pretty, well-mannered young woman in a man’s world was easy. Things came her way without her lifting a finger.

There was only one thing she was denied: her dream job. No matter how hard she tried, she was never allowed to do what she truly loved. She had been told countless times it didn’t suit her face. Her parents warned her it would never pay the bills. But she didn’t care. She was passionate about it. She cared deeply for nature.

She had spent years refining her knowledge of plants, even studying horticultural science and geography. It didn’t matter to anyone. She was told repeatedly to stick with secretarial work and marry
rich.

Miyeon had even considered clawing her own face off just to see if people would take her seriously. She wanted to tell everyone to fuck off for using her beauty against her.

It had started in childhood. She was given countless dolls and clothes, but they didn’t interest her. Gifts of flowers, however, delighted her. She loved how flowers didn’t get told to stop growing once they were beautiful enough. How they were delicate and feminine, yet strong and resilient.

As she grew, she found a love for nature as a whole. How trees produce nuts and berries so animals eat them and fertilize new trees elsewhere. How flowers rely on insects to pollinate and reproduce. How one tiny seed could grow into a great oak tree.

How one small river is part of an ocean somewhere.

It had been a fantasy, just a dream she entertained: to live in the countryside, in a cozy little cottage, tending a garden. But when she saw a listing online for a small cottage five hours away, Miyeon felt compelled to take a leap of faith.

Before she knew it, she was the proud owner of Riverside Cottage a seventy-something-year-old house with a garden in a quaint little village. It was called Riverside because a small river began within the property lines.

It was everything she wanted. A fresh start, anonymity, and, judging by the state of the garden, a whole lot of hard work.

Pure perfection.

Minnie liked her quiet little life. She loved how things rarely changed, the same people, the same chores, the same village she had fallen in love with seven years ago. The best part was that no one thought ill of her for being a foreigner.

When she moved from Thailand, she had tried living in Seoul, but it didn’t suit her. People were cruel about the tiniest mispronunciation, and the job market was even worse. She was sure she wasn’t hired in some places because some native Korean guy applied.

So when she found a nice little outhouse for rent somewhere quiet, she decided to give it a try. Best choice ever. Her landlord, Mrs. Park, was a sweet old woman whose husband had died a few years before. Unable to care for the outhouse anymore, she rented it out cheaply.

Most mornings, Minnie made extra breakfast and took it to the main house, sitting with Mrs. Park for tea. It was peaceful and reminded Minnie of sitting with her grandmother back home.

She worked at the local garden centre, helping people of all ages find the perfect plants and pots. It was simple but rewarding. Watching customers leave happy made her proud. Many elderly residents
asked Minnie to help maintain and redesign their gardens.

The hard work was fulfilling, especially when the gardens turned out better than expected.

Not long after arriving in the village, she met Yuqi and Shuhua,other foreigners who shared her love of the peace here. The two were a strange duo; Minnie couldn’t understand how two completely
different people could be so close they were practically conjoined.

Yuqi was a boisterous Chinese girl. Her long hair changed color more often than the weather, much like her makeup styles. Her cute puppy face made her popular with the other residents. She had a keen desire to prove herself.

Shuhua, on the other hand, was quiet and introverted. Minnie guessed she couldn’t have been older than eighteen when she met the pair. Unlike Yuqi, Shuhua rarely changed her look. Her long black hair was always straight, and her makeup simple, highlighting her best features.

They were yin and yang, until Shuhua got comfortable enough to reveal her true nature. A complete nutjob, she’d make random noises and do the strangest things.

Minnie never told Yuqi, but she harbored a soft spot for Shuhua, caring for the Taiwanese girl like a little sister. Yuqi was Minnie’s best friend and partner in crime.

Life couldn’t have been better. After breakfast with Mrs. Park and a day at work, she’d meet her weird little group for their weekly beer night.

One evening, Minnie arrived late and watched them huddled around a table with a smile. Shuhua and Yuqi bickered, if their partners weren’t at the table, Minnie could have sworn the two looked like an old married couple.

Soyeon, Yuqi’s girlfriend of three years, was trying desperately to get the Chinese girl to sit and be quiet. Though small, Soyeon had the authority of an army general in a world war. She had earned the nickname “Baby Lion” because she was small but mighty.

Soojin was Shuhua’s girlfriend. They’d only been together seven months after years of Shuhua trying to catch her attention. Soojin was a sweetheart, kind and always offering advice, very motherly. She wasn’t pleased when Yuqi called her “mom” after being told to stop irritating Shuhua.

Minnie felt like she was creating her own little menagerie, baby animals that needed care and attention. The two couples never made her feel like a fifth wheel, which she deeply appreciated. Her last relationship had ended in flames when she found reason to believe he was cheating. She was so sure she ended her longest relationship.

Approaching the table, she noticed everyone settling down, all except Yuqi, who jumped up, thumped her chest twice, and pointed at Minnie.

“There’s my bro! Where were you, man?” That drew a laugh from Minnie as she sat down.

“I was working and checked Mrs. Park was settled for the night.” She took a swig of the beer Soyeon pushed her way. “What had you two so riled up?”

“People are getting sick. All the same symptoms and stuff. That dimwit,” Shuhua paused to glare at Yuqi, “seems to think it’s just a bug going around.”

“Hey! I’m not a dimwit. And there’s gotta be a bug. What else could it be? The plague?” Yuqi’s dramatic reaction drew giggles from the two Korean girls.

“Shu, you’re too superstitious. People get sick. It’s called being human. Coming up with theories like the water one you mentioned is crazy.”

Yuqi suddenly turned to Minnie with a serious expression. “Did you go past Riverside Cottage today?” The question drew mixed reactions. Soyeon thumped her girlfriend’s shoulder, clearly displeased by Yuqi’s bluntness.

“No… Why?” Minnie asked, confused. Her gaze moved to the Korean-Taiwanese couple, who were suddenly focused on their drinks. Soyeon kept trying to get Yuqi not to finish.

“It’s been sold,” Yuqi said bluntly.

It felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped on Minnie. She’d been keeping an eye on Riverside since discovering it. She had been waiting and saving for the day a “For Sale” sign would appear.

“Crazy how quick it sold. The sign went up just a few days ago, and now it’s sold. No one knows who owns it now, but I bet it’s someone moving to Korea, like we did. Shuhua and Soyeon think it’s probably someone from the city who’ll use it as a summer house.” Yuqi kept talking as if Minnie hadn’t completely stopped responding.

Soojin’s hand rested sympathetically on Minnie’s. The contact snapped her out of her reeling thoughts. Straightening up, Minnie shrugged and tried to look indifferent.

“Oh, that’s a shame.” But her eyes said otherwise.

Soyeon gave Yuqi one last hard thump before turning back to her drink, making Yuqi look at their “Baby Lion” with disbelief. Shuhua still hadn’t looked at Minnie, but she knew it was because the maknea knew she had wanted Riverside for years.

“What! She was going to find out eventually, and I thought the sooner the better!” Yuqi exclaimed.

“It’s fine, Qi. Thanks for telling me,” Minnie said, trying her best not to cry on the inside.

Deciding to shift the conversation, Soojin moved on to Shuhua meeting her parents for the first time, how Shuhua had freaked out the entire drive to Gyeonggi and turned shy when meeting Soojin’s parents.

The new topic steered the conversation for the rest of the night. Riverside was never mentioned again.

As they parted after an enjoyable evening, Minnie knew she had to see if it was true.

Taking the long way home, she stopped just outside the cottage. She always thought it held a timeless beauty, stone exterior, wooden windows, gorgeous green grass with a stone path, and a chimney. It looked like it came from a fairytale.

The “Sold” sign stood tall and true, almost mocking her for what she could’ve had. It was a cruel twist of fate. She had cared for so much here, earned the respect of many, and was always the first to help. It wasn’t fair.

She just hoped the new owner would take care of it.

Just days after the “Sold” sign was put up, moving vans arrived. They blocked the narrow road outside Riverside Cottage, making it difficult for anyone to get through.

Mrs. Choi struggled to walk her children to school. Mr. Kim couldn’t deliver his parcels on time. Soojin was nearly half an hour late for work, almost earning a write-up.

Minnie saw the chaos from where she was working in the Shin family’s garden. She herself had to take the long way around to fetch some tools she’d forgotten.

The loud shouts of the movers grated on her nerves. The sight of high-end furniture and posh appliances being carried into the classic cottage only pushed her buttons further. But the straw that broke the camel’s back was when one of the movers completely disregarded the front lawn and dropped a velvet armchair right on a rose bush, a rose bush that had been growing for years.

Dropping her trowel with an exasperated sigh, Minnie stood up. She’d had enough. Marching over, she tapped a burly, middle-aged man on the back.

“Excuse me!”

He turned, looking indifferent, as if whatever she said wouldn’t change a thing.

“What?” he asked, clearly annoyed she’d bothered him.

“Can you move your van? It’s blocking an important road.”

“Nah,” he shrugged. “New owner said just to park out front and do what we need to.”

That only irritated Minnie more.

“I’m sure the owner didn’t mean for you to block the whole road.”

The man’s irritation grew.

“Look, kid, I’m doing my job. Go back where you came from and let us do what we’re paid for!” He waved his hands in a shooing motion.

“Give me the owner’s contact,” Minnie demanded, switching tactics.

To her surprise, he pulled out a torn piece of paper with the owner’s number scrawled lazily across it. The name “Cho Miyeon” and an address were written above.

What a fucking princess, Minnie thought, watching a plush pink vanity chair being carried inside.

Minutes later, she was dialing the number. As the call rang, her anger simmered hotter and hotter. When the voice finally answered, Minnie snapped.

“Look, I don’t know who you think you are, and frankly, I don’t care. The movers you hired? They’re assholes. Blocking the whole road. No one can get in or out. So get them to fucking move.” She hung up abruptly, then took a deep breath to calm herself.

Less than five minutes later, the van started moving, rearranging so people could actually pass by. Minnie sighed in mild relief. This new owner was going to be something else. She was sure of it.

When Miyeon arrived a couple of days after the movers, a bubbling excitement filled her stomach as the taxi pulled up outside Riverside Cottage, her new home. After thanking the driver and grabbing her bags from the trunk, she stopped to admire the house. The excitement bubbled even more.

This was hers, not the apartment in Incheon her parents owned. Hers. A chance for a new beginning, to become someone new, not the sheltered little princess her parents had raised. Miyeon was eager to see how she’d grow.

As she approached the front door, the keys in her pocket felt heavy, a reminder of what she had done. The sage green paint seemed to welcome her, whispering that she was safe, finally at peace with her life.

The lock clicked, the door swung open, and Miyeon knew: this wasn’t just a house. This was home.

A light stone hallway greeted her inside. A small shelf near the door held a card from the previous owner, welcoming her to Riverside and wishing her well. Miyeon wandered into the living room. Despite the many boxes and unplaced sofas, it was still incredibly beautiful. Cream walls and dark oak beams gave the room character, but the stone fireplace against the far wall made it perfect.

The kitchen was just as lovely. Stone flooring complemented light oak countertops and white cabinets. A window above the sink looked out to the garden. A window sill planter displayed soft yellow primroses, rich violets, and vibrant busy lizzies. Her appliances had been moved in for convenience, a hidden dishwasher under the countertop and a new stove replaced the old, worn one.

Miyeon found herself making her way upstairs, discovering a surprisingly large master bedroom. New cream carpeting looked inviting in the afternoon sun. Her bed had been pushed off to the side, but she knew it would go beneath the large window overlooking the river.

Behind a door to the left was an ensuite bathroom. A medium clawfoot tub was the centerpiece. Soaking in a warm bubble bath beneath the stars sounded like a dream she’d longed for.

After taking some time to admire her new home, a grumbling stomach reminded her it was time to get groceries.

She soon found a cute little shop that had everything she needed for the moment.

While waiting for her items to be scanned, she noticed the young man at the till kept glancing her way. It took half her groceries being scanned before he finally spoke.

“I haven’t seen you around here before. Are you just passing through?”

He seemed polite and genuinely curious, so she didn’t mind.

“No,” she said. “I live here now.” He nodded and turned back to scanning.

“Where are you living? I didn’t know there was anywhere for sale. Or are you with relatives?”

“I live alone. I just bought Riverside Cottage.”

The moment the words left her lips, something shifted. He seemed uncomfortable, mumbling something that sounded like “Oh, right,” before falling silent.

“Is something wrong?” Miyeon asked, watching his reaction closely. He shook his head vigorously.

“No! Not at all.” He paused, looking around before speaking again. “I’m just surprised they sold it to you. I know someone was very keen on owning it.”

That piqued her curiosity.

“Who?”

He shrugged, and the conversation ended there.

It had taken a couple of days for Miyeon to get the house in order before turning her attention to the garden. She found herself on her knees, weeding a flowerbed along the edge of her fence. At some point, the poor bed had become overrun with Impatiens balsamina, which had clearly choked out whatever had grown there before.

Miyeon planned to replant the bed with perennials and ferns, something beautiful, but also to provide a bit more privacy. She had cleared about half the bed when she felt eyes on her. Sitting back on her heels, she wiped her hands and looked up, catching sight of a woman nearby.

The woman appeared to be about Miyeon’s age. Her long dark hair was pulled into a high ponytail, bangs framing her forehead. She was pretty, though only as pretty as someone glaring daggers could be.

Minnie did not like the new owner one bit. First, she stole her dream home. Then came the moving vans blocking the road, and now ripping up flowers that had been there for years. Storming over,

Minnie stopped just in front of Miyeon, fully aware this probably wouldn’t go well. She was angry; Miyeon looked calm and aloof.

A very beautiful face.

There was something about her Minnie couldn’t quite place. She didn’t demand attention loudly, just existed, like the world had shaped her gently and left her untouched. Her features were delicate but not fragile: a clean jawline softened by a light blush on her cheeks, skin that seemed warm and sun-kissed even in the shade. And her eyes, dark, wide, and quiet, held a mystery, like she was always halfway through a private thought. Not cold, just distant. Yet when the light caught them right, Minnie could swear they flickered with something brighter,curiosity, maybe kindness.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Minnie demanded.

“Taking care of my flower beds,” Miyeon replied coolly, gesturing to the half-cleared weeds.

“You’re destroying those flowers. They’re part of the house’s history,” Minnie snapped, blunt as ever, convinced the new owner didn’t care.

Miyeon laughed, which only made Minnie angrier.

“Actually, I’m saving myself some trouble. These sweet-looking flowers are Impatiens balsamina, part of the balsaminaceae family. They’re slightly toxic and considered invasive. My guess is they were planted here and spread aggressively. I’ve pulled up several dead bulbs of other plants. It’s killed everything else. Plus, I want to avoid any chance of Himalayan Balsam getting in.”

Minnie stopped, taken aback. She hadn’t expected Miyeon to know so much about plants, and, worse, she was right. If the flowers were invasive, pulling them out was the right call. But it felt like she’d just been mansplained.

The two stared at each other for a long moment. Minnie didn’t know what to say, and Miyeon seemed curious about what would come next.

“I’m Miyeon, by the way. But from your voice, you probably already knew that. You were the one who called me about the van, weren’t you?”

“They were in the way!” Minnie defended herself, feeling a bit stupid now.

“Yeah, they were. They weren’t happy when I called, but I’m not happy either.” Miyeon glanced back at the garden behind her. “They left dents in the grass and damaged that rose bush by the door.” She smiled. “Let’s just say they didn’t get a good tip.”

Minnie’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah, I watched them drop a chair on it.”

Miyeon muttered something under her breath that Minnie didn’t catch.

“Anyway, carry on. I didn’t realize what plant it was.” Minnie tried to leave with an air of nonchalance, but luckily Miyeon didn’t seem interested in keeping the conversation going and watched her walk away.

“What a strange woman. Certainly angry,” Miyeon mumbled, watching Minnie disappear down the path. Turning back to her work, she continued pulling the invasive plants, thorough in her efforts to prevent regrowth.

Miyeon had only been in the village for a week when she started running into Minnie everywhere — at the market, the garden centre, even outside the small post office.

Each time was more awkward than the last. Minnie still winced inwardly every time she remembered snapping at Miyeon for pulling up those weeds — something perfectly allowed, just not something she had ever expected someone would do to Riverside.

Now, every encounter came with lingering eye contact, stiff half-smiles, and a charged silence that neither quite knew how to break.

Miyeon would tuck her hair behind her ear, glancing at Minnie just a second too long, while Minnie tried not to let her gaze drop below Miyeon's collarbone — and failed more than once.

The village was small, but suddenly, it felt even smaller.

Once evening a couple months after she had arrived. Miyeon had just finished part of the garden and cleaned up, she decided to explore the village a bit more, besides where she needed to go to get supplies. Soon she found herself outside a restaurant that looked more like a bar, and she could certainly use a drink.

Inside, an elderly lady greeted her warmly and told her to find a seat; she’d come find her soon enough. The place was bigger than it looked, stretching back with people enjoying food and drinks.

Miyeon settled near the quieter back and was taken by surprise when she heard a familiar voice. Turning toward it, she saw the woman from earlier sitting with four other young women, each with a pint of golden liquid. They were loud, and she couldn’t help but overhear.

Curiosity got the better of her when she heard her name.

“That was her. Miyeon! Total princess, I tell you. Pink vanity chair and extravagant sofas. Probably trying to look like she fits in, like I saw her pulling up flowers on the lawn. Then,” Minnie paused for effect, “she mansplained why she was pulling them up, like she just Googled it to seem smart.”

A blonde woman slammed her hand on the table, standing and leaning toward Minnie.
“She’s probably some big city girl, like Shuhua said. Got in an argument with Daddy and ran away. Used Daddy’s credit card to buy Riverside. Or maybe she’s just a lonely housewife looking for another cock on the side.”

The women burst into laughter. Miyeon felt like a fool. She hadn’t meant to mansplain, only wanted to share what she’d learned about the plant.

She didn’t realize she was crying until the elderly lady returned, concern in her eyes. Miyeon shook her head gently and ordered a glass of white wine.

She kept listening as the women’s insults flew, learning their names: Yuqi, the loud blonde; Soyeon, the small silver-haired girl; Soojin, the quiet one with seductive eyes; Shuhua, the loud brunette; and Minnie, the angry, bitchy one.

None of it mattered. They hated her already without even trying to know her.

“She sounds like a girl born to be pampered but forced to live among peasants,” Shuhua sneered.

“She looks like she’s never had to try, just bat her lashes and the world bends over,” Yuqi added.

Miyeon’s heart sank. She hadn’t realized how much they despised her, all without ever speaking to her. Soyeon and Soojin remained quiet, but the others kept going. To Miyeon, even silence felt like guilt by association.

Minnie looked up from her drink, face likely twisted with disgust.

“She’s not a princess,” Minnie spat. “Just a pretty face with nothing underneath, kept on a pedestal because it’s easier than admitting she has nothing to offer.”

Miyeon’s sob broke the room’s noise. All five women turned, staring as tears ran down her cheeks, mascara streaked and face flushed with shame.

She gulped down her wine, slapped money on the table, and hurried out, leaving behind five very embarrassed women.

Outside, she took a shaky breath, wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans, and took a few steps, until she heard her name.

Miyeon didn’t want to turn. She didn’t want to know who it was. But she did, because no matter the pain, she was still a decent person.

It was Soojin.

Soojin was like a quiet flower blooming in shade, delicate, effortless, impossible to overlook. There was a softness in her beauty that whispered rather than shouted. Miyeon didn’t know her yet, but something about Soojin’s calm, composed gaze made her feel safe.

“I’m sorry about them. They’re drunk and get overzealous,” Soojin said gently, voice comforting like a mother to a child.

“They’re assholes,” Miyeon choked out.

“Huge assholes,” Soojin laughed, stepping closer.

“They’re actually the sweetest and most loyal once you get to know them. Minnie’s embarrassed about earlier. She doesn’t like the idea of you, but she doesn’t know you. She’s loved Riverside forever. When she found out she couldn’t buy it, she was crushed. And the moving van? It wasn’t the van that pissed her off, it was that people had to go out of their way. I nearly got written up. She knows that wasn’t your fault, but shes protective. And today, with the flowers and the mansplaining… she felt embarrassed. She bottles things up until they explode. It’s not healthy, but that’s Minnie. Stubbornness incarnate.”

Miyeon nodded, relief washing over her. Minnie’s behavior suddenly made sense, it wasn’t pure hatred, just frustration.

“Look, Miyeon, don’t let it get to you. Minnie was drunk, and the others egged her on. Give it a day, they’ll probably feel bad, not just for being mean.”

Soojin’s warm smile reassured Miyeon. She wiped her face and returned the smile.

To Miyeon’s surprise, Soojin stepped forward and wrapped her in a hug.

“You seem sweet. I’m sure they’ll warm up to you.”

“Thanks,” Miyeon whispered, thinking a cup of tea, a bubble bath, and bed sounded perfect.

She didn’t remember falling asleep, but wrapped in fuzzy pink ducky pajamas and a brushed cotton duvet, it must have been just what she needed.

When she woke, sunlight streamed through the window and birds sang. Refreshed and ready, Miyeon noticed the box of unassembled garden furniture waiting on the back patio.

Elbow-deep in putting together an outdoor sofa, Miyeon sat back to admire her work. A half-drunk glass of homemade lemonade rested on the table she’d just assembled. She felt bright, energized, and productive. This was the life she wanted, one where she wasn’t crying over something a drunkard had said about her. She’d spent too much of her life listening to insults disguised as criticism.

She hadn’t noticed Minnie until she reached for her drink and caught the girl standing awkwardly by the side of the house. Miyeon let out a startled shriek, and Minnie jumped at the sound.

A minute of silence followed as they stared at each other, then Miyeon burst into laughter. Minnie joined in soon after. Once they’d calmed down, Minnie approached hesitantly.

Getting up, Miyeon motioned toward the two chairs she had just finished assembling.

“Sit. I’ll get you some lemonade.” Minnie only nodded, guilt clearly gnawing at her.

As Miyeon entered the kitchen, she hadn’t meant to watch Minnie. She’d only glanced out the window but then saw her sitting in the garden like she didn’t belong, like she knew it too.

Minnie was still and awkward, the way people are when they’re unsure if they’re allowed to stay. Her hands were tucked into her sleeves, her head bowed slightly, as if even the marigolds might judge her. The garden, usually alive with color and softness, seemed to press in around her, holding its breath.

Miyeon didn’t move. She watched from the kitchen window. Minnie had said cruel things, careless words thrown like stones without even knowing her. And now, here she was, surrounded by Miyeon’s violets and dahlias, the apology she’d come to give heavy in her posture. She sat there, guilt written all over her, as if stepping into Miyeon’s quiet world was more than she deserved.

Miyeon’s fingers tightened around the edge of the countertop. She didn’t know what she felt, not yet, but something inside her softened, just slightly. Because at that moment, Minnie didn’t look cruel.

She looked young. Unsure. Sorry.

Returning to the garden, glass in hand, Miyeon sat down. Both women sat in silence, neither knowing what to say.

Finally, Minnie spoke. Her words were quiet and shy, nothing like the sharpness of last night.

“I’m sorry for what I said last night. Regardless of whether you were there or not, I shouldn’t have said those things.”
Miyeon nodded.

“I appreciate the apology.”

Feeling tears begin to form, she looked up and let out a breathy laugh. “The funny part is, what you said last night isn’t completely wrong.”

Minnie looked at her, slightly confused.

“I was thinking about it last night. Yuqi hit the nail on the head. I’ve never had to work hard. I smile in someone’s direction, and they’d give me whatever I wanted.”

Miyeon looked at Minnie, trying to convey something deeper.

“You were right too. I am just a pretty face kept on a pedestal. But it’s not because it’s easier than admitting I’ve got nothing else to offer. It’s because no one was ever interested in what I had to offer. My whole life, I played the perfect daughter, perfect job, perfect boyfriends, perfect life. I never wanted any of it. I don’t even like men. I only did it because it was what was expected of me.”

Minnie seemed to see the real Miyeon for the first time, not the mask she’d perfected to protect herself.

“That’s why I came here. To get away from it all. To make a place my own, get dirt under my nails while gardening. Hell, even break a nail gardening. To make a quirky little house my weird little
home.”

Minnie processed her words, her face shifting through multiple emotions before settling on the understanding that Miyeon was really a good person with good intentions.

“Yesterday was a one-off Tuesday drink. Fridays are when we hang out, eat, and drink at a restaurant by the garden centre. Join us Friday. Meet the others. I know Yuqi and Shuhua want to apologize too but don’t know how to go about it. If you want, I think it’d be a good chance for a fresh start. I’m guessing you’re around our age, so it’d be a chance to make friends here.”

That surprised Miyeon. Minnie seemed genuine in wanting to clear the air.

“I’ll let you know. Thank you for the offer.”

The restaurant smelled like burnt oil and cheap beer, the kind of place with sticky tabletops, red neon signs flickering like broken promises, and a buzz that made everything feel louder than it needed to be. Miyeon hesitated at the entrance, fingers curled loosely around the strap of her bag, breath held in that invisible space between confidence and dread.

She spotted them in the far corner booth. Five of them, halfway through a second bottle of soju. Laughter rose from the table, not cruel, just careless, and for a moment, Miyeon considered turning back and pretending she’d never thought of coming.

But Minnie looked up.

She was the first to notice her. Her smile flickered to life, not the practiced kind, not the armor she wore, but smaller, uneven, hopeful, a little scared.

Miyeon walked toward them slowly, heels soft against the wooden floor, posture poised, every step quieter than she felt inside. When she reached the table, the conversation dimmed like someone had turned the volume down just for her arrival.

Yuqi looked away. Shuhua stared at her drink as if it had suddenly become very important. Soojin met Miyeon’s eyes calmly, unreadable as always. Soyeon gave a nod, respectful, maybe a little wary, the kind you give to someone you’re not sure will sit or turn around and burn the whole place down.

Miyeon didn’t say anything at first. She just looked at each of them, letting the silence stretch a beat longer than comfortable.

Then, quietly, almost too calmly, she said,

“I thought this was a dinner place, not a dive bar.”
Minnie snorted, breaking the tension like glass cracking.

“It’s both,” she said. “But mostly the second one.”

There was a spot saved beside her. Miyeon slid in.

Shuhua shifted awkwardly. Yuqi picked up her shot glass, then put it back down without drinking.

Miyeon didn’t look at them yet. She didn’t have to. Their guilt sat thick in the air, and she hadn’t come to make them squirm, not tonight.

She came because Minnie had asked her to. Because she’d meant it.

And maybe because, for the first time, Miyeon wanted to know what it would feel like to belong in a room she’d only ever been talked about in, never invited to.

The soju bottle made a quiet clink as Soyeon set it back down. No one was quite breathing right. Yuqi stared at her chopsticks like they might offer an escape. Shuhua pulled at her sleeve, eyes flickering to Miyeon’s face and away again, twice.

Miyeon picked up her water glass.

Then, with a perfectly smooth tone, she said,
“So... who said I was only pretty and nothing else?”

The silence hit like dropped silverware.

Minnie blinked. Soojin’s eyes narrowed slightly, not unkind, just surprised. Soyeon coughed softly, the tiniest reaction betraying the tension she’d been holding in. Across from Miyeon, Yuqi looked like she’d swallowed her tongue.

Shuhua, to her credit, choked out,
“I—I didn’t say only—”

Miyeon raised an eyebrow, lips curling just slightly.
“Mm. Just ‘a face with nothing underneath.’ That was the line, right?”

Yuqi let out a low groan and buried her face in her hands.
“We were drinking. It was stupid. I was stupid.”

Miyeon took a sip of water like it was wine.
“You were. But I’ve heard worse.”

Minnie looked like she wanted to both crawl under the table and hug Miyeon at the same time.

For a beat, no one spoke. But it was different now. The air had shifted. Miyeon had cracked the tension open herself, controlled it, smiled through it. Somehow, that was more intimidating than any explosion could’ve been.

She set her glass down gently.

“Well,” she said, “if I’m going to be judged, I’d at least like some food with it.”

That earned the first laugh, real, awkward, a little breathless. Soyeon raised a hand and flagged the waiter. Shuhua finally looked at Miyeon, and Yuqi leaned over, still flushed, muttering something that sounded like an apology, half-spoken but sincere.

And Miyeon, finally, relaxed just enough to let herself stay.

The table was cluttered, plates half-filled with fried chicken and tteokbokki, empty beer bottles huddled at the edge, a sizzling pan of pork still spitting quietly in the middle. Somewhere in the back, a group was singing off-key at a birthday party, the clash of noise and heat turning the place into a barely functioning mess.

But somehow, it felt less tense than before.

Soyeon leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand, looking at Miyeon with a tilted curiosity.

“So, what do you actually do?” she asked. “Like, besides looking expensive and terrifying?”
Miyeon blinked, then smirked faintly.

“I studied horticultural science,” she said, poking at her rice with chopsticks. “And I used to work as a secretary for a CEO of a gardening magazine.”

“Explains the vocabulary,” Minnie murmured, just loud enough for Miyeon to hear. Miyeon didn’t react visibly, but her lips twitched slightly, like a smile she didn’t give permission to show.

Yuqi raised a brow.
“Wait, so you’re, like... smart and intimidating?”

“She’s not that intimidating,” Shuhua muttered. “She just blinks really slowly. It’s dramatic.”

“I do not blink dramatically,” Miyeon said, genuinely baffled.

“You absolutely do,” Soyeon said, grinning. “It’s like... threatening in a very calm way.”
That pulled a soft laugh from Miyeon, surprising even herself.

Soojin, who had been quietly listening while refilling everyone’s water glasses, finally spoke.
“I thought you’d be colder.”

Miyeon met her eyes steadily.
“Most people do.”

“But you’re not,” Soojin added simply. Then she passed Miyeon the last fried dumpling without asking.

The group settled into something easier after that. Not comfortable, exactly, but real. Yuqi started a rant about her terrible shift at the café earlier that week. Shuhua got ketchup on her sleeve and pretended it was Minnie’s fault. Soyeon tried, and failed, to get the table to agree on a drinking game. Laughter came in uneven bursts. Messy, but honest.

Miyeon didn’t talk much, but when she did, they listened. And not just out of guilt.

She asked Shuhua what she was studying. Complimented Yuqi’s earrings. Teased Soyeon about her oddly intense way of cutting meat. No one had expected her to show up tonight, let alone be sharp, funny, warm in a way that didn’t feel rehearsed.

And Minnie... Minnie barely said anything. But she kept glancing over, like she couldn’t help it. Like seeing Miyeon here, shoulder brushing hers every now and then, was something she was still afraid to trust.

The night blurred at the edges, in that way time always does when drinks are involved and people start softening.

For the first time, Miyeon didn’t feel like the topic of conversation.

She felt like part of it.

The others peeled off one by one, some to smoke, some to stretch their legs, most to argue over who was paying for the next round. Miyeon barely noticed. The air had changed the moment they were alone.

Minnie was still beside her, silent, fingers toying with the corner of a napkin, her thigh just barely brushing against Miyeon’s under the table. Neither moved.

It was quieter now, save for the hum of the restaurant, laughter from another table, a dish clattering in the kitchen, a low song playing from the cheap ceiling speakers. Miyeon shifted slightly in her seat, not enough to pull away from the touch, but enough to notice it more.

“You didn’t have to come,” Minnie said softly, not looking at her.

Miyeon’s eyes stayed on her drink.

“You asked.”

Minnie let out a quiet breath, something between a laugh and an exhale.
“That’s all it took?”

Miyeon glanced at her slowly and deliberately.
“You’re lucky I was curious.”

Minnie looked up. Their eyes met.

The tension wasn’t loud. It was in the stillness, in the way Miyeon’s gaze held just a second too long, in the way Minnie’s mouth parted slightly like she was about to speak, or kiss, but thought better of both.

“Curious about what?” Minnie asked, quieter now, lower, but not hesitant.

Miyeon tilted her head, eyes narrowing like she was considering it. Her lips curled, subtle and unreadable.
“If you were just good at apologizing... or if you actually meant it.”

Minnie shifted again, angling her body a little closer. Her knee pressed softly against Miyeon’s now.
“And?”

Miyeon didn’t answer. She just looked at her, slow and measured, eyes dark in the low light. A silence settled between them, thick, expectant. Like the moment before a storm. Like the breath before a kiss.

Minnie’s gaze dropped briefly, to Miyeon’s mouth.

Miyeon noticed. She leaned in just enough for it to be noticed, just enough for Minnie’s breath to catch, and then, she smiled.

“You’re still lucky I’m curious,” she said.

Minnie blinked, lips parted, clearly caught in it, caught in her, then the clatter of returning footsteps snapped the tension like a match going out.

Voices returned. Chairs scraped. Laughter rose again around them.

But neither moved.

And neither looked anywhere else.

Maybe not all bad first impressions mean things end badly.

Fin.

Chapter Text

Miyeon had grown into her new life as if it had always been waiting for her.

The messages from her parents still came, gentle nudges reminding her that it wasn’t too late to return home. But every time she read them, she felt it more clearly.

Home had shifted.

It no longer pointed to Incheon. Home was here, in the quiet hum of the village, in the garden soil beneath her nails, in the laughter that spilled from her porch on long, golden evenings.

Riverside had blossomed under her care. She had painted her life with colour, with friendship, with late nights and early mornings.

The little cottage, once silent and bare, now buzzed with love and warmth. She had built something meaningful, not out of stone or wood, but out of connection.

Sitting outside one slow afternoon, curled up in her front garden with a drink in hand, she waved to each passing neighbour with a smile that had become second nature. Sunlight flickered through the leaves above her, dappling her skin.

The memories of the past few months drifted in, soft and golden, stories already preparing to be told to future children with warm laps and wide eyes.

One memory, vivid and chaotic, made her laugh to herself. They had been drinking that night, a little too much, and she was halfway through a mouthful of noodles when Yuqi cracked a joke.

The laughter burst out of her so hard that the noodles sprayed from her nose. The sting was immediate, burning and awful, but the laughter around her was louder. Shuhua collapsed into a fit of wheezing, her eyes wet with tears, pointing and gasping for air as she cackled.

Minnie had leaned in without hesitation, gently wiping Miyeon’s face with the sleeve of her shirt, her expression a mixture of amusement and tenderness.

Then there was the time Miyeon saw Soyeon’s more playful side emerge like a flash of lightning.

Confident and sharp, their “Baby Lion” strutted dramatically down the garden like a runway model, hips swaying with theatrical flair.

She paused halfway, glanced over her shoulder with a wink, and dropped into a sudden, exaggerated slut drop that had the whole group howling.

But Miyeon’s favourite part came after, when Soyeon, flustered by her own boldness, tried to jog back toward them, only to trip over her own feet and fall into the grass, cheeks blazing.

Soojin, ever the composed one, had only broken character once, a moment so rare that it had become legend.

Shuhua had been needling her all evening with teasing and outrageous stories, her mischievous grin never fading. Soojin’s brow twitched once, twice, and then she snapped.

With an unexpected burst of energy, she tackled Shuhua to the ground. Both of them shrieked, limbs flailing as they rolled around on the floor. In a last, desperate move, Soojin leaned down and blew a wet raspberry on Shuhua’s neck.

The younger girl let out a high-pitched scream that echoed across the garden. When Soojin sat up, realising what she had done, silence fell like a dropped curtain.

Until Yuqi, perfectly timed, muttered, “I think you need to go to the bathroom, man. That one was wet.”

Laughter returned with a vengeance.

In just six months, Miyeon had found a truer sense of family than she ever had back in Incheon.

No one here boxed her in or expected her to perform femininity in outdated, rigid ways. She was free to get dirty, to take charge, to handle the hard work without anyone questioning her place.

Her garden mirrored that freedom.

Once choked by weeds and brambles, it now bloomed with soft colour and structured beauty.

With Minnie’s help, it had become a peaceful retreat, a sanctuary where she could shed the outside world and simply be.

Along the fence, evergreen ferns grew thick and strong, hugging the edges with resilience. Between them, primroses and tulips erupted like confetti, adding cheerful bursts of colour. It felt alive. It felt like hers.

Below the living room window sat her herb garden, a project that still made her heart flutter whenever she looked at it.

She remembered the morning she discovered Minnie in the yard, early sunlight casting a golden sheen over her sweat-slicked skin and dust-covered clothes.

At first, Miyeon had stormed downstairs, hairbrush in hand, ready to chase off what she thought was an intruder.

But what she found instead was Minnie, on her knees, covered in dirt, carefully filling a raised bed with compost. Her hair clung to her temples, her tank top soaked through with effort. And when she looked up, smiling sheepishly, she said, “You mentioned wanting herbs, right?”

Miyeon had been speechless, warmth flooding her chest.

She let Minnie finish the work while she made breakfast. After they ate, she stepped outside again to find the bed fully planted, painted a soft baby blue.

A fine net stretched over the top to protect the seedlings. It was perfect. Without thinking, Miyeon had thrown her arms around her friend, her gratitude tumbling out in breathless waves.

Lately, she no longer thought of the garden as just hers. It was theirs.

Most evenings, Minnie would stop by after work.

They’d sit together and watch the sky melt into colour above the river. Miyeon found herself watching more than the sunset, though.

Her heart beat faster whenever Minnie was near.

The Thai girl drew her attention in quiet ways, through subtle movements and soft expressions. She was magnetic, beautiful, grounded in a way that Miyeon had only ever read about in poems.

One moment had etched itself into Miyeon’s memory like ink on paper. Minnie had been out watering the plants when the hosepipe snapped free, spraying her from head to toe.

She stood there in a soaked white tank top and denim shorts, laughing helplessly, her skin glistening in the light. Miyeon could barely breathe.

Minnie was something else; strong, stunning, frustratingly sexy.

Excitement buzzed through the village as preparations for the annual Harvest Festival began. According to Soojin, it happened every year on August 31st. Stalls filled the town square, and everyone came together to celebrate the fruits of their labour.

Dancing, music, drinks that made you dizzy, food that left you full and glowing. People sold pottery, handmade trinkets, produce from their gardens.

It was second only to the Christmas fair in terms of importance.

Miyeon couldn’t resist the pull of it. She signed up to run a stall, eager to share the lemons she had nurtured since spring and the soju she’d been infusing for months. They’d both be at their peak just in time for the festival.

So now, she found herself in her garden again, working beside Minnie as they made decorations for the booth.

Minnie had built a wooden arch, simple but elegant, that would soon hold flowers and ivy. It sat proudly on their table, a quiet centerpiece.

Then they moved on to painting the table itself, adding tiny ladybugs and flowers. Miyeon teased Minnie about one of her bugs looking more like a lopsided strawberry. They laughed until their cheeks ached.

As the sun dipped lower, casting the world in amber light, Miyeon stepped back to admire their work. She turned to Minnie, eyes shining, words of praise ready to tumble out.

But they both went quiet. Miyeon reached up to smooth back a few strands of hair from Minnie’s forehead, her fingertips brushing warm skin.

Their eyes locked.

Minnie’s hands found Miyeon’s waist, gentle and unsure. Miyeon’s own hands rested on Minnie’s shoulders, holding her like something fragile.

The air grew thick with tension, the kind that holds its breath. Slowly, Minnie leaned in, her face drawing closer, breath mingling with Miyeon’s.

And then, nothing.

Minnie pulled away abruptly, her expression shifting to panic. Her hands dropped, the warmth disappearing with them. She glanced around, searching for something to say, something to ground herself.

“I, um, I should go. I’m having dinner with Mrs. Park tonight.”

She gathered her things in a flurry, and without another glance, left.

Miyeon stood there, rooted to the earth, alone beneath the soft hush of evening. Her chest ached. The tears came fast, thick and uninvited.

She crouched down among the flowers, burying her face in trembling hands.

What have I done?

Have I ruined everything?

The spiral began. It swallowed her whole.

It took over thirty minutes before she could collect herself enough to move again.

The rest of the evening passed in a haze. She pushed food around her plate, applied skincare without thought, and collapsed into bed still wearing her jeans and T-shirt, staring at the ceiling with wide, glassy eyes.

“What an idiot I am,” she whispered into the dark.

They didn’t speak about that moment, yet the atmosphere between them had shifted in a way that was impossible to ignore.

Minnie couldn’t bear to meet Miyeon’s eyes. Every attempt to hold a conversation felt awkward and forced, as though the familiarity between them had been erased overnight, replaced by a cold distance.

It was as if they had become strangers again, and the ache of that truth settled deep in Miyeon’s chest.

Their usual weekly group catch-ups, once full of laughter and ease, became tangled and tense.

Minnie acted like Miyeon wasn’t even there, her presence ignored, and the rest of the group couldn’t help but notice the shift.

The sharp, accusing glances Shuhua shot between them were like invisible knives, cutting through the fragile silence and serving as painful reminders of a mistake neither wanted to confront.

Miyeon kept a smile plastered on her face, throwing herself into conversations with the others, trying desperately not to betray the turmoil simmering beneath. But everything changed the moment Minnie didn’t show up.

As the group settled around their usual table, ordering their customary drinks with practiced ease, the absence of Minnie hung heavily in the air.

It was a silence thick enough to swallow their laughter, yet no one dared to break it or address the elephant in the room.

The drinks flowed more freely than they should have, loosening tongues and blurring lines.

Miyeon felt the warmth spreading through her veins, the buzz settling into her bones. Shuhua and Yuqi, flushed and loud, matched her energy perfectly, while Soojin and Soyeon stayed grounded, the ever-responsible pair, sober and watching with amused, knowing eyes.

“Dude, Minnie is such a cow for being a no-show!” Yuqi slurred, her fist pounding the table for emphasis. “Someone stick her in a field!”

To Shuhua, that was the funniest thing she’d heard all night. The youngest in the group collapsed onto the table, her shoulders shaking as uncontrollable laughter spilled from her lips.

Miyeon felt her emotions rise in a chaotic wave—guilt, hurt, and anger all tangled together. “Why couldn’t she just talk to me? She’s so caught up in her own head, it’s infuriating!” she snapped, gripping the counter as if it would anchor her.

Just like the first time she met Yuqi, the Chinese girl sprang to her feet, pointed at Miyeon, and shouted, “Preach, sister!” before nearly toppling over in her own drunken mirth.

“All right, that’s enough for tonight,” Soojin muttered, nudging Soyeon. She rose, ready to start shepherding their inebriated friends home.

“If you take Shu and Yuqi home, I’ll make sure Miyeon gets in safely,” Soyeon said, picking up Miyeon’s bag and slinging it over her shoulder, guiding her gently toward the door.

Getting all three girls outside proved more difficult than expected. Yuqi and Shuhua ended up in a tangled heap near the entrance, while Miyeon collapsed against the wall, breathless from laughter.

Once they were out in the open air, things only grew more complicated. Yuqi suddenly decided to bolt, taking a few unsteady steps before tripping and sprawling on the pavement.

Shuhua, overcome by emotion, sat down on the cold ground and began to sob, lamenting that Soojin didn’t love her anymore.

It took nearly ten minutes for Soojin to coax Yuqi and Shuhua into a taxi, while Soyeon took Miyeon’s arm and began leading her toward home.

They walked in heavy silence along the dimly lit streets toward Riverside, occasionally bumping into each other as Miyeon stumbled over her own feet, her balance still tenuous.

“You look like Bambi,” Soyeon muttered with a teasing smile, linking arms with Miyeon to steady her.

Miyeon returned the smile with warmth. “Thank you! That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Soyeon chuckled softly and shook her head. “I meant how you’re walking, Unnie. You look like Bambi on ice.”

Miyeon halted and turned to the smaller girl, her hands gently resting on Soyeon’s shoulders. “You think of me as your Unnie?” Tears pricked her eyes, and before she could stop herself, she pulled
Soyeon into a tight, desperate hug, clinging as though afraid to let go.

“Of course you’re my Unnie. You’re older.”

Stepping back with a smirk, Miyeon gave her a mock glare. “There’s always an insult hidden in your compliments.”

Soyeon rolled her eyes but linked arms with her again. “What happened between you and Minnie?”

Miyeon stiffened, suddenly shy and sober, unsure if she should open that door.

“We nearly kissed, I think. I pushed back some of her hair, and then she started leaning in. Then she freaked out and ran away.”
Soyeon nodded thoughtfully, chewing over the revelation.

“I’ve always wondered where Minnie stands on the spectrum of sexuality. She’s always come across as straight, but her eyes often linger on women,” Soyeon said with a small laugh. “Plus, she’s been friends with four gays for years. It has to rub off on her a little.”

Miyeon was at a loss for words. She invited Soyeon inside, letting her sink into the soft cushions of the sofa while she busied herself making tea.

A storm of feelings churned inside her, confusion, hope, worry. Was Minnie uncertain about herself? Had Miyeon’s actions nudged her toward something?

She returned to her guest and settled beside her quietly.

“What do you think about her?” Soyeon asked, her eyes searching Miyeon’s face for the thoughts she wasn’t saying aloud.

“She’s annoying, cowardly, a little big-headed, and often full of herself,” Miyeon answered sharply, eager to change the subject. But Soyeon was persistent.

“And?” The gentle prompt softened Miyeon’s tone, drawing a wistful smile as she thought of Minnie more honestly.

“Sweet, caring, driven. Beautiful and strong. She’s so…” Her voice trailed off, her eyes meeting Soyeon’s knowing smile. Sometimes words weren’t necessary.

“Let Minnie sit with her confusion for a while. I’ve known her the least of all of us, but I’ve never seen her light up the way she does around you. Once she’s sorted things out inside her head, she’ll come back to you.”

Miyeon nodded slowly, letting Soyeon’s wisdom settle in.

“You’re very observant, aren’t you? Always knowing just what to say to bring clarity.”

“Go to sleep, Miyeon. You look like you’ll pass out if you don’t,” the smaller girl said softly, standing and carrying their empty cups to the kitchen. “I’ll see myself out.”

Miyeon obeyed, sinking into her bed, freshly showered and feeling a little lighter. Her eyes grew heavy as Soyeon’s words echoed in her mind. Minnie had always been searching, uncertain of where she belonged.

Had Miyeon shifted her perspective? Had she somehow helped Minnie realize where she truly stood?

She didn’t remember falling asleep. But she did remember waking up, head pounding, eyes struggling to adjust to the light filtering through her curtains.

She rolled over, burying her face into the pillow, a familiar sense of dread settling in her stomach. The weight of unresolved feelings pressed heavily against her chest, but the brain fog made it hard to focus on the why.

Then it hit her.

Minnie.

Leaning against the kitchen counter while the kettle boiled behind her, Miyeon absentmindedly scanned the herb planter beneath her window, eyes dull, mind clouded.

Her gaze drifted to the folded table and flower arch leaning against the garden furniture, the ones she had built and painted with Minnie.

Her breath caught.

“Oh rats, the festival!”

Coffee forgotten, she sprang into action. There was so much to do and so little time to do it. Her mind kicked into overdrive, ticking off everything she had to finish:
The arch,
Get dressed,
Press the lemons,
Combine the sugar and juice,
Pack everything,
Get it to the festival,
Set up…

And don’t forget the soju for when the kids go home and the grown-ups stay to play.

She moved with the kind of energy only a looming deadline, and emotional avoidance, could provide.

She began plucking the flowers she’d grown, arranging them carefully in a basket. Her fingers, nimble and practiced, wove them through the lattice of the arch, the soft blooms bright against the fresh green leaves.

Roses, daisies, clematis, a celebration of colour and life. It felt like an offering.

Next, she pressed the lemons, the sweet-tart scent refreshing her senses.

Sugar, mint, and cold fizzy water mixed into a sparkling lemonade blend, which she bottled in recycled glass jars.

Each one had a tiny hand-tied ribbon and label. Even in her low spirits, she couldn’t help but care about the details.

She packed the soju, a sweet Jasmine tea blend, all infused by hand. Nestled in straw-lined crates, they clinked gently with each step she took toward her little cart.

Somehow, she managed to haul everything over and set up with time to spare before the rush.

Her stall sat in a perfect spot, facing the river, shaded by old willow trees that danced in the warm breeze.

The table, painted with delicate flowers and cheerful insects, had never looked so charming. The arch framed it like a portal into a fairy tale.

Around her, the once simple village square had transformed.

The festival was magical.

Stalls formed a semi-circle around a central clearing that doubled as a makeshift dance floor.

Round wooden tables dotted the space, draped in gingham cloths, surrounded by mismatched chairs.

Strings of fairy lights hung overhead, swaying softly. Banners in reds, yellows, and blues fluttered in the wind.

Everywhere she looked, there were signs of joy, baskets overflowing with homegrown produce, tables lined with handmade crafts, steaming platters of food sending up savoury, rich scents that made her mouth water.

The sound of a fiddle drifted through the air, accompanied by the distant thump of drums and the strum of acoustic guitars. Laughter, children squealing with delight, neighbours greeting each other, it was warm, loud, alive.

“Miyeon, your stall is adorable!” another vendor said, pausing with a cup of iced tea in hand. “You look radiant, by the way.”

Miyeon blinked. She hadn’t even realised how much effort she’d put into her appearance.

She wore a flowing pink sundress that cinched at the waist and fluttered around her legs. Her skin glowed under the sun, her shoulders kissed by golden light.

Her hair fell in soft, curled waves, tucked behind one ear beneath a wide-brimmed straw hat. Strappy wedge sandals added just enough height to make her feel graceful.

Her makeup was minimal but precise, cheeks flushed, lips a soft rose.

She looked better than she felt. A lot better.

As the day went on, families wandered by. Children twirled on the dance floor, sticky with sugar and delight.

Elderly couples sampled lemonade and admired her flowers.

Groups of young adults weaved through the crowd, chatting, laughing, flirting.

That’s when she saw them.

Her friends.

They were sitting around one of the round tables, drinks in hand, mid-laughter.

Yuqi was dramatically gesturing with a baguette like it was a sword, while Shuhua leaned away, shrieking in mock horror. Soojin calmly sipped her drink. Soyeon, as always, watched everyone with a slight smile, amused and alert.

And then there was Minnie.

Miyeon froze.

She had never seen the Thai girl with her hair down before. It cascaded in dark waves down her back, catching the light like silk.

She wore a loose, white linen blouse tucked into soft brown shorts, and golden bangles jangled around her wrist as she lifted her drink to her lips. She was smiling, gorgeous, unbothered, perfect.

The final piece of Miyeon’s ideal life sat right there, laughing without her.

Tearing her eyes away, heart aching, she turned back to the little girl waiting at her stall. Wide eyes full of admiration.

“Are you a princess?” the girl asked, voice sweet and sincere.

Miyeon smiled gently.

“No, sweetie. But you look like one,” she said, stepping around the stall to kneel beside her. “You’re so beautiful in your strawberry dress. And that chocolate-coloured hair is just perfect.”

The little girl giggled, gave her a proud twirl, and accepted a lemonade with a grin.

Miyeon stood up, her spirits lifted slightly by the moment, until she looked up.

Minnie was watching her.

Their eyes met across the crowd. Minnie's face was unreadable, but her eyes were soft, too soft.

When she realised she’d been caught staring, she looked away quickly.

Miyeon puffed out a breath and turned back to her work. If Minnie was going to keep playing this game, she could too.

The afternoon sun dipped low, painting the river in gold as the sky blushed pink and lavender.

One by one, the fairy lights strung overhead began to flicker on, casting a soft glow over the village square.

The festival shifted with the light, from playful and bustling to something slower, warmer, more intimate.

Children were gathered up by their parents, suffering from a sugar crash, their giggles replaced with yawns and soft protests.

As families made their way home, the atmosphere subtly changed. Laughter grew louder, music deeper, drinks stronger.

The festival was entering its next phase, one for the grown-ups.

Miyeon stood behind her stall, now offering cups of her jasmine tea soju.

She watched the dance floor fill with younger adults moving to the music, now more bass, more rhythm, more heat. Laughter and flirtation filled the air.

Every now and then, the soft chime of glass against glass rang out as bottles clinked in cheers.

Her own friends had taken to the floor. Yuqi and Shuhua spun in dramatic circles, shouting lyrics to a retro pop song. Soyeon was dancing too, reluctantly pulled in by Yuqi, but smiling nonetheless.

Even Soojin swayed gently at the edge, sipping from a cocktail she didn’t order.

Miyeon stayed rooted to her stall.

She watched, aching quietly. Watching how freely the others moved, how easily they laughed.

Watching how Minnie’s hand rested on the back of Yuqi’s chair, how she threw her head back when she laughed at the others, how her hips moved in time with the beat even when seated.

A cough startled her.

She turned to see an older man, one of the local farmers, eyeing her soju with curiosity.

“What’ve you got here?”

“Jasmine tea soju,” Miyeon said, sliding a small cup toward him. “Brewed and infused at home.”

He lifted the glass, took a sip, and his face lit up. “That’s good stuff,” he said, placing the empty cup down and squinting at her.

“So what’s a pretty girl like you doing standing back here, watching them dance? Shouldn’t you be out there?”

Miyeon gave a shy laugh. “I still have so much soju left. It’d be a shame for it to go to waste now.”

The man looked at the bottles stacked behind her, then pulled out his wallet. “₩50,000 for all of them.”

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I’ll take them all. You don’t want them to go to waste, I want to drink them, and you,” he said, grinning, “need to go dance.”

He laid the money on the table, clearly not joking.

Miyeon hesitated, glancing between him and the cash. “You’re serious?”

“Completely.”

He came around the stall while she packed up the bottles into a box for him.

Once everything was loaded, he shook her hand warmly and tipped his hat.

“Go enjoy yourself,” he said. “Looks like someone’s waiting for you.”

Miyeon watched him leave, stunned.

“What an odd interaction,” she muttered.

Now that everything was sold, and her hands had nothing left to do, her body felt hollow.

She began slowly packing up, preparing to head home and let the night go on without her.

Let Minnie laugh without her. Let her friends dance in the glow of the fairy lights while she disappeared.

One last look over at the table where her friends sat.

Her gaze lingered on Minnie, who was laughing again, but not as freely as before. Her eyes flicked around the dance floor, scanning. Searching.

Miyeon turned away, packing up the final things.

And then, a tap on her shoulder.

She spun around, heart lurching, only to come face-to-face with the woman who had been haunting her every waking thought.

Minnie.

She was standing there in the soft light, shadows cast by the fairy bulbs making her cheekbones glow, her expression hesitant but determined.

“Hey, Yeon. Done for the night?” Her voice was so soft, Miyeon almost missed it. That nickname — Yeon — made her chest ache. It felt like the last few weeks hadn’t happened.

Miyeon looked away, pretending to focus on folding her tablecloth. “Yeah, I’m done. Gonna go home and sleep.”

“Still hungover?” Minnie asked gently. “Soyeon told me you, Yuqi, and Shu were a handful last night. Sucks I missed it.”

Miyeon nodded, murmuring, “Yeah. What a shame.”

Minnie leaned slightly around her, trying to catch her gaze. “Was that sarcastic?” she asked, laughing nervously. “Either way, that’s not why I came over.”

Her tone shifted. Nervous now. Real.

“I came to apologise. Leaving you with no explanation wasn’t fair. I got scared. I still am scared. I’m so unsure of who I am and you…”

Miyeon froze.

Minnie stepped closer, voice trembling. “You bring out something new in me. Something I’m terrified of.”

“You hurt me, Minnie,” Miyeon said, finally meeting her eyes. Her voice cracked. “You made me feel like it was my fault. Like I did something wrong. You wouldn’t even look at me.”

“I know. And I’m so sorry, Yeon. You’re important to me. I never wanted to make you feel that way.”

Minnie’s gaze dropped again, shame softening her features. Miyeon reached out, gently cupping her cheek and tilting her face up.

“I forgive you,” she whispered. “But you can’t keep running. Stop hiding. Let me see the real you.”

Minnie’s tears fell silently, caught in Miyeon’s palm.

Miyeon soothed her gently, guiding her to sit on the small folding stool she’d brought. She rubbed her back until her breathing evened out. Minnie leaned into her, resting her head against Miyeon’s stomach, fingers playing with the soft fabric of her dress.

“I like this dress on you, Yeon. So pretty.”

Miyeon smiled, hand drifting through Minnie’s hair. “I’m glad you like it.”

After a quiet moment, Minnie shifted, looking up at her with a small, teary smile. “Come dance with me.”

It wasn’t a question.

Miyeon nodded.

Minnie reached for Miyeon’s hand.

Fingers intertwined. Not forcefully, not like a tug, but an invitation. A silent promise: no more running.

They stepped onto the grass clearing where couples and friends were already dancing beneath the fairy lights.

The soft hum of a romantic ballad filled the air, layered with acoustic guitar and lilting harmonies. Slower now. Intimate.

The festival had mellowed into something dreamy, like the last moments before a candle flickers out.

Miyeon didn’t know what she expected, maybe awkwardness, hesitation, a step out of sync.

But Minnie’s hands found her waist with ease. Miyeon’s arms settled around her shoulders as if they belonged there.

They moved slowly.

Their bodies swayed together in rhythm, but it wasn’t really about the music. It was about everything unspoken between them.

The apologies that had already passed. The pain. The longing. The months of closeness, the weeks of silence, and the seconds since everything changed.

“I’ve never done this before,” Minnie whispered.

“Danced?” Miyeon teased softly.

Minnie huffed a laugh against her shoulder. “No. This. Us. Admitting… that I feel something. That I want someone.”

Miyeon’s chest ached in the best way. “Me either,” she admitted. “But I want it.”

They fell quiet, lost in each other. The music faded into the background. The laughter around them dimmed. Time slowed.

And then, Minnie pulled back, just enough to look at Miyeon.

Her eyes searched hers, uncertain but open, vulnerable in a way she had never been before.

Miyeon leaned in.

No rush. No desperation. Just breath shared between them, warm and trembling.

And then, lips touched.

It was the softest thing in the world, like petals brushing together. A moment so fragile it could’ve shattered if they weren’t careful.

But they didn’t pull away.

Minnie melted into it, hands tightening at Miyeon’s waist. Miyeon’s fingers slid up into her hair, anchoring her there, grounding herself in the truth of it.

This is real.

This is no longer pretending, or guessing, or imagining.

This was them.

They broke apart slowly, eyes still closed, foreheads resting together.

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” Minnie breathed.

Miyeon smiled, brushing her thumb across her cheek.

“I think I already did.”

Behind them, their friends watched, from the table now nearly empty of bottles, faces lit with surprise and then joy.

Yuqi shrieked. Shuhua clapped. Soojin and Soyeon shared a quiet glance, a rare moment of simultaneous approval.

But the two girls in the center of the clearing didn’t notice.

They were still holding each other, dancing slowly beneath a canopy of stars and lights.

For the first time in weeks, maybe longer, Miyeon felt full.

Full of breath.

Full of peace.

Full of love.

And finally, full of Minnie.

Fin.

Chapter Text

If you asked Minnie what her relationship with Miyeon was like, she’d say it was great.

The countless Polaroids decorating her bedroom were proof. One sat on her desk from the night Miyeon first said the L word. They’d been at the Christmas market, Yuqi had dragged Soyeon off to play a game, while Shuhua and Soojin were off getting hot chocolate for everyone.

She and Miyeon had been waiting in line for the boat rides, cuddling together to ward off the cold. Miyeon had her face buried in her chest, mumbling like a crazy person. The only words Minnie caught clearly were: “God, I love you.”

She’d pushed Miyeon back, asking her to repeat herself. Miyeon started babbling about how she meant Minnie’s warmth, but then admitted, in the end, that yes, she really did love her.

There was also a whole photo album from their trip to Thailand. It had been a somewhat spontaneous trip, her parents had been nagging her about finding a partner, and she’d let it slip she was seeing someone. A week later, they were on a flight.

Watching her parents welcome Miyeon so warmly had made her feel soft and fuzzy inside. They couldn’t stop gushing about what a pretty and kind woman Minnie had found. They showered Miyeon with gifts, most of which her girlfriend had tried to politely refuse.

When her parents pulled her aside, they told her they liked Miyeon, thought she was down-to-earth and level-headed. Minnie hadn’t expected that. Especially not with her track record in picking
partners.

She also remembered the time she was up for a promotion. All her friends had been supportive, but Miyeon had been the loudest cheerleader. When Minnie got it, Miyeon had screamed.

But that was just the surface.

Deep down, Minnie was angry and scared. Some of the things Miyeon did made her wonder if she was just like the others.

It all came to a head one evening.

They’d spent the night baking cookies, ordering takeout, and watching movies while cuddled on the couch. But Miyeon had been on her phone the whole time, messaging a friend from Incheon.

What started as a small spark of irritation slowly turned into a blaze. The final straw came when Miyeon giggled like a girl with a high school crush. Minnie rolled her eyes, got up, and stalked into the kitchen for some water. Miyeon followed moments later, concern written all over her face.

“What’s wrong, babe?” she asked, stepping up beside Minnie at the counter.

The answer came out sharper than intended. “I’m fine.”

Miyeon gently rested a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t sound fine,” she said softly, her voice meant to soothe, but it only made things worse.

Minnie’s hands clenched as she fought to keep her emotions in check.

“Minnie?”

She snapped.

Her hands slammed onto the table as the dam broke. Yuqi always said it was better to let things out than keep them in.

“You, Miyeon! You’re what’s wrong!” Her girlfriend flinched. “It’s like taking care of a toddler, the way you need constant attention! I feel like you don’t even care about me!”

Miyeon tried to speak, but Minnie cut her off.

“You don’t show me off like someone you love. Everyone else holds hands, kisses hello or goodbye, you just say ‘hi.’ Every ‘I love you’ feels empty, like it’s just to keep me hanging around. And don’t even get me started on Shuhua!”

Miyeon’s face hardened. “What about Shuhua? She’s got nothing to do with this.”

Minnie scoffed, throwing her head back. “It does when you can’t keep your hands off her. The second she walks in, you're all over her, hugging, kissing her cheek. ‘Nothing to do with Shuhua,’ my ass. You’re obsessed with her.”

“I am not obsessed with her, Minnie! My love for Shuhua isn’t like what I feel for you. If I wanted her, do you think I’d be here with you?”

“Maybe I’m just the one warming your bed while you wait for someone better.”

That was it. Miyeon turned, briskly grabbed her things, and made for the door.

Minnie followed, grabbing her arm and spinning her around. “You are not running away. Every time I try to talk to you, you run.”

Tears streamed down Miyeon’s face, washing away her earlier anger.

“Maybe I run because I’m scared of this! Of how you explode when things don’t go your way! You call me a toddler, but you’re the one throwing a tantrum! And when you do ask to talk, it’s always at the worst times, and then you never bring it up again. You want to talk? Fine. Come find me when you’ve pulled your head out of your ass, Nicha. And when you’re sitting in your own self-pity, remember this: you hurt me.”

The door slammed shut.

Miyeon never called her “Nicha” unless she was truly angry, or deeply hurt.

It was Miyeon’s fault anyway.

Minnie spent the next few days curled up in bed, replaying that night over and over. Miyeon hadn’t messaged her, and according to Soyeon, hadn’t even shown up to their weekly drinks.

She hoped her maybe-not-anymore-girlfriend was thinking over what she’d said.

A loud knock at the front door yanked her out of sleep. She groggily made her way over and opened it to find Yuqi standing there with a bag of takeout.

“God, you look like hell,” the blonde said, barging into the apartment and heading straight for the living room.

“I don’t want company, Yuqi. Not in the mood,” Minnie grumbled, trailing after her but making no effort to kick her out.

“Because of whatever happened between you and Miyeon? Trouble in paradise?” Yuqi settled on the couch, patting the seat beside her while unpacking the food. “Talk to me, dear friend. Therapist Song is in.”

Minnie rolled her eyes and slumped onto the couch. “There’s nothing to talk to a therapist about. We argued. Big deal.”

Yuqi chuckled. “Clearly it is a big deal. Neither of you have been seen in days, and you look like you got dragged through a thorn bush.”

“Thanks for the kind words, Song.”

“Most welcome, dude. Now spill.”

Minnie sighed. She knew she was going to cave eventually, might as well do it now and save herself the frustration.

“I don’t know, man. She confuses me. Her thing with Shuhua? It’s uncomfortable. Watching your girlfriend hang all over your taken friend isn’t fun.”

Yuqi nodded, genuinely listening.

“Then there’s the constant need for attention. Every time we go on a date, she invites the whole group. She’s always on her phone, texting friends from Incheon. Why move here if that’s all she’s going to do? She throws out ‘I love you’ like it’s candy at a kid’s birthday party, but her actions don’t back it up. I can’t even remember the last time we held hands in public.”

By the time she finished, Yuqi had set her food aside and was looking at her seriously.

“Okay. Your points are totally valid. I get why you feel that way. But honestly? I think Miyeon’s just lonely. Like, really lonely. Maybe she keeps people at a distance because she’s afraid we’ll turn on her.
Those words you think are empty might actually be hard for her to say. The constant attention thing? Could be a need for validation. Just to know someone cares.”

Yuqi had always been good at this kind of thing. She and Soyeon never had communication issues because Yuqi always opened the door to honest conversation.

“And the Shuhua thing, talk to Soojin. Get her perspective. You’re both dealing with the same awkwardness. Plus, you know Mom’s the best at reassurance.”

Minnie laughed at the nickname, feeling the weight on her chest begin to lift. For the first time in days, she could breathe again.

“Thanks, Qi. I’ll think about it.”

“Good. Now, help me eat all this food.” She handed Minnie a container and some chopsticks. “Oh, and one more thing. When you talk to Miyeon, watch your tone. You get really loud when you’re mad.”

Yuqi never beat around the bush.

But she was right. Maybe Minnie had gone a little too hard on Miyeon.

“I think I’ll take a page out of your book. I’ll talk to her. Without shouting this time.”

Yuqi nodded, patting her on the back. She picked up a piece of chicken and held it out.

“Open wide!”

The rest of the night was spent laughing, just like old times, no girlfriends, no drama, just the two of them being kids again.

The next morning, Minnie woke up feeling lighter. More clearheaded. During her morning routine, she decided she wanted to talk to Miyeon sooner rather than later, rip off the bandage and get it over with.

Yuqi offered to walk with her and then head to Soyeon’s. They chatted along the way, the blonde occasionally reminding her to stay calm and let Miyeon speak.

But as they reached Riverside, Minnie froze.

Through the window, she saw Miyeon, smiling, laughing, and sharing a blanket with Shuhua.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she growled, eyes locked on the scene inside.

“Don’t always believe what you- Minnie!” Yuqi shouted as Minnie turned and stormed off. The sound of hurried footsteps followed. “Where are you going?”

“To talk to Soojin!” Minnie shouted, not once turning to face the other as she stormed off.

She knew Soojin would be home, Sundays were her day off. She arrived in record time and rang the doorbell, heart pounding. From inside, she heard movement before the door finally swung open.

Soojin looked effortlessly composed, freshly showered after her usual morning pilates.

“Minnie?” she said, stepping aside. “Come in.”

Without waiting, she led the way to the kitchen. “Before I ask what’s wrong, do you want coffee?”

Minnie shook her head, settling onto one of the counter stools. Soojin poured herself a cup, then joined her at the island, expression warm but concerned.

“Okay,” she said softly, “what’s on your mind, Min?”

Minnie paused, emotions shifting from anger to something more vulnerable. Her eyes brimmed with stinging tears.

“I think Miyeon is cheating on me,” she whispered, eyes meeting Soojin’s with regret. “With Shuhua.”

Soojin’s expression softened, like someone who already knew the truth.

“They’re not cheating,” she said gently. “Miyeon called us after your fight. Said she didn’t know what to do. Shuhua and I have been taking turns checking in on her. I went yesterday. Shuhua should be there now.”

Minnie shook her head.

“No, Jin. That’s not what I mean. Miyeon’s all over her. Doesn’t it bother you?”

Soojin smiled. “Miyeon does it to get a rise out of Shuhua. You know how dramatic Shu can be, Miyeon thinks it’s hilarious. Neither of them sees the other that way. It’s like... siblings bickering.”

She sipped her coffee. “I actually asked Shuhua a while back if she had feelings for Miyeon. She looked horrified. Wouldn’t stop ranting for days about how gross and annoying Miyeon was. And when I
asked Miyeon? She laughed. Said she just loves how Shuhua reacts. But then she reassured me, told me she only has eyes for you.”

Minnie nodded slowly, processing, wanting to believe, but still needing to hear it from Miyeon herself.

“I trust Shuhua,” Soojin continued. “She’s young but not stupid. She comes to me for everything, from serious stuff to total nonsense. One time she thought she was dying, it was just constipation.

Another night she went out with Yuqi and texted me the second she escaped some creep. She's too much of an open book to lie.”

Minnie chuckled weakly, recalling the infamous ‘update my will’ incident. Shuhua, curled up dramatically on the bed, convinced she was dying. Only to find out Soyeon had slipped her a laxative and she spent the afternoon bonding with the bathroom spider.

Soojin could see some of the tension melt from Minnie’s face, but not all.

“There’s more, isn’t there?” she asked gently. “You don’t have to tell me, but just remember... sometimes we miss the little things our partners do. And sometimes, we only see the bad. Don’t let your
past dictate your future, Min. Everyone loves differently. Some... don’t love at all.”

She reached out, gently taking Minnie’s hand.

Minnie nodded, a tear slipping down her cheek. “I think I could use that coffee, if the offer still stands.”

Soojin smiled and rose to get her a cup.

Back home, Minnie sat with a notebook in her lap, pouring her thoughts onto the page. Things she wanted to talk to Miyeon about. What Yuqi and Soojin had said. The difference between Miyeon... and Jae-won.

Jae-won had been her first love, her longest relationship. Two years of love that had slowly curdled. He’d seemed perfect: sweet, kind, handsome. The total package. They started with flowers, dates,
surprise visits.

But after their two-year anniversary, everything changed.

Flowers became apology notes. Dates became “working late” texts. Surprise visits? Replaced by surprise belongings that weren’t hers.

She remembered finding lipstick in his car, same brand as hers, but the shade was off. A pale pink that didn’t suit her skin tone. It suited someone fairer... cooler. That was the first red flag.
From there, it spiraled.

He hid his phone. He spent less time with her. They stopped talking about anything real. He changed his passwords. Their once-vibrant sex life? Gone. He started to smell like women’s perfume.

The final blow came when he accused her of cheating, yelling, red-faced and furious. Days later, he moved in with the girl he had been seeing behind her back. They were now expecting a child.

But it wasn’t like that with Miyeon.

Miyeon never hid her phone. She’d hand it to Minnie without a second thought, even ask her to reply to messages. She didn’t change her passwords. She didn’t keep secrets. She didn’t smell like perfume, only like Minnie’s shampoo, after a night spent together.

And they hadn’t even had sex. Miyeon had never rushed it. She always said it would happen when they were ready. No pressure. No expectations.

Miyeon never demanded anything.

As Minnie wrote, it hit her, Miyeon had always shown love. Just in different ways.

Acts of service.

The dishes done. The bed made. Her shoes turned to face the door when she was in a rush. A perfectly brewed coffee in the morning. All the things she hated doing, Miyeon had done without ever being asked.

Miyeon’s love wasn’t loud. It was quiet. Steady. Everyday.

By Wednesday, Minnie was ready.

She felt ashamed. She’d hurt someone she loved because of her own insecurities. Standing outside Riverside, it felt like preparing to apologize for breaking a neighbor’s window, except much worse.

She hesitated before knocking.

When Miyeon finally opened the door, Minnie’s breath caught in her throat.

God, she missed her.

Miyeon looked exhausted. Her hair wild and tangled. Eyes red and swollen. Still in the same pajamas from Sunday.

Minnie’s heart cracked. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her, pulling her close. Miyeon held her just as tightly. Neither moved until a breeze made the brunette shiver.

They pulled apart, eyes locked.

“Hi,” Minnie whispered, brushing a tear from Miyeon’s cheek.

“Hello,” Miyeon said softly, stepping back to close the door. “Living room?”

Minnie followed.

They sat next to each other on the couch, silence stretching between them, searching for what came next.

“I’m sorry,” Minnie began. “I shouldn’t have yelled. It was cruel. And... I want to explain what was going on before I let you speak. I need to say it all.”

Miyeon nodded, listening.

“I don’t think you’re needy or childish. I think you’re strong and independent. You just show love differently, and I didn’t understand that. I know now that your love language is acts of service, not
touch or words. And that’s okay.

The things I got angry about like you not holding my hand or saying something romantic weren’t fair.

And Shuhua... I know now there’s nothing between you. I was projecting my past, what happened with Jae-won, onto us. And that’s not fair to you. I’m so sorry, Miyeon.”

When she finished, the room felt lighter.

Miyeon’s eyes didn’t hold judgment, only something tender. Something that looked a lot like love.

She motioned to Miyeon that she was done. That it was her turn.

Her girlfriend took a deep breath.

“I’m going to be honest. I’ve never felt like I belonged. Even when I made friends, there were always ulterior motives. My parents are big shots in Incheon, rich and powerful. Most people just wanted connections. Friendships were a means to an end.”

She paused, her voice shaking slightly.

“I’ve had my fair share of bad relationships too. Cheating, stealing, emotional manipulation, all of it. They always looked perfect, acted like gentlemen, but they were the monsters I used to imagine living under my childhood bed.”

Minnie felt like she was finally reading the hidden pages of Miyeon’s story, the ones she never let anyone see. She had always known Miyeon was placed on a pedestal, admired for her beauty, expected to be flawless. But behind all of that was a girl who had never been allowed to just be.

“My parents were worse than the men,” Miyeon continued, her voice quieter now. “They had my whole life mapped out, from birth to death. A perfect education to attract a perfect man. They had surgeons on speed dial in case I didn’t meet their beauty standards. I was supposed to marry by twenty-five, like my mother. I’m three years late. Supposed to have a child by thirty, that’s coming fast too. They judged everything I did.”

She let out a humorless laugh. “I hated dolls growing up. They always felt like they were watching me. And then I realized it wasn’t them, I was them. A doll for my parents, and someday, a doll for my husband.”

Tears streamed down Miyeon’s cheeks as her walls came crashing down. Minnie felt her heart ache. She should have asked sooner. Should have listened better. Miyeon wasn’t distant, she was wounded. Like her.

She had spent her life learning how to survive, not how to trust.

Miyeon sniffled and added, “The only thing that never judged me or tried to hurt me were flowers. They just existed to be admired. That’s it.”

She trailed off, but she didn’t need to say more.

Minnie reached for her hand. “Yeon… I love you. Not how you look. I thought you were beautiful when you face-planted in the mud during that downpour. When you tried those spicy chips Yuqi brought and immediately regretted it. When you threw up from drinking too much and still insisted you were fine. Your heart, your mind, those are the most beautiful parts of you.”

She smiled, brushing Miyeon’s cheek gently.

“I love your kindness, your humor, the way you snort when you laugh too hard. I want the world to see what I see. I want them to know the weird, funny, perfectly imperfect woman I’ve fallen in love with.”

Miyeon let out a teary laugh and wiped her cheeks with her sleeve. “I love you too, Min. You mean so much to me. You’re the first person who’s seen me, not the mask, not the idea, me.”

She stood up nervously, walking over to the fireplace. From the dish she kept there, she picked up a small item and returned to the couch. “I was going to wait until your birthday,” she said, “Over a year together… but now feels right.”

She sat beside Minnie again, her hand trembling slightly as she reached out. “I want to let you in, all the way. I want us to share our stories, our pasts, and learn how to laugh about them together. Here. In Riverside. It’s always meant something to us and…”

Her voice faltered as she placed something in Minnie’s hand.

Minnie looked down.

It was a key.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Miyeon pulled her hand back, eyes shining with hope and vulnerability. “I want to share Riverside with you, to make it our home.”

Minnie looked at the key, then back at Miyeon, overwhelmed with joy. Her heart swelled, tears gathering again, this time not from pain, but from certainty.

She had her dream home in her hands. And her dream woman sitting beside her.

Pain and suffering be damned.

“Move in with me, Minnie.”

Chapter Text

Minnie’s Polaroid collection had grown over the years.

Six years of loving Miyeon had been a dream, full of joy, laughter, and warmth.

On nights like these, when she couldn’t sleep, her favorite pastime was flipping through their photo albums. They had more than they could count.

But Minnie’s most treasured was a scrapbook they had made together. It held one photo from each important event, along with a comment from both of them. They had decorated it with sparkly stickers, pressed flowers from the garden, and other little keepsakes.

The first page held a photo from when they had decorated Riverside, shortly after Minnie first moved in. Miyeon had been using the guest room as storage, but Minnie decided to turn it into Miyeon’s home office.

They had just finished painting the walls sage green and were standing back to admire their work when the brunette had pulled her into a sweet kiss. Minnie was confused when Miyeon started laughing after they pulled away, until she realized Miyeon had accidentally smeared green paint on her face.

While Miyeon tried to apologize through her laughter, Minnie grabbed the paintbrush and bopped her on the head with it. This time, Minnie was the one laughing as paint dripped down her girlfriend’s face.

It turned into a playful paint war that only ended when Miyeon called for a truce. While cleaning up, Miyeon had snapped a picture of Minnie, splattered and smeared with paint.

In the scrapbook, Miyeon wrote beside the photo: “Sage green looks good on you.”

The second page showed the two of them curled up on a sun lounger in Thailand. Twice a year, they would fly out for two weeks, a trip her parents practically insisted they make.

By their third visit, her mom had greeted Miyeon with a hug before even acknowledging Minnie. Minnie teased her for the rest of the day, claiming she was “Daddy’s girl” anyway.

The day from that photo had been during a weekend getaway at a resort. Day one was all about pampering, massages, hot stones, facials, manicures, and pedicures. The next day, they explored a local market, buying trinkets and eating until they were stuffed.

Her favorite day, though, had been their last before heading back to her parents’ house. They spent the morning in bed, cuddling and relaxing, before deciding they couldn’t lounge there all day, no matter how tempting it was. So, they checked out the resort’s pool.

Minnie still remembered seeing Miyeon in a bikini for the first time. Her brain had practically melted out of her ear and onto the bed from how gorgeous her girlfriend looked.

They spent the afternoon swimming, then curled up together on a sunbed, perfectly content.

The next scrapbook entry was their engagement. It had been about a year and a half into their relationship. They’d gone on a group picnic further down the river, where Minnie remembered Yuqi stealing Shuhua’s sandwich and running off. Everyone else knew what was about to happen.

As the sun began to set, Soyeon brought out sparklers. Before they burned out, Minnie got down on one knee and asked Miyeon if she would make her the happiest woman on earth.

Soojin captured the perfect shot, Minnie kneeling, Miyeon crouched down with her face in her hands, and Yuqi, Shuhua, and Soyeon forming a big heart behind them.

Minnie had chosen the photo for the scrapbook. It wasn’t her favorite, Miyeon had banned her from using her top choice: an up-close shot of them hugging, with Miyeon’s face scrunched up like she’d eaten a lemon. Pure comedy.

Their engagement, however, wasn’t as smooth as they had hoped. When Miyeon called her parents to share the news, they told her that if she didn’t end it, she would be disowned.

It was a rough patch. Miyeon was hurt and torn, she loved Minnie deeply, but the thought of losing her family cut deep.

Minnie remembered finding a letter from Miyeon, fearing it was a breakup note. Instead, it was a heartfelt message about how much she meant to her.

In the letter, Miyeon apologized for her recent distance, explaining she needed time to get her head straight. She admitted that her relationship with her parents had already been fractured, that their years of molding her into their “ideal child” had warped her understanding of love.

Since meeting Minnie, she had finally felt what unconditional love was like. The Yontararak family had welcomed her with open arms, even early in their relationship.

She ended the letter by writing that Minnie would always be her first choice, and she was sorry it had taken her so long to realize it.

It was a painful topic, but Miyeon chose to let go of her blood relatives. Minnie stood by her side during the phone call in which she told her parents she would not end her engagement. Minnie’s heart broke as she watched the woman she loved be abandoned by her family.

The fourth page was a group memory. Not long after Minnie moved into Riverside, Soyeon and Yuqi had gotten engaged, but hadn’t told anyone until inviting them to a “formal party.”

At the event, Shuhua pointed out that no one had seen either of them. The shock came when the couple walked into the room, dressed in white and holding bouquets. The “DJ” announced that everyone was there to witness their wedding. The room erupted with cheers.

It was a beautifully unique moment. Minnie spent most of the vows bawling, while Miyeon tried to hold back laughter and focus on the ceremony.

The scrapbook photo showed all six of them lined up, Yuqi and Soyeon kissing, while the rest struck exaggeratedly shocked poses.

Soojin and Shuhua weren’t far behind in the engagement department. At the Christmas fair’s pop-up ice rink, Shuhua pretended to fall just long enough to pull out a ring. While pretending to get up, she asked Soojin to marry her.

At first, Soojin didn’t understand what was happening and tried to help her up. When she finally noticed the ring, she gasped, stumbled, and ended up falling over. They got engaged right there on the ice.

The chosen scrapbook photo was a selfie, Soojin and Shuhua, soaked from melted ice, holding hands and showing off the ring, with the rest of the group laughing hysterically in the background.

The next photo was not a Polaroid, but a professionally taken one, of their wedding.

Minnie thought about that day often. She had worn a white suit, her father walking her down the aisle and standing beside her as she waited for her bride.

Her friends walked down in pale blue dresses, each hugging her before sitting down.

When she finally turned to see Miyeon, her breath caught. Miyeon looked ethereal in a simple white lace dress, the spring sun making her glow.

The tears really came when she saw her mother walking Miyeon down the aisle. Miyeon giggled upon hearing Minnie’s sobs, taking her hand and wiping away her tears.

It had been a perfect day, Minnie cried and kissed her wife endlessly, while Miyeon spent most of it calling her a baby.

Their chosen photo showed them mid-kiss during their first dance, Minnie lifting and twirling Miyeon, family and friends surrounding them, pale pink lighting wrapping them in warmth.

They honeymooned in Japan, where they took almost no photos except of food and scenery, a fact that annoyed Miyeon when they got home.

The next scrapbook entry had been a surprise. One night, with Miyeon snoring beside her, Minnie flipped to what she thought was a blank page they planned to fill once IVF succeeded.

Instead, she found a photo of Miyeon in the garden, wearing one of Minnie’s shirts unbuttoned at the bottom, jeans, and pointing to her bare stomach while holding sonograms and positive tests.

Minnie squealed so loudly she woke Miyeon, who simply smiled when she realized why.

It took all of Minnie’s self-control not to crush her wife in a cuddle. Instead, she kissed her, whispered a thank-you, and spent half an hour talking to Miyeon’s stomach.

Miyeon complained she was bonding with “a clump of cells” instead of showering her with affection.

Nine months of discomfort and grumbling later, they were holding their daughter, perfectly healthy and with a very strong pair of lungs. They named her Dahlia, after their favorite flower. The bloom
had been in every bouquet they’d given each other, so it felt only right that their “next little flower” shared its name.

That little flower had grown into a beautiful girl. Much like her Mommy, she had picked up Miyeon’s mannerisms, always polite, always smiling. She had Minnie’s sharp eyes and long legs, and Miyeon often told their daughter she was the best of both her Mommy and Mama.

They had turned Miyeon’s old office into Dahlia’s nursery, painting the walls a soft pink, laying fluffy cream carpets, and placing a white crib in the center.

The scrapbook had several pages dedicated to Dahlia’s milestones, from the day she was born, resting on a very tired Miyeon’s chest, to her third birthday, chocolate cake smeared across her face as she sat in a pile of wrapping paper wearing the poofiest pink dress Miyeon could find.

Miyeon had joked that Dahlia inherited her Mama’s talent for making a mess but her Mommy’s impeccable fashion sense. Everyone had laughed at that, Dahlia most of all, clapping her hands and bouncing happily.

Minnie’s trip down memory lane was interrupted when her wife stirred beside her. She set the scrapbook on her bedside table, leaned over to kiss Miyeon’s cheek, and stroked her hair in a gentle attempt to soothe her.

Lately, sleepless nights had become a pattern. Their second round of IVF had been successful, and Miyeon was only weeks away from giving birth to their second child. A boy.

Minnie’s thoughts drifted back to a few months earlier, to the painfully awkward moment she met Miyeon’s parents. Somehow, they had learned she was expecting a boy, and suddenly they were ready to welcome their daughter back into their lives.

She had been at work in the garden center when a tap on the shoulder made her turn around. At first, she thought it was a customer, technically, she was right. Miyeon’s parents had been “shopping” for a gift, hoping to buy their way back in.

The recognition had been instant, and Minnie clung to her professionalism. Miyeon’s mother didn’t extend the same courtesy. The look of disgust on her face was unsettling.

Their conversation was short, awkward, and tense.

“Oh, you’re the woman who married my daughter.”

“Yes, I am. And you’re the woman who gave birth to my wife.”

“I heard my daughter is expecting her second child,” the woman sneered.

“Yes, my wife and I are expecting our second. Very exciting times.” Minnie had to bite back a laugh as she deliberately referred to Miyeon only as her wife, her subtle way of needling the woman about the marriage she disapproved of.

“Well, we’ve come to meet our grandchild and to accept our daughter’s… questionable partner choices.” She looked Minnie up and down.

Minnie smiled brightly. “How admirable of you. I’m sure my wife will be thrilled to hear that, and our daughter will be over the moon to meet her grandparents. Dahlia already adores her Yaya and Bubu, so having more grandparents will be exciting for her.”

Her tone was polite, but the choice of words made it clear who Dahlia truly looked up to.

“I assume they’re your parents,” Miyeon’s mother said, with little genuine interest.

“Yes. Well, it was lovely meeting you. I’ll let my wife know you’d like to see her. If your number hasn’t changed, I’m sure she’ll call.”

When Minnie recounted the encounter that evening, she couldn’t stop laughing, especially over how she had only called Miyeon her wife. Miyeon laughed just as hard.

The actual meeting with Miyeon’s parents went nothing like Minnie had expected. She thought Miyeon might jump at the chance to reconcile. She couldn’t have been more wrong.

They made it a family outing, Minnie for moral support, Dahlia as comedic relief. But as soon as they arrived at the café, Miyeon’s parents made their displeasure clear, saying they had hoped it would be just their daughter and granddaughter.

Miyeon calmly replied that Minnie was their daughter-in-law, and they had come to “accept” her. Dahlia, however, had other plans. She screamed and wriggled away every time Miyeon’s mother tried to touch her.

Minnie silently promised to buy her daughter a treat for her good behaviour.

Between Minnie’s curt responses and Dahlia’s protests, the couple’s patience wore thin. When Miyeon’s father’s eye started twitching, they got to the point, telling Miyeon to move back to Incheon so they could “help with the children.” They claimed they were giving her a chance at redemption, accepting her “past mistakes.”

Minnie found it incredibly attractive when her wife stood, slapped money onto the table, and said they were leaving. They had barely walked a meter before Miyeon turned back. Minnie could still hear her words crystal clear:

“You left me. Now you’re back because the next male Cho has been conceived? Well, Mother. Father. I’m leaving you. You made your bed, now lie in it. Don’t contact me, my wife, or my children again.”

For the next month, Minnie happily bowed to her wife’s every whim.

Now, Miyeon looked up at her tiredly. “What are you thinking about, Min?”

“Nothing, baby. Just us. Are you okay? Did I wake you?” Minnie asked, holding out an arm for her to snuggle closer.

Miyeon moved slowly into her arms. “No, you didn’t wake me. Your child did, though, he’s decided this is the perfect time to practice his dancing.”

Minnie chuckled, resting her hand on Miyeon’s belly. Feeling their children’s movements never got old.

“At least he’s just dancing and not screaming yet. I can’t wait to see how Dahlia reacts when she finds out babies only scream, shit, eat, and sleep for the first few months.”

“Language,” Miyeon mumbled, smacking her arm.

“It’s crazy how far we’ve come,” Minnie said softly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Yeon. You’ve given me everything. You’ve made me happy.”

“You’ve made me heavy,” Miyeon teased.

“You love being pregnant. You love the attention.”

“I do,” she admitted, curling closer. “But I love you more.” She shifted away again, twenty pounds of baby on her bladder leaving her little choice.

Minnie grinned as she watched her waddle away. Yuqi had nicknamed it “the penguin” and even started mimicking it when walking beside her. Shuhua had joined in, flapping her arms and making screeching noises until Miyeon swiped at her playfully.

When Miyeon returned looking relieved, she nestled back into Minnie’s arms and quickly started nodding off. Months ago, Minnie could’ve shifted her into a more comfortable position without waking her. Not anymore.

Once her wife was sleeping soundly, Minnie decided it was time for her to sleep too, tomorrow would be a big day.

She woke to find Miyeon already up. Dahlia had learned that if she wanted an early breakfast, Mama was not the one to wake, Mommy was.

When Minnie wandered into the kitchen, her little family was already halfway through a pancake feast.

“Whoa! Save some for Mama, Dahlia, I’m hungry too.” She kissed her wife and daughter on the head before pouring herself a coffee and sitting down.

Dahlia immediately handed her a pancake from her own plate, wiping her sticky fingers on her bib and beaming.

Minnie’s heart swelled with pride. Sharing was something many adults struggled with, yet her three-year-old did it instinctively. She patted her daughter’s head and made a big show of eating the pancake.

“Are you excited to go out with Mommy and Auntie Kiki, princess?” she asked. Dahlia nodded eagerly. Yuqi and Shuhua were the “fun aunties”, messy, dramatic, and endlessly entertaining.

“I’m still annoyed you can’t come with us,” Miyeon grumbled. “Why is your work calling you in during your leave?”

It was a carefully planned lie. Minnie wasn’t going to work, she was staying home to set up a surprise baby shower.

Miyeon had insisted she didn’t want one this time, but Minnie firmly believed her wife deserved to be celebrated. Soyeon agreed, telling her they’d throw the party whether Minnie liked it or not. It
would either be a huge success and make Miyeon happy, or it would be a disaster, and Miyeon would spend the night mad at Minnie for not listening.

The pivotal part of Miyeon enjoying herself was that Dahlia was too tired to bother her. That’s where Yuqi came in, her boundless energy was perfect for tiring out the toddler, leaving Miyeon free to relax.

Minnie hoped Dahlia would come home with Miyeon, have some fun, and then go sparko for an hour. It was wishful thinking with a three-year-old, but she trusted Yuqi to get the job done.

Her best friend arrived on time, sweeping Dahlia into her arms and hyping her up instantly. Once Miyeon was ready and had wrangled a giggling toddler into her shoes, they left for the morning.

The plan was in motion.

Soojin, Shuhua, and Soyeon arrived soon after they left, with their Baby Lion taking control and assigning jobs.

Soojin was sent to the kitchen to finish the food and ice the cake.
Shuhua was put on balloon duty, told to sit in the living room blowing up green and blue balloons until she passed out.
Minnie handled the other decorations: banners, bunting, tablecloth, and plates.
Soyeon took charge of setting up the presents and transforming the armchair in the living room into as much of a throne as possible.

It all went smoothly. By the time they were finished, the place looked amazing, balloons scattered across the floor for playing, with an arch of them over the living room doorway, framing a blue foil curtain. The table held a spread from fruit to candy, including some of Miyeon’s pregnancy cravings on a platter. No one but her wife would dare touch those.

Soyeon had dressed the armchair with a fluffy pink throw and several pillows. A sash reading “Mom to Be” lay ready, along with a smaller one saying “Best Big Sister” beside it. Presents were piled on either side of the chair.

All that was missing was Miyeon, Dahlia, and Yuqi. Soyeon messaged her wife to let her know they were ready and to come up with an excuse to head home.

They took a moment to relax, admire their work, and let Shuhua “sample” the food, her excuse to Soojin was that it was “quality control.”

One thing Minnie had learned in three years of parenting: you could hear children before you could see them. She heard her daughter’s delighted shrieks from a mile away.

When Miyeon walked through the front door, Minnie approached her. The surprise on her face was nothing compared to what was coming. She didn’t let her wife speak, simply told her she had a surprise and to close her eyes.

After giving her a warning look, Miyeon obeyed. That gave Yuqi and Dahlia just enough time to sneak into the living room. Yuqi kept her hand over the toddler’s mouth to muffle the excited noises.

Minnie led her wife through, while Shuhua and Soojin held back the foil curtain so Miyeon wouldn’t be suspicious. Once the brunette was seated on the makeshift throne, Minnie told her she could open her eyes.

Miyeon froze for a moment, taking in the transformation of their home and all her friends gathered there. Her eyes landed on Minnie before she suddenly burst into tears. Stepping forward to hug her wife while everyone laughed, Minnie was met with a smack on the arm.

Miyeon clung to her, alternating between squeezing and smacking her on the back. She soon calmed, looking around again.

“This isn’t fair, how could you do this to me?” she pouted, crossing her arms, as everyone laughed. Dahlia, ever the mommy’s girl, ran up to hug Miyeon.

It didn’t take long for the party to get into full swing. Minnie, however, found herself in the doghouse for not telling Miyeon in advance, she was sent on several food runs before her wife would accept her kisses.

Shuhua and Yuqi played with Dahlia until the little girl began to yawn. She was then handed to her other aunties to be put to bed. Things calmed after that, the group slipping into comfortable conversation.

Soyeon eventually told Miyeon to open her presents. She and Yuqi had bought several baby grows and a large supply of diapers, as they had been assigned gifts for the baby.

Soojin and Shuhua had been tasked with getting things for Miyeon herself. They gifted her a set of soft maternity pyjamas, a home spa set, and earplugs, the last being Shuhua’s joke, as she had gifted the same thing at Dahlia’s baby shower.

Minnie had once again been sent off to make tea. When she returned, she was greeted by her wife demanding a kiss and for her to share the throne. Whatever had been said while she was gone had clearly worked.

“So, any ideas for names yet?” Soojin asked, leaning back on the sofa.

Miyeon and Minnie exchanged glances, they hadn’t found any names that really stood out.

“No, not yet. It’ll probably be like it was with Dahlia, we won’t choose until he’s born,” Miyeon replied.

The others nodded. Yuqi leaned forward. “How do you think she’ll be with her brother?”

“Hopefully after the initial excitement, she’ll mellow out,” Miyeon said with a smile, resting her hand on her stomach. “It’s a gamble how she’ll react to him crying at night, but that’s just part of having a baby.”

Minnie nodded. “We’re hoping he’ll be like his sister, sleep well and be relatively easy. If he inherits anything from Miyeon, I hope it’s that.”

“When do you think he’ll be evicted? You kinda knew with Dahlia,” Yuqi asked, smirking at her choice of words. She and Shuhua found it funny; Miyeon did not.

“First of all, Song, I am not a house. I may be big like one, but I will still kick your butt.” Yuqi snickered, raising her eyebrows in mock defiance. “Second, no, I don’t know. He’s dropped, but I’m not sure. Soon, I hope.”

Miyeon’s eyes took on a mischievous glint as she looked between Minnie and Soyeon. “When are you two going to give Dahlia a little cousin?”

Yuqi sat up straight, and Soyeon looked at her wife. “We haven’t thought about that yet. We’re happy where we are for now.”

Minnie knew Yuqi wanted children, being an only child had made her want at least two. She had wondered which of them would carry the baby. Soyeon was tiny and would look almost comically
pregnant, while Yuqi had so much energy she’d probably give her wife heart attacks daily.

Miyeon seemed pleased she had managed to quiet the blonde.

At some point, Dahlia woke up. Much like her mommy, she was a cuddler when sleepy, and she had a very specific hierarchy of cuddle buddies.

Shuhua was the one to collect her from bed, carrying her back with her face buried in her aunt’s neck. Once she realised she had options, she looked around.

Yuqi was her least favourite cuddle buddy, too loud.
Soyeon sat too stiffly.
Shuhua was soft and sweet, but too fidgety.
Mama moved around too much, always getting up and sitting back down.
Mommy, her usual favourite, now had a large bump that made cuddling awkward.
So Aunty Jiji it was.

Soojin had climbed Dahlia’s cuddle hierarchy quickly after babysitting her, and the toddler was completely at peace with her.

With a pout, Shuhua handed her over to her own fiancée, watching as Dahlia curled up and settled instantly. Soojin wrapped her arms around the little girl, stroking her hair and rocking her gently.

Before long, Dahlia fell back asleep as the adults talked. The dipping afternoon sun was the universal sign it was time to head home.

After goodbyes, Dahlia sat on Minnie’s hip demanding bath time, and another playdate with Aunty Jiji and Susu.

Once the toddler was bathed and playing in her bedroom, Minnie returned to the living room, finding Miyeon still seated, folding the baby grows they had been given.

“Hey, Yeon. You okay?” Minnie asked, kneeling beside her wife and tucking back a stray hair.

“Yeah, I’m good. Happy,” the brunette replied, meeting her eyes. “Thank you, Min. I had a wonderful day.”

“Me too, baby. But it’s not over yet, I have something for you.” She took Miyeon’s hands, helped her to her feet, and led her to the nursery.

They had turned the smallest room upstairs into their son’s bedroom, light blue walls with clouds painted on the ceiling. Dahlia’s old crib had been repurposed and placed out of direct sunlight. A small play nook in the corner held a tummy time mat, baby toys, and books. They wouldn’t use it for a while, but it made the room feel complete.

Minnie guided her wife inside, turning her toward the gift she had brought: a light oak rocking chair she had noticed Miyeon admiring in a charity shop days ago. It sat perfectly in the empty corner, tying the space together.

She watched as Miyeon walked over, running her fingers along the arm and turning to smile.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you.” She kissed Minnie, the best currency in the world in Minnie’s opinion, before settling into the chair and rocking gently. “I don’t think I’ll be out of this chair often.”

“I’m glad you like it.” Minnie kissed her forehead.

“I love it.”

Minnie was furious when work actually called her in for a meeting that “couldn’t wait” until she returned. She sat in an uncomfortable chair, surrounded by equally uncomfortable people, wanting nothing more than to be at home. Penance for her lies two weeks ago.

Her phone began buzzing on the table, Yuqi was calling. If it rang again, she would answer. It did, but this time it was Soyeon. Ignoring her boss’s glare, she left the room to take the call.

“Hey, Soyeon. What’s up?” In the background, she could hear her daughter speaking her own language, clearly excited.

“Miyeon’s in labour. I think you should meet her at the hospital.” Minnie felt a rush of excitement to match her daughter’s. It was time.

She excused herself from the meeting, announcing she was going to meet her son. Her boss earned several dirty looks for dragging someone on paternity leave into a meeting.

As she rushed to the hospital, Minnie hoped Miyeon would forgive her for being late, and that she hadn’t missed it. Dahlia’s birth had been so quick, Minnie barely remembered it.

Shuhua was waiting in reception and quickly dragged her to Miyeon’s room. Soojin, who had been by Miyeon’s side, swapped places with her.

Miyeon was already pushing, sweaty, crying, and gripping Minnie’s hand with a crushing strength.

Twenty minutes of pushing and screaming later, with Minnie wiping her forehead and whispering encouragement, Miyeon’s cries were replaced with their son’s. Like his sister, he had a strong set of lungs.

Miyeon collapsed back into the bed as Minnie cut the cord, tears welling as she was handed their son, perfect, healthy, bigger than Dahlia, but no less beautiful. His wails softened into fussy whimpers when he was placed in her arms.

Miyeon reached for him as Minnie came closer, settling him on her chest. The pain in her eyes was replaced with love as she looked at their son, completely enamoured. Minnie wrapped her arm around her wife, holding her close.

“Thank you, Yeon. He’s perfect,” Minnie whispered.

“He’s ours. Our son.” Miyeon kissed the baby’s nose. “Is it too early to start thinking about another?”

Minnie chuckled. “Yes, Miyeon. You need to recover from this one first.”

“I love him. And Dahlia,” Miyeon said, pulling her into a kiss. “I love you, Nicha Yontararak.”

“I love you too, Cho Miyeon.”

Sometimes, forever starts with shouting into a phone. Love grows in the strangest places, much like flowers do.