Archive of Our Own ^beta

The thing about biking is that it gives Lily just enough time to contemplate every bad life choice she’s ever made.

Like, for example, deciding to take this godforsaken route instead of the cycle path, where there are significantly fewer cars trying to murder her, where the only danger is the occasional squirrel and maybe a stray leaf. Or not securing her cap tightly. The wind has nearly stolen it twice now, and she had to do that ridiculous one-handed grab while still pedaling like her life depended on it. Or picking up the sign-spinning gig last night, which left her arms sore, her dignity shattered, and her faith in physics deeply shaken because, surprise, twirling a giant arrow for hours actually requires skill.

Or, maybe, deciding to leave home in the first place.

But, oh well. No use dwelling on that now. Dwelling implies she could do something about it. And she can’t. Not really. The past is a highway, and Lily’s over here on a bike, barreling down a road and trying to outrun it.

The sun is practically sizzling her skin, her backpack a deadweight dragging her closer to the earth, and her legs—her poor, poor legs—are screaming for mercy. She’s been pedaling for an hour straight. Her eyes, already too sensitive to the light, feel like they’re being scraped out of their sockets. She should’ve taken the train. Or her car, except her car’s been in the shop for a month and her only chance of seeing it again is if she lends the mechanic her soul for collateral.

But biking can be, like, romantic or something, right? It’s freeing. It’s that whole wind-in-her-hair, free-spirit, escape-from-everything thing that people love to pretend is their life motto.

Except right now, she’s on the road-road, where cars exist, and one of them, a sleek Hyundai Santa Fe, is getting very close, very fast.

Then, bam.

Impact.

Not full-on, she just feels dramatic. It’s more of a graze, really. A nudge from fate. A tap on the shoulder by Death itself. Still, Lily loses her balance and tumbles onto the pavement. Her bike clatters beside her, the sound of metal scraping asphalt ringing in her ears. For a few long, aching seconds, she just lies there, staring at the sky. The sun is too bright. The ground is too hot. Her lungs are too empty.

Somewhere in the universe, someone must be having a great day. It sure as hell isn’t her.

She should get up. She knows she should. But she also kind of just wants to stay here forever and let nature reclaim her. Before she can decide if she’s actually in pain or just spiritually exhausted from her own life choices, she hears the sharp clack of heels, and a shadow falls over her.

“Are you hurt? Oh my God, I'm so sorry—”

Lily squints, eyes adjusting to the silhouette above her. A girl. No, scratch that—an angel of sorts. An ethereal, glowing, actual angel in a wedding gown. The sun bounces off the pristine white fabric, making it impossible to look at her directly. She groans, lifting an arm to shield her eyes.

“I—I think I’m fine,” she mutters, though she’s mostly talking to the universe at large.

Lily pushes herself up, testing for damage. Arms? Fine. Head? Still attached. Dignity? Gone, but that was already a given. But she gets to her feet, and a sharp pain shoots through her right ankle, telling her she’s made yet another mistake.

“Ah,” she hisses, then forces a smile. She tries to look as casual as possible, like she’s not one misstep away from a full-on meltdown. “It’s not life-threatening or anything.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

Determined to pretend she’s completely fine, she lifts her bike and swings one leg over it. She wobbles for approximately five seconds before her body decides it’s done with her bull, and down she goes, elbow first into the asphalt. Again. The universe, she thinks, is starting to take things personally. There’s the clacking of heels again, and soon enough, the wedding girl is crouching beside her, warm hands guiding her up. Lily lets herself be helped, mostly because she has no choice. Dignity is a foreign concept at this point, lying somewhere back on the pavement with her pride and whatever remains of her good decisions. The girl tries to brush dust off Lily’s shorts, and Lily should probably say something about personal space. But, considering she just ate asphalt twice in front of her, she doesn’t think she has the authority to set boundaries right now.

“You’re not fine,” the girl observes, dry and unimpressed.

Lily grits her teeth. She would love to argue, really, but that would require strength of character. All of hers was scraped off onto the pavement along with the skin of her elbow. She shifts uncomfortably on her injured foot.

“It’s a minor setback.”

“I'll take you to the hospital,” the girl says.

“Absolutely not.” Lily crosses her arms, as if this will make her seem more put together. “I don’t need a hospital.”

The girl opens her mouth, probably to insist, but Lily is faster.

“Are you paying for my bills?”

A beat of silence. Then, an exhale, slow and measured, like this is testing every ounce of patience she has.

“…Let me get you some ice at least. And some bandages.”

Lily narrows her eyes. “Will the ice be free?”

The girl stares at her, deadpan. “Yes.”

Lily does not know what to do with the fact that she is sitting in the passenger seat of a Hyundai Santa Fe driven by a bride. A bride who is, unfortunately, really pretty. Now that she’s out of the blinding sun, she can actually get a proper look at her. And, yeah. Whoever she’s going to marry is one lucky person. It’s unfair.

This girl has the kind of pretty that makes people sigh in movies, the kind of pretty that makes people think love might actually be worth it, the kind of pretty that should belong to someone walking down an aisle, not going down a highway with a half-broken cyclist in the passenger seat. But Lily can’t let herself think about that right now. No. She’s still pissed about almost dying, but also at herself for not taking the cycle road and at the universe for being so cruel. More importantly, this girl is about to get married. As in, today. As in, probably within the hour.

Lily eyes the wedding dress again. Jesus.

“I'm Lily, by the way.”

“Haewon.”

Lily leans back against the seat, cradling her elbow that has, fortunately, stopped bleeding. The sting is a bit concerning, but she has more important things to focus on. Like the fact that Haewon is still in full bridal attire, and yet, suspiciously, does not seem to be in a rush.

“So,” Lily starts casually, like she’s just making conversation and not watching this girl out of the corner of her eye, “what time’s the wedding?”

Haewon lets out a soft chuckle. It’s nervous but also… kind of cute?

Lily Morrow, get your grip together, girl.

“Never?”

Lily whips her head to her so fast she nearly gives herself whiplash.

“Do you, like, just wear wedding dresses for fun?”

Haewon’s expression remains completely neutral. Her eyes don’t even flicker from the road.

“Yes,” she says flatly. “This is exactly what this is. It’s my hobby.”

Lily stares at her, waiting for her to break. Haewon does not break. But, against all odds, Lily bursts out laughing. She shakes her head, settling back into the seat. Okay. Fine. Haewon is funny. She can work with that.

The car ride settles into a more comfortable silence, one that feels almost... peaceful. She lets her shoulders relax a little, and now that she’s not actively annoyed by life, she can admit it: she really should've taken the train. And more honestly, Haewon really is pretty. But maybe that’s just the hair pulled up in an updo. Or the bridal makeup that makes her eyes shine and lips plump. Or the whole glowing bride aesthetic. But Lily has a feeling that even without all the frills, Haewon would still be—

Well.

That’s not important, isn't it?

“You from around here?” Haewon asks, breaking the silence.

Lily's mind buffers. It’s not a loaded question, not really, but it still sticks in her ribs all the same Because what does here mean? She’s been in this country for over a year, long enough to memorize the subway lines, to have a favorite convenience store, to know which streets are safe to bike through at night. But she knows she doesn’t belong. Not really.

“Here and there,” she finally answers. It’s vague, but technically true. “You?”

“No.”

Before Lily can ask more, Haewon’s phone starts ringing from the cup holder. She doesn’t mean to look, but the screen lights up between them, and there, a picture of Haewon and a tall guy with brown hair. They were smiling in the photo, arms looped comfortably. Haewon's head is leaning on his shoulder. They were probably in love. Lily can’t stop herself from glancing at the screen, finally connecting the dots: Haewon ran away from her own wedding. And said girl doesn’t even flinch. She just reaches over, presses the power button, and silences the call.

Lily’s mouth just has to move. “Your fiancé?”

And suddenly, the car feels too quiet, and something uneasy brews in her stomach.

It’s awkward, stepping over a line she wasn’t supposed to cross. She almost considers backtracking, doing something dumb to lighten the mood, but before she has to figure out how to fill the silence, Haewon pulls into a gas station. She parks smoothly, shifts into neutral, and immediately turns to Lily.

“Stay here,” Haewon says, her voice firm, like she’s giving orders to a toddler.

Lily squints at her. “No?”

Haewon’s expression does not change. If anything, her stare hardens. “You’re injured.”

“I’m not weak.”

It’s a reflex, that answer. Too fast, too defensive. She doesn’t mean for it to come out like that, but she hears the edge in her own voice. The quiet pushback that’s always been there. That has to be there. Because if Lily lets people see her as anything less than capable, then suddenly they’ll start deciding things for her. Telling her what she needs. Telling her how to move. And Lily has spent too much time making her own choices to let someone else take the wheel now. She sees the way Haewon’s mouth opens, about to argue. About to push back too. And so, instead of dealing with that, Lily does what she does best.

She opens the door quickly and rolls out of the car.

It’s not graceful. It’s not strategic. It’s not even a good idea.

Gravity takes over, and she lands hard on her right foot. Which, she remembers, is the exact wrong foot to land on. Pain shoots through her ankle immediately. She hears Haewon yelp, the car door opening and slamming shut, and the clacking of heels again. Lily straightens quickly, brushing herself off, trying to pretend like that didn’t just happen, but she can’t help the way she winces when she shifts her weight. Haewon, now standing beside her, slaps a hand to her forehead. And Lily expects her to say something. Maybe scold her. Or tell her I told you so. But Haewon doesn’t.

She’s not looking at Lily. She’s looking past her, and Lily follows her gaze to the kid in the car next to them. The boy looks about six, maybe seven. And he is staring directly at Haewon. Like, full-on, wide-eyed, unblinking staring. Even though Lily's still half-wincing from pain, she is suddenly absorbed by the staredown between the two. Does he think she’s a fairy tale? A lost Disney princess came to life? What is this kid thinking?

The kid squints. His tiny face scrunches in concentration. And, without breaking eye contact, without hesitation, without fear, he lifts his hand. And flips Haewon off. Absolute scandal!

Haewon blinks down at him. That’s it. No reaction, no offense, no emotion. Just a slow, unreadable blink. She tilts her head like she’s considering the situation.

And in a voice that could be the start of a horror movie trailer, she leans down to the kid and murmurs, “I’m the ghost of a bride who never got to walk down the aisle.” She pauses for effect. "And I’m going to haunt you in your sleep."

The kid's face crumbles instantly. His lip wobbles. His eyes go wide and glassy. And, he wails. Full-volume. Immediate, bone-deep regret. Lily absolutely loses it. And she laughs so hard she almost forgets that her ankle is in pain. It’s Haewon that makes it ten times funnier. Haewon, who didn’t flinch, who delivered that line with full commitment, who adjusts the train of her wedding dress like nothing happened and starts walking toward the store.

Lily hobbles after her, still laughing. Maybe this day wasn’t a total waste after all.

And if she’s honest, this might just be the best thing to happen to her all year.

Inside, Lily makes a beeline for the freezer section, grabbing a bag of ice, while Haewon drifts toward the snack aisle with a grace that suggests she has all the time in the world.

“I’ll get some drinks and snacks,” Haewon calls over. “Do you want anything?”

Lily shakes her head. “I’m good.”

Her stomach betrays her immediately with a loud growl. She freezes. Haewon says nothing, but there’s amusement in the glance she throws Lily’s way.

“...I’ll have whatever you’re having,” Lily corrects, pretending nothing just happened.

Haewon hums in acknowledgment, going off in a separate aisle.

Lily lets out a breath, shifting the bag of ice against her ankle. The cold seeps in, numbing the ache, a welcome relief after the disaster that was her morning. She exhales again, slower this time, her shoulders beginning to relax. Then she hears a noise from the next aisle. A voice. Haewon’s voice. Something about it feels off.

Lily peeks around the corner, just enough to see what's going on. There’s a guy cornering Haewon. Tall, smarmy-looking, zero fashion sense. He’s got that “I’m definitely going to make this weird” vibe, and Lily can feel her blood pressure rise just from the look of him.

She doesn’t need to hear what he’s saying. She already knows it’s the same old crap—guys like this never really bother to be subtle. They corner women. They make everything uncomfortable with a smile on their face, like it’s their right to do so. Lily’s jaw tightens. She hates people like this. Hates how they think they can just take whatever space they want. She adjusts her grip on the bag of ice, and suddenly, she’s ready. Ready to throw it, ready to do something about this.

She plucks a single tube from the bag, aims carefully, and fires. She misses. Completely. It doesn’t hit him. The ice doesn’t even make it past the first shelf. It lands pathetically short, melting on the linoleum floor.

Curse sign-spinning!

Unfortunately, the guy doesn’t even notice Lily’s attempted heroics. He’s still right there, too close, still saying something about Haewon being in a wedding dress with no husband in sight, how it must mean she’s available, how he’d be a willing replacement. And nope, absolutely not. Lily squares her shoulders, raises her voice, and commits to the bit.

"Hey!” she calls out, loud enough that it echoes a little in the store. “Do you need anything from my wife?"

The guy turns to her, his expression one of complete disdain. He sneers, giving her a once-over like she’s the problem.

"Eugh," he sneers, wrinkling his nose. "You got married wearing that?"

Lily glances down at herself. Green cap. Cropped sweater. Shorts. A pair of chunky Converse that have definitely seen better days. Not exactly bridal couture.

She tilts her chin up and doubles down. "You got a problem with that?"

A stare-off. A beat of silence. And then, he rolls his eyes, mutters ‘whatever,’ and retreats.

Lily is so glad that it didn’t turn into a bigger thing than it should be. She wouldn’t want to add another injury to her already existing ones. She lets out a sigh of relief, and turns back to Haewon, only to find her… staring at her. She shifts under the weight of her stare.

"...What?" She smiles, but it’s a little less confident now, unsure what exactly is happening here. Did she just totally mess up?

Haewon blinks, expression unreadable. Without another word, she turns and heads toward the checkout counter.

The car is parked under a tree, cicadas buzzing in the distance, the heat of the morning momentarily held at bay by the shade.

Lily presses the now towel-wrapped ice cubes against her ankle. The relief seeps deep into her skin, soothing the dull, persistent ache. She hadn’t realized how much she needed this. Not just the ice, but sitting still, letting the world move around her instead of sprinting to keep up with it.

She takes a bite of her hotdog sandwich, chewing slowly. It’s gas station food, objectively terrible, but right now, it’s warm and salty and exactly what she needs. After the morning she’s had, she figures she’s allowed to enjoy it. From the driver's seat, Haewon sips at her coffee, staring somewhere past the windshield. She looks lost in thought, but not the overwhelmed kind, more like someone who's letting their mind wander, avoiding the places it doesn’t want to go.

For a moment, they just sit there, eating in companionable quiet, the radio playing some old pop song neither of them are really listening to.

“Where are you headed?” Haewon suddenly asks.

Lily swallows the last of her bite. “Suwon.”

“I can take you there. I don’t think you can bike with that foot.”

The ache in Lily's ankle creeps up her leg like a slow, stubborn reminder that she’s not invincible. She’s been trying to ignore it, to pretend that the throbbing isn’t going to stay for long, but the idea of getting back on her bike, of forcing herself through the motions just for the sake of pride, suddenly feels exhausting. So she doesn’t refuse.

“Don’t wanna go back yet?” she asks instead, watching Haewon carefully.

Haewon’s fingers tighten just slightly around the steering wheel. “I don’t think I should.”

She looks away as she says it, like she already knows what Lily is going to ask next. Like she doesn’t want to hear herself explain why.

Before Lily can reply, Haewon’s phone rings again. The same name, the same photo on the screen—someone waiting for her, someone expecting her to turn around, come back, fall into place.

Lily gestures toward it. “He’s clearly looking for you.”

Haewon doesn’t even spare it a glance. “I don’t think I should,” she repeats, and this time, it sounds more like a decision than an excuse.

Lily watches her jaw tighten, just briefly, before she forces herself into something softer, something controlled. But there’s something expectant in her gaze when she turns back to Lily.

“What do you think I should do?”

Lily exhales, staring down at the condensation collecting on her soda bottle. It’s not a fair question. She barely knows Haewon. She doesn’t know the guy, doesn’t know their story, doesn’t know what Haewon is walking away from or what's waiting for her if she turns the car around and drives back.

But she does know this.

“You can’t keep running away forever,” she says with a voice quieter than before.

It makes her sound like a hypocrite, but maybe that’s exactly why she needs to say it. Maybe that’s exactly why Haewon needs to hear it.

Haewon stares down at her coffee cup, fingers curled loosely around it. The foam swirls in slow circles, disappearing into itself, and Lily wonders what she’s thinking. If she’s weighing every option in her head, listing out every consequence, every expectation. If she’s picturing the wedding she left behind, the life waiting for her to return, the future already carved out with no space for hesitation.

When she finally replies, her voice is quiet, careful. “Then can I run for just a day?”

It's weird, seeing this girl, this seemingly put-together girl, ask her for permission. Like Lily is someone who has the answers, someone who can give her the validation she needs to make this choice.

Lily has been running away for a year and a half now. She’s not exactly the best person to ask this. She left of her own volition, chased a ghost across cities, across months, despite knowing better. She spent everything she had looking for someone who had no interest in being found. Spent months trying to find answers, only to realize that maybe she wasn’t supposed to find them. She’s so stubborn, so used to pushing forward, that now she’s stuck. Too headstrong to turn back. She hasn’t even talked to her dad since that day.

Her dad warned her then, and now, they haven't spoken for a year. Maybe he’s waiting for her to call. Maybe he’s given up on her entirely.

She leans her head back against the car seat, takes a slow breath, then glances sideways at Haewon. Long black hair in an updo. Good posture, but maybe a bit too stiff, too straight to be comfortable. Wedding dress. Empty ring finger.

She wants to tell her, “It’s your life. Your decision.”

But Haewon is looking at her like she needs something more than that.

So Lily shrugs slightly. “You can.”

Haewon’s face shifts just a little, just enough for Lily to see it, and the tension in her shoulders eases. It’s like Haewon was holding her breath too, and now, she finally gets to exhale.

Lily’s grip on her soda bottle tightens.

So this is what air-conditioned, sun-free luxury feels like.

It’s unfair, really, how simple it is. A press of a button, a closed window, and suddenly, the world is tolerable again.

Lily sinks into the seat, pressing her sore ankle against the cool dashboard, reveling in the fact that she is not currently baking under direct sunlight. The contrast is almost too much. One second, she was roadkill under an unrelenting sun. Now, she is a woman of leisure, being chauffeured in a car with a functioning AC.

Heaven, she thinks, this is heaven.

Haewon’s driving is effortless, suggesting years of discipline, of knowing exactly where she’s going at all times. Which, in Lily’s opinion, is a little ironic now. But she wouldn’t know, really. Most of her life is just winging it and hoping for the best. The radio plays some mid-2000s rock songs. Lily, of course, sings the lyrics word for word, while Haewon just nods along, occasionally mumbling parts of it. They’re headed to Suwon. Technically.

“Why are we going through Seongnam?” Haewon asks, eyes fixed on the road.

Lily glances at her, surprised she noticed. “I’m trading my bike in one of the shops there.”

“Oh. That’s… cool?”

“Yeah,” Lily stretches her arms over her head, sighing. “Delivered something for the owner last month, and he wanted to pay me more with a new bike. But I said no because where would I put it, right? So, I’m trading this old thing.” She jerks a thumb toward the backseat where her bike is slanted, the front-wheel bending at an odd angle, crammed into a space it definitely wasn’t designed for.

Haewon's eyebrows furrow, like she’s trying to put something together. Lily can feel it, the way her words are being stacked into a picture of her, piece by piece, until they resemble something comprehensible. It’s an odd thing, being studied like this.

“I go back and forth between Seongnam and Seoul,” Lily explains. “Rooms are cheaper in Seongnam, but the better jobs are in Seoul.”

Haewon nods slowly, and it feels a little strange. No one ever cares that much about where Lily sleeps or how she gets by. She’s used to being a background character in everyone else’s story, someone who drifts in and out of places without leaving much behind.

“So… what do you do?”

Lily grins, because this is her favorite part. “Whatever I can. Deliveries, mostly. Sometimes a bit of carpentry, a bit of odd job hustling.” She pauses, thinking. “Oh! I did sign-spinning once. Never again.”

Haewon actually laughs. It’s quiet, barely there, but unmistakable. And Lily basks in the glow of this small victory. Making someone like Haewon laugh feels like an achievement.

Then, because it only seems fair, she turns back to Haewon. “How about you?”

Haewon raises an eyebrow. “What about me?”

“What do you do?”

“It’s boring.”

“Still,” Lily leans in, intrigued, “I want to know.”

“I’m an accountant.”

“...Ah.”

“See?” Haewon chuckles lightly. “Boring.”

Lily shrugs. “It’s… alright. Helps you keep a roof over your head.”

They laugh, and Lily feels all the tension leave her shoulders. This feels normal, like they’re long-time friends sharing a car ride, and not a girl who ran from her wedding and another who has no idea where she’s supposed to be.

It’s… nice.

Once they pull into Seongnam, Lily immediately whips out her phone, muscle memory guiding her thumb to the delivery rider app. The screen flashes open, and she starts scrolling through job requests. She’s barely two seconds in when Haewon side-eyes her.

“What’s that?”

“A way to contribute gas money,” Lily says, still focused on her phone.

Haewon frowns. “You don’t have to do that. What are you talking about?”

“You are literally my personal driver right now.” Lily raises an eyebrow at the girl. Because this should be obvious.

“And I literally cost you your ankle. If you weren’t here, I’d probably jump off a bridge.”

Lily has spent enough time moving from city to city to know that people don’t always mean what they say. But some things slip through the cracks once in a while, some jokes are just truths dressed up in a punchline. And some comments, no matter how casually they’re thrown into a conversation, settle deep in the bones. Slowly, she turns her head to look at Haewon, who is somehow completely unfazed.

Lily doesn’t know why it bothers her so much. Maybe it’s the way Haewon said it too smoothly, like it was just another fact of her day. She stares at the girl, waiting for her to crack, to laugh or roll her eyes or backpedal—anything. But Haewon just… doesn’t. She keeps her expression light, her lips just barely hinting at a smile. Three long, stretching seconds pass. Lily’s finger hovers over her screen, her brain cycling through possible responses. Call her out? Ask her about it? Pretend it didn’t happen and move on?

Haewon, apparently, chooses the last option.

She’s not even looking at Lily anymore. Just waiting for her to let it go. Lily narrows her eyes. Fine, two can play that game. She turns her attention back to her phone, and accepts the first job she sees.

“Just one… or three deliveries? Yes?” She reaches over and locks her phone into place on the phone holder.

Haewon lets out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “You’re so stubborn.”

“Thanks, I work hard at it.” Lily’s lips pull into a grin.

Then, the runaway bride sighs, pressing her lips into a thin line as she follows the map instructions. But she doesn’t seem frustrated, just resigned. Like she’s already figured out that Lily is going to do whatever she wants, and she might as well go along with her.

It’s a small victory.

They pull up in front of a tiny restaurant tucked between a laundromat and a nail salon. The scent of stir-fried beef wafts through the car window, rich and familiar, and something in Lily’s brain softens at the smell. She knows this place. She’d eaten here a couple of times before. Always alone, always sitting by the window, always shoveling food into her mouth too fast because she had somewhere else to be. She remembers the cashier here, a guy in his mid-forties who has never once judged her for ordering rice with just meat and no vegetables.

She moves to unbuckle her seatbelt, but before she can even touch the door handle—click.

Lily turns to Haewon slowly, eyebrows raised. “Excuse me?”

“I’m just preventing future disasters.” Haewon nods, staring straight ahead, one hand still on the wheel.

“Oh my God.”

Haewon finally looks at her, raising an eyebrow. “You rolled out of the car last time.”

“I fell gracefully!” Lily scoffs.

“You fell like a mannequin.”

“I meant to do that.”

Haewon does not look convinced. In fact, she looks even less convinced than before. Instead of arguing, she simply gets out of the car, walks around to Lily’s side, and opens the door for her.

That’s the thing about running away. Lily figured out pretty quickly that people don’t go out of their way to help unless there’s something in it for them. And even when they do, there’s always a limit to their kindness. And so she learned not to expect much. It was easier that way. Which is why Haewon’s hand, steady and waiting, feels like an anomaly. Lily stares at it for half a second longer than she should.

And then she crosses her arms, trying to hold onto the last scraps of her pride. “You’re literally making me feel worse about this, you know.”

“Let me help,” Haewon says, softer this time. “Please?”

And it’s so stupid, how something as small as that, how Haewon asks instead of insists, makes it impossible to say no. Because if Haewon had pushed, if she had framed it like you can’t do this on your own, Lily would have fought her on it. She would have pulled away, doubled down, made a point to prove her wrong. If Lily’s being honest, she just doesn’t want to need someone else. Does not want to give them permission to let her down.

And yet…

“... Okay.”

Haewon nods, satisfied, and steadies her by the arm. Her grip is warm, not overly firm, but enough to make Lily feel like she won’t immediately faceplant on the sidewalk. She leans into Haewon just slightly as she steps out of it. Her pride twinges, but Haewon doesn’t gloat. She doesn’t even look smug. She just walks with her, heels clicking against the pavement, back straight. And Lily, inevitably, finds herself looking. Because Haewon is still in that damn wedding dress.

And it’s not just that she’s wearing it. She treats it like it’s just another outfit. Like she’s completely unaffected by the stares, the whispered commentary, the fact that they’re literally in the middle of a busy street and she looks like she was plucked straight from the altar. But it seems like it doesn’t even occur to Haewon that people might be looking.

Lily wants to know how.

Lily shifts her weight from foot to foot, wincing slightly as she adjusts her sprained ankle. The hot concrete feels like it’s frying her soles, but she doesn’t mind. She throws the food into her thermal bag in the backseat, then stretches her arms over her head.

The whole ankle thing. The whole wedding dress fiasco. The fact that she hasn’t spent this much time with one person in ages, and yet, she doesn’t feel the usual urge to leave before she gets too comfortable. She recounts them all in her head before deciding that it doesn’t matter. These are just for today. She rolls her ankle carefully, testing the pain. It still hurts, but not as much as before.

“How’s the ankle?”

Lily glances down to find Haewon kneeling beside her, gown pooling around her in dramatic waves of fabric. She looks like a tragic heroine, some period drama lead waiting for her lost love to return.

“Not bad,” Lily huffs a laugh. She does another experimental roll. “Still not going to stop moving, though.”

Haewon doesn’t even scold her for it anymore. She just tilts her head slightly as she inspects the swelling. And there’s something about the way she focuses on her that makes Lily shift uncomfortably. It’s not bad, exactly. Just… new.

“Don't overuse it,” Haewon says gently as she stands back up, looking almost regal in that ridiculous wedding dress, no less.

“You're not going to change, huh?” Lily asks, half-joking, half-wondering if Haewon’s going to walk around like this forever.

“I’m keeping a tally of how many people I can make uncomfortable with this thing. I think I’m at… five? Plus I made a kid cry.”

Lily laughs, only it comes out a little louder than she intended, like she’s actually enjoying herself. “I mean, it is a look. You’re, like, breaking hearts and minds. All at once.”

Haewon grins and shrugs, the dress flaring out as if it's simply a part of her now. “You’re right. No point in wasting this, right?”

“Okay, but at least change your shoes.” Lily gestures toward Haewon’s feet. “I refuse to believe those heels aren’t killing you.”

She reaches into the backseat, rummages through her bag, and pulls out a pair of slippers before tossing them toward Haewon. The runaway bride catches them effortlessly, holding onto the side mirror to balance herself as she slips off her heels one at a time. And the cyclist watches, vaguely amused, until Haewon stands upright again, handing her the heels. And maybe it’s because she’s standing barefoot for a moment, suddenly smaller, suddenly something less composed, but Lily swears, just for a second, Haewon looks… lighter.

“Wait. Oh my God.”

Haewon looks up, pretty brown eyes shining under the sun. “What?”

“You’re shorter than me.”

Not by much, just barely an inch, but it’s still there.

Haewon narrows her eyes. “Give that back.”

The delivery itself is uneventful. Second floor, apartment complex, functioning elevator. A rare, beautiful luxury. Lily doesn’t take it for granted. No stairs. No awkward stairwell encounters. No weird neighbors gawking at them. She limps out of the elevator feeling victorious, like she’s cheated fate somehow.

She practically collapses into the passenger seat, sighing as Haewon starts the car again. Before they even pull out of the lot, Lily’s phone buzzes with a new food order. She taps it open, scanning the detail, when something in the special instructions catches her eye.

“looking for a short-haired, gray cat, w a pink collar. answers to jaejae. he looks like he has a white bandana bc of the fur pattern/color. pls let me know if you see him. thank you.”

Lily smiles, then turns the screen toward Haewon. “We’re on the lookout for a cat now.”

Haewon barely glances at the phone. “I don’t know how you do it. Deliveries, the random side quests. That bike. Even with a broken ankle—”

“Sprained,” Lily corrects automatically.

“Still.” Haewon flicks her gaze over, unimpressed. “Do you ever get tired of it?”

Lily hesitates for half a second.

Then, she lies. “Not really. I like doing this.”

And she should stop there. She should. But for some reason, her mouth keeps moving, like there’s a part of her that refuses to let it go.

“And, you know, right now? If there’s a chance I can make someone’s life at least one percent better, why wouldn’t I take it?”

That part isn’t a lie.

The second she says it, she regrets it. Because it sounds too much like the truth, and she doesn’t like giving people the truth, especially not about herself. She expects Haewon to let it slide, to brush past it like most people do. But, instead, Haewon tilts her head slightly.

Lily shifts in her seat. Weird.

“You say that like you mean it,” Haewon murmurs, watching her carefully.

Lily shrugs, trying to play it off. “Maybe I do.”

A pause. Then, a small, thoughtful smile. “That’s a nice way to see things.”

And Lily, who is, objectively, an expert at letting things roll off her back, does not know what to do with that. She wants to say something back, something equally as real, but the moment slips away before she can grasp it.

So she pulls her mouth into a grin, shaking off whatever that was. “Anyway, keep your eyes peeled. We’ve got a cat to find.”

She spends the next few minutes with her forehead pressed up the car window. A few minutes in, she gasps at a gray blob curled up near a convenience store.

Haewon, alarmed, immediately breaks and looks.

“That’s a bag of trash.”

“Oh. False alarm.”

Another sighting looks promising, perched on a fence post, regal, mysterious. But upon closer inspection, it is very much just a dirty white cat.

Lily flops back into her seat, quite disappointed that she cannot help whoever this person is (Jang Kyujin, according to the delivery app). Haewon just watches her for a moment, those steady eyes of hers catching the sunlight in a way that should not be noticeable, and yet Lily notices.

“You’re really something, aren’t you?” Haewon says, a mix of amusement and curiosity in her tone.

Lily shrugs, half-chuckling. “You have no idea.”

Eventually, after picking up the food, they pull up to a small house on the other side of town. The neighborhood is quiet, a place where kids ride their bikes in cul-de-sacs and old men sit on their porches with newspapers they’re not actually reading. But the sun is still up and about in the sky, so there’s not a lot of kids out yet. Haewon, without needing to be asked, steadies Lily by the arm as they make their way to the door. The warmth of her fingers against her sleeve lingers, warmer than the shining sun above.

A girl with red hair answers the door. Probably in her early twenties. She’s holding an engineering textbook, her eyes dull with exhaustion that feels permanent, like it’s been stitched into her bones.

She barely spares them a glance as she takes the food. “Thanks.”

It should end there. A simple exchange, a door closing, a transaction completed. But Lily shifts on her ankle, feeling the faint pull of soreness, and the cat request lingers in her mind.

“By the way,” she says, tilting her phone so Kyujin can see the screen, “we tried looking out for a cat with this description, but—”

Kyujin’s posture changes instantly, as if someone just yanked her out of autopilot. “Oh! You saw the request?”

“Yeah.”

The door closes briefly, a rustle of movement inside, and then she’s back, pressing a missing cat poster into Lily’s hands. The edges are slightly crumpled, the ink smudged in places. It's holding onto hope in tangible form.

“I have my number there if you ever see him around,” she says, her voice attempting nonchalance but betraying something quieter beneath it.

Lily scans the picture. A gray cat with white markings, staring directly at the camera like he owns the place. He probably does. Most cats have that air about them. And he has no idea just how much someone is looking for him.

“We’ll keep an eye out,” Lily assures her.

Haewon steps in, slipping seamlessly into the space, “What’s his name?”

“Jaejae.”

“Has he ever run away before?”

Kyujin shakes her head, pressing her lips together. “Not like this. He’s gone for a day or two before, but he always comes back.”

Lily hums, fingers brushing over the paper.

Kyujin exhales, rubbing her eyes quickly, like she’s trying to get rid of the tears before they can fully form. “I don’t even know if he’s still nearby. But I keep hoping.”

And for a second, Lily doesn’t know what to say to that. But Haewon speaks, voice slipping into something quieter.

“When I was a kid,” she starts, a soft smile nursing her lips, “my dog used to run away all the time. We’d leave the house, call out his name, and ask the street cats to tell him to come home.”

Lily raises an eyebrow. “The street cats?”

“Yeah,” Haewon nods, like it makes perfect sense, “My mom told me that cats communicate with each other. So if we asked them nicely, maybe they’d pass the message along.”

“And did it work?” Kyujin sniffles, her voice thick with hope that wants to believe in anything.

Haewon nods, small but certain. “Later that afternoon, Coco was sitting on our porch, waiting like nothing happened.”

Kyujin lets out a breath. Not quite relief, not quite belief, but maybe something in between.

“So, who knows? Maybe some cat out there will tell Jaejae to come back too.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll do that. Thank you.”

Lily adjusts her grip on the poster, rolling it carefully so it won’t crease any further. “We will keep our eyes out still.”

They say their goodbyes, and as they step back onto the pavement, the air between them feels different. Not in any obvious way. But Lily feels it. It’s small. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. Like they’ve stepped into a new part of this strange, unexpected day. A new page neither of them asked for, but one they’re in anyway. She glances at Haewon, who is sighing, a distant look in her eyes, fingers tapping idly against her palm like she’s somewhere else entirely.

Lily wonders if she’s thinking about herself

About people who leave. About whether or not they come back.

Because Lily is.

Lily has seen some weird things while doing deliveries. A guy answering the door in nothing but a towel, a woman who handed her a tip in the form of a single boiled egg, a group of college students who looked like they hadn’t slept in three days collectively sobbing over a K-drama finale. She has navigated all kinds of absurdity, accepted it with the grace of someone who has stopped questioning the universe and its choices. But this. This might take the cake.

She barely knocks before the door swings open, revealing a tall blonde girl standing there, holding a short-haired gray cat with a pink collar. Lily freezes. Stares. Processes. Her brain stalls, like a computer that just blue-screened. And then she pulls the missing cat poster from her pocket and unrolls it, her gaze flicking back and forth.

Poster.
Cat.
Poster.
Cat.
Poste—

Oh, you have got to be kidding me.

Jaejae.

This girl is holding Jaejae. Kyujin’s cat.

The blonde, completely oblivious to Lily’s internal breakdown, doesn’t even look at her. Instead, her eyes land on Haewon, assessing her entire existence in a single glance.

“Oh, cool wedding dress,” she says casually, like she sees brides every other Thursday.

Haewon doesn’t miss a beat. “This was my nightgown.”

“Cool nightgown,” the girl says, nodding, accepting this blatant lie with zero hesitation, as if she has already decided that nothing about today is worth questioning.

Lily snaps out of it, shaking her head. “Ma’am, is that your cat?”

The girl beams, shifting the cat in her arms so he’s resting against her chest like a baby. “Yeah! I adopted him a week ago. Isn’t he cute?”

Oh. This is going to be a mess.

“So. Funny story.” She flips the missing cat poster toward the girl. “I think someone’s looking for him.”

The girl gasps. Like, actual, dramatic, hands-over-mouth, heart-shattering gasping.

“Mr. Cuddles,” she whispers, voice trembling. “Your real name is Jaejae?!”

The cat meows, wholly unbothered by this revelation.

Lily watches as tears actually start forming in the girl’s eyes. Real, genuine emotional turmoil.

This is not how she expected this to go.

Her name is Jinsol. And Jinsol, as it turns out, does not want to give the cat back.

“I love him,” she says, holding Jaejae close to her chest like a medieval maiden about to be separated from her war-bound lover. “He chose me.”

Lily closes her eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply. “Ma’am.”

“You don’t understand.” Jinsol’s grip tightens like someone might physically pry the cat from her arms. “He kept coming to my backyard! I’ve been feeding him for weeks! We bonded!”

This is without a doubt the second strangest hostage situation Lily has ever witnessed. Jaejae, for his part, looks completely unbothered. Not distressed. Not particularly loyal. Just… there. The only thing keeping him from full betrayal is his inability to speak. Lily is about to launch into some very half-baked negotiation tactics when she notices Haewon. She hasn’t spoken. Just observed. Waited. And then, when she finally speaks, it’s with the calm of certainty of someone who knows she’s about to win an argument before it even begins.

“Jinsol,” Haewon says gently, her voice even, measured, no sharp edges. “I get it. You love him. And I can see that he loves you, too.”

Jinsol nods solemnly, like she’s being recognized for her devotion.

“But he has a home,” Haewon continues, quiet, sure. “And right now, there’s someone waiting for him. Someone who’s been worrying, wondering where he is.”

She tilts her head just slightly. “If it were the other way around, wouldn’t you want someone to bring him back to you?”

And Lily sees the moment Jinsol stops preparing her defense and actually listens. The way she still clings to her argument, to her reluctance, but slowly, painfully, her shoulders drop. She looks down at Jaejae, at his round little face, like she’s realizing that, as much as she loves him, he was never really hers.

And then, with great, tragic reluctance, she sighs.

“...Fine,” she mumbles. “But only if I get visitation rights.”

Three of them, plus Jaejae, squeeze into the car, Jinsol wedged awkwardly between Lily’s bike and her bag, petting Jaejae like they are sharing one final, sorrowful journey together. Lily glances at her through the rearview mirror. Jinsol is stroking Jaejae’s fur. Every now and then, she sniffles, murmuring what can only be a heartfelt goodbye.

“You good back there?”

“No.”

Lily flicks a glance at Haewon, who, to her credit, is keeping it together. Barely. Her lips twitch like she’s holding back commentary, but she stays silent, eyes fixed on the road. It takes everything in Lily not to laugh. When they finally pull up to Jaejae’s original house, Kyujin is already waiting by the door, thanks to Lily’s text. And the moment Kyujin locks eyes on Jinsol?

Oh.

Oh, this is interesting.

Kyujin freezes. Like, full-on, visibly stops breathing for a second, something sparking in her expression like she’s just seen the love of her past life return from war. Lily turns to Jinsol, waiting for a mirrored reaction. Some kind of acknowledgment that the universe is trying to do something here.

But Jinsol, utterly oblivious, just smiles sheepishly. “Hey! I’m sorry, I didn’t know he had an owner. He kept coming to my backyard, and I’ve been feeding him for weeks now.”

It’s like watching a romance drama where the leads refuse to see what’s right in front of them.

Kyujin, on the other hand, takes a second longer to respond. She blinks, shakes it off, and focuses on the cat. “So that's why you’re getting fat.”

Jaejae meows. She reaches for him, and Jinsol lets go reluctantly, her fingers trailing over his fur like she’s being forced to part with a great love.

There’s a long pause.

Then, Jinsol tilts her head, eyes practically begging. “Please let me visit him sometimes?”

Kyujin softens immediately.

“Oh, please do.” She smiles. And, so casually, so effortlessly, she adds, “Do you wanna come in for a bit and play with him some more?”

Lily watches, fascinated, as Jinsol, who was previously on the verge of a mental breakdown over this cat, goes completely still. Slowly, her face turns red.

“Oh! Yes.”

Lily inhales sharply, pressing her lips together. She turns to Haewon, who is already looking at her. They stare at each other. There is an understanding.

A silent Are you seeing this? followed by an equally silent Oh, I am absolutely seeing this.

Neither of them speaks. Neither of them has to.

Lily finally gets to trade her bike. Jinyoung-ssi, the owner, doesn’t say much. He’s one of those old-school mechanics who acts like words cost money but treats bikes like they’re extensions of the human soul. He hands over the upgraded frame without a fuss, even throws in a pair of free drinks for her and Haewon.

Before finally heading to Suwon, they decide to stop at the small diner next door. After all, it’s nearly four in the afternoon, and the only thing Lily’s had to eat today is a gas station hot dog, which she doesn’t think counts as a real meal by any definition. She feels… lighter. Less on edge. Maybe it’s the post-matchmaking high. Maybe it’s Haewon helping her with her ankle. Maybe it’s just the fact that they’re not complete strangers anymore. She still doesn’t know much about Haewon. Not really. But she knows enough. Enough to trust her, at least for now. Enough to let herself relax, even just a little.

They slide into a booth, the vinyl seat cool against the back of her legs. The place is small, hasn’t changed much since the early 2000s. The menus are slightly faded, the laminated edges curling.

Before she can so much as glance at the menu, a waitress approaches, all bright eyes and wide smiles. “Hello! Welcome to OO Diner! I’m— oh my God, are you… newlyweds?”

Lily barely has time to process this sentence before Haewon, completely straight-faced, goes, “Nah. This is cosplay.”

The waitress pauses, blinking fast. Then, smooth as ever, she recovers. “Ah, cool…”

Lily wants to sink into the floor. Maybe roll under the table and disappear.

“Anyway!” the waitress continues. “My name is Jiwoo, and I’ll be your server for today.”

“Thanks, Jiwoo.” Lily, still half-reeling from secondhand embarrassment, manages a grin.

“Just call me when you’re ready to order!” Jiwoo chirps before bouncing off to another table.

Haewon picks up a menu like nothing just happened. Lily stares at her, slowly reaching for her own menu, even though she’s not actually planning to use it. Because, well, money. Lily’s gotten pretty good at stretching what little she has. She has extra cash right now—Kyujin basically forced her to take the reward for finding Jaejae (and quite possibly, a girlfriend)—but old habits die hard.

Just because she has money today doesn’t mean she’ll have it tomorrow. And a perfectly good sandwich sits in her bag, free of charge, waiting to be eaten. Objectively, the smarter choice. She flips the menu open anyway, skimming over the prices rather than the actual food. There’s something strangely humiliating about this part, about doing the mental math of what she can afford while sitting across from someone who probably never has to.

Haewon glances at her. “Are you not going to order?”

“I have a sandwich,” Lily says, waving it off.

“Eat real food.”

“A sandwich is real food.”

Haewon does not look convinced. She doesn’t argue, though. Just tilts her head slightly before turning toward Jiwoo, flagging her down. She orders for herself, then turns back to Lily, waiting. Expectant. Lily sighs. Fine.

“Fries,” she mutters.

Haewon squints at her. “That’s all you’re having? Have more.”

“Okay,” Lily deadpans, meeting her eyes. “Another fries then.”

Jiwoo, standing there with her notepad, visibly hesitates. “...Okay.”

She clearly thinks something is wrong with them but is too polite to ask.

“Would that be all?”

Haewon tilts her head, considers for a second, then shrugs. “You know what? Double my order.”

Jiwoo nods slowly, still looking vaguely confused. “Alright then, food will be ready soon.”

As soon as she walks away, the table falls into a weird silence. Lily exhales through her mouth, fingers drumming lightly against the wood. Across from her, Haewon is… less put-together than before. Loose strands of hair have escaped from the careful updo, framing her face softer, more natural. It cascades down to her shoulders, and Lily can’t help but track its movement, following the way it shifts when Haewon exhales.

She’s staring. Oh, she’s staring.

And then Haewon glances up. Lily immediately looks away, her ears burning. Her gaze lands on Jiwoo instead, who is chatting with a customer at another table, all bright smiles and animated energy, exuding that effortless charm that makes people feel like they’re the center of the universe. Lily narrows her eyes. Suspicious. There’s something about the way Jiwoo is grinning, about the way the customer, whose back is turned, leans in slightly. It’s subtle, just a small shift forward, like she wants to be closer but it’s enough to catch Lily’s attention. She tunes in, purely out of curiosity.

Jiwoo, casual, easy, says. “The usual, yes?”

The girl with straight black hair nods. Jiwoo turns to leave, and for just a second, the girl’s eyes linger.

Oh.

Oh.

Lily grins. She waves Haewon closer without breaking eye contact with her new soap opera. Haewon, amused but not questioning it, slides toward her until their shoulders nearly brush.

“I think that girl likes Jiwoo,” Lily whispers, barely tilting her chin toward the customer.

Haewon blinks, looking completely uninvested until she follows Lily’s gaze. “Who’s Jiwoo?”

Lily squints at her. “The server.”

“Ah.” Haewon’s eyes snap toward Jiwoo, then flicker to the girl sitting at the other table. “Oh?”

Then she giggles. A small, breathy sound, quiet enough to be a secret. Her eyes curve into crescents, the way they do when she’s genuinely amused. It’s cute. Annoyingly cute.

“She’s still staring.” Haewon observes after a few seconds. And, as if on cue, the girl suddenly looks down, like she’s just realized how obvious she’s being.

Lily grins wider. Oh, this is so much better than TV.

Jiwoo stops by their table, holding a pitcher of water. Lily, naturally, beckons her closer. Haewon leans in too, equally conspiratorial.

“So,” Lily smirks. “That your girlfriend?”

Jiwoo nearly drops the pitcher. “N-no!”

“But you like her?”

Jiwoo looks like she wants to deny it. She tries to deny it. But then she exhales, rubs a hand over her face, and mumbles, “Is it that obvious?”

Lily barely stops herself from laughing.

“It’s more obvious the other way around…” Haewon whispers, her eyes glinting with amusement.

Jiwoo’s head snaps up. “What do you mean?”

Lily grins, tilting her head toward the customer. “We mean—she likes you.”

Jiwoo freezes. Her eyes immediately dart to the girl, scanning, searching for any sign. And then, Lily watches it happen, Jiwoo locks onto her. Sees the way she subtly glances around, as if looking for Jiwoo. And then the girl finds her. Jiwoo takes a step in her direction, and Lily swears on everything holy that the girl’s shoulders relax, her entire posture softening.

Oh, this is so obvious it’s painful.

The bell dings from the kitchen. Jiwoo blinks, shakes herself out of it, and rushes off. Lily and Haewon exchange glances. Another matchmaking mission? Great!

Jiwoo returns, setting their trays down. “Two Chicken and Waffles,” she says to Haewon, then turns to Lily. “And fries for you.”

Lily nods, about to dig in until Haewon, wordlessly, slides one of her meals across the table.

Oh.

“Eat,” Haewon says simply, not looking up.

Lily stares at the plate. It’s just food. Just a meal placed in front of her with the expectation that she’ll eat it. Nothing more, nothing less. Her throat tightens just a little. Because she’s spent so long moving from place to place, scraping by on whatever kindness she could get, she almost forgot what it felt like to have someone pay attention.

Even if it’s just food on a table. Even if it’s just someone telling her to eat.

She exhales, shaking it off. “Thanks.”

Haewon doesn’t say anything, just nods once before taking a bite of her food.

As it turns out, the girl’s name is Yoona. And she and Jiwoo? They aren’t just mindlessly flirting. They’re deep in conversation, voices dipping low over something about expansions, terrible drop rates, and ‘having to farm like hell for resources.’ Lily watches as Jiwoo leans forward, eyes bright, hands moving animatedly like this is the most important conversation in the world. And Yoona? She’s hanging onto every word like it’s divine scripture, nodding at all the right moments, laughing when Jiwoo laughs.

Cute.

Lily doesn’t know what she expected from Jiwoo—someone that bright, that animated—but she figures there’s something kind of sweet about it. The way she listens, genuinely interested, despite how ridiculous the conversation sounds from an outside perspective. The way Yoona’s entire focus is on Jiwoo, the way Jiwoo can’t seem to stop herself from smiling, like talking to Yoona makes something in her lighter.

Hopeless. Both of them.

When Lily and Haewon finish eating, they flag Jiwoo down to pay. Haewon covers it. Lily tries to fight her on it, at least to pay for her own food, but Haewon just levels her with a look. Not the soft, unreadable ones she’d been throwing at Lily all day. No, this one is firm. Final. Furrowed brows. Barely-there frown. A look that tells Lily she has already lost this battle, and any attempt to protest will only drag it out longer.

Lily could push back. She wants to. But the words die in her throat, because what is she even pushing for? It’s not like she’s never let someone pay for her before. That happens when people live paycheck to paycheck, when friends cover for them here and there, when they learn to accept small mercies because turning them down would be a different kind of stubborn.

But Haewon isn’t doing this out of pity. And maybe that’s what throws Lily off.

She lets it happen.

Jiwoo comes back with the change, and before she can disappear again, Lily stops her.

“Confirmed,” she says, tone matter-of-fact. “She likes you back. I think you should ask her out.”

Jiwoo’s breath hitches. A fraction of hesitation. Lips parting like she might try to fight it, to deny it but then, she takes a deep breath. She nods, jaw slacked. Like she’s reached the end of an equation and realized there’s only one possible answer.

Eyes filled with a different kind of determination, she breathes out, “Okay.”

Lily and Haewon watch as she makes her way toward Yoona, barely containing their anticipation. There’s a charge in the air, a tension that feels like waiting for the climax of a movie. Jiwoo takes a breath, straightens her spine, opens her mouth—

And Yoona beats her to it.

“This might be the last time I eat here.”

Beside her, Lily hears Haewon inhale sharply. They turn to each other, exchanging wide-eyed, silent gasps.

Jiwoo stops mid-step. “Oh.”

A pause. Then, softer, “What’s going on? You okay?”

“Yeah,” Yoona sighs. “Got a job offer in the city. So…”

Jiwoo is quiet for just a second too long. And Lily feels it, the weight of the moment stretching out just to make things worse.

“Ah. Okay then.” Jiwoo’s voice wavers, just slightly. "Visit sometimes, okay?"

“I will.”

And then, just like that, Yoona stands up and walks past her.

Lily watches Jiwoo deflate. It’s not dramatic, not some over-the-top reaction, but Lily still recognizes it instantly. That moment when they walk into something with a plan, only to realize, too late, that the ground has shifted beneath them. The way the future rewrites itself in real-time, forcing them to catch up. Lily knows that feeling.

The sudden shift of plans, the things they don’t see coming until they hit. The realization that something they thought might just work out is about to slip through their fingers. Jiwoo looks completely, utterly lost. Lily doesn’t hesitate. She limps forward, taps her shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Haewon asks from behind her, tone laced with amusement.

Lily just shoots her a thumbs-up.

“But—” Jiwoo stammers, “she’s leaving, she just—”

“Haewon has a car.”

“Okay?”

Lily clasps her hands together. “Let’s go!”

“What?”

“We’re running after her! For love!”

And just like that, Jiwoo is being dragged into the absurdity of it all, swept up in the reckless, impulsive decision-making that Lily thrives on. It should feel ridiculous. Maybe it is ridiculous.

But when Jiwoo exhales, something between a laugh and a surrender, Lily knows she’s already won.

The car ride is chaos in the best way. Jiwoo is bouncing slightly in her seat, eyes fixed on the rental car ahead of them like she can will it to slow down through sheer force of emotion. Haewon grips the steering wheel with a steady focus that suggests she would make an excellent getaway driver in another life.

Lily, meanwhile, just sits there, taking it all in. She thinks, absently, about how ridiculous they must look—Haewon in a wedding dress, Jiwoo in her work uniform, Lily in whatever-the-hell-she’s-wearing. A weird, mismatched trio, thrown together by nothing but chance and circumstance. And yet, there’s something about it that feels weirdly… right. Like maybe this is how things are supposed to be. Messy, unplanned, and cinematic in a way that makes no logical sense but still feels like a moment they’ll remember for a long time.

When they reach the train station, there’s nowhere to park. Before Lily can even process it, Jiwoo just throws the door open and bolts. The silence that follows is jarring. One second, they were caught up in the momentum of the chase, the thrill of an impromptu love confession. The next, it’s just… gone.

Lily exhales, adjusting in her seat. “Well, that was dramatic.”

Haewon doesn’t respond. Just stares out the windshield, something unreadable flickering across her face. And then, they both get out of the car and climb onto the hood, watching as the city shifts into early evening. The sky is fading into orange, the neon signs flickering to life one by one. The sound of traffic fills the silence, grounding them in something real.

For the first time all day, there’s no rush. No urgent task pulling them forward. Just them.

Haewon exhales, eyes still on the sky. Then, after a long moment, she speaks.

“You really just do what you want, huh?”

Lily side-eyes her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Haewon shrugs, but there’s something thoughtful in the way she does it. “You don’t hesitate. You just… go. If you think something should happen, you make it happen.”

Lily snorts, rolling her shoulders. “That’s not true.”

“It is.” Haewon tilts her head, considering. "You accept delivery jobs out of nowhere. You pull me into matchmaking schemes. You,” she gestures vaguely, “live like you have no plan.”

Lily processes the words around in her head, trying to figure out why they stick the way they do. Because she wants to argue. She wants to say Haewon has it wrong, that she’s not just moving randomly through life. That there is a plan, a structure, some kind of logic to the way she makes decisions. But she also knows that’s not entirely true.

Because she does just… go.

And maybe that’s because if she stops moving, she’ll have to look back. And she’ll have to think about the choices that led her here. The fact that she left home chasing after something that didn’t even want her. The fact that she’s been running ever since, unable to admit, even to herself, that maybe her dad was right. That maybe she wasted all that time. So she keeps moving. Keeps making choices that don’t require much thought. Because stopping feels too much like failure.

Lily leans back, gaze fixed on the girl beside her. “Sounds like you think that’s a bad thing.”

Haewon doesn’t look away from her. And for some reason, that bothers Lily more than she’s willing to admit. There’s something about the way Haewon is studying her, like she’s trying to understand something Lily hasn’t even figured out herself.

She pauses long enough that Lily almost thinks she won’t respond at all. But then, softly, like she’s only just realizing it herself, Haewon murmurs, “I think I’m just jealous.”

Lily turns away, caught off-guard. She’s about to say something—doesn’t even know what, just knows she wants to say something—but before she can, Haewon’s phone starts ringing again. The sound cuts through the quiet, sharp and insistent. Lily doesn’t even need to look to know who it is. It’s still in the cup holder inside the car. The same persistent chime, the same call she won’t answer. She glances toward it, where the screen glows in the dimming light. The picture of Haewon and that guy. The one who was supposed to be standing at the altar today, waiting.

Lily raises an eyebrow. “Why don’t you just turn it off? Put it on silent?”

She expects some flippant answer, a shrug, maybe even another dry quip. Instead, Haewon lets her head fall onto Lily’s shoulder.

And, oh.

Lily stops breathing. Her whole body goes completely, stupidly still. Haewon’s hair brushes against her collarbone, now warm and slightly messy from the wind. She smells like perfume that hasn’t completely faded yet, something floral, something expensive. Lily is painfully aware of every single point of contact. Of the weight resting against her.

“Just want to feel like I’m still wanted,” Haewon whispers.

Lily exhales, rolling her shoulders slightly, not enough to shake her off.

She should say something. Crack a joke. Make it light. That’s what she does. That’s how she keeps things from feeling like this. But for some reason, the words don’t come.

Haewon speaks again, quieter this time. “Does that make me a bad person?”

Lily swallows. She understands that feeling all too well. The stupid, selfish part of running away, of leaving something behind but still wanting to be chased, of disappearing but still wanting someone to look. She thinks about her dad. Wonders how many times he called before finally giving up. She glances at Haewon, at the way she won’t look at her phone, won’t answer, but won’t turn it off either.

Lily exhales. When she speaks, her voice is steady. “No.”

And then, softer, she adds, “I think it just makes you human.”

For a moment, it’s just the sounds of cars passing by, the train horn, the glow of the setting sun, the warmth of Haewon against her shoulder.

When Jiwoo returns, she’s breathless and slightly flushed, the lingering adrenaline of chasing after something still in her eyes. But no Yoona. Of course. Reality always gets in the way of true love. Jiwoo sinks onto the hood of the car with them, dragging a hand through her hair.

“She’s still going to the city,” she sighs. “But… she said we’ll keep in touch.”

“So it wasn’t for nothing.” Lily smiles.

“It wasn’t.”

Haewon tilts her head slightly. “Are you sad?”

Jiwoo lets out a slow breath, like she’s testing it—measuring the weight of it in her lungs.

But, she smiles. Small. Real. “Not as much as I thought I’d be.”

The motel in Suwon is nothing special. A cheap, tucked-away place, catering to people passing through, people who don't plan on staying long. It’s not the worst place Lily's stayed in, though, and at least it's free. She's taken a job here, a favor for someone she worked with before, and in exchange, she got a free room for the month. Easy. Convenient. Somewhere to sleep without worrying about bus fare or if she could stretch the money she had left. With her ankle still not at a hundred percent, she might as well take advantage of the free boarding.

Haewon, however, is a different story.

Lily glances at her, still standing near the front desk and looking around like she's stalling.

“You can stay with me, you know,” Lily offers, adjusting the straps of her bag.

“I don't want to impose.”

Lily waves a hand. “It's fine.”

And it is. More than fine. Haewon doesn't exactly have anywhere else to go. Lily's not going to make her figure out a plan alone when she clearly wasn't expecting to be here in the first place. Haewon still looks uncertain, like there's a part of her that wants to say no just for the sake of it. But Lily doesn't wait for an answer. She puts the keys in her pockets, grabs Haewon's wrist, and starts walking.

The room is small. One bed, a desk, a too-bright lamp. Lily drops her bag on the floor and stretches, sighing as she finally lets herself truly relax for the first time all day. She's been moving nonstop and her body, especially her still busted ankle, is definitely feeling it. Haewon sits on the edge of the bed, now with her phone in hand. The screen casts a dull glow on her face, highlighting the slight crease between her brows. Lily wonders if she's still getting those calls. If she's still ignoring them. But she doesn’t ask. Instead, she sinks onto the floor, leaning back against the side of the bed, knees bent, head tilted against the mattress. Her body aches in a way that isn't exactly unpleasant, just familiar.

It hits her, then, how weird today has been. Somehow, between nearly getting run over and helping a waitress confess to the person she loves, Haewon became a part of this. Like she was always meant to be here, slipping into the space beside her like she fits. And Lily doesn't know what to do with that thought, so she doesn't think about it. She focuses on the quietness of the room. And then, the music. Soft, barely audible. It takes her a second to realize it’s Haewon.

Fingers tapping lightly against the sheets, following a rhythm. A melody, faint and familiar in a way Lily can't quite place. It's… pretty. Or maybe, it's just that Haewon's voice is pretty.

Lily tilts her head. “What’s that song?”

“Ah,” Haewon pauses like she didn’t even realize she was doing it, then chuckles, fingers still moving absentmindedly against the sheets. “Just an old song I wrote.”

Lily shifts, sitting up a little straighter to turn and look at her. “You write songs?”

“Used to.”

“Can you sing it for me?”

Haewon hesitates. Just for half a second. The rhythm of her fingers slows against the fabric. Then, she hums the first few notes, soft and unsure, before her voice falls into something gentler. Careful.

Like a secret being spoken into the quiet.

“The road ahead is a ghost of gold,
a path untold, a tale retold
I'd follow your shadow through silent streams,
a lighthouse flickering in half-formed dreams

And if you turned, would I still be there?
Is the name on your lips the same as your prayers?”

Lily lets the last note settle in the room before asking, “Did you write that for… him?”

Haewon’s lips press together. "I did.”

Lily doesn’t know why she asked. Maybe she already knew the answer. Maybe she just wanted to hear Haewon say it.

“It’s good,” Lily says, meaning it.

“It doesn’t matter now.” Haewon shifts, suddenly uncomfortable.

“Why not?”

The room feels smaller somehow, the air charged with something neither of them names. Haewon lets out a breath slowly, like she’s buying time before answering. Her fingers still against the sheets, posture stiffening just slightly.

“Because it’s not mine anymore,” she says finally.

She doesn’t look at Lily when she says it. Just keeps her gaze trained on the bed sheets, like if she focuses hard enough, she can will herself away from this conversation. But Lily is still here. Still listening.

Love isn’t supposed to be like that, she thinks. It’s supposed to be certain. Steady. Songs like that should belong to people who mean them. And yet, here Haewon is, carrying a love song like it’s a mistake she can’t take back. Lily knows what it’s like to carry something like that.

“That’s not how music works,” Lily murmurs. “It’s still yours. Even if it’s not about him anymore.”

Hesitation bleeds out of Haewon's eyes.

“I don’t know who it belongs to now,” Haewon admits, voice quiet.

Lily watches her. The way she holds herself so carefully, like she’s afraid of breaking something she hasn’t named yet. And Lily understands that, too. The way she can pour herself into something, into someone, and then be left with nothing but the echo of it.

Before she can think too much about it, the words are already leaving her mouth. “You wanna know why I’m here?”

Haewon nods.

Lily leans her head back against the bed, the ceiling above her just a stretch of empty space. “I wanted to meet my mom. My dad was against it. Told me it’d be a waste of time, of money. I didn’t listen.”

She lets out a humorless laugh, barely making it past her throat. “But he was right. And now I’m too ashamed to tell him that.”

Haewon doesn’t try to fill the silence. She just listens, steady, like she’s willing to hold the moment with her.

After a while, she asks, “Did you get to meet her?”

“Yeah.” Lily lets out a breath, stretching her legs in front of her. “She just shooed me away.”

Haewon clicks her tongue. “Rude.”

“Right?” Lily laughs despite herself. “Can't believe I left Australia for this.”

And maybe it should feel worse than this. Maybe the telling of it should crack something open in her, but instead, it just… exists. A fact, simple and unchanging, like an old scar she’s learned to stop touching. The quiet that follows doesn’t press down on her the way it usually does. It just lingers, soft at the edges, letting them sit in it without urgency.

Then, like she’s been holding the thought in her mouth for a while, Haewon speaks. “I think you should call your dad.”

Lily tenses, just barely. It’s not visible, but she feels it in her hands, in the way they freeze in the way her fingers brush the side of her phone without meaning to.

“Your mom might be an asshole,” Haewon doesn’t look at her when she continues, but her voice stays steady, “but I’m sure your dad would be happy to hear from you.”

Lily stares at her hands. The thought of calling him has been there for months, but she’s kept it at arm’s length, shoved into the space of things she isn’t ready to deal with. She knows Haewon’s right. But knowing and doing are two very different things.

“Yeah,” Lily murmurs. “Maybe.”

She doesn’t say anything else. Haewon doesn’t push. The silence stretches again, like a thread pulled taut but not yet breaking. Then, Haewon moves. Stands up, brushing nonexistent dust off the folds of her dress.

“Can you help me remove this?”

Lily blinks, slow to process. “What?”

Haewon gestures loosely at herself. “This gown. It’s been a long day.”

Oh.

Lily swallows, her throat suddenly dry.

“Uh. Yeah, sure.”

She gets up, steps behind Haewon, and forces herself to focus. It’s just a zipper. Just a dress. Nothing complicated.

Her fingers hesitate, hovering for a moment before they find the small pull of the zipper. The lace is finer than she expected, softer. It looks fragile but isn’t, that holds up through things it was never meant to endure. Her hands brush against the warmth of Haewon’s skin. And for some reason, that catches her off-guard. The way skin feels different from fabric. The way heat lingers where she touches.

Lily works slowly, dragging the zipper down with careful precision. Not because she’s nervous. Not because this is anything. But because her hands feel clumsy, too aware, and she doesn’t trust them not to shake. The dress loosens as she goes, slipping down Haewon’s shoulders inch by inch. Lily doesn’t look. Or maybe she does, but not in a way that means anything. She tells herself it doesn’t mean anything.

Haewon exhales, slow and even. Lily steps back too quickly.

“Here.” She turns, rifling through her bag, grabbing something without thinking. A hoodie, a shirt, sweatpants—something soft, something comfortable. Something that smells like her.

She doesn’t know why she picks those specifically. Doesn’t stop to think about it. Haewon takes them without question, fingers brushing Lily’s. The touch is brief, barely anything, but it shoots straight through her like a live wire. Lily ignores it. Forces herself to. Because it’s nothing. Just a brush of fingers. Just a dress coming off. Just a favor.

She tells herself that. Again.

And again.

The water shimmers beneath Lily, reflecting the motel sign in fractured neon. The ripples stretch across her skin, cool but not quite grounding. It's cold out here by the poolside, the wind blowing kisses to her cheeks. Her thumb lingers on the phone, pressing just lightly enough against the screen to keep the option open.

Call or don’t. Reach out or keep pretending there’s nothing to reach for.

It’s not like her dad would say much, anyway. He’s always been the type to let silence do the talking. And maybe that’s worse. Maybe she’d rather have him yell at her, tell her she made the wrong choice, confirm that she wasted everything for something that was never going to work. Maybe it’d be easier than hearing nothing at all.

Footsteps sound behind her. She doesn’t turn. Doesn’t need to. She recognizes the way Haewon moves now, light but steady, each step measured, never rushed. Haewon takes a seat beside her, dipping her feet into the pool. She’s wearing Lily’s clothes now, the borrowed fabric hanging loose on her frame.

It’s strange, seeing her like this. Less put-together, stripped of the careful image she’d maintained all day. The dress is gone, but Lily still feels the weight of it somehow, like the ghost of something that should have never been there in the first place.

Haewon’s voice breaks through the quiet. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Lily turns slightly, watching the way the glow catches on Haewon’s face.

A ripple spreads as Haewon moves her feet absently, like she’s testing the water, like she’s seeing how far she can go before the cold makes her pull back.

“One last escape. I had fun today.”

Lily huffs out a laugh, tipping her head back. “You coming back tomorrow?”

“I should.”

The words land with more weight than they should. Lily knows what that means. Knows that should is just another word for obligation. Knows that Haewon has already made her choice, even if she hasn’t admitted it yet.

“Yeah,” Lily says. “You should.”

The wind picks up, biting against her skin. It carries the scent of chlorine and asphalt, of something too transient to hold onto. Neither of them moves. The silence fills the space between them. Not uncomfortable, but full. Like there’s too much between them now, too much left unsaid.

Haewon exhales, the sound barely carrying over the splashing. “What do you do when what you should do is different from what you want?”

Lily repeats the words over in her mind. It’s a question she’s spent too much of her life running from.

“You find a compromise, I guess,” she says, knowing full well that she never has.

Haewon doesn’t look at her, just watches the water shift beneath her feet. “And if I can’t?”

Lily follows her gaze, watching the way a single disturbance spreads outward, rippling farther and farther, unstoppable.

“Then you look for help,” she says, quieter now.

She doesn’t know if Haewon is really listening or if she’s just giving herself an excuse to keep running. Because Lily has been here before, spent too long convincing herself that leaving meant being alone, that no one would understand, that there were no other options. Maybe it doesn’t have to be that way.

Haewon’s voice comes softer this time. “What do you say I do?”

Lily doesn’t hesitate.

“Don’t marry someone you don’t love.”

She expects resistance. A tired sigh, an automatic excuse, a reminder that things are complicated. But Haewon just looks at her. Just watching, like she’s trying to piece something together, like she’s seeing Lily differently than before. The space between them feels thinner, like it wouldn’t take much to close it. Haewon’s fingers tighten slightly around the fabric of Lily’s hoodie, like she needs something to hold onto. Her lips part, just barely, hesitation written into the way she tilts forward, uncertain if she’s already gone too far.

Lily’s pulse jumps. Once. Twice.

“Can I do something stupid?” Haewon asks, so quietly Lily almost misses it.

The question curls around her ribs.

“Depends,” Lily murmurs.

Haewon leans in. Lily does too. Slow. Hesitant. A pull that feels inevitable, like something else has already decided for them. There’s a whisper—something Lily doesn’t catch—because before she can even process it, Haewon kisses her.

The first thing Lily notices is how warm Haewon is. Soft. Steady. Close. The kiss isn’t rushed, isn’t desperate. It’s a question more than an answer, something that could disappear the second either of them acknowledges it. But it lingers. Longer than Lily expects. Long enough that she wonders if she should lean in again, chase after it before it’s gone.

When they pull back, Haewon exhales a quiet, breathy chuckle, like she can’t quite believe she did it. The world around them doesn’t move. Lily doesn't either. The motel pool still reflects the dim glow of the neon sign, the air still carries that smell of chlorine. Somewhere in the distance, life is still happening, unaffected. But here, right now, it feels like something changed.

The ripples in the water spread when Haewon moves beside her. “I’m sorry I kissed you.”

Lily turns, studying her. There’s no regret in Haewon’s face, not really.

“Why did you?”

Haewon pauses long enough that Lily almost doesn’t expect an answer. But then, soft, like she’s figuring it out as she speaks, “I just wanted to.”

And then, a familiar sound cuts through the night.

Haewon’s phone rings. Again. Lily waits, expecting her to let it ring like all the other times, expecting her to shove it aside like a problem for later. But Haewon clicks red and turns it off. Not silence it. Not push it away for a moment.

Lily nudges her knee lightly against Haewon’s, the smallest reassurance. “It’s okay.”

Haewon exhales, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes. “I don’t want to disappoint anyone.”

The words sink between them, carrying weight Lily knows too well.

The thought of being a disappointment is one she’s wrestled with before, one she carries in the shape of unanswered calls, in the guilt pressed tight against her ribs. She’s run from it, let it chase her through city streets and empty rooms, convinced herself that distance could make it disappear. It never does.

Lily watches the way Haewon’s shoulders rise and fall, how impossibly small she looks despite everything she’s carried today.

“Would not marrying him disappoint a lot of people?”

“My parents. His parents. Him.”

The answer is immediate, automatic. But something about the way Haewon says it feels tired.

“What about you?”

That makes Haewon pause. Lips parting, but no words coming out. Lily doesn’t push, letting the silence speak for itself, because that’s the thing, isn’t it? No one ever asks. No one ever stops to consider that maybe the person walking down the aisle has their own list of disappointments, their own sacrifices that no one seems to care about.

A sigh. A slow exhale. “I’ll make do.”

Lily shakes her head.

“Is that what you think you should do?”

Haewon doesn’t answer right away. But she tilts her head up, gaze tracing the dark sky, letting the quiet settle over them like something inevitable. And then, finally, after a long, long moment, she says.

“No.”

The admission lingers between them, heavy in the air but lighter on Haewon’s shoulders. Lily rolls her ankle in slow circles, testing the ache, grounding herself in the feeling of something that makes sense. The pain is dull now, not important enough to matter. Not compared to everything else. She doesn’t know what this is. Doesn’t know what they are. But she thinks she’d like to find out.

By the time they return to their room, exhaustion clings to Lily’s bones. Not just because it had been a long day, and she moved too much on an injured ankle. But she used her brain too much today, too. Thought too much, felt too much, carried too much without realizing it. She drops onto the edge of the bed, rubbing a hand down her face. Today doesn’t feel real.

Twenty-four hours ago, she didn’t know Haewon existed. Now, they’re here. Sharing a room. Sharing this. It should be too much. Too fast. But instead, there’s something heavy about it. Something inevitable, like this day was meant to happen one way or another. It has already carved itself into her memory, leaving something permanent behind.

A sigh escapes before she can stop it. She shifts, glancing at Haewon, who stands near the door, staring at the bed. Lily follows her gaze. Right. One bed.

Before she can think too hard about it, she grabs her pillow and moves toward the floor. “I can sleep down here.”

Haewon turns, frowning. “Why?”

Lily gestures vaguely between them. “You probably don’t want to share a bed with a stranger.”

Haewon exhales, shaking her head. “Lily, we kissed.”

“That was different.”

Haewon crosses her arms, watching her for a long moment before exhaling through her nose. “Get up.”

It’s not that she hasn’t shared a bed before. Lily's squeezed onto couches, into too-small mattresses, thrown a jacket over herself in the back of someone’s truck after a double shift, waiting for morning. But this feels like something she should think about.

“Fine,” she mutters, dropping the pillow back onto the bed.

She crawls under the covers, keeping to one side. The mattress dips as Haewon moves in beside her. It should be awkward, but somehow, it’s not. The room is quiet, just the faint TV sound from the other room and the occasional creak of the walls. Haewon shifts slightly, her shoulder brushing Lily’s for half a second before settling again. She could say something. Should say something. About the kiss. About tomorrow. About what happens once Haewon goes back.

But the words don’t come.

Instead, she stares at the ceiling, at the dull light flickering from the motel sign outside, casting faint red patterns against the walls. Her mind drifts. To the road ahead. To where she’ll go after this. And then, to home.

It’s been a long time since she’s thought of Australia as home. Too long since she let the idea of going back come into her mind without immediately pushing it away. But Haewon had asked her, earlier. Had told her to call her dad. And now, as she lies here, she wonders if maybe she should.

Her phone beeps. She flinches, pulse jumping for reasons she doesn’t want to unpack. But when she looks at the screen, it’s just a reminder.

Dad’s birthday: one week from now.

Lily exhales, thumb hovering over the notification. She could call him right now. Say something. Anything. She could, but she doesn't. Instead, she locks the screen, turns it face-down on the nightstand, and closes her eyes.

Not yet. But maybe soon.

Lily stirs at the sound of movement. A soft rustling, the faint shuffle of fabric, the barely-there creak of the motel floor. For a second, she forgets where she is. The sheets are unfamiliar, the air too still. But there’s warmth beside her, lingering where it shouldn’t be. A presence she can still feel, even though it’s already moving away. Reality seeps in slowly, curling around her thoughts like smoke. The past twenty-four hours come rushing back all at once—Haewon's car hitting her bike, their ridiculous day, the kiss by the pool, and something unspoken that stayed between them long after.

She doesn’t want to open her eyes. Doesn’t want to look at what leaving looks like. But she does. And there Haewon is, already up, already moving. Lily stays still, letting herself watch, letting herself be selfish.

The sunlight falls into Haewon’s face just right, casting shadows across her features. She’s wearing Lily’s hoodie, sleeves pushed up to her elbows, the sweatpants hanging just loose enough to look borrowed. Something about it makes Lily’s stomach twist. It shouldn’t. It shouldn’t mean anything. It’s just clothes. It’s just morning. It’s just the end of something that was never meant to last.

Lily swallows. Forces herself to move, to push up onto her elbows, ignoring the way exhaustion still clings to her limbs. "You’re really going back, huh?"

Haewon meets her gaze through the mirror. “Yeah.”

No hesitation. No doubt.

Lily knew the answer before she even asked, but hearing it out loud is different. It settles into her ribs like a weight she wasn’t ready for.

She runs a hand through her hair, like that’ll do anything. “What time is it?”

“Almost eight. I got breakfast.” Haewon gestures toward the small table, where a paper bag sits untouched. “And I already called my parents.”

Lily stops breathing. She waits, lets the quiet stretch, lets Haewon fill it.

“They weren’t happy,” Haewon says finally, not looking at her. “But we’ll talk more when I get back.”

When I get back.

Lily doesn’t know why those words stick so hard in her throat, why they make something tighten in her chest. Maybe it’s because Haewon says it like a fact, like a future already decided. Maybe it’s because it reminds Lily that she has no such plan. And maybe, maybe, it’s because she suddenly realizes she’s been running too long, too far, with no real direction.

Haewon is going back. Lily should too.

The thought is immediate. It catches her off-guard. She spent so long convincing herself that there was nothing left for her in Australia, that calling her dad would only prove that she wasted everything. But if Haewon can go back—if she can face everything waiting for her—then maybe Lily can too. The idea sits heavy in her chest, pressing against everything she’s been trying to ignore.

Then, Haewon speaks again. “Do you want to meet up after the whole thing is over?”

It’s careful. Like an opening, like a question Haewon isn’t sure she’s allowed to ask.

A spark of something unwanted flickers in Lily’s chest. Hope, maybe. Stupid.

She swings her legs off the bed, stretching out the stiffness in her shoulders. “I might go back home soon,” she says, voice even.

The movement of Haewon’s hands falters. Just for half a second. Barely noticeable.

Then she smiles. It wavers, then steadies, like she’s forcing it to stay in place. “You called your dad?”

“Not yet,” Lily admits. “But I’m planning to. Thanks to you.”

She expects Haewon to tease her for it, to gloat. But instead, she sighs, face twisting into something unreadable.

And then, softer, almost teasing, but not really. Something fragile beneath it. “And here I thought we could keep in touch.”

Lily takes a deep breath. “We can.”

It doesn’t feel like enough. But they exchange contact details anyway, fingers brushing briefly as they pass their phones back. The moment is too little and too much at the same time.

The car rumbles in the morning quiet, headlights dim against the first stretch of sunlight breaking over the horizon. The sky is still shaking off the night, pale blue creeping in. Lily stands still, hands deep in her pockets, fighting the urge to memorize everything—Haewon’s silhouette against the early light, the way her fingers curl around the seatbelt, the goodbye neither of them wants to acknowledge.

“Take care of yourself,” Haewon says, her voice steady, but there’s something beneath it, something smaller. A hesitation. A lingering question she won’t ask.

Lily tilts her head, studying her. “You too.”

This is it.

The car door shuts, and Lily exhales slowly, fingers curling against the fabric of her jacket. She’s done this before—watched people leave, let them slip away without asking them to stay. It should be easier by now. It should be second nature. The engine revs louder, and the car rolls forward, inch by inch, taking Haewon with it. Lily should turn around. She should walk back inside, let the moment pass without dragging it out, without making it harder.

But then...

Red brake lights. A slow stop. Something in her chest stutters. And Haewon is stepping out of her car, walking toward her with purpose, her hair catching the morning light in a way that makes Lily’s stomach twist.

She swallows hard. “What—?”

Stopping just in front of her, Haewon exhales, still a little breathless from how fast she ran back. “I left my wedding gown.”

Lily blinks. For a ridiculous second, she believes her. A surprised laugh tumbles out of her. “Let me get it—”

Haewon catches her wrist.

“I'm joking,” she whispers, softer this time. “You can burn it for all I care.”

It’s everything. Lily searches her face, trying to commit this moment to memory. The faint flush on her cheeks from the cold, the way her grip lingers just a little longer than necessary. Haewon isn’t pulling away yet. Neither is she. They stand there, between something and nothing, caught in the middle of what they want and what they’re supposed to do.

“Thank you,” Haewon murmurs, her fingers twitching, like she’s debating whether to let go or hold on.

Lily could make it easy for her. Could pull back, put distance between them before it becomes something harder to walk away from. But she doesn’t.

Instead, she shifts forward, just slightly, just enough. “For what?”

Haewon’s lips press together like she’s fighting a smile. “For yesterday, and today.” A pause. “For giving me somewhere to land.”

Lily exhales through her nose, something small and knowing curling in her chest. “Yeah,” she says, voice quieter now. “Anytime.”

A flicker of something crosses Haewon’s expression. And then, carefully, like she’s testing a boundary, she leans in. Not quite close enough to kiss her, but close enough to make Lily’s pulse jump. It’s stupid, really. How something so small can feel like the biggest thing in the world. But Haewon just squeezes her wrist once, then steps back, finally letting go. She turns back toward the car. This time, when she pulls away, she doesn’t stop. Not entirely. The window rolls down, and Haewon leans slightly out, voice carrying over the wind.

“If we ever end up in the same place again…” She starts to speak, the corners of her mouth twitching. Then, softer, like she’s leaving something open. “Let’s see what happens.”

Lily swallows around the lump in her throat, but she doesn’t chase after her. Doesn’t ask for more than what’s already being given. She tilts her head, lets the sun warm her face, and smirks.

“Yeah,” she murmurs. “Let’s see.”

The window rolls up. The car disappears down the road. Lily watches until there’s nothing left to see. Until the ache in her chest turns into something quieter, something bearable. Then, finally, she turns back toward the motel, steps slow but certain. She still has things to do before she leaves, but this time, she knows where she's going.

Just before she reaches the door, she looks back.