Chapter Text
Life always holds unforeseeable shifts. People who are together today may very well never meet again tomorrow. People you think you’ll never see again may arrive and stay until the end. The only thing these partings and reunions have in common is that none of them are scheduled.
When Nayeon was fussing with the batch of egg tarts in the kitchen, the doorbell rang and made her jump. The only person who could come here and press the bell was right next door, so Nayeon wondered who this visitor might be.
“Can you go open the door for me?” Nayeon turned to the little girl standing by, watching her put the tarts in the oven. Kailani didn’t say anything; she simply glanced at her and ran to greet the newcomer.
Dusk had already started to fall. Looking out the kitchen window, Nayeon saw the ornamental banana trees planted along the fence swaying in the breeze. She flung the window open and let the smell of butter and milk mingle with the frangipani that had just drifted into the kitchen.
While she began tidying the mess the they had made from the baking, Nayeon completely forgot that someone had come. When she lifted her head from the kitchen island in the middle of the room, she saw a figure—strangely familiar—standing right at the doorway.
Nayeon thought she must be dreaming. But even in dreams, she had never dared imagine the sight before her.
A pair of people-brown eyes, with a gaze gentle as late-afternoon sunlight, made Nayeon drop the towel in her hands. Just as she bent to pick it up, the other person stepped forward to do it for her. She handed Nayeon a white towel with a meaningful, slight smile.
“It’s been a long time.”
At such close range, the girl’s milky scent suddenly reached Nayeon’s nose and made her dizzy. This truly was not a dream.
“It’s been a long time. Do you have any explanation for this?”
Trying to smile to cover her tension, Nayeon found the other person silent for a long moment, which only made her more uncomfortable. The air in the kitchen seemed to congeal. Especially in the space between them, it thickened as if harder to breathe.
“You came to visit? Stopping by my place?” Nayeon hoped the person in front of her would say yes—that she’d just dropped by on the way.
“I didn’t come here to hang out, but yes, I came to see you.”
“What do you mean?” Nayeon frowned; frankly, she didn’t have the energy to play cat-and-mouse with the person before her.
“I came to be your assistant.”
“Don’t joke with me, Sana.” Nayeon said with a laugh, silently begging that she was teasing. What the hell?
“I’m not joking. Look into my eyes and you’ll know I’m telling the truth.” Sana tried to meet the older woman’s gaze, but Nayeon had already turned away.
“But I don’t need an assistant, and I didn’t hire you.” Nayeon said flatly, still wiping the counter.
“Your company hired me. If you don’t believe me, ask your manager.”
Nayeon didn’t really believe Sana. So she called Yoo Jeongyeon—her capable manager. Calling her capable wasn’t wrong. Jeongyeon had pulled a special clause from Nayeon’s contract with the company so she had nowhere to refuse.
“Isn’t it that you always need an assistant 24/7? Even if you’re temporarily inactive, I felt I needed to send someone there with you.”
Jeongyeon didn’t forget to add, “Let Sana stay with you, that way I’ll feel more at ease. Get some rest and then come back—everyone’s really looking forward to it.” Nayeon felt a slight sting in her nose hearing those words, so she said nothing more than a goodbye and hung up.
When she returned to the living room, she found Sana twisting her hair. Her hair was a deep brown, straight and falling over slender shoulders. Sana seemed thinner than the last time Nayeon had seen her. Nayeon’s living room wasn’t large, yet Sana seemed small within the space, melting into the dark blue sofa, blending with the white wall and baby blue curtains. Nayeon thought she suited the place.
“How’s work been? Since you’re here, what about the job?” Nayeon asked.
Sana smiled and replied cheerfully, “I’ve taken care of everything, don’t worry.”
Nayeon didn’t understand what Sana meant by “taken care of.” But seeing her smile, she couldn’t stop the corners of her own mouth from turning up.
“Well then, stay here a few days and treat it like a break. Maybe you’ll work better when you go back. I’ll show you your room.” Nayeon said, dragging Sana’s oversized suitcase along.
***
When Sana landed at Kahului Airport, it was already early afternoon. After a nearly twelve-hour flight with one transfer, her body felt exhausted, but her spirit remained sharp.
Sana was highly focused, like someone on a hunt. Her “prey” must be Im Nayeon, and if things didn’t go according to Sana’s plan, either the hunter or the hunted would get hurt.
She wanted to imagine Nayeon’s reaction seeing her, but at the same time she didn’t. Whether she pictured it or not, she felt the same tension as if about to perform on stage for the first time. At eighteen, Minatozaki Sana had been anxious about how the audience would receive her. Now, at the tail end of her twenties, she was nervous to see whether her ex-lover would welcome her into their home.
Booking an Uber to the provided address, Sana felt confident she’d be fine on the island. She was no longer “afraid” of English like before. After all, Sana thought she wouldn’t stay in this place for less than six months; communicating in English would be necessary.
The drive from the airport to Nayeon’s place took about two hours. It would have been under thirty minutes if she’d caught another flight, but Sana didn’t want to arrive too quickly. Even two hours in the car wasn’t enough time for her to steel herself.
Besides, the road to Hana was said to be beautiful. Of course Sana didn’t have time to stop and sightsee. But at least the waterfalls, coves, and vegetation beside the road would help keep a bit of her sanity before meeting her ex.
The late afternoon light along the horizon had a strange calming effect. The sun, golden with a touch of orange, spilled shimmering rays on the sea like pure honey. The sweet beauty of the sunset quieted the noisy voices in her head.
Sana asked the driver if she could open the window when the car ran along a seaside stretch. The friendly Uber driver agreed. They say Hawaiians are warm-hearted—and it was true.
The sea breeze carrying mist cooled the cabin, a welcome contrast to dry, cold air conditioning. Sana let the wind stroke her skin and tangle her hair. The mischievous gust suddenly reminded her of someone’s warmth.
“Whenever there’s wind, just snuggle up close to me.”
Because of that sentence, many times when standing in gentle breezes—no matter where—she couldn’t hold back the swell of melancholy. That person’s low, warm voice seemed to hide in every gust. The gentle caress of the wind became a sharp blade cutting the flesh, painfully deep.
Sana felt her eyes sting and she pressed the tip of her tongue to the roof of her mouth. Crying wasn’t weakness, but if she cried now she feared letting fear flood her mind. She’d lose all resolve, like a soldier losing morale before battle.
To make the decision to come to this island—or more precisely, to come to someone so important to her—Sana had summoned all her courage. Now she could not falter.
Gripping her suitcase handle along the stone path flanked by tall palms leading to Nayeon’s house, Sana promised herself she would bravely step forward.
Minatozaki Sana stood still in the twilight before Im Nayeon’s house. She hoped she didn’t look too tense; she must hide everything she felt and act natural. Yet the thought of that familiar face appearing beyond the white door made her heart race. Perhaps the quiet around her amplified the sound from her chest.
She inhaled deeply and pressed the doorbell. The door opened and Sana managed to offer the smile she knew Nayeon loved. But the person who appeared wasn’t Nayeon. Sana admitted she felt a little deflated, though she was happy to meet the little girl in front of her.
This was her first time meeting Kailani in person after many online exchanges. But Sana didn’t feel strange at all; instead, she greeted Kailani like an old friend. The girl was thrilled to see Sana—almost shouting with excitement.
“How are you here without telling me? Does Nayeon know?—” Kailani’s questions came fast, and Sana happily answered them all.
Finally, Kailani said she should go home so she wouldn’t make things awkward for Sana and Nayeon. Sana wanted to tell her she didn’t have to, but then realized she didn’t yet know how Nayeon would react, so letting Kailani leave them alone was probably best.
After saying goodbye to Kailani, Sana entered Nayeon’s house. It wasn’t her first time here, but the house in Seoul and this house carried two completely different meanings. This was the home Nayeon had grown up in—the house that once held the presence of her parents and sister. It had once been a whole family. Sana understood this was sacred ground Nayeon didn’t want others to invade. So stepping inside made her a little uneasy.
Standing at the kitchen entrance, Sana felt her stomach twist and her toes grip the wooden floor. Now she could look at Nayeon closely without fear of being seen by anyone else. It was just the two of them here.
Nayeon was well, though thinner—her plump cheeks long gone. Her hair was longer, less tended than when she lived in Korea. But what of it? That face remained beautiful.
Now her skin bore traces of Hawaii’s sun and sea breeze—a honeyed tan like the sunset sky Sana had watched from the taxi. The tan made her look sturdier and far more alluring. Nayeon had reached thirty, and this new image suited her well.
She was okay—that was all Sana needed to know. Even if Nayeon was no longer hers, every night before falling asleep Sana prayed one thing: “Nayeon is fine.” Sana thought she must have loved her deeply, because love like that didn’t care whether the other belonged to you. It was just—why hadn’t she realized sooner how much she loved Nayeon?
“This is your room.” The homeowner showed her a room on the second floor.
The room was designed in white with a few ocean-colored blue items. In the center was a bed with a canopy tied back at the four corners. Sana rarely slept in beds like this, so she felt a little delighted.
A woman nearing thirty whose eyes still shone at the thought of sleeping in such a bed like a princess—did that make her look silly? Sana hoped not.
Noticing Sana’s look, Nayeon pretended to casually survey the room as though she hadn’t just changed the sheet yesterday. Yet every subtle move of Sana’s curious gaze did not escape Nayeon’s notice. Why would she change the bedding for a room that sat empty all year? Who would come looking for Nayeon? And who did she hope that person would be?
“The room’s beautiful, I love it, mahalo!” Sana said.
Nayeon was a little surprised to hear Sana thank her in Hawaiian. She smiled; the sound was soft and fell into the quiet like a stone dropped into water, vanishing.
Sana sat on the bed and looked at her intently, once more. Nayeon stood with her head bowed beneath the ceiling light, hands tucked into the pockets of gray sweatpants. Her shoulders were steady, but no longer as straight as before. They drooped as if under the weight of the air, like a bird’s wings folding and hanging when it stands in rain. The rain had prevented the bird from spreading its wings under the wide sky.
Nayeon tore her gaze from the low window to face Sana, and caught the gentle light reflected in those brown eyes. She turned away quickly, the hand in her pocket clenching.
Sana probably didn’t understand how the silence irritated Nayeon. But truly, there was nothing left between them to say—no shared topics. It wasn’t that she wanted to ignore her; she simply wanted to say something to break the strange tension but didn’t know what.
“I’ll go downstairs to prepare dinner. You can unpack and rest. When dinner’s ready I’ll call you down.”
She spoke as if holding something in. As Nayeon touched the doorknob, she heard Sana call hurriedly.
“Nayeon, I…”
Nayeon stopped at the threshold and waited.
“I- I came here... for you.”
Nayeon didn’t answer, but lowered her head to look at Sana’s faint shadow on the wall by the door. She stood right behind. Nayeon parted her lips to say something then hesitated whether she should.
Click.
She left the room without a word. For matters that make us waver between speaking and not, it’s often better to keep them to ourselves.
Dinner passed quietly between them. Occasionally, Sana would ask a frivolous question and Nayeon would answer briefly before bowing her head to eat. Feeling a little sad at her reaction and exhausted from the long flight, Sana lost her appetite. She skimmed the salad and said she was full.
“Why don’t you go upstairs?” Nayeon said, surprised that she had finished eating but remained sitting, watching her.
“I’m waiting for you,” she blinked at Nayeon before adding, “I’ll clean up here.”
“No need, I’ll take care of it.” Nayeon tried to hide a smile behind the glass she grabbed.
“This is courtesy—since you cooked for me, I have to wash the dishes.” She said, standing and carrying her plate to the sink.
Sana’s persuasive reasoning suddenly reminded Nayeon of the past: she would cook, Sana would clean. That unspoken rule had always existed between them. Now, only by Sana’s reminder did she remember. Time made people forget some things, while others remained etched like stone.
“Let me do it! You’re tired—go rest.” Nayeon began clearing the remaining items from the table and moved to stand beside the sink near Sana.
“How did you know I was tired?” Sana didn’t intend to step aside, so she shifted slightly and reached for the tap. She kept staring at her, her eyes wavering—waiting for something.
“You look tired.” Nayeon slowly rinsed the dishes, then placed them in the dishwasher. The hum of the machine filled the quiet space. She turned her back to Sana to wipe the table.
How did Nayeon know Sana was tired? It wasn’t hard to guess—perhaps because she knew how long the journey from Seoul to here was. Or perhaps because she understood Sana so well that even her breath could tell Nayeon how she felt.
Sana was no stranger to being so understood. But Nayeon’s demeanor made one thing clear: she didn’t want anything more from her—not even a deeper conversation about anything between them.
Sana said nothing and slipped quietly out of the kitchen; her footsteps on the stairs sounded heavy as if ten pounds had been added.
Maybe Sana should slow down and not try to climb over the wall Nayeon had built around her. At this point, making a small hole to peek through to the other side would be a victory, she thought.
Anyway, she should set aside this mess—she hadn’t even settled into life here yet.
Sana unpacked and neatly arranged her suitcase in the wardrobe. Done, she chose a white silk nightgown and prepared for a favorite pastime: soaking in the tub. Today she’d use lavender oil to soothe the neurons tense from hours of strain. She bathed for about an hour, reading on the Kindle she always carried. Lately, books were her close companions.
The pleasant quiet in the bathroom seemed to recharge Sana. It wasn’t easy to muster the courage to face Nayeon after so long. She felt exhausted and wanted to sleep immediately.
The water had cooled; Sana rose and dried off. Wrapping the robe that came with the nightgown around herself, she brushed her hair and stepped out. Immediately, her attention fell on a strange object on the bedside table. She held it up to the light—the white liquid sloshing in the glass as she moved.
A glass of milk.
Cradling the glass, Sana tiptoed down the stairs, silently hoping Nayeon would be in the living room. She found her seated on the sofa under the warm light of a reading lamp.
“What’s this?”
Nayeon smiled and gently explained. “It’s almond milk. You didn’t eat much earlier.” Her tone left nothing ambiguous—she feared Sana would be hungry. “When I brought it up you were in the shower; I didn’t know if it had cooled. Do you want me to warm it?” Before Sana could answer, Nayeon reached for the glass in her hand. “It’s still a bit warm—drink it before it cools.”
Under the host’s attentive gaze, Sana obediently finished the glass. For some reason, the mild sweetness of the almond milk tasted stronger at that moment, masking its natural tang.
Sana went back to her room after putting the empty glass in the sink. Glancing at Nayeon, who was absorbed in her book, she didn’t forget to leave a soft “thank you” before turning away. Nayeon’s attitude, less cold than earlier, made Sana a little happy. She’d take that as a small victory for her first day here.
Long after Sana had gone upstairs, Nayeon slowly lifted her head from the book in her hands and exhaled as if unloading a burden.
When Sana had left without a word after dinner, Nayeon assumed she had made her angry. In hindsight, she realized she had been a bit too distant. Her restraint to appear composed at all times could easily become cool indifference. With a cheerful, smiling, good-natured girl like Sana, Nayeon feared her attitude might wound her.
How, after all, should she face Sana over the coming days? Sighing, Nayeon sank deeper into the soft chair. It would be a lie to say she felt nothing about Sana’s arrival. The moment she saw her face, Nayeon thought she must be dreaming and wished it were true.
“I came here for you.”
Of course Nayeon knew Sana came for her—so how should she feel? Joyful? Should she be happy? To feel that would be selfish. Ironically, Nayeon had returned to Hawaii to prevent herself from becoming selfish. For more than two years she had almost cut all contact with everyone, seeming to vanish from this world to hide in another.
“Sana…” Nayeon murmured her name.
One day you will see all of this as meaningless and return to where you belong.