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“Get me a car at 3.” Jimin sighs into the speaker.
There’s only silence on the line, which seems to only stretch further as she slams the phone back on her desk.
Her assistant must have run out for doughnuts, again, against her orders. There isn’t anything she could do about it now, having fired six different people in the past year.
“You can’t get rid of this one, Jimin.” Aeri snorts, her voice drifting in and out on speaker phone. Jimin doesn’t bother to adjust the volume. “Besides, I think he’s nice.”
“Nice doesn’t get the job done.” She grinds her teeth. “Just get me a car at 3. I have to pick up my sister.”
“Your sister?” Aeri trails off. “You have— Wait, the baby?”
“Yes, the baby.” She groans. “They fired another nanny. Apparently she doesn’t like any that my parents hired and Nan's too old to watch her. This kid is 3 years old.”
“Runs in the family, I see.”
“Car at 3.” She deadpans before hanging up.
Jimin doesn’t have the time to deal with this mess. Nowadays, it doesn’t feel like she had time for anything.
Her schedule is filled to the brim, seven days a week. Jimin was meeting more people than her brain could keep up, God forbid her assistance be helpful just for one day.
Most names are simply files on her desk, coming and going before she has the chance to remember them. Her deadlines seem to always be approaching faster than the human understanding of time and Jimin just can’t take it.
The allure of the corporate world had consumed Jimin by the ripe age of 10. Her relationship with her parents, or lack thereof, both running their own law firm, inevitably morphed into a cold magnet that pulls Jimin closer towards their world of paperwork and sky high offices with a city line view. She needed a taste of it, whatever was so addictive and fulfilling that was worth giving up a relationship with your own child.
Every decision Jimin has ever made has led up to this: success, prestige, her decorated name in the ring for the youngest partner at the firm that flattened her parents’ reputation in the business. All the people she’s left behind, all the safer, more secure opportunities she’s passed up on, everything she’s ever done was for this spot.
Jimin is 25. Respect and envy from peers her age for her achievements in a field where people like her are sidelined, were back-burnered to their distaste for her arrogance and less than likeable qualities. But Jimin isn’t here to be liked.
She wipes the sweat off of her forehead as she exits the car, pushing the door to the daycare centre open. Couple of days ago and this would be the last place anybody would expect to find Jimin alive. She peeks inside the classroom: a couple of kids are running around, some napping on top of rainbow bean bags. She doesn’t spot her sister. Jimin could only pray she still recognizes her.
Jimin's guilt comes to life when her heel digs into the carpet at the door, watching the children play. She leans over the counter to find a petite woman holding a sleeping boy, probably a little older than her sister.
“Hello. I’m here to pick up Yu Byul.”
“Oh, who are you?” The woman squints, keeping the polite smile plastered on her face.
“I’m her sister.” She replies curtly. “The nanny isn’t available today so I’m here.”
The small woman looks up at her from the computer, eyes flicking back and forth. “I’m sorry, it doesn’t list here that Byul has anyone other than her nanny.”
“And you don’t think that’s suspicious?” Jimin responds flatly. She’s annoyed, maybe. Inconvenienced, definitely. “She has a family.”
“I’m sorry. It’s protoc—”
“Jimim!”
A small shriek comes from below before the lightest of force meets her legs. Jimin looks down to catch a blur of her baby sister in a pink dress and pigtails, her tiny arms wrapped around Jimin’s thigh.
“Hi kiddo!” She responds, a little surprised. In her defence, Jimin had looked up ‘how to converse with a 3 year old baby’ on the way here, and the search was less than successful.
“Byulie, who is this lady?” The daycare staff stands up from behind the counter, leaning down to her sister.
“It’s Jimim!” The little girl reaches out her arms for Jimin to pick her up and she hesitates, looking over to the teacher as if asking for permission before realizing how suspicious it made her look.
It’s not like she’s never held Byul. She’s just much bigger than Jimin remembered and maybe, Jimin is a little worried about dropping her.
“Byulie, is this your sister?” The lady asks, smiling fondly at the girl in her arms.
“Yeah! She’s old, though.”
It makes the other woman giggle and Jimin’s ears redden slightly. She puts the baby down beside her, grabbing onto her hand just in case she runs away. She prays nobody in the room picks up on just how awful she’s doing with her own sister.
Digging into her pocket, she places her driver’s license onto the table, grabbing the woman’s attention.
“My ID. You’re free to call our parents, or any number that’s in the system to check.” She forces a polite smile, glancing at her watch discreetly.
“There's her nanny's number in our system, and another one listed as emergency contact ending in… 867?”
“My mother’s number.” Jimin chuckles, trying to hide her annoyance. “My apologies, my parents are—”
“I get it.”
She waits for the phone call, little Byul asking her incoherent questions with half her attention on the grey tie loose around Jimin’s neck. She lets the girl fiddle with it, eyes rapt on the woman at the front desk.
The lady catches her gaze here and there, moving from her screen to the boy in her lap, back to Jimin.
“Sorry for the inconvenience, you’re free to go.” The woman smiles up at her. “It’s just protocols for us to check, you know.”
“Of course.” She nods, turning to the door as Byul waves goodbye before the teacher stops her.
“Would you like to add yourself on Byul’s file? You know, in case of future’s visits?”
She politely declines, feeling a twinge of something foreign gnawing at her guts at the reminder of her absence in the little girl’s life. Jimin knows she won’t be able to ever be fully present, and there was no point inserting herself in something she knew she’d never have to revisit.
It’s a punch in the gut when she’s standing at the daycare’s front desk again the next day. There’s a laughing track playing in the background as Jimin struggles to explain herself to a different employee. Apparently, Byul had fallen asleep just before pick up time, no luck on the girl confirming their relationship this time.
“I’m sorry, I’m in a little bit of a rush.” She fidgets with her sleeves, feeling another headache creeping up. “I spoke to another lady here yesterday and she’s already confirmed everything.”
“Sorry.” The young woman shakes her head. She couldn’t have been older than 18. “We just have to double check for safety. It’s prot—”
“Oh, hey!”
Like a saving grace, Jimin spots the familiar brunette she spoke to the day before in the distance, holding a bag of dirty diapers. She waves her hand frantically as she spots her, narrowing her eyes before softening her gaze in recognition.
“Jimim, right?” She approaches them with the bag still in hand.
“Jimin. My sister just says it funny…” She scratches the nape of her neck. “You know 3 year olds…”
“Yeah, I do.” The woman furrows her eyebrows, with her smile still wide. “This is Byulie’s older sister, I’d already checked with the family yesterday.”
Her coworker nods before standing up, disappears into the classroom. She thanks the smaller woman curtly, drowning in the awkwardness of the situation she found herself in.
Jimin never cared how she looked in people’s eyes before. Yet, she feels uneasy under the gaze of her sister's daycare teacher, who looks as though she couldn’t hurt a fly. Jimin would, and probably should laugh at herself.
The next day, and the day after that, she continues to show up to collect Byul with a little less irritation each day, before Friday finally comes around and the familiar woman greets her once more.
“You know the kids are picked up earlier on Friday, right?”
Jimin feels some snappy remark crossing her mind and pinches the flesh on her palm to distract herself. These people don’t need her attitude after a long day of diapers and baby vomit.
“Sorry, I’m new to this.” She takes a breath, forcing a tight smile. It must have shown up all wrong and embarrassing, because the teacher laughs under her breath. Jimin is taken aback, the tips of her ears burn.
“Byulie is asleep inside, but before I go get her…” The woman points to the front desk and Jimin’s gaze follows. “Want to add yourself to the system now? I have a feeling you might stick around.”
“Sure.” She takes out her business card and slides it across the table.
“You’re a lawyer?” She looks up at Jimin, curious.
“I am.”
The girl only hums and moves back inside the room, coming back out with her sister snoring against the crook of her neck.
“Byul is a deep sleeper, and a great kid. She never cries and is the least fussy eater here.” She nods, taking in this new information about her own sister. “You don’t spend time with her a lot.”
The words sounded more like a fact than a question. Jimin just nods. It was true.
“Not really. Given the age gap and my job, the past week has been the most time I’ve spent with her.”
Jimin has never felt shame for her absence. After all, absence was all she knew.
Growing up, she spent more time with her nanny and tutors than anybody else. Her parents would be home twice a week if she was lucky, and sometimes, Jimin herself would be too busy studying to have a meal with them.
When Byul was born, Jimin had just been recruited fresh out of law school. She was eager, out for blood, spending night after night locking herself in her small cubicle in the shared office space and priding herself on her own dedication. Jimin had a way of feeding into her own ego until it overshadows everything else in her life. She doesn't know how to function otherwise.
Byul was a little chubby as a newborn, her old nanny who still stays at their parents’ place would send her photos when Jimin is too busy to visit. She would pop by on weekends for an hour or two, rocking the baby to sleep before returning to her desk, lifeless again. She shoves the nagging thought that tells her she’s turning into her own parents into the depths of her brain until it overflows and falls out like a worn sock in a pile of dirty laundry. It hits her all at once — guilt, shame, a little resentment for no one but herself, all while watching TV with her sister, who had just woken up from her afternoon nap.
“Jimim…” The baby mumbles against her torso, reaching for something. “Blankie.”
“Pardon?” She squints, confused.
“Forgot my blankie.”
She seems to remember the small blue blankie with the little white stars on it that the girl always held onto when Jimin came to pick her up. It was a gift from Jimin for Byul's 1st birthday. Something strange twists in her chest at the knowledge that her sister's favourite item had come from Jimin herself.
“We can come back for it tomorrow, Byul.”
The girl’s face shifts into a heartwrenching pout. Jimin flinches, wondering if she was going to burst into tears.
“I want my blankie.”
“Okay, okay.” She scrambles. “Let’s go get blankie, then?”
“You go. I stay.” Satisfaction evident in her face, the little girl points to the TV before settling back into the couch, grinning as if she hadn’t just scared Jimin to death.
She sighs, fighting back a smile.
It only takes 20 minutes before the new nanny arrives at her place. She had hired a new babysitter to look after Byul while she worked and to her surprise, the girl had yet to show any sign of protest.
Still, Byul was getting antsy without her blankie. Jimin doesn’t know how to deal with a baby’s tantrum, and her driver had already gone home for the afternoon. So she takes her own car and drives in the rain until the daycare comes into view.
Someone must have answered her prayers because the lights are still on by the time she arrives. She knocks twice when the woman from earlier appears, mouth agape.
“Jimin— I mean, Miss Yu.” She opens the door and signals for her to come in. “What are you doing here?”
“Byul forgot her blankie.” She sighs. “I’m sorry to trouble you. Is it here?”
“Oh, yeah.”
The daycare teacher returns shortly with the blankie in her hand. “Byul and her blankie are inseparable.” She takes a small pause, glances up at Jimin. “You know, I think I misjudged you, Miss Yu.”
“How so?”
“I thought you’d be a cold, heartless monster.”
Jimin snorts. It wasn’t what she was expecting to come out of her mouth, at all. “Some people wouldn’t think you’re so wrong.” She chuckles.
“You seem to care for Byul.”
“She’s my sister.”
“Not everyone would drive in this weather to pick up a blankie for their sister.” She shrugs.
“Well, I’m flattered, but I must go.” She winks. “The boss needs her package delivered.”
The woman bursts out in a fit of giggles and Jimin feels compelled to join. “You better get to it then.”
“How will you get home?” She stops at the door, glancing back to catch her still watching Jimin, grinning. “Miss…”
“Kim Minjeong.” She actually blushes, and Jimin smiles back. “I’m just gonna stay here tonight actually. It might storm later and it’s not safe out.”
“Let me take you home then, Miss Kim.” She offers, feeling a little impulsive for the first time in a while.
It catches the woman in surprise. They stare at each other in tense silence for a moment before the teacher chokes. “Minjeong. You can just call me Minjeong.”
“Right. Minjeong.” She breathes. “I’ll take you home.”
Jimin doesn’t see Minjeong for the next few visits, which is no problem since her name is in the computer as Byul’s guardian now, and the other daycare teachers had gotten used to her face. A particular staff had been joking about Jimin’s all too formal attire just as she walked in and apologized under a giggle. Jimin brushed off the comment, even as she makes a mental note to lose the suit when she can. It doesn’t seem realistic with her schedule to go home and change. She already has to give up a couple hours a day to make it to the daycare before rush hour. Like a grandma, Byul gets hangry and prickly when she misses her afternoon cartoon program.
The weather doesn’t seem to ease up on them. Jimin shows up in a rain poncho two sizes too small one afternoon despite her own discomfort. Her umbrella had damn near exploded in the wind and she had no other option. She has a little kiddie poncho sandwiched between her arm and side when she pushes the door open, almost knocking over another figure standing at the entrance. Minjeong, jumping in surprise, gaze softening as recognition dawned on her face.
Then came a high-pitched belly laugh. She’s hunching over and gasping for air while Jimin is frozen in embarrassment.
“Don’t start.” Jimin blushes. “I know it looks ridiculous.”
Minjeong doesn’t stop cackling by the time she pulls Byul out of the playroom. The little girl, not recognizing her sister, is vibrating in her own giggles when Jimin pulls down the hood of her coat.
Jimin shakes her head as she helps the girl in her own poncho, her face and neck are hot under Minjeong’s playful scrutiny.
“What?” She huffs.
“It’s just nice to see you without the suit.”
She rolls her eyes. The daycare was not a good place for her pride, it seemed.
“Byul, say bye.”
“Wait!” Minjeong gets a hold of her arm after waving to the little girl. “Thank you for the ride the other week.”
“It’s nothing.” The polite smile slips on uncomfortably. Being friendly isn’t at all Jimin’s strong suit. “How are you getting home today, in this weather?”
A look Jimin can’t decode passes over the woman’s features as she takes a small step back. “I don’t think we should make a habit of it.”
She stills and lets the moment pass.
“Understood.”
Jimin feels cold. Colder than the breeze outside as it hits her. She’s still shivering when she gets in the car, goosebumps tingling all over her skin.
Jimin’s not used to offering anyone help, and here’s Minjeong getting the wrong idea. She slithers back into the cast of her own self, brushing the interaction out of her mind as if it never happened. There’s no need to dwell on it. In fact, Jimin agrees with Minjeong.
When they see each other again, Jimin’s suit is well pressed and she doesn’t linger by the door. Byul is asleep in her arms the second the staff hands her over. She holds back a smile at the kid's snores and heads for her car, ignoring a familiar face in her peripheral.
“Jimin, wait!”
She almost pretends to not hear it but Jimin sighs, stopping in her tracks. She should be colder, turn away faster but a voice in her head, one that she ignores with all her might, tells her not to. Jimin listens this time.
“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” Minjeong catches her breath in between words. “I was just embarrassed. I didn’t want to be a charity case.”
“I know you already don’t think highly of me, but I would prefer if you refrained from assuming my way of thinking.” She deadpans, shifting her gaze but not quick enough to miss the slight look of hurt in the girl’s eyes.
“I—” She starts and pauses. “I’m sorry. I’ll leave you alone.”
Minjeong looks smaller than she usually does, blinking at the ground.
“I don’t want to hurt your feelings, either. Don’t take anything I say to heart.”
Minjeong nods quietly and Jimin exhales, chest heavy. “Minjeong, you’re not a charity case.”
“I shouldn’t have said that. Forget it.”
The universe doesn’t let her forget it. Jimin is stuck in traffic on Friday after a disastrous deposition. Remind her to never work with another entitled rookie paralegal on a case. She’s ripping out her hair by the time the car door closes, cursing under her breath. Her driver is scared shitless, hands shaking at the wheel while they’re trapped in rush hour chaos.
The daycare is almost closed when she arrives, running up the stairs for her cardio of the week. Byul is tapping her feet by the door inside. “Finally.”
She scrunches her nose. “Sorry, kid. Super busy.”
“I’m hungry. We’re missing Bluey.” She frowns, brows furrowed into a straight line. If Jimin wasn’t already in such a god-awful mood, she would have found it adorable.
Minjeong perks up from behind the desk, pausing when she spots Jimin. She waves to Byul as they leave, shoots Jimin a shy smile.
Jimin hates herself for it but she turns her back, rushes her sister out the door.
“How does Miss Kim get home?” Byul asks when they’re back in the car, toying with the tablet in her hands.
“Don’t know.” She brushes it off, scrolling through the files her assistant had emailed her.
The little girl doesn’t let up, asking question after question until Jimin finally turns on a rerun of Bluey, fetching herself another mug of coffee to quiet the voices in her head. The nanny offers to cook them both dinner and Jimin turns it down, rushing out the door before she could think about what she was doing.
Minjeong is standing at the bus stop across the road from the daycare when she arrives, dripping in rain water.
“Get in.”
She blinks, eyes widening in surprise. Behind Jimin is a line of furious drivers, honking until their arms tire out. Jimin doesn’t care too much for it. Minjeong does, with the way she glances at the mob of people poking their heads out their windows to flip her off and hurriedly slipping into Jimin’s passenger seat.
“I’m getting your car all wet.” She speaks once they’ve finally turned onto another street.
Jimin doesn’t respond, wordlessly handing a box of tissues over the gears.
“I don’t understand you.” The teacher mumbles as if she doesn’t mean to say it aloud.
“You don’t need to.”
Minjeong sighs in defeat but invites Jimin in when they arrive. It’s windy and freezing, Jimin takes almost 20 minutes to find a place to stop where the street wasn’t flooding.
“I’m busy.”
“Just come inside until the rain calms down.” Minjeong worries at her lips. “Please?”
It’s a small studio duplex where Minjeong lives. The carpet at the door is soaked from the water flooding in. Jimin thinks she’s doing a good job with her poker face but Minjeong guffaws. “You’re gonna shit your pants holding it in. You can judge.”
“I’m just wondering who designed this flooring.” She mutters, busies herself with pretending to know anything about architecture.
It’s small, cozy, and impeccably tidy. There’s a frame of Minjeong and a few other daycare staffs she recognized, next to a tower of unopened boxes.
“What’s your game here, Miss Big Shot Lawyer?”
She turns to the voice, Minjeong is tossing her soaking wet jacket in a basket, looking up to meet her gaze.
“I can ask you the same.”
“You’re nice one moment, and cold the next. Does everybody in your life get the lawyer treatment, even your sister?”
Jimin blinks. She doesn't respond. Doesn't look at Minjeong either, just mindlessly running her eyes all over the apartment.
“You’re just always there.” Minjeong’s voice cracks in frustration. “I can’t escape you and I can’t understand you either.”
Jimin stays quiet. She focuses on the picture frames in Minjeong's kitchen. She’s radiating with joy in all of them, beaming so wide it's almost contagious. Jimin shivers and doesn't know why.
“It’s not raining that hard anymore.” She speaks as Minjeong returns from the bathroom. She’s changed into a sleep shirt and sweatpants. Jimin tries not to linger on the collarbone peeking over the worn out neckline.
Minjeong scoffs but doesn’t spare her another glance when Jimin moves for the door. She grabs her wrist just as she reaches for the handle, pulling away like she got burned from the contact. “Before you leave, can I ask you something?”
Jimin spins around. “Sure.”
“Do you… Is there…” She takes a long breath to collect herself before continuing, her voice hushed. “Can you put in a word for me for your lawyer friends?”
Jimin’s eyes narrow. Intrigued and somewhat alarmed, she steps closer, into the girl’s space. “Why?”
“I’m looking for a divorce lawyer.”
It’s not often Jimin is taken for surprise. She likes to be on her toes, good survival instinct means having no blind spots. Still, she’s completely blindsided by the information and Minjeong laughs self-consciously. “You’re judging again.”
“I’m surprised.” She breathes. “It doesn’t happen a lot.”
“Well, aren’t I lucky.” The girl murmurs. “That’s why I asked you to come in. I wanted to ask. I swear I’m not hitting on you.”
Jimin holds back on asking why that would be a bad thing. Minjeong is kind, sweet, gorgeous and all the good things in the world. Who would be stupid enough to give her up?
“A divorce lawyer.” She hums. “I know some of the best in the city but they’re not exactly model citizens.”
Jimin wouldn’t trust those guys to go near anything with a pulse with a 10 foot pole, let alone Minjeong. She's sweating just thinking about it.
“I’m… a little desperate.” Minjeong chews on her bottom lip.
“Have you filed the suit yet?”
She shakes her head. “I’m not sure what to do at the moment. I just want it over with but I don’t want to do anything wrong.”
“That’s smart.” She tries for a reassuring smile. Minjeong visibly relaxes. “Let me take a look at anything you’ve got. I can help.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to do that.”
“I’m offering.”
The girl, hesitant, steps further away from Jimin for some room to breathe. Jimin lets her go.
“I’m not really sure I can afford you, anyway.” She goes for a joke but it comes out hoarse, the chuckle dying quickly in her throat.
“Minjeong, just relax.” She waits for the girl to meet her eyes before speaking again. “I want to help, I mean it. Let me.”
“You’re doing that thing again.” Minjeong turns, pacing back and forth beside her bed. She kneels and pulls out a thick clear folder, fidgets with it in her hands.
“What thing?”
“Being nice to me.”
Jimin smiles. “That’s a bad thing?”
“If you want to help, I need to know you’ll treat me like any other client.” Minjeong’s lips press into a thin line, firm in her stance. “When you’re not helping, you can’t go back to pushing me away like some stranger. I deserve respect, and at the very least some civility from you.”
Jimin nods, a little stunned. “You can expect nothing but professionalism from me. That, I can guarantee.”
“And the other part?” She lifts an eyebrow.
“No more hot and cold. Got it.” She holds up her hands in surrender.
The girl passes over the folder, heavy in her hands. It’s all the usual evidence for a suit like this: infidelity, drunken misconducts, abusive messages and phone call transcripts. It’s well documented, better than most cases she’s seen. It’s nothing new, flipping through the seemingly endless pages of receipt, but Jimin’s stomach turns uncomfortably.
“Are you separated?” Jimin swallows the cotton ball in her throat.
“Over a year now. Since last June.” Minjeong points to the page in her hand. “That’s the documents for this apartment when I moved out of our place.”
Jimin nods, putting everything back in its place and handing it back over. Minjeong shifts nervously on her feet. Against her better judgment, Jimin reaches out for her hand. “This looks very solid. Any half decent lawyer could win this in their sleep.”
“I don’t have the kind of money he does. I’m just worried he’ll make me look bad in court. I’ve seen it before with my parents.”
Jimin squeezes her grip, feeling a squeeze back. “He doesn’t have me. You do.”
Minjeong laughs. “I already told you I don’t think I can afford you.”
“Don’t worry about that for now.” She shakes her head. “I would feel uneasy handing this over to any sleazy divorce lawyer that’s just looking to take advantage of newly single women.”
“I’m not a victim.” Minjeong frowns.
“I know you’re not. I want to make sure no one sees you that way.”
“So what can I do in return?” Lines etched into the girl’s forehead in concern.
“I’m willing to do the case pro-bono.” Jimin meets her gaze. “Before you protest, it’s the lawyer’s decision when they take pro-bono cases. I have all the choice in the world to charge you or give this case to anyone else but I want to help you.”
Minjeong is quiet for a moment. She looks away. “Why?”
“I don’t know.” She truly doesn’t. “I just do.”
“Can I think about it?”
Jimin lets out the breath she’s been holding. “Of course.”
Outside, the rain comes to a slow stop. Petrichor lingers in the air when she steps out, breathing it in. Jimin scribbles something on her business card before passing it back to Minjeong at the door.
“If you want to book a meeting, call my office. For anything else, that’s my personal cell.”
“Get back home safe.” Minjeong smiles widely. Jimin recognizes the same smile from the photos inside, melts a little at it. “Thank you for everything.”
She pauses before turning away. “As a friend, I’m really sorry for what happened.”
Jimin doesn’t like to mix personal and business. Her clients respect her success rates and results rather than Jimin as a person. She knows it, and is fine with it. It never mattered to her to get involved with a name on a file. It’s only ever a matter of time before the next one comes along.
Minjeong is standing in front of her, hair still wet from the rain, smelling like peaches and roses. Her eyes crescents in a smile, the apples of her cheeks flushed pink.
Minjeong is so far from just a name to Jimin and she doesn’t know what to do about it.
Minjeong calls on a Friday night at one in the morning. “Can you come over?”
Jimin is tired, half asleep and fried from her day in court. She’s pulling out of the parking lot 20 minutes later, driving off into the night despite her pummelling headache. She was going to regret it tomorrow morning when she’s back in the office, buried in paperwork without a wink of sleep. For now, Jimin keeps driving.
Minjeong lets her in and pours her a cup of tea.
“I’m gonna knock out if I drink that.”
The girl chuckles, dropping herself next to Jimin on the couch. “I’m sorry for calling at this hour. I know it’s probably unfair but it felt like the right thing.”
She hands over the yellow envelope. Jimin takes a second to inspect it.
“You were served.” She squints. “He filed it first?”
“Asshole probably scoured the city for the best lawyer and had the suit ready to go.”
“Well, I’m right here.” She winks and Minjeong smacks her arm. “He won’t be able to hurt you anymore.”
“You’re welcome to stay.” She sighs. “Sorry for waking you.”
“It’s alright. I would have been unreachable tomorrow if you tried.” She yawns. “I’m in court all day, everyday.”
Minjeong nods, guilt clings to her pursed lips.
“I’ll pick you up in a couple days when I get Byul and we can talk in my home office.”
The girl blows out a breath, dropping her head against the couch. Jimin watches her quietly.
The pressure of a lawsuit is so utterly ordinary to Jimin, a part of her routine just like waking up or simply brushing her teeth. She can’t shield Minjeong from everything her cut-throat world could throw their way. For the first time, it unsettles Jimin, too.
“If you don’t want to, tell me now.”
“I’m just not sure how to repay you.” She looks down. “I hate feeling indebted.”
“And I would hate it if you feel that way.” She replies, not missing a beat. “Look, pro-bono cases are very normal. I can find you any other lawyer who would take the case without asking for anything, I just thought you would feel better if it was me.”
“I do.” Minjeong gulps. “I trust you.”
“Then let me help you.”
Minjeong is skipping rocks with Byul by the daycare’s entrance when Jimin’s car pulls up.
“Jimim!” Byul runs to her. “Miss Kim says she’ll take me home.”
“Well, Miss Kim is helping me with work.” Jimin picks the kid up with one hand, eyes not leaving Minjeong.
“Hi.” The girl whispers. Jimin bites back a smile.
Byul is rocking back and forth in her carseat. Jimin watches the two of them in the rearview mirror, ignoring the warmth in her chest. Minjeong catches her eyes sometimes, a shy smile tingling on her face.
“There’s pizza!” The kid shrieks the second they enter her apartment, sprinting to the dining table where her nanny had been setting up a feast.
“Enjoy your food, Byul.” She ruffles her hair. “I just need to talk to Miss Kim for a second.”
They disappear into Jimin’s study as she lets out a long breath. “She has so much energy in her tiny body.”
“It’s cute, don’t you think?”
Jimin shrugs. “She’s okay.”
“Oh, come on.” Minjeong rolls her eyes. “I see the way you look at her. You love your sister.”
“When am I looking at her?”
“Whenever you’re done ogling me.” The girl hums. Jimin clears her throat.
She runs through the basics with Minjeong, what they should expect in a proceeding like this, all the dirty tricks she’s seen being pulled in the past, tricks she had so shamelessly mastered.
“This part is never easy.” Jimin begins softly. “I need some background information to help you.”
Minjeong nods, reminds her to not treat her like a glass doll. Pen in hand, she listens to the girl carefully peeling back the layers of her marriage. It starts like many stories she’s heard before: high school sweethearts marrying young, convincing their love has somehow surpassed the ordinary concept of time until it didn’t.
Minjeong is distant and quiet, staring past Jimin as she skims over the ending because we all know how it goes. Jimin tightens her grip on her pen, scribbling meaningless lines to avoid meeting Minjeong’s eyes, afraid of what she would find.
She’s not one to be easily affected by the tragedies and backstories. In her line of work, empathy is a double-edged sword that collects dust in Jimin’s armory. But Minjeong’s hand is shaking in her lap, and it takes all of her strength to keep her own to herself.
“Thank you for sharing. It will help us, I promise.” She smiles, uneasy.
Jimin drives Minjeong home. She’s overwhelmed, uncomfortable with her own bodily reactions when the girl is in close proximity but it would be ridiculous to call her a cab. Though it would be so much simpler, Jimin thinks, because Minjeong falls asleep in the passenger seat and she’s left without a clue on what to do.
She types into the search bar: what to do when a girl is asleep in your car. Reading it over knocks some sense into Jimin. She fumbles to delete it and retype: what to do when a client is asleep in your car. Google makes all sorts of predictions on their relationship and Jimin is annoyed, tossing her phone to her lap.
She steals a glance to the passenger seat, lingers on the look of peace painted on the girl’s face when she’s sound asleep. Jimin thinks it’s adorable. She bites her cheeks, reaching out to shake Minjeong ever so lightly.
“Hey.” She whispers. “We’re here.”
Minjeong flinches awake in an instant, blinking in surprise. She takes in her surroundings, the blush on her cheeks spread comically. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t get much sleep last night and I guess I just…”
Jimin chuckles. “Too excited to see me.”
“Something like that.”
Minjeong waves as she enters the apartment, peeking her head out one last time and mouths a thank you. Jimin drives away, feeling her heartbeat in her throat.
The settlement hearing rolls around before either of them is ready.
Lawsuit wise, Jimin can do this in her sleep. Minjeong is by her side, stiff as a statue, rigid in her seat. Jimin thinks she could unwrap the nerves vibrating off of the girl’s body like a scarf. That’s the part she’s not prepared for, because Minjeong looks as though she could shatter at any given moment.
Jimin caresses her hand and reminds her she doesn’t have to say a word or even look at him if she doesn’t want to.
Usually, Jimin doesn’t think twice about it. Her job is to win the case, not be anyone’s therapist. But she squeezes Minjeong’s palm under the table every here and there. For every jab at Minjeong’s character and pretentious display of power from the other party, Jimin finds her under the table for some silent comfort.
Still, Jimin is ruthless.
She’s quick and stern with her rebuttals, cutting holes in their sloppy arguments with Minjeong’s eyes burning into her back, in awe. She is utterly compelled, watching Jimin in her natural habitat, a predator going for the prey.
Like any other case, everything goes in Jimin's favor. The settlement is signed a couple days later without too much of a fight from either party. Minjeong melts in relief when Jimin shoots her a smile, whispering a lighthearted joke about prenups saving lives. She laughs under her breath, mouths a "thank you" when Jimin catches her eyes as she's talking to a paralegal across the room.
"Later." She mouths back. Minjeong flushes.
She checks her watch, wraps up the conversation with her colleagues and turns to find Minjeong's chair empty. Jimin slides her files back into her bag, slipping into the hallway to catch a glimpse of the younger girl as she disappears into the women’s room. Jimin follows behind.
There’s no one else inside but the two of them. Minjeong silently wipes her eyes by the sink, Jimin sighs.
She doesn’t say a word, pulling her in until Minjeong sags against her. Quiet sobs are muffled against her chest.
“Does anyone else still feel this shitty afterwards?”
“Most people do.”
"Thank you." Minjeong mutters into her shirt, over and over again. Jimin stills, too flustered to say anything.
“How could I ever repay you?”
“I told you to not think about that.”
Minjeong pulls back, blushing at the wet patch she left on Jimin’s blouse. She fights back her growing smile with all her might, loses it when Minjeong sniffles and tries to wipe at her shirt with a paper towel.
“You’re really not who I thought you were.”
Jimin shrugs and pretends her heart doesn’t flip at the thought of Minjeong thinking highly of her. Not just highly, but fondly. She sees it in her eyes when Minjeong blinks quicker, lingers longer. She tries to look away. Too bad she’s seen it anyway.
Minjeong leans in, pressing a soft kiss against her lips. Jimin doesn’t hesitate to kiss her back, sinking further until they’re out of breath. Her tongue darts out to swipe across Minjeong's bottom lip, feeling the girl's breath hitches in response. It's almost too quiet to catch when Minjeong whimpers, back hitting the counter as she loses balance.
Footsteps approaching from outside snaps them out of it. No one enters.
She pulls away, watching something she doesn’t recognize wash over the girl’s face. Minjeong stumbles, and before she could reach out to steady her, the door swings shut and Jimin is left alone, wiping the pink lipstick stain off the corner of her mouth.
They don’t see each other. Jimin fears it’s for good this time.
The daily pick ups are handled by another teacher, Minjeong’s friend, who gives no hints to Minjeong’s whereabouts or wellbeing in her lighthearted jokes. On days where Jimin is late, hoping to catch even just a glimpse of the girl, Minjeong is never there.
“When is Miss Kim coming for dinner?” Byul picks at her food with her fork and Jimin blinks, ignoring the uncomfortable tug in her chest.
“Miss Kim is busy, sweetie.”
She feels ridiculous for caring. Sometimes, Jimin catches herself a little frustrated when Byul asks why her teacher doesn't stop by like she usually does. Hell, she got to see Minjeong everyday already. Not that Jimin cares.
It’s easier for that narrative to stick when her schedule starts to fill up even further with the firm’s overseas expansion. Jimin drops Byul at her parents’ house with the nanny, catching the next flight to the States. She doesn’t think of home, never got the chance to with the constant chaos of her work, until an unsaved number she recognized flashes on her screen.
“Dad.” She almost spits.
“Hello, Jimin.”
The silence is thick and uncomfortable, even for two people who never knew anything but discomfort around one another. Jimin bites. “What now?”
“I hear you’ve taken a pro-bono case.”
It was so like her father to call for the first time in two years to complain about how much he disapproves of Jimin’s choices. For better or worse, she’s used to it.
“You didn’t call to talk shop.” She deadpans. “What is it that you need?”
There’s a quiet sigh, untraditional for her father. “Your sister.”
Her stomach twists uncomfortably. “What’s wrong with Byul?”
“She’s being a spoiled brat.”
“You know better than to call her that with me. She’s a child.” Your child, Jimin sticks with her better judgment, holding her tongue.
“Then, you must have hired another nanny she’s unhappy with. She’s throwing tantrums.”
To him, Byul is nothing but a loose end Jimin had to cover up because her parents never had it in them to be real parents, just as they did with her a long time ago. If she was pettier, she would have called her father a waste of space and hung up. He doesn’t deserve a rise out of her, Jimin wouldn’t want to waste her breath.
“Your sister misses you.”
The next call that comes through, unsurprisingly, is from Jimin’s old nanny. The woman, well into her 60s, still lives at her family home to watch her little sister while she’s there.
“I’ll find another babysitter.” She huffs.
“You’re smarter than this, Jimin. I know you are.” The older woman sighs. “She wants you, not another nanny. She’s acting out because she needs her sister.”
Jimin’s stomach is in knots on her flight home. She doesn’t know how to navigate this mess.
Byul is four, she’s starting to make friends and showing interest in the piano. Jimin doesn’t remember herself at that age, but she recalls her love for the drums once upon a time. She had fallen asleep on the couch one night with the TV on, waking up to a late night musical program where an English rock band had been performing their latest single. The title had slipped her mind but Jimin couldn’t forget the brooding drummer in the corner of her screen, how passionately he played, utterly engrossed in his own world with no one else but his drums despite the sea of roaring fans below them. Jimin wanted a taste of it.
Jimin never had her hopes up about picking up the instrument or any other hobbies over the years, no matter how badly her heart had yearned for it because her parents would have had too much to say about it to hear her. Jimin would draw herself playing the drums at night when her tutor had left, fingers numb against her pencil, and tossed it in the trash by morning.
It was the last thing she had wanted for Byul, to live her truth in secret, whatever that truth be.
Jimin revolts at the thought of becoming her parents. She runs from it but it catches up to her like it always does. Jimin not only found peace in busying herself with work, she preferred it. How cruel was she to choose a life of courtroom theatrics and meaningless depositions over her own blood?
Like father, like daughter. She tries to spit out the words, rid them from her system but it stains her teeth, leaves a sour taste in her mouth.
Jimin stumbles in the lobby of her apartment, reeling from the storm in her head. Her parents’ absence remains a waking nightmare, a dark cloud looming over her life even after all these years. Oh, how easy it would be for Byul to hate her forever, if she could just run without turning back. For the first time, Jimin thinks the guilt would kill her.
“She’s not strong like you were, Jimin.” Her nanny’s words ring in her head. “You had no one. She has you.”
Jimin wipes a stray tear, stepping out of the elevator. She fumbles with the key card in her hand, blowing out labored breaths. Something’s sitting on her chest.
Then, she sees her. Minjeong, feet shifting back and forth in nerves, hand raised to her door. She jumps in surprise when she turns to Jimin, brows furrowing in concern.
“Jimin, what happened?”
“Come with me.”
The girl opens her mouth to respond but Jimin slips past her to the door. “I’m just here to get my car keys. I’m on my way to get Byul.”
She reaches inside for the keys she always left by the entrance and ducks out, lock clicking behind her. Minjeong looks up, alarmed. “What’s wrong with Byul?”
“She’s fine, just…” Jimin sighs. “She’s at my parents’ place.”
The younger nods, following her in the elevator. “She hates it there.”
Jimin knows it better than any other feeling in the world.
The drive there is quiet, almost too quiet. Jimin can hear her heartbeat ringing in her ears, nothing to distract her from the thoughts swirling in her brain. She’s tapping against the wheel, groaning impatiently at the late night traffic.
Minjeong reaches out, slender fingers wrapping around her hand. “You’re shaking.”
“I’m fine.”
She looks to Minjeong at the stoplight, feeling her heart catching in her throat. It’s been months, and her chest feels like it was going to explode from how close Minjeong is now, how she’s watching Jimin so tenderly, as if she’d break if either of them looked away.
Jimin lets go of the breath she’s been holding. “I’m just worried about Byul.”
She gets a reassuring smile in response. It leaves a pit in her lower stomach, swallowing her whole.
Jimin doesn’t have time to dwell on it because she’s pulling into the driveway, watching Minjeong's mouth falls agape as the house comes into view. “Jimin, this is a full blown mansion.”
“Yeah, mansion of horrors.”
Minjeong wanders through the foyer, admiring the glass window on the ceiling and endless paintings on the wall when she spots the older woman walking towards them with her cane. “Jimin, you’re home.”
Jimin shifts awkwardly. Minjeong notices, amused. Blush creeps up their necks, like school girls watching each other on the playground.
“This is Minjeong. Minjeong, this is my nanny from when I was a kid.”
The girl beams, bowing her head. “Lovely to meet you, Ms…”
“Just call me Nan, everybody does.” She winks at Jimin. “This one has never brought home anybody. You must be special.”
Their faces morph into a look of terror in tandem, shaking their heads profusely. “Nan, this is Byul’s teacher.” Jimin sighs, catching the not-so-discreet wiggle of the older woman's eyebrows. “Where is Byul, anyway?”
“In her room.” Nan points to the stairs. “She’s sulking upstairs.”
“She seems really nice.” Minjeong whispers when they’re making their way up to the bedroom, cheeks still flushed.
Jimin’s face is hot, battling the demons in her head that come in the form of flashing images of their heated kiss in the bathroom. She coughs, wishing it away. Their arms brush, and Jimin doesn't have to look to know Minjeong had been thinking of the exact same thing.
Jimin tries to forget about it for the moment, forces herself to ignore Minjeong's presence as she knocks softly on Byul’s door. One battle at a time.
Her sister's room is right across from her own. Jimin doesn’t so much as glances at it. There’s no memory worth revisiting in this place.
“Go away.” There’s an exaggerated huff that comes from behind the door and Jimin melts.
“It’s me, Byul.”
Soft footsteps grow louder until the door creaks open, her sister peeking out from the gap. “Jimim?”
“Miss Kim is here too.”
“Hi, Byulie.” Minjeong chirps up from behind Jimin and the little girl backs up, swinging the door open.
She dashes for her bed as the two of them step inside, dropping herself to the edge and crossing her arms, lips jutting out in a pout. Jimin takes in the room, it’s painted a dull pink, filled to the brim with all sorts of toys yet bleaker, emptier than her new room at Jimin’s place. She sighs, kneeling by the bed until she’s at her sister’s eye-level. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
Byul scrunches her nose. “Where were you?”
“I had something to take care of overseas, remember?” She goes for a soft smile, but the girl's scowl deepens.
“Why didn’t you take me?”
“It’s a lot of scary adult stuff, Byul.” She exhales. “I’m here now.”
Byul is stubborn, huffing under her breath but her features soften. “I don’t wanna stay here.”
“Byul, listen to me.” She reaches out and pats the girl’s arms gently. “I’m not always going to be here. But I promise I’ll try my best so that we can spend time together, okay?”
Her sister smiles weakly. Jimin’s heart hurts.
Byul grips onto her hands. “You promise?”
“I promise.”
Jimin doesn’t like to lie to her sister. When she looks at Byul, she sees her little self staring back up at her and it makes Jimin feel all kinds of things: good things, painful things, everything in between. It devastates her beyond words.
She puts a lock on that promise, reminding herself to think of the little face watching her like she hung the moon to make sure she never breaks it. She wouldn't dare to.
“I want to go to the park.” Byul’s voice cuts through her thoughts, hopping off the foot of her bed to waddle over to Minjeong, taking both of their hands.
“Byulie, it’s late.” She frowns.
The girl looks to the floor, eyes wet with tears. Jimin, still a little dazed, stumbles over her words for another answer that will make her sister happy but Minjeong bends down, smiling widely. “How about we take a quick walk, then you promise to let us tuck you in later?”
Her sister blinks at them and grins, wiping at her eyes. “Okay.”
She walks between Jimin and Minjeong, kicking her feet as she skips.
“I hope this is okay.” Minjeong whispers. “I didn’t know what else to tell her.”
“Yeah, it’s fine.” Jimin breathes. “I wouldn’t have known what to do.”
Byul points to the swing and races for it, jumping up and down. “Jimim! I want this!”
“You want it?”
She’s wondering how on earth she was going to buy a playground’s swing when Minjeong jabs her in the arm, snorting. “She means swing on it, silly.”
“Oh.” She gapes, a little embarrassed, as Minjeong picks up her sister and places her in the little kid swing before sitting on the one beside her.
“Jimin, push us.” She snickers.
“Yeah, push us!” The little girl echoes and Jimin’s heart bursts. She pushes them back and forth lightly, gaze shifting from her little sister vibrating in giggles, to Minjeong, making silly faces at the kid while they’re in the air.
Jimin feels the weight on her chest lifting for the first time in weeks. She takes out her phone and snaps a picture as Minjeong is sticking out her tongue, Byul's eyes squinting in laughter. She’s in awe at the mundanity of the moment and the tight sensation that blankets her heart, warmth spreading all over her body at the soft laughter ringing through the park.
Byul is tired out, snoring deeply almost immediately after she tucks her in. She presses a soft kiss to her hair, biting in her smile before turning to Minjeong. The girl is watching her with a grin on her face, a chuckle escaping her in the quiet room.
“What?”
“You’re a big softie.”
Jimin rolls her eyes, heat spreading to her ears. “Shut up.”
The silence in the car doesn’t weigh on them like it did the way there, Minjeong still holding onto her hand the entire way and Jimin’s heart skips in her chest. She wonders if the girl can hear her thoughts, how they’re screaming and scratching at the walls of her skull. Her temples throb and she hisses to herself as they step out of the elevator.
“Jimin, are you alright?”
Jimin is exhausted. She shakes her head, biting back a sob when she sags, dropping her body weight onto Minjeong’s petite frame, wrapping her arms around the girl’s waist. “I missed you.” She exhales. “Please don’t do that again.”
Minjeong is quiet, running her hand down Jimin’s spine to soothe her breathing.
“Promise you won’t do that again.”
There’s a soft laugh under her and Jimin lets go, just to see Minjeong as she smiles. “I promise.”
Once they’re inside, Jimin is spread across her couch. She closes her eyes, peeking now and then to steal glances at Minjeong. The younger girl busies herself in Jimin’s kitchen, marvelling at the assortment of different teas and coffee beans.
“Are you gonna fall asleep on me if I brew you some Chamomile?”
“Probably.” She pauses. “Definitely.”
On cue, Jimin yawns, melting further into the couch. Minjeong is by her side when she peels her eyes open with effort.
“Why did you do it?” Jimin fights the weight of her eyelids. “Why did you avoid me for weeks?”
Minjeong doesn’t seem taken aback by the questions. She holds Jimin’s gaze, remorse written into her face. “I didn’t want to put you into a difficult position.”
“What position is that?”
She sighs. “Kissing your client in the women's room minutes after the hearing ended.”
“You weren’t my client by that point.” She tries to joke but the words lack her usual mischief. She just misses Minjeong. “You were my friend first.”
Friend. The word tastes foreign on her tongue and Jimin wishes she could take it back.
“I’m sorry.” Minjeong smiles bitterly. “I didn’t want you to regret it. Regret me.”
“Do you really think I would feel like that?” She sits up, lines on her forehead deepening.
“I don’t know, Jimin.” She grumbles. “I really don’t know.”
They’re quiet for a while. Minjeong rubs her temples, biting her lip. Jimin stares into the distance, flinching at the sound of the electric kettle reaching boiling temperature. Minjeong stands up at the signal but Jimin grabs her wrist. “Stay.”
The younger girl turns to her, takes a deep, quivering breath. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Jimin pulls her closer until they’re breathing in one another. “You have nothing to be sorry about.”
“You don’t regret it?”
Jimin shakes her head, stern.
“Me neither.”
Minjeong stays the night, after Jimin pulls out all the stops to convince her. It’s a piece of cake. After all, persuasion and negotiation was how she makes a living.
“I won’t have any clothes to wear tomorrow.” Minjeong emerges from her ensuite, swallowed inside Jimin’s bathrobe. Jimin tries so hard to hold back her smile, she thinks her face could explode. “Your wardrobe does not work for rolling around cleaning up kids' vomit all day.”
Jimin huffs. “I have other clothes that aren’t suits.”
“The poncho?” Minjeong raises an eyebrow and earns herself a pillow in her direction. She dodges it, scrunches up her nose.
“You would look cute in my clothes.”
She snorts. “Do I look ugly in mine?”
Jimin rolls her eyes but reaches out for Minjeong and the girl leans down, pressing her lips to Jimin’s cheek.
“For the record, I think the suits are hot.”
“I know.”
Jimin nuzzles into her neck when the lights are out. Minjeong squirms, fighting her off. “It tickles.”
“You won’t cuddle with me?”
She barely makes out the exasperated look on the younger girl’s face in the dark. “You are literally all over me already.”
“You’re warm.”
Minjeong doesn’t fall asleep. Neither does Jimin.
She’s running her fingers along the bare skin on Minjeong’s stomach when the girl laughs quietly. “Don’t even think about it.”
“I’m not.” Jimin groans.
“Yes, you are.” She presses a soft kiss into Jimin’s hair. “We’re both too exhausted for that.”
“You don’t know that—” Jimin stifles a yawn, trails off. It makes Minjeong giggle under her.
“Goodnight, Jimin.”
“Goodnight.”
The sound of both their alarms going off simultaneously rings like a rifle firing beside Jimin’s ears. She stirs, a string of curses leaving her mouth as the light assaults her eyes. Jimin pulls the pillow from under her and buries her head underneath it.
Minjeong switches off her own alarm first, reaching over and slamming her palm over Jimin’s clock. “Jesus Christ. Reminds me to never spend the night again if this is what the morning would be like.”
Jimin whines, kicking under the blanket. “Coffee, please.”
She catches a scoff before Minjeong’s face is hovering above her, dropping down for a kiss on the corner of her mouth. On top of her mole. “You are so spoiled.”
“My skull is going to crack in half.”
“And very dramatic.” Another kiss. Jimin can’t help but smile.
She brushes her teeth crouching on the floor, resting her head against the cabinet. Minjeong finds her and laughs. “Don’t be a baby. Your coffee is brewing as we speak.”
Jimin thinks Minjeong is too good to be true. She’s standing in front of Jimin’s closet, running her fingers through her overabundant selection of blouses and blazers that all look a little too similar. She pauses at a simple white top, feeling the material in between her fingertips. “This is too expensive to have baby barf on it by the end of the day. Where are your normal clothes?”
Jimin chortles. “Normal?”
“Like a T-shirt.” She hums. “Or do you just have suits and rain ponchos?”
She feigns offence, glares at the younger girl who looks all too proud of herself. “That’s twice in 12 hours.”
“It was iconic.”
Jimin skips breakfast, like she always does. She settles for her morning coffee and Minjeong complains about it. “That’s really not good for you.”
She shrugs. Her mug grows cold while Jimin is cutting up a loaf of bread, spreading jam on one slice and peanut butter on the other.
“You’re not allergic to nuts, right?”
Minjeong shakes her head absentmindedly. “No, why?”
“Here’s your breakfast, then.” She places the soggy sandwich in front of the girl, grinning smugly. It earns her a throaty laugh from Minjeong.
“PB&J?” The girl wipes at her eyes, voice hoarse.
“I can throw it away if you don’t want.”
“No!” She yelps, still clutching her stomach. “I’ll cherish it forever. Thank you.”
Jimin doesn’t stop thinking about the smile lingering on the younger's lips as she turns her back, splitting Minjeong’s face in half even as she takes a bite of the stale, floppy mess Jimin made. When she's done savoring every bite of her amateur sandwich, Minjeong kisses her hungrily, with crumbs on her lips. She melts, takes in as much of Minjeong as she could.
It's never enough.
Their hands are interlinked the entire drive to the daycare. Jimin rubs her thumb over Minjeong’s skin, her other hand on the wheel. The younger girl whistles. “Hot.”
“I’ll pick you up later?”
She parks the car by the sidewalk, blowing a kiss to Minjeong as she closes the door behind her. Jimin cringes internally. She doesn’t recognize herself for a moment, being with Minjeong almost makes her a likeable human being again.
“You better.” Minjeong blows another kiss back, blushing furiously. “Thank you for the sandwich.”
“I’ll make you another tomorrow.”
The girl snickers, face lighting up. “Looking forward to it, chef.”
Jimin drives away, shit-eating grin plastered on her face.
It’s raining when Jimin pulls over outside the daycare. She takes her umbrella, jogging over to where Minjeong stands under the cover. The wet smell of rain subsides as she enters her space, the scent of Minjeong’s familiar perfume warming her chest. Byul is sound asleep, head buried into the crook of Minjeong’s neck.
“Good day at work?” Minjeong smiles in greeting. Jimin’s stomach is doing somersaults.
“It’s good now.” She leans in. “Can I get a kiss?”
“With your sister under our nose?” Minjeong scowls, hiding a smile behind the furrow of her eyebrows.
Jimin sticks out her pinky to poke at her sister’s cheek. Byul stays still, snoring softly against Minjeong’s skin. “She’s out cold. See.”
“Fine.” Minjeong groans. “One kiss.”
Jimin, without missing a beat, drops her head to meet Minjeong’s lips, savoring the sweet familiar taste. Eagerly, Minjeong kisses her back.
“One more.” She whispers against her lips, feeling the girl’s chuckle under her breath.
“When we get home.”
Jimin's body tingles. Her heart is wild in her chest.
“Home, huh?”
Minjeong rolls her eyes. “Shut up.”