It had been three years since Yunjin had last set foot on this alley, had last smelled the neighbor's freshly cut grass, and had last turned the key in the lock. She had driven past the house twice before finally parking, pretty sure it was the worst thing she could have ever inflicted to herself.
The lease was still in both their names, neither of them able to bring themselves to sign the papers that would deliver the final blow to their relationship. Her lawyer had been trying to convince her to do so for months, in vain. Yunjin had only nodded and said, "yes, of course, I'll do it." But had never moved even a finger.
But here she was, standing in front of the house like a hopeless fool because some roof tiles had shifted and needed to be repaired. The property management needed someone to let the repair people in, and Kazuha had forwarded the email to Yunjin with a note asking her to go. Yunjin hadn't wanted to, but that was the least she could've done.
She had cleared her afternoon and made the drive from the city, spending forty minutes on the highway to get to the suburb they had chosen to live in when they were still madly in love with each other.
The door stuck when she pushed it open, probably because of humidity, and she had to put her shoulder into it before it gave way. A smell immediately filled her nostrils, but not the one she had expected.
Flowers.
She blinked slowly, her hand still on the doorknob, and her bag slid off her shoulder. It hit the floor with a thud but she ignored it, staring blankly at the vase on the counter. The crystal vase they had gotten as a wedding gift from Kazuha's mother, the one that was a bit too formal from what they usually liked but that Kazuha always insisted on filling with fresh flowers.
Inside, stood a single pink tulip, the petals starting to curl at the edges, a few already fallen onto the dark surface. She stepped closer slowly. The water was still clean, had been changed recently, and she could see the fresh cut at the base of the stem that meant that someone had been there to take care of it.
Her first thought was that it was a mistake, that the property management company had sent someone to stage the place before her arrival or that there had been a visit she hadn't been told about, but it didn't make much sense. The house wasn't for sale yet, and wouldn't be until both of them figured what they were going to do with it.
"Someone must have broken in," she thought and then slowly shook her head. Why on earth would a robber leave a flower on the counter and come back to take care of it? In addition to that, the alarm system was still active, she had disarmed it when she came in.
Her third thought hurt the most. Just thinking of it made her heart seize painfully inside her chest.
She wandered through the living room mindlessly, slightly dazed. Everything was exactly as they had left it, some furniture covered with sheets, the curtains drawn, their books still perfectly arranged on the shelves in the living room.
It felt weird to be back, as if her life had been on mute since she had last been inside that house. The piano was still in the corner by the window, the fall board closed, a thin layer of dust covering the brown wooden surface. She and Kazuha used to sit there together in the evening, Yunjin playing pieces she liked as Kazuha listened carefully, occasionally joining her shyly. Yunjin would correct her gently, guiding her fingers to the right keys.
"You're doing it wrong on purpose now hm?" Yunjin had once said, a laugh escaping her lips.
Kazuha had grinned and said, "I like it when you teach me."
Yunjin had immediately leaned and kissed her, forgetting completely about the piano session.
The memory hit Yunjin so hard she had to sit down on the sheet-covered couch, her legs suddenly weak. She pressed her palms to her eyes and tried to breathe slowly. This was exactly why she hadn't come back, why she had avoided this place like the plague for three years, because she had known how badly it would affect her. She had known that in every corner of the rooms, she would find ghosts of what they had been to each other.
She forced herself to stand and walked toward the kitchen. It was empty except for the vase sitting on the counter. She opened the refrigerator and found it unplugged and empty. Her brows furrowed slightly when she caught sight of the coffee maker, plugged in. Next to it were two mugs, carefully placed as if someone had meant to use them. She recognized them immediately. Of course she had meant to use those two specifically.
One of them was the white ceramic mug she had brought from her apartment in New York when she moved in with Kazuha, chipped at the edge from the time she had knocked it against the sink. The other one was the one made of delicate porcelain sent by Kazuha's grandmother from Osaka, the pale blue one. It was too small for the long coffees Kazuha liked and Yunjin would often tell her, but Kazuha loved it anyway.
She picked up Kazuha's one and palmed it with both hands. There was a faint trace of dried coffee at the bottom, and when she brought it to her nose, she was able to smell it. Someone had been there recently and had made coffee, pouring it into those specific mugs. Her heart clenched inside her chest and she pressed her lips together.
She set it down slowly and walked back to the vase with the tulip. From up close she could see more fallen petals than when she had first noticed it. Four of them were scattered on the counter. The flower was dying slowly, had one day or two left before it would be completely gone.
She had no idea what to do with this, unsure she wanted it to mean something. Kazuha had been here, had made coffee, and had left a flower behind. She thought of calling her, of asking what on earth she thought she was doing coming here and stirring everything up when they had both finally started to move on. But instead, she did nothing, simply letting her heart break all over again.
Silently, she walked up the stairs, and each of her steps echoed through the house. The door to their bedroom at the end of the hallway was closed, and Yunjin stood in front of it for a long time before finally pushing it open.
The bedroom, just like the rest of the rooms was exactly as they had left it. The bed was stripped down to the bare mattress and the closets were open and empty. But one thing in the corner of the room by the window caught her attention. Her breath hitched as she stepped closer. On the dresser was another vase, the green one they had bought together at the market one time. In it stood three white daisies that were wilted and brown, clearly days past the dead state.
Kazuha had been here longer than Yunjin thought, long enough to bring multiple flowers, to watch them die, replace them, and watch those die too. Long enough to sleep in their room, probably. To wake up in the bed and remember about the memories they had shared beneath those sheets.
Yunjin sat down on the edge of the mattress and stared at the dead daisies. She tried to imagine what Kazuha might have gone through, what she must have been thinking, what she must have been hoping for. The house had been what they had compromised on, it had been their attempt to build something that belonged to both of them. On one hand, Kazuha had wanted to stay in the city, close to the dance studio where she taught classes. On the other hand, Yunjin had been ready to leave everything behind, to distance herself from the harshness of the music industry she worked in.
It had been a sensible topic for months, building into arguments that left them both frustrated and exhausted. Kazuha didn't understand why Yunjin wanted to run away, why she couldn't just find a way to make it work in the city while Yunjin said she wasn't running away, that she was just trying to breathe.
Kazuha had looked at her with pained eyes and said, "I need you to stay."
"I can't," Yunjin had said, swallowing the lump in her throat. "If I say I'm going to lose myself completely, and I can already feel some parts of me slipping away."
This house had been the only possible escape. Far enough from the city that Yunjin could breathe, but close enough for Kazuha to go to work. It had worked for a while. Kazuha would leave early in the morning, kissing Yunjin goodbye while she was still half-asleep, and would come back home late. Yunjin would spend her days writing songs she never planned to release, teaching kids voice lessons over Zoom. By agreeing to this compromise, Kazuha had been the one to burn herself out, and Yunjin knew it.
It wore Kazuha down completely. So she had started staying in the city more, crashing with friends after late rehearsals, coming home only on weekends. But even when she came back, she was tired, her body ached. Yunjin had tried to be understanding, supportive, but she could feel Kazuha slipping away from her, could feel the distance growing even when they were in the same room.
"You could come with me sometimes," Kazuha had said one night. "You could stay in the city and see your friends, you could attend shows. You don't have to be out here alone all the time."
"I'm not alone," Yunjin had shrugged stubbornly. "This is where I need to be."
"Right," Kazuha had said, sounding more defeated than Yunjin had ever heard her.
Yunjin had wanted to take it back, wanted to say she would come to the city every day if that's what Kazuha needed, but she couldn't. She couldn't go back to that life, to the noise and the crowds, the constant pressure of being the one performing, of being someone other than who she actually was. And Kazuha couldn't leave the city, couldn't give up the work she loved, the dancers she mentored. They were stuck, both of them trapped by the things they needed, unable to sacrifice enough to make it work.
At one point, they had stopped talking about the future, stopped making plans beyond the next week or the next month. They had started sleeping on opposite sides of the bed, had stopped touching each other except in the most impersonal ways like a hand on a shoulder or a kiss on the cheek.
Yunjin had been the once to say it out loud on a Sunday morning, when Kazuha was packing her bag to go back to the city. Yunjin was standing in the kitchen, watching her, and felt as if she were drowning. "I don't think this is going to work any longer," she had whispered and Kazuha had frozen, her hand still buried into her bag.
She had turned to face Yunjin, her expression shifting into worry. "What do you mean?"
Yunjin had wanted to take it back immediately, but she didn't feel like lying to herself anymore. "Us—I mean, this. I—I don't think it's working anymore."
Kazuha had turned around slowly, colors draining from her face, and Yunjin had seen the moment when she understood what she really meant. "You want to break up," Kazuha had said, her throat tight, and Yunjin had just nodded, unable to form a sentence.
After what felt like an eternity, "I don't want to," Yunjin had said, her voice cracking. "But I think we have to."
Kazuha had just looked at her silently, and Yunjin had tried her best not to burst into tears. "Okay," Kazuha had finally said quietly. "If that's what you want."
"It's not what I want," Yunjin had frowned, her tone suddenly desperate. "It's just what needs to happen Zuha."
"I don't see the difference," Kazuha had picked up her bag and walked out, leaving Yunjin alone.
Kazuha had come back later that week to get her things, and they had spent a horrible weekend packing up their life together, dividing their possessions in a way that had made Yunjin feel physically ill. Kazuha had taken her books, her dance clothes and the painting they had bought together on their trip to Montreal, the one Yunjin had loved but that she had insisted Kazuha should have because she was the one to spot it first. Yunjin had picked up her recording equipment, her guitars and the ridiculous amount of clothes she had accumulated in addition to the framed photo from their wedding that she had shoved it into a box without looking.
They had left the furniture because neither of them had room for it in their new places and because none of them wanted to admit that this was truly over. The house had stayed in both their names because they couldn't decide who would buy out who and how they would split the equity. Neither of them knew if they even wanted to keep it.
Yunjin had moved back to New York, into a tiny apartment in Brooklyn for a while. She had tried to rebuild her life, tried to figure out who she was if she wasn't married to Kazuha, who she was if she didn't have her lover's schedule memorized, if she didn't have to buy groceries for two anymore. She had started performing in small venues again, trying to remind herself why she had loved music in the first place. She had reconnected with friends from her years in New York and had started dating casually, trying to convince herself to move forward.
But now, she was sitting in their old bedroom back staring at dead flowers realizing that Kazuha had been there, had come back and stayed, waiting for something. And what was Yunjin supposed to do with the information? What did it mean?
She stood up and walked to the closet. After scanning through it she found remaining clothes hanging in the back, clothes that Kazuha had probably forgotten in the rush of moving out. Yunjin pulled one of her leotards off the hanger and held it up to the light. She could picture Kazuha wearing it so clearly it hurt, could picture her body moving through space with that effortless grace that had made Yunjin fall in love with her in the first place.
They had met at a charity event in Manhattan. Yunjin had been there because her label had pushed her to and she had spent most of the night hiding to avoid small talk. It wasn't that she hated talking to people but she had grown progressively tired of pretending someone whom she wasn't. Kazuha had been there because her dance company was performing a short contemporary piece that Yunjin had watched from the back of the room, completely dazed. Afterwards she had found Kazuha at the bar and said, "you were incredible," and Kazuha had smiled shyly, a faint red tinting her cheeks.
From that on, Yunjin had been gone.
They had talked for hours that night, about what it was like to try and make art in a world that mostly wanted you to make money. Kazuha had told her about growing up in Osaka, training in ballet and how she had moved to Amsterdam before New York, chasing opportunities that most of the time didn't end up working out. Yunjin had told her about growing up in New York and Seoul, telling her about her parents, about how it felt to belong everywhere and nowhere at once. About how exhausting it was to constantly change personalities to please different audiences.
"I get what you mean," Kazuha had smiled and Yunjin had felt relieved, because someone was finally able to understand without her having to try and explain herself.
They had started dating immediately, falling in love with an intensity that was thrilling yet terrifying. Kazuha had moved into Yunjin's apartment after three months, and they had gotten married a year later with just a handful of friends and family. Everything had been perfect back then. Yunjin had finally found the person who got her fully, who understood the particular loneliness of being a foreigner trying to make it into a merciless industry.
But understanding someone and being able to build a life with them were two different things, and eventually Kazuha's relentless work ethic and her need to constantly push herself became something Yunjin couldn't quite understand anymore. Contradicting with Yunjin's tendency to shut down when things got too difficult, it had become a problem.
At the start of their relationship, everything had been perfect, exciting, and new. But once real life set they had struggled to adjust, to find a rhythm that worked for both of them. The house had been supposed to fix it, but it had ended up making things worse.
Their problems didn't depend on where they lived, but solely relied on them being two people who loved each other but fundamentally expected different things from life.
Yunjin put the leotard back in the closet and closed the doors with a deep sigh. She needed to get out of this room, out of this house before she completely fell apart. When she turned to leave, she caught sight of something on the nightstand that made her stop in her track.
There was an envelope with her name written on it resting on the furniture. She swallowed the lump in her throat and picked it up with shaky hands. The explanation Yunjin was trying to find was there, in between her fingers. She opened it slowly, pulling out two sheets of paper covered in her Kazuha's handwriting.
"Yunjin,
I don't know if you will come back to the house one day, or if you'll just keep avoiding it the way we've both been avoiding everything that had to do with us. But I desperately need to get this out of my chest.
I came back here for the first time three weeks ago. I was trying to convince myself that it was to make sure everything was okay at the house, but I know that it was just me lying to myself now. I came back here because I missed you, because I thought that if I could just be here, in this space we shared, I might feel close to you again. I might remember what it was like when everything was going well between us, when our love was beautiful.
I've been staying here on and off ever since then. A few days at a time, never more than a week because I have rehearsals and things that used to feel so important to me but yet don't matter much anymore. I've been sleeping in our bed, making coffee in our kitchen and putting flowers in the vase my mother gave us, just like we used to. I've been pretending that you're here with me.
I know it's pathetic, I know how pathetic I am.
The thing is, I keep thinking about the last real conversation we had. Not the break up one obviously, but the one before that, when you said you needed to leave the city to save yourself. I was so angry at you then. I thought you were being dramatic, that you were running away from problems instead of facing them but I've been thinking of it and I realized I was wrong. You weren't running away, you just needed to breathe because work was harsh on you, and I couldn't see it because I was too caught up in what I needed, what I wanted from you.
I've been doing this my whole life, I think. I have pushed myself and pushed everyone around me, chasing success and achievements that kept moving further away from my reach. You didn't want that kind of life. You wanted a peaceful life, and I stood on the opposite end of that. My teachers in Osaka used to say I was being too hard on myself, that I needed to learn to rest, but I never listened. It was a pattern I kept on unconsciously repeating.
And then I met you and I thought maybe I could learn to be different, maybe I could try to slow down, to match your rhythm. But I did the opposite and tried to pull you down with me. I tried to make you match my pace instead of finding a middle ground rhythm we could share.
I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Yunjin, you deserved better.
I always put an extra mug of coffee on the counter in the morning, pretending you're here to drink it with me. It sounds ridiculous doesn't it? But it's the only way I can get through the mornings sometimes, the only way I can face another day of being without you. I miss you, I miss you so much it hurts. You were my everything, you still are.
I thought I could wait here for you to come back. I thought maybe if I stayed long enough, if I proved that I was willing to be still for once in my life, you'd somehow feel it and you'd come and find me. But life doesn't work like that, I cannot just pray for the best and be disappointed when things don't work out the way I want them to.
The flowers kept on dying and I kept on replacing them, but I'm starting to realize that this is just another form of the same thing I've always done. Trying to force something into existence instead of accepting what is there.
So I'm leaving. By the time you read this, I'll be gone, probably back in Japan for a while. My mother has been asking me to visit and I've been putting it off because going home feels like admitting defeat, accepting that I couldn't make it work here. Maybe that's what I need to do. Maybe I need to go back and realize that we are done for real, that I cannot just hope for something that I'll never get to have again.
I want you to know that I don't regret any of this. I gave everything I could to make this work. It wasn't enough, but that was all I could offer to you. I'm sorry it wasn't sufficient.
I hope you're doing well. I hope you're singing again, playing those open mics you used to love before the industry swallowed you whole. I hope you're finding your way back to peace, to the parts of yourself you thought you'd lost. I hope you're happy, even if it's a happiness that doesn't include me being by your side.
There's a part of me that wants to ask you if we could try again, if we could make it work this time, with everything we've learned, but I know that's not fair to either of us. We broke up for a reason. We wanted and needed different things, and love wasn't enough to close that gap.
I've spent so long thinking that it shouldn't be that way, that love should be enough to fix this, but I'm starting to understand that sometimes the universe doesn't want to help.
The flowers will be dead by the time you find this. I left one more downstairs, a tulip, because it's your favorite. I remember everything about you, everything you've ever said to me. I've been carrying all of it with me for three years, to remind myself of what I've lost.
I'm going to sign the papers when I get to Japan. I'm going to tell my lawyer to give you the house. You should have it, you're the one who needed to be away from the city. I was just trying to fit myself into a life that was never really mine.
Take care of yourself, Yunnie. Please take happy, please move on.
I love you. I'll always love you. But I'm done waiting for that to be enough.
Your Zuha."
Yunjin read the letters three times, her vision blurred by tears. Her hands were shaking so hard that she had to sit down and set the pages on her lap to read properly. She had never let herself cry like that since the divorce. Sobs escaped her lips and caused her to lean forward, pressing a hand to her chest.
Kazuha had been here, for weeks, waiting for her to come back, putting out flowers and making coffee for two, sleeping in their bed. All that while Yunjin had been in New York, living her life, having absolutely no clue that any of this was happening.
She tried to think of a timeline, trying to understand when she had last been here. The tulip downstairs was fresh enough for it to be recent. If she had come even a few days earlier they might have crossed paths, they might have had a chance to see each other, to talk, to figure out everything together.
But she hadn't come earlier, she had put it off as long as possible, she had only shown up because she had been forced to. And now, Kazuha was gone and she was here alone, reading a letter where her ex-wife was saying goodbye to their love.
She stood up abruptly, the letter slipping from her fingers and crossed to the window. Outside, the sun was setting, the sky turning orange. From there, she could see the now completely overgrown garden in the backyard.
"We're going to have so many tomatoes," Kazuha had said with a bright smile one day, kneeling in the dirt with her hair pulled into a messy bun. Yunjin had taken a picture of her secretly, because she had thought that she was the luckiest woman on earth.
They had gotten three tomatoes that year, very small and ugly ones, and they had made a salad out of it. They had eaten it on the back porch like it was the best meal ever, both of them laughing at how ridiculous they had been to think they could be good farmers.
Yunjin pressed her forehead to the glass and closed her eyes, tears rolling down her cheeks. Not even a minute later, she pulled out her phone before she could overthink it, her fingers trembling as she scrolled to Kazuha's name.
The last text she had gotten from her was from six months ago, a brief and formal message about some paperwork that needed to be signed. Before that, there was a gap of almost a year, and before that the messages were everyday things, loving and affectionate texts that hurt to read now.
She started typing, deleting and retyping half a dozen times before she finally settled on something.
"I'm at the house. I found your letter. Can we talk? Please."
She sat back on the back on the bed and stared at her phone blankly. Yunjin's heart seized when the three dots kept on appearing and disappearing. After a long moment of holding her breath, she finally received a reply.
Zuha: "I'm at Narita. My flight to Osaka leaves in two hours."
Yunjin's lips parted and she sucked in a sharp breath. She was already gone, she had missed her chance by only a few hours.
"Can I see you? Just once. I know I don't have the right to ask but please. One day. Just one day to say goodbye properly."
She typed desperately, her fingers shaking as she did so.
The three dots appeared stayed on the screen for a long time. Yunjin pictured Kazuha sitting in the airport, reading the message over and over, trying to decide if it was worth it, if seeing her would make things better or make them hurt more.
Zuha: "Why?"
Yunjin stared at it. Why did she want to see her? What was she hoping would happen? She didn't know if they could fix anything, didn't know if one day would change the fundamental incompatibly that had driven them apart. But she couldn't let the love of her life disappear again without at least trying.
"Because I need to see you. You waited for me and I wasn't there, I can't let this be how it ends. We deserve better than this."
Yunjin held her breath as she waited for a reply.
Zuha: "Okay. Come to Osaka. I'll send you the address."
Yunjin booked a flight that same night, the last seat on the first one available. She just packed a small bag, cleared her schedule for the next week, and drove to the airport, her mind clouded by both adrenaline and terror.
The flight in itself seemed endless, her mind racing with every possible version of how this could play out. She had been to Osaka once before, years ago when she and Kazuha were first dating, when Kazuha had insisted for her to meet her family. She had shown her the neighborhood where she grew up and the dance studio where it had all started. Yunjin had fallen in love all over again, admiring how happy she seemed to be.
She landed early during the evening and took a train into the city following the directions Kazuha had sent. The address led her to a quiet and residential neighborhood. The streets were narrow and small houses were lined up on the sides. When she found the right house, she stood in front of it for at least five minutes to try and calm down her racing heart.
She finally gathered up courage to knock and Kazuha answered almost immediately, as if she had been waiting by the door. Yunjin almost forgot how to breathe when she saw her through the opening.
She looked exactly the same and completely different at the same time. Her hair was longer than Yunjin remembered, falling past her shoulders in soft waves. She had lost weight and had shadows under her eyes that spoke of sleepless nights. But she was still the most beautiful woman Yunjin had ever seen. She was wearing grey sweatpants that sat low on her hips and an oversized cream sweater that slipped off her shoulder, revealing her collarbone, and Yunjin had to stop herself from staring too much.
"Hi," Kazuha said and Yunjin couldn't refrain a smile from forming on her lips. She still had the faintest trace of her Japanese accent, the one Yunjin adored so much.
"Hi," Yunjin echoed, unable to tear her eyes off her. Her memory had failed her, because the Kazuha standing in front of her was so much more than anything she had been able to see in her mind.
They stood there looking at each other like strangers for a while, and Yunjin wanted to laugh it off because it was ridiculous. They had been married once, they had shared a bed for years. She knew her Kazuha better than she knew herself. She knew the way she cried silently with her hand over her mouth not to disturb people, knew the constellation of her moles better than anyone, knew how she liked to be called baby but would pretend to hate it when they were surrounded.
"Come in," Kazuha finally said, stepping back to let her walk in.
The apartment was small and barely decorated. Yunjin took it all in, from the living room to the kitchen. Through an open door, Yunjin could see a futon on the floor with a suitcase that was only half unpacked, clothes spilling out from it.
"I'm staying at my mother's," Kazuha explained, "but I thought it would be better if we met here instead. To have a little more privacy."
"Right," Yunjin said as she set her bag down by the door, inhaling deeply to try and ease her nervousness. "That makes sense."
Silence stretched and Yunjin felt her heart seize. This was her Kazuha, her everything, and yet, they were struggling to have a normal conversation. She looked nervous, Yunjin noticed, her fingers curling into fists at her sides.
"Do you want tea?" Kazuha asked, stepping toward the kitchen.
"I'm okay, thank you." Yunjin shook her head slowly.
Kazuha nodded and stayed right where she was, swallowing hard. The oversized sweater had slipped further down her shoulder and Yunjin caught sight of it immediately. She could see her skin more clearly, remembering how it had felt to kiss that spot, to feel Kazuha shiver under her mouth. She quickly forced herself to look away and focus on something else.
"Thank you for agreeing to see me," Yunjin said softly. "I know I don't have any right to ask for this."
"You have every right," Kazuha replied gently, finally meeting her eyes. "We were married. We loved each other, that doesn't disappear because we signed some papers."
The past tense used hurt the most. Loved. Were married. Yunjin swallowed the lump forming in her throat.
"I wasn't going to respond to your text," Kazuha kept going. "When I saw it I almost didn't. I thought it would be easier to just leave and let the letter be the end of it."
"Why did you reply then?" Yunjin asked as steadily as possible, though her voice cracked.
Kazuha's expression turned into a mix of hurt and longing. "Because I can't let you go like this," she admitted slowly. "I've been trying for three years and I still can't do it." She paused, her eyes shining with tears and Yunjin desperately wanted to cross the space and to pull her into her arms, to tell her that she didn't have to move on, that they could fix this. "I thought the letter would be enough, but it wasn't. So here we are."
"Here we are," Yunjin smiled faintly, fiddling with the hem of her own shirt.
"I thought we could spend tomorrow together," Kazuha said, looking away. "There's a walk I used to take when I was a kid along the river. It's peaceful, we could go there. To talk, or not, just to be together for a little while before we have to say goodbye for real."
Yunjin's head almost snapped to the side as if she had been slapped. Goodbye. After a few deep breaths, she managed to say, "okay. That sounds good." But saying this felt like lying to herself. She didn't want to let go, she had hope that they would try again, not say goodbye.
"You should get some rest," Kazuha said and gestured vaguely to the bedroom. "Sleep there, I'll take the couch."
"Zuha, I can't kick you out of your own bed," Yunjin protested but Kazuha was already shaking her head, some strands of hair falling before her eyes. Yunjin curled her fingers at her sides, keeping herself from reaching out to brush it back.
"It's fine. I don't sleep much anyway."
So Yunjin ended up lying on the futon fully clothed, too anxious to even think of changing into her pajamas, staring up at the ceiling, listening to Kazuha move around in the other room. She heard the soft sounds of her washing up in the bathroom, the quiet pad of her footsteps on the wooden floor, and the creak of the couch when she settled down.
She must have fallen asleep at some point because she woke up to sunlight hitting the side of her face. She breathed in and frowned, the smell of coffee hitting her nostrils. Right, she was in Japan, reuniting with her ex wife. She sighed deeply and stood up stiffly, joining Kazuha in the kitchen.
Kazuha had changed into jeans and a simple white shirt, looking so domestic Yunjin's heart clenched. She was just moving around the small kitchen but Yunjin was struck by how much she had missed the sight.
"Morning," Kazuha said when she heard her and Yunjin only managed to whisper a greeting back. Kazuha set out two bowls with rice and grilled fish and they ate in silence at the low table, sitting across from each other without ever making eye contact.
After breakfast they cleaned up together and Yunjin quickly showered before changing clothes. She carefully applied makeup and made sure she looked good before joining her in the hall.
"Ready?" Kazuha asked as she grabbed a light jacket.
Yunjin hummed and they headed out, taking a train to a part of the city Yunjin didn't know yet. They then walked from the station toward the river. It was a beautiful day, and the path along the water was surrounded by trees.
They walked in silence, and Yunjin fought back the urge to close the physical distance sitting between them, keeping her hands in her pockets and her eyes on the path ahead.
"I used to come here when I needed to think," Kazuha eventually broke the silence, and Yunjin had to lean in slightly to catch what she had said. "When I was training and had enough, I'd skip practice and come here to walk for hours. My mother would be so angry when I got home.. but it was worth it."
"I didn't know that," Yunjin said quietly.
"There's a lot you don't know, a lot I never told you," Kazuha glanced at her with a sad smile.
"Why not?" Yunjin frowned, hurt by the confession.
"I think I was afraid that if you knew all of me, even the difficult parts, you wouldn't love me anymore. So I tried to only show you the good things, the things I thought you'd like and want to see."
"That's not fair," Yunjin said, a bit more harshly than intended. "I loved you. All of you. You never had to hide from me."
"You were struggling with your own stuff, I didn't want to add more to that burden. I wanted to be the person who made things easier for you, not harder."
"But that's not how it works," Yunjin said, frustration taking over. "I didn't need you to be perfect, Zuha. I needed you to be you. I needed you to tell me when you were hurting instead of pretending everything was fine. That's how love works."
"Like you did?" Kazuha asked bitterly. "You shut me out completely at the end. You stopped talking to me, you stopped telling me how you were feeling. How was I supposed to help you when you wouldn't let me in?"
"I didn't know how to do that," Yunjin said desperately. "I didn't want to drag you down with me." But by saying that, she also realized how stuck they still were. "I failed you. I gave up when I should have tried harder. But I was so tired, Zuha. I was so tired of feeling like I was failing at everything, my career, my marriage and my life. I thought leaving was the kindest thing I could have done for both of us."
"It was the worst thing you could have done," Kazuha said quietly and Yunjin fought back the urge to wipe the tears sliding down her cheeks.
"I'm sorry," Yunjin's voice cracked, a sob rising up her throat. "I'm sorry I left, I'm sorry I didn't fight harder, I'm sorry I let you go when you were the best thing that ever happened to me."
Kazuha looked down and pressed a hand to her mouth, trying to hold back a sob that ended up escaping from her lips anyway. That was Yunjin's last straw. She couldn't help the urge anymore. She reached out slowly and wrapped her arms around her, pulling her into an embrace. Kazuha melted into it immediately, pressing her face into her shoulder, her body shaking from sobs she had previously held back.
Yunjin held her tightly, cradling the back of her head with one hand as the other wrapped around her waist. She pressed her face into her ex lover's hair and breathed in deeply, trying to calm herself down. Inhaling her sweet perfume helped, of course it did.
"I missed you," Kazuha whispered against her shoulder, her voice slightly muffled. "I missed you so much."
"I—I missed you too—" Yunjin said through heavy breaths, her tears soaking Kazuha's hair. "I don't—don't think I'll ever be able to move on."
"We should go back," Kazuha sniffled. "I don't want to do this here."
"Of course," Yunjin nodded slowly, knowing that Kazuha hated when people could see her in a moment of vulnerability.
They walked back the way they had come, but the gap sitting between them wasn't present anymore. On the train, they sat next to each other in silence. When they finally got back to the apartment, Kazuha unlocked the door with shaky hands.
"I'm so lost," Kazuha whispered and looked down at her hands. "This is making me question everything." She moved to sit on the couch, tucking her legs under her.
Yunjin followed her after a brief moment of hesitation and sat down beside her, unconsciously angling her body toward hers. "I know, me too." She looked down at Kazuha's hands, hesitating whether to intertwine their fingers together or not.
"Nothing has changed," Kazuha finally looked up to meet her eyes. "All the reasons why we broke up are still there."
Yunjin's eyes closed for a second. Kazuha was right, yet, her heart and mind weren't on the same page, hadn't been for years now. She traced her features with her eyes, admiring whom used to be her person.
Kazuha shifted slightly and her ponytail swung along with the movement, allowing Yunjin to catch a glimpse of the back of her neck, that specific area that used to be her favorite place to kiss. Memories surged back to her mind; Kazuha shivering when she pressed her lips there, how she always tilted her head to give her better access, how soft sighs used to escape from her lips when Yunjin pressed her fingers around that area.
Yunjin found herself progressively drifting closer to where Kazuha sat, and the latter did the same, the distance sitting between them growing shorter. She was now so close that she could smell her perfume again, and she was starting to lose her ability to think rationally. All she could focus on was how beautiful Kazuha was, how after those three years of dating people she didn't care about, she was still faced with that irrefutable evidence that no would could ever affect her the way she did.
She reached out slowly, giving Kazuha plenty of time to say no if she wanted to, and when she didn't, Yunjin cupped her cheek gently. She rested her palm against the soft skin, her thumb hovering at the corner of Kazuha's lips.
Kazuha leaned into the touch, her eyes fluttering close and a soft sigh escaping her lips, which Yunjin interpreted as relief. "Unnie.." Kazuha whispered, the word carrying a longing that made Yunjin's stomach twist.
When they had first moved in to Korea, things had been hard for Kazuha. She had had trouble adjusting to their new life, but Yunjin had always been there to support and guide her. The opportunities there were better for the both of them, but it had also participated to the collapse of their relationship. So hearing Kazuha call her that again made her feel dizzy, in a good and bad way all at once. It felt like being transported back in time.
Yunjin hummed softly in response, and cupped the other side of her face with her free hand, pulling her closer. Kazuha leaned in and curled into her chest, supported by Yunjin's arms.
"I'm sorry, my aegi," Yunjin murmured as she pressed a kiss to her temple. Calling her that back also felt weird, because she hadn't in years now. Kazuha trembled in her hold and Yunjin felt wetness slide along her skin. Kazuha was crying in her arms, her baby was, and Yunjin couldn't help but fall back into old habits.
After a moment, Kazuha pulled back to look at up at her, eyes full of tears. Yunjin knew, deep inside her soul, that they were on the verge of crossing a line they wouldn't be able to uncross. But she couldn't bring herself to care, at all, when her lover was looking at her with those desperate eyes.
She wasn't the one to close the remaining distance sitting between them, Kazuha was.
And when their lips met, Yunjin didn't feel the same way she had felt when she had first walked back into their house after all these years.
Going back home had never been about walking inside four walls again, it had only ever been about being able to kiss the only woman she had ever truly loved once more.
Her journey back home had finally ended.
So naturally, she answered the kiss immediately, her hand moving to cradle the back of Kazuha's head, her fingers tangling in the soft hair at the nape of her neck. She kissed her back softly and desperately all at once, their lips moving in sync and their tongues sliding into a familiar waltz she couldn't ever bring herself to forget. Kazuha's fingers tightened around the hem of her shirt, soft sighs coming out of her parted lips in between wet kisses.
Yunjin slowed down the kiss slightly, pulling back to look at her, to make sure that this was what she wanted, and the look in Kazuha's eyes was enough of an answer. All she could see in her eyes was love and a desperate need for comfort.
"We shouldn't," Yunjin whispered against the soft lips, the tip of her tongue tracing her lover's bottom lip. Her actions contradicted with her words because truth is, she would have rather died than stopped kissing her.
"I know," Kazuha whispered back and gently pushed her back to move and straddle her lap. Yunjin's hands traveled to her waist, holding her gently as dived back in to kiss her.
The make out session turned increasingly more desperate, their needs transcending their attempt to hold back. Yunjin's hands slid under the hem of Kazuha's shirt, scratching the warm skin of her back, making her arch under the touch. Kazuha's hands tangled in her hair, pulling on it slightly, causing Yunjin to gasp into her mouth.
"Unnie.. I need you," Kazuha whispered against Yunjin's mouth. "Just once more, please. I—I need to remember what it feels like to be loved."
Yunjin swallowed hard as she pulled back to look at her, breath uneven. Kazuha's eyes were dark with need, her lips were swollen, and her cheeks were red. Yunjin loved art, but this was the most beautiful painting she had ever seen. "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure," Kazuha nodded eagerly, leaning to press a kiss down her jawline. "I need you. Pl—please unnie."
The plea was enough for Yunjin to push away the last string of resistance left in her body. She stood up and grabbed her hand, leading them both inside the bedroom. Once there, she pushed Kazuha down the mattress softly and climbed onto the bed to straddle her hips.
Kazuha looked vulnerable like this, and all Yunjin wanted to do was to take care of her, to make her feel good and loved. She reached out to trace the line of her jaw with her fingertips and pressed her lips together. "You're so beautiful," she whispered softly.
"Unnie.." Kazuha wrapped her arms around her neck, pulling her down into another kiss.
Yunjin worked her way down Kazuha's body, unbuttoning her shirt as best as she could as her lips kept moving. She pulled her upright and discarded it along with her bra. Her jaw dropped at the sight. Kazuha was thinner than before, and Yunjin felt her chest constrict with worry. She had always been lean from dancing but this was not the same. She wanted to ask about it, wanted to scold her for not taking care of herself but instead, she leaned and pressed a kiss to the skin right on top of her heart.
She quickly stripped off her own clothes not to waste any time where she wasn't touching Kazuha and settled back over her, their skin pressing together. She had forgotten how good it felt to be skin to skin, how right it felt to have her lover's body pressed against hers.
"I missed this," Kazuha whispered, her hands roaming across Yunjin's back. "Being without felt like dying.."
"I know, baby," Yunjin kissed her deeply, swallowing the sob that escaped from Kazuha's lips. "But I'm here now, I've got you okay?" She pulled away, moving to kiss down her neck, sucking and nipping on the skin softly.
She trailed her lips further down, her teeth grazing over her hardened nipples that she didn't leave out, and then to her defined abs she loved so much. Kazuha was trembling beneath her, her hands fisting in the sheets, her breath coming out in shallow bursts. When Yunjin's lips finally pressed down to her inner thighs' skin, Kazuha whimpered softly.
"Please," the younger whispered. "Please, I need—"
Yunjin didn't need the rest of the sentence to know what she wanted. She settled down fully in between her thighs and wrapped her forearms around her thighs, lowering her head until her lips met with soft and wet flesh. She took her time, the tip of her tongue moving slowly in between the folds. She could feel Kazuha's fingers pressing against her scalp gently, could hear her soft gasps. She was still crying when Yunjin looked up, but this was the most devastatingly beautiful sight she had ever seen. It made her want to make her feel so good she could forget about everything else.
Yunjin's tongue worked slowly on her, from slow circles to occasionally dipping lower to gather wetness before returning to where Kazuha needed her the most. She felt her getting wetter by each passing second, her thighs trembling on either side of her head.
"Unnie," Kazuha gasped, her face contorting in pleasure. "Unnie I—I—"
Yunjin pulled back slightly to kiss the inside of her thighs, looking up at her. "What do you need baby?" She asked softly, her breath ghosting over Kazuha's burning skin. "Tell me what you want."
"I need to feel you," Kazuha sobbed. "I need—I need to have you close."
Yunjin understood what she meant immediately and crawled her way back up her body. Once on top again, she kissed her, letting her taste herself on her lips. Kazuha's muscular arms wrapped around her and she let out a soft sigh. "Is that what you want?" Yunjin whispered against her lips, feeling her own lower stomach throb with need.
Kazuha hummed and cupped her face with both hands, looking at her lovingly. "I want us to do this together."
Yunjin only nodded in response, unable to form a sentence with the surge of emotion building up her throat. She shifted on top of her, arranging their bodies so they could fit together properly. She positioned one of Kazuha's legs over her hip while she slipped her own leg between Kazuha's. Once finally aligned, she felt Kazuha's heat pressed against her own, and they both moaned at the contact.
"Okay?" Yunjin sucked in a breath.
"Yes," Kazuha nodded quickly, her hands gripping Yunjin's shoulders. "Please move."
So Yunjin did, rolling her hips slowly. Kazuha didn't wait long to match her rhythm, and the intimacy of the act made them both tear up. They kept their eyes locked, refusing to look away even when pleasure started to intensify.
"I love you," Kazuha whispered shakily as Yunjin started to rock her hips faster. "I—god—I love you so much."
"I love you—" Yunjin let her head fall back, "god, Zuha—I love you so much it hurts—" she said shakily.
She could feel herself getting closer and closer to the edge, and from the way Kazuha was moaning, she knew that she was as well. She adjusted the angle slightly, pressing their core together more firmly, and Kazuha dug her nails firmly enough to leave marks on her back.
"Don't stop," Kazuha begged, her voice cracking. "Please unnie—"
"I've got you," Yunjin increased the pace, grinding harder against her, holding her thigh more firmly. "Come with me." She could feel her muscles getting sore from the exertion but she didn't stop. Instead she leaned closer to kiss her once more, their lips and teeth clashing with the movements.
She felt the exact moment Kazuha's orgasm took over, her whole body tensing beneath her, her fingers digging further into her skin, and that sent her over the edge as well. They came with each other's name on their lips, and pleasure crashed down on them both at the same time. They didn't stop moving right away, riding the waves of their orgasm to the fullest, gasping and sobbing until Yunjin's full weight finally pressed Kazuha into the mattress.
Yunjin could barely breathe, her breath uneven from both her constant crying and the intensity of the pleasure she had just felt. She buried her face into Kazuha's neck, inhaling deeply to try and soothe herself.
"I've got you," Kazuha whispered and tightened her hold on her. "I've got you, unnie. It's okay."
But that was a lie, Yunjin knew it. None of that was okay; they had just made the biggest mistake possible by clinging to the ghosts of the past. So they lay there in silence for a long time, both trying to make sense of the situation, trying to find a way out of the mess they’d gotten themselves into once again.
Yunjin traced imaginary patterns along Kazuha's spine, and Kazuha pressed gentle kisses down the skin of her neck.
"I don't want you to go," Kazuha whispered so quietly Yunjin almost couldn't catch it. "I don't want this to end. I can't lose you again."
Yunjin's heart seized painfully at the words, and she had to close her eyes to refrain herself from crying again. After a few seconds, she pulled back to say two words that would either end up destroying them completely, or fix everything. "Then don't."
"I'll do whatever it takes," Kazuha bit down her lip hard, tears filling her eyes once more. "I know we can fix this."
"I hope we can," Yunjin smiled sadly, leaning to press a tender kiss to her forehead. "Because if we can't, I don't know what will be left of me."
For the first time in three full years, Yunjin felt hope blooming through her chest. Not without the terror that had never left, but with an undeniable feeling of longing that nearly took out all of the air from her lungs.
She didn't care how hard this was probably going to be, because she knew it would. The only thing she cared about was Kazuha being by her side again, breathing the same air as she did. And if it took her to redefine her whole vision on life, she'd risk it all for her, because she was worth it.
Love in itself wasn't enough to fix them. But love combined with genuine willingness to fight for each other could be. And without trying, they would never be able to figure out the answer.
Sitting on the kitchen counter back in Korea, Yunjin was sure that the tulip had died by now.
But from that decay could grow another flower, one of rebirth and love.
The flowers died yesterday,
And we were born again today.
To the fallen petals of our decaying love,
Bloom, expand, flourish.
And let's pray it be eternal roses this time.
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