Letters From You

The bell chimed that afternoon. Gaeul noticed that Wonyoung arrived a little earlier than usual.

When she looked up from the counter, Wonyoung stepped in, already taking off her coat and placing it in the fold of her arms. Their eyes met immediately, Wonyoung didn’t move, Gaeul didn’t either. It wasn’t awkward, not anymore. It was simply a small pause of acknowledgment, and for Gaeul to register a couple of things before coming back to life. 

Looking at Wonyoung now meant remembering the words, remembering the way she held her, the confession of her love, the kiss and now the letter. Gaeul felt like Wonyoung was making things difficult for her on purpose. Because it was. She hated that it was.

Then again, how could she blame it entirely on Wonyoung when her own heart was betraying her as well?

“Hi,” Wonyoung greeted her with a small smile as she finally approached the counter.

Gaeul hated how something as simple as that made her heart stutter. She swallowed slowly before muttering, “Hi.” Then she took a deep breath, composing herself as always. “Coffee again?”

Wonyoung nodded. “Yes, please.”

She didn’t ask any more if she wanted it black. Wonyoung always got the same order. As it should be. 

Gaeul turned away from the counter to face the coffee machine, grabbing the cup out of habit, pressing buttons she was used to pressing, pouring things accurately out of memory, waiting for the aroma of coffee wafting in the air. She needed this time to think to herself. Because there were still too many things going through her mind, and too many things that were making her feel more than she should. 

Welcoming Wonyoung back to her life meant a lot of things. It meant change, it meant forgiveness, it meant being familiar with something she hadn’t experienced for a long time. But she was struggling with accepting the fact that the love she thought was wasteful and kept, had been reciprocated all this time, and now that it was able to land on the ground safely, it was now attacking Gaeul in the weirdest ways possible.

Here she thought she was an expert at self-control. And yet, Wonyoung had to exist and ruin everything so beautifully. Gaeul was not ready to admit that out loud. 

By the time the coffee was done, she served it carefully to Wonyoung, letting the cup slide towards the young woman, for their fingers to touch briefly.

Gaeul didn’t pull away. Wonyoung didn’t leave. They stayed close, but not touching. 

“Was it busy earlier?” Wonyoung asked as she slowly brought the cup to her lips.

“Sort of,” Gaeul answered back, diverting her attention to anything but Wonyoung’s lips. She then shrugged. “Coffee runs. No one usually stays in the morning.”

Wonyoung nodded thoughtfully, then turned around to look at the tables. It was only then where she noticed that someone was sitting on her table. But the table behind it was empty. “Well, people should come for the coffee,” she quietly said, turning to Gaeul, a small smile appearing on her face. “It’s worth coming back to.”

Warmth bloomed inside her chest, but Gaeul kept her composure. If she showed Wonyoung how much that sentence meant to her, then that would be embarrassing. Gaeul looked away from those lips again. “Thank you,” she mumbled.

She meant it. Even if there probably was some meaning to what Wonyoung said, she was thankful. She just didn’t want to explain the specifics. It wasn’t required anyway, not unless Wonyoung asked for it. Gaeul hoped she wouldn’t.

Wonyoung suddenly reached inside her coat pocket, shifting slightly, and Gaeul didn’t mean to watch her every move, but she was dangerously curious about it. Then Wonyoung took out a folded piece of paper. It was thicker than the last one she gave. Like something inside was preventing it from fully closing. Wonyoung then handed it to her. 

Gaeul blinked. “What’s this?”

“For you,” Wonyoung simply said, patiently waiting for Gaeul to accept it. “But—” Wonyoung spoke again before Gaeul took the paper, she visibly looked nervous, which was honestly kind of surprising. “It’s nothing big. I… I made it but you can read it later.”

The way she said it was careful, familiar. It was as if Gaeul was speaking to the Wonyoung that she knew back in middle school, the girl before she learned her own confidence and elegance. It made her chest tighten; it was like Wonyoung was trying her best to do better. 

Gaeul reached out again to take the paper. Their fingers brushed again, but this time, it was intentional. Neither of them pulled away immediately, like Gaeul was allowing a little bit more time before it ended. 

But it still did, and Gaeul knew she missed the feeling already. 

“Thank you,” Gaeul said softly, but it was definitely real.

Wonyoung relaxed at that, nodding her head and then pointed at the table that wasn’t hers. “I’ll go now.”

Gaeul nodded as well, quietly watching Wonyoung take her coffee and walk towards a table she wasn’t used to staying in. Even for Gaeul it looked odd that Wonyoung wasn’t sitting on her usual table, but the younger woman could adapt. 

Perhaps Wonyoung wanted Gaeul to open the letter when she wasn’t there. The thought made her smile suddenly. Wonyoung was still capable of feeling shy, and that made her feel more than she should. 

But she didn’t want to act on impulse. Gaeul carefully kept the letter in her drawer, closed it, then went back to her chores. She wiped the counter, washed the mugs that were used, cleaned the coffee maker, entertained a customer that wanted to borrow two books, then sold a book to the next one. 

Wonyoung stayed by the window as always, busy sipping on her black coffee while she was busy with her phone. Perhaps answering emails, perhaps looking at documents, or she was just looking at other things. Gaeul didn’t know what really was in Wonyoung’s world. But for some reason, she felt like she was slowly seeing it bit by bit. 

Eventually, when the shop got quieter, the person who took Wonyoung’s table left already, there was only one customer perusing the aisles, and then there was Wonyoung, who remained on her table, still on her phone.  

Gaeul watched carefully, checking if she was going to look in her direction. She didn’t, so Gaeul opened her drawer again, taking the letter and with both hands, slowly opened it. 

It was another letter, but what caught her attention was the small, pressed flower that was taped gently onto the page. It was a pink camellia, in a shade of pink that Gaeul loved so much back when she spent a lot of her time in her grandmother’s garden. The alignment was slightly crooked, but it showed that it really was done by hand. 

You loved these flowers. Your grandmother used to have them in her garden.

And you loved pressing flowers between your books. 

You said it’s because they lasted longer that way. 

I didn’t understand why you liked keeping things that were already gone. 

But I think a lot of things make more sense now.

But I’ll always remember this.

I’ll always remember you. 

I love you.

– Wonyoung

Gaeul’s hand shook as she read each word.

Wonyoung remembered the flowers. She remembered her grandmother and the garden. She remembered how Gaeul liked to carefully press flowers between her books because she thought it was a way to preserve them within pages of words that mattered to her. 

Did Wonyoung remember sitting underneath the tree Gaeul’s grandfather planted? Or how Wonyoung stayed with her when she was busy finishing a chapter of a book? Did she remember the face Gaeul made when Wonyoung picked a flower for her and placed it in her ear and called her pretty for the first time?

Gaeul honestly wished Wonyoung remembered.

But asking might make things real, hearing the answer didn’t guarantee anything. Wonyoung might say no, or she would prove to Gaeul that what she wrote in this letter was true. 

She glanced at Wonyoung, still on her phone, and still unaware of the chaos she created in Gaeul’s heart.

How shameless. And yet—Gaeul welcomed it.

The bell chimed.