There's a weather advisory for snow, but you won't believe it. It never snows when they say it will. It snowed that night, though, the night you desperately want to forget, the year you wish to banish from memory, yet 2020 still haunts you.

It's New Year's Eve 2025, and you're mingling with acquaintances and friends. Like every New Year's Eve, your party's in full swing with laughter, music, drinking, and merrymaking.

You make the rounds from guest to guest, offering hors d'oeuvres and refilling drinks while making small talk. A fake smile is plastered on your face, and light-hearted words of welcome leave your mouth bitter from the lies.

You feel nothing, just hollow inside tonight. It's always worse this time of year, but no one seems to notice or care. Why should they? They are here for the food and drinks, not for you.

Your best friend, Sears, gently touches your shoulder, catching your attention. You notice the warmth in her eyes and stop. Maybe talking with her is just the distraction you need from your dark thoughts. With a spark of hope in her eyes, she casually mentions a single friend she knows who would love to meet you.

She means well, only wanting to see you happy. But you know you could never be happy without him. You don't deserve to be.

Your heart, already low, plummets even further. You smile softly yet politely decline. Your heart isn't ready. Perhaps you'll never be ready.

Instead of distracting you from your melancholy as you had hoped, it only takes you deeper. The sympathy in her eyes only reinforces the feeling of blackness surrounding your soul. It tries to pull you deeper into its cocoon of numbness by filling your mind with images of him from New Year's Eve 2020.

I never should have said no.

You walk away after giving the usual excuse that you're too busy with business to find time to date. She frowns, watching you disappear into the sea of partiers. She starts to follow, concerned about the quiet mood you've been in all evening, when another friend pulls her over to watch Tae try to stack Martini glasses in a pyramid.

The clock is getting closer to tolling in another New Year, and you'd rather it didn't.

The party guests are dancing and laughing, waiting excitedly for the start of the countdown, but it holds no joy for you. Instead, you move through the throng, handing out flutes of champagne, returning smiles of thanks with the fake smile you feel has become permanently etched on your face.

When you're sure everyone has a flute of champagne in preparation for the New Year's toast, you solemnly begin gathering empty glasses or drinks abandoned when you handed out the champagne. You glance around the living room on your way to the kitchen, making sure you don't miss any glasses.

You stand at the sink, mindlessly placing the glasses in the sudsy water. Everyone is crowding onto the balcony to enjoy the fireworks going off in just a few minutes. You remember standing on the bedroom balcony five years ago. . . a glass carelessly slips from your hand and shatters, jolting you back from the memory that still haunts you.

With a heavy sigh, you pour the fifth or sixth glass of champagne or maybe your eighth; you don't care and enter the living room to join the others on the balcony. They aren't even aware you're not with them. The weight of feeling alone in your large penthouse full of people is overwhelming. You need to get away from them and truly be alone. Would they even miss you if you were gone?

You stand there deciding your fate when you notice Jimin staring at you. When your eyes make contact, you want to look away but can't. His brows furrow in worry, and his expression begs an answer, 'Are you okay?'

You shake your head, and he starts towards you, setting his champagne down on the way. You hold your hand up and stop him, shaking your head.

His facial expression pleads, 'Please talk to me.'

You could always read what he was thinking. His face was like an open book. You close your eyes, shaking your head as you move away. He stands there watching you leave the room. He desperately wants to talk with you. He understands what you're feeling. 

At first, every New Year's Eve, you would always search him out at the parties, and he knew you had to talk. The first two years were to cry on his shoulders. The following two years, you sit on your private balcony and talk. But not tonight, not this New Year's Eve.

You carry your champagne into your room and look at the empty bed with a heart full of regret. Pulling the curtains aside and opening the French doors, you step out to the railing of your balcony.

Those on the other balcony celebrating can't see you because the building's architecture was purposefully designed to make the bedroom balcony private, much to his delight and your pleasure.

You stand alone on your balcony, not looking forward to the start of another year. I can't do this any longer.

You lean on the railing overlooking the party in the city square in front of the Eiffel Tower. You take a sip of champagne, set the glass on the railing, and place your hands beside it, waiting for the new year to arrive so you can escape in sleep—from a life without him.

I miss you. If only I had said yes. 

You whispered a silent prayer into the night, "If I could only have a second chance. Please."

Standing alone and numbed by the champagne, you become lost in New Year's Eve 2020 memories.

A voice whispers to you, "I really think we can do so much better. How about we try again next year with an even bigger party?"

You look to the voice and become enveloped in the warm embrace of the man you love.

He places warm kisses on your throat, and you turn in his arms to face him.

He smiles, saying, "I wondered where you went. I'm glad I found you in the crush our party has turned into. Half of them, I don't think we even know." He softly chuckles, then holds your face in his hands and tenderly kisses your lips, sparking a warmth deep inside.

"I have something I want to ask you." He lets you go as he positions himself on a bent knee, holding a small ring box in his hand. The clock finally strikes midnight, and a new year has begun, or has it?

"Will you marry me?" The question you have been longing for him to ask has finally happened. The fireworks begin bursting in the night sky, setting the scene for a night of endless possibilities and dreams coming true. A rush of euphoria burns through his heart, knowing your answer will be yes.

"No." 

This isn't what you wanted to say. Your heart begged you not to lie. But you felt you had no choice.

The fireworks reach its crescendo, and you hear cheering and the clinking of glasses from your friends and acquaintances in the other room. The multicolored lights emitted from the grand finale of fireworks reflect off your champagne flute and your tears. You let go of the balcony railing.

In his shock, he asks, "Why? We've talked about one day tying the knot. I thought you loved me. I thought you wanted to spend your life with me!?"

He can't believe you said no. You discussed the idea of getting married for almost a year now. He waited for this special night to propose, hiding the engagement ring for over six months.

"I, I do." Tears are filling your eyes, ready to fall at any minute.

"Those are the words I want to hear you say, but not here, not like this." He grabs your arms in desperation for answers. "Why, I just need to know why?"

"I'm not ready." You knew it was another lie you didn't want to say, and it was killing you.

The entertainment company he worked for knew about his plan to ask you to marry him. They called you when they found out and made it clear that you were to tell him no. He and his bandmates had their first major world tour coming up. They told you it would ruin everything if you were to marry him. They threatened you with removing him from the group, the men he saw as his brothers, and possibly fire him if you didn't comply.

"You'll be gone for fourteen months or more. What if you find someone you could love more than me?" This was the only excuse you could think of that he might accept.

Maybe the company was right, and perhaps you would ruin everything. You were scared that you were not enough for him, not worthy of love from a man who finds it hard to show his feelings, yet he showed them to you. You felt he deserved better, and maybe, just maybe, he will find that someone while touring the world.

"Love more than you!? What the hell are you talking about? There's no one I could love more!"

His heart felt like it was being torn apart. After all these years, he finally found a woman he could trust his heart to, a woman he could open up to, sharing all he felt, and now she rejected him.

I knew I never should have trusted love! I left myself vulnerable to it, to her, and now look!

He begins to pace the small balcony, and hearing the cheering and revelry of those in the penthouse sends him over the edge of his emotional barrier. You should be celebrating your engagement, not out here arguing. He picks up your glass and throws it on the floor, shattering it. "Damn it, why?"

You jump at his outburst of anger. "Please, understand that I. . ."

Slowly, as if afraid to land, tiny snowflakes begin to drift timidly down.

"No. Your answer was no." He wipes his face as tears fall. His heart is broken. "I have to get out of here!"

The joy and happiness coming from the other room were driving him crazy. He storms back inside, gathering his things and stuffing them in a backpack.

You can't move as if frozen in place. If only you could tell him the truth. You watch him start to leave, stopping at the bedroom door; he turns, shouting, "I love you! I LOVED YOU with everything I am! Damn you!"

He sobs as he opens the bedroom door and then slams it shut. Blinded by his hurt and anger, he leaves, not noticing the stares and gasps of those he shoves aside. His primary focus was getting away quickly, and the quickest way was on his motorcycle.

The snowfall was getting heavier. You hold out your hand, letting the snowflakes land only to be melted by your tears. You slowly enter your bedroom and close the French doors. Turning, you lean on them, staring at the bedroom door. Would you ever see him walk back through that door? You have a sinking feeling; the answer is no.

Dulled by the amount of champagne and sadness of watching him leave, you stumble across the intricate rug you purchased together in Jaipur, India, before moving into the Paris penthouse.

You slip your floor length black sequin dress off, letting it fall in a puddle at your feet Stepping out you fall into bed, burying yourself under the covers, crying. You hold his pillow close as you breathe in his scent.

Outside, the celebrating continues, and you no longer care. Your friend would make sure everyone leaves before she leaves as well.

Later, things quieted down, and you cried yourself to sleep with his pillow clutched to your chest.

At some point during the night, you hear a soft knock on the bedroom door. You try to ignore it, but it won't stop. It became persistent and louder.

You sit up, grab your robe, and open the door. Sears is standing there with tears shimmering on her cheeks due to the light in the hallway.

"There's a policeman here to see you."