I should definitely stop drinking.

What I should also definitely do is chug a Tilynol with a gallon of water. My throat was so dry you'd think I had sand for dinner last night. Wait, speaking of last night. I was sure I slept on the couch in the living room, but this? This felt too comfortable to be a couch. I opened my eyes and what a big mistake that was. The light was working hand in hand with my raging headache to torment me. What a collab, man. I fought through the pain and straightened up into a sitting position. I was in Taehyung's guest room. I didn't know if I was grateful that his care didn't stop after my stunt, or if I was annoyed that he'd left the curtains open. He could've gone all the way with his kindness and drawn the curtains. Who sleeps with the curtains open anyway? A psychopath, I suppose.

I was just about to go drain the tap to hydrate myself when my gaze stopped on the bedside table. There was a bottle of Evian and a packet of Advil. Such a fancy selection, even for water. Go figure, rich people. I helped myself with a smile littered with regret. I fucked up big time. I wish I could blame it all on the alcohol and pretend I'd forgotten everything, but I hadn't. The details were still vivid in my mind. His touch. His warm breaths. His ugly words. My horrible actions. They were all ingrained in my mind and surely wouldn't go away anytime soon.

The right course of action would be to take a shower, wake Ethan, and disappear into the horizon. But I know wishful thinking when I see it, and this right here was wishful thinking. I couldn't get away from Taehyung. He was my boss. And I decided to mess with my boss, no less. Way to go. I put the bottle of water on the bedside table with more strength than a hungover person should possess, which caused a piece of paper to fall on the floor. I picked it, keen to leave the place as I had found it, and that's when my eyes fell on the words written on it.

I've cleared your schedule so you can take care of Ethan and get some rest. Breakfast is waiting for you downstairs. Make sure you eat well and take electrolytes to fight the hangover.

PS: Don't read too much into things, Inaya. That's a nasty habit.

PPS: we're good, so don't make things awkward.

We're good? Good? Were we really, now? I wish he would pretend nothing happened, at least then I could've acted as if amnesia was a thing that could affect anyone. I pulled out a pillow and screamed into it, trying to block out the noise and conflicting feelings running through my head. Upon reflection, not only did I need to stop drinking, I needed to see a shrink. I had to find a different way to deal with my feelings rather than seeking refuge in people. One would say I learned my lesson. After all, it was those very actions that bound us to each other, me and Yoongi, and look where we are now. At least back then I had my father's death to blame. When I realized how lonely I had become in the space of twenty-four hours, I lost it. A sane person would seek out a grief counselor and let time do the trick. But here's the thing. I wasn't sane, and maybe that's why I resigned myself to Yoongi's addictions and almost accepted them. Because we were both damaged. Both insane. The worst combination, I came to realize twenty-four hours ago—special mention to irony—which drove me back to my old, insane habits.

The way I met Yoongi was no romantic encounter. I picked him up in a bar as a temporary fix for my loneliness. Just like I did every night before I met him. It was my coping mechanism, if you will. I'd indulge, and by doing so, I'd forget. Forget the loans I had to pay off. The future I didn't know if I see come to fruition, and the fact that I no longer had anyone to rely on. It was toxic, I knew. But Yoongi was different from my usual picks. He was wounded too. He had demons inside him growling and tearing him apart as much as mine did. We were the perfect match made in hell. And what's that saying? Birds of the same feathers fly together.

I've often wondered whether our love wasn't more of a dependency, an addiction. But isn't that how love works anyway? You depend on the person you love. You get used to their presence in your life until it becomes difficult to exist without them. And it was hard to exist in a big, harsh and unforgiving world without Yoongi by my side. The same was true for him. Maybe it was even more so for him. So we basked in this love and its bittersweet toxicity. The days became bearable. Struggles became bearable too. We cried alone, but we laughed when we were together. Exactly how lovers behave. We stood up for each other, two lost souls in the big universe. Our little match made in hell turned into a match made in heaven.

Until his lies came to light.

Because it wasn't just about the lies. It was about being alone in misery. His brand of misery was just an act. A mask. And maybe he just needed to add MSG to his life. Maybe, like Taehyung said, his normal life was bland, so he found spice in his double life. But for me, it wasn't a double life. What I gave him was the real me. What he saw was my naked flesh and my bare heart, and he enjoyed the show. Hopefully, he'd leave a good Yelp review.

But contrary to people's beliefs, I didn't learn from my mistakes. Some people are slow learners like that. I went ahead and sought refuge in a human again, as if the past wasn't there to act as a lesson. But at least this time I was rejected. One should always see the positive in the midst of the negative. I could've been dealing with regret and shame while scratching my skin under boiling water if something had happened between us, me and Taehyung, yesterday. I could've been dealing with more than just a headache. I could've been dealing with self-loathing, a disease that takes more than an Advil to cure. And don't get me wrong. Taehyung is an amazing guy that any woman in the world would fight over. But that's the reason I could've been disgusted with myself. He's a good person. He didn't need to be used by someone seeking escape through people. He needs to be sought out for the good person that he is. He needs to be someone's first choice, not just a random choice.

I gathered myself and my shattered convictions and straight to the shower I headed. Cold were the tiles beneath my bare feet. Boiling was the water on my skin. And it reminded me that good and bad things are there to balance each other out. Yin and yang wasn't just an empty theory. It was pretty much a fact. What's my reason to say that? It was simple in its complexity, really. Yoongi fucked up our relationship. I fucked up with Yoongi. Here, two yin. On the yang side, I realized that my self-worth came at a higher price than meaningless companionship, and that loneliness was actually a cheaper asset to buy in an expensive market. I'd learn to be alone. Now I was no longer a dirt-poor barista struggling to make ends meet. Now I had a bank balance that saw as much green as a soccer field. I'd ask Miss Rossi to assign me to overseas missions. I'd earn more money and achieve my dreams. This right here isn't considered loneliness, I realized. This is considered being on the only company that would never let me down. My company.

The hot water cleansed my body and also my thoughts. When I came out of the bath, I had a plan. I'd fetch my suitcase, doll up, eat something and book myself a nice hotel. Ethan would be thrilled. After we'd settled in, we'd figure out the rest.

My plan had a very short lifespan, unfortunately, and its death happened the moment I walked into the living room. Through the glass wall, I could clearly see Yoongi standing in front of his car. Yes, his car. Now that the mask was off, he had no problem showing his true colors. He was clad in a burgundy suit. His hair was combed back into a gentleman's haircut that must have cost a few hundred. He didn't need to take off his sunglasses for me to see that he was sporting a frown. I shook my head and a sad laugh escaped my lips. The twenty-four hour rule never fails to disappoint me. It only took him twenty-four hours to shake off his modest duds and embrace his reality -- an amount of time so short compared to the three years we'd spent together.

However, some things don't change. His stalkerish behavior is definitely one of them. I knew he'd use my phone to track me. I just hoped he wouldn't stoop so low.

I turned around to the kitchen table. Taehyung didn't hold back. He brought everything you could call breakfast, from savory to sweet. Either he had a gourmand tooth or he cared. My money was on the latter. My wishful thinking making an appearance again, don't mind it. Or he just had his reasons, like everyone else. I'd put good money on that too.

Seeing how Yoongi took his sweet time to come clean about his life— correction. He didn't come clean. I had Park Jimin to thank for the reality break— I decided to adopt his tactics. I sat down at the table and took my breakfast, thankful that Ethan was still asleep. I didn't want him to witness whatever would go on between me and his father. So I kept the noise pollution to a minimum and gave up the coffee, even though the brand new Delonghi was begging me to use it.

Yoongi finally decided that we peasants deserved to see his eyes. He took off his glasses and awarded me with a look that translated into a very clear "what the fuck are you up to". I ignored him and continued eating calmly, as if a hurricane wasn't about to destroy my shelter. When I was done with my meal, I put the dishes in the dishwasher , put on my shoes and went to the door. In the corner, next to the umbrella holder, was my suitcase. And again, I could have categorized this action as the right and logical thing for Taehyung to do. Instead, I boxed his actions into the care section. He cared. My thoughts, my freedom.

The moment I stepped out of the house, Yoongi stood up from the hood of his car over which he was leaning.

"Any words to explain what you're doing here?" He hissed. "As far as the GPS shows, this ain't a hotel."

"It is not indeed." I chirpily replied, as if my need to shout words that fell in the category of 'what the fuck is it to you' was not urgent.

"Don't test my limits, Inaya. They're nonexistent." He strode towards me with determined, quick steps. I didn't move an inch. If his goal was to intimidate me, he had another thing coming. "Whose house is this?"

I let my gaze slide over his body. He looked good in a suit. He shouldn't have sacrificed this style for a poor, stupid girl like me. I still wasn't sure what gain he saw in lying to me. What gain he saw in me at all. "You cleaned up awfully well, Yoongi. Burgundy is your color. Don't let 'em tell you otherwise."

His fist balled before he brought it to his mouth, biting down on it. He let out a sigh, looking around and bowing his head as he spoke. "I said, who owns this house, Inaya. Don't make me repeat my question a third time. You wouldn't like the way it sounds."

"Pray do." I challenged with a grin. "Now that we're at it, show me everything you've been hiding for the past three years. Don't hold back on my account."

In one swift motion, he pulled me rather aggressively by the elbow. I decided I'd make a scene and screw up with the calmness of this neighborhood if he left a bruise behind his grip. "You took my son to a stranger's house. Are you even thinking straight right now? He's a fucking child, Inaya. A child."

"Don't give me shit about parenting, Yoongi. You're not the best candidate." I yanked his hand away with all my might and used the momentum to push him back. "And you've done enough slut-shaming in the last few days, I fear you've already maxed out your quota . So," I pointed my index finger at his chest, "don't test my fucking limits. I'm afraid I don't have any either."

His arms fell limply to his sides. Stunned, he took a few steps back, this time of his own volition. "They don't mean jack-shit to you, the years we've spent together, do they? You've made up your fucking mind, and to hell with my opinion, it's what you're saying."

"Did they mean shit to you?" I shouted. My nerves were short-circuiting. "'Cause you gotta excuse me, it didn't seem to me like you cared. You lied, Yoongi. Right to my face. For years on end." I walked up to him, keen to close the distance. "Tell me, Yoongi. How did it feel? Did it make you feel superior? Stronger? Of higher intelligence? 'Cause I can assure you you're none of those things. On the contrary, you're nothing more than a weak, stupid liar who doesn't even appreciate the genuine love he was dealt."

I turned away, eager to escape him and this discussion before he saw my tears. He didn't deserve them. I figured, albeit so late, he didn't even deserve my unconditional love. It turned out that you don't appreciate things you don't need.

"Are you sleeping with him?" His words, as ugly as they sounded, stopped me in my tracks. "The owner of this house, whoever the fuck that is."

"My fucking boss is who he is," I shouted as I turned back to him, anger seeping through the cracks of weakness clinging to my being. "And as for your first question. I don't owe you the truth when you never gave it to me. Unless fatherhood kicked in and you want to make sure your son is fine, get the hell out of here ,Yoongi, because this shit is about to get ugly real quick."

"Then let it get ugly, Inaya." He barked. "What's holding you back? Ah, let me guess. You don't want to make a scene at the loverboy's house. What a caring woman you are. That's exactly the kind of woman Jimin needs. Sorry. Grammatical malfunction." He grinned, and although the first thing I'd fallen for was his smile, it disturbed me now. "Didn't need is what I meant. See, you think you know who Park Jimin is, but girl, are you wrong." He stepped closer, so close that he invaded my comfort, and bared his teeth. And I noticed, even though I had promised to forget everything about this man, that one thing didn't change. His scent. He smelled like sandalwood and tobacco and the man my heart still beats for against my better judgment. And I noticed something else that shocked me to the core. He didn't smell of alcohol. That left me with only one explanation. This man faked an addiction to keep me by his side on his terms and conditions. My stomach turned, and I was afraid I was going to throw up all over his immaculate suit. "Park Jimin would chew you up and spit you out when the flavor disappears, Inaya. Don't bet on the wrong horse."

What the fuck Park Jimin had to do with our discussion, I had no idea. Wait! Oh god! He thought the house belonged to Jimin. I swallowed, considering if I should correct him. I didn't need to. I didn't owe him shit. Besides, I didn't want to drag Taehyung into this mess. I straightened my posture and lifted my chin. "What could be worse than a liar, I wonder." I made a show of tapping my chin with my finger.

Yoongi's shoulders slumped in defeat. He knew I was right, because he knew what he was. A liar. A person who used me for his own sick and unknown gain. "I've never lied about my feelings for you, Inaya. Believe it or not. I loved you with everything in me. Fuck." He stroked my jaw, his eyes filled with affection. And I wished it was genuine. I fucking did. His touch was warm, like it always had been. My brand of addiction. We were so close we were breathing each other. So close that it felt like old times. But back then I thought we were made for each other. Now, I had different thoughts. "You're the only person I've ever loved in this horrid world. And I still do. I love you so fucking much it's suffocating." His touch left me to the cold air as he withdrew his hand. A reminder of how he'd let me down. He ran his fingers through his black curls and straightened his posture. The posture of a man who'd never seen defeat, and maybe — surely — he never had. "I won't give up on you, Inaya. On us. I'm not something you can get rid of that easily. I will fight, and it will be dirty and it will be unfair, but I will never back out. Never."

"Show me your best," I replied in a confident voice that I was struggling to hold. "For your worst, I've already seen."

I slammed the door when I entered the house and slumped against it. The tears I was trying to hide escaped me, each drop thicker than the last. I let out a choked breath as I ran my hand through my hair, pulling at the roots. So many emotions warred within me, but none of them played on my team. There was the love that I knew would never cease to exist. There was the anger, another thing I doubted would ever be quelled. No amount of apologies or confessions of love could change the past. You can't kill someone and expect an apology would cut it. Yoongi killed our relationship with his selfish lies, and now it was slowly dying.

A few minutes passed, and by God, they seemed like hours, before I heard the tires screeching on the tarmac. For some reason, it sounded final. For some reason, I knew that if he didn't change, I would make it final. I was done sheltering him when I was clearly the one who needed protecting. I was done being the strings in our relationship. He had to fight for us now. Because I dropped the sword the moment his truth came to light.

I wiped my tears with the back of my hand and ran to Ethan's room to wake him up. I had a change to realize and so little time to waste. I messed up big time with Taehyung, but let's face it. He seemed into it too. Into self-destruction. Or maybe he just liked the prospect of towing with me. Or maybe he really did find something interesting about me. At any rate, I didn't want to stick around to find out what his intentions were. Wasn't going to apologize either because we were both active participants in what happened, even if some of us more than others. "Hey buddy! Wake up! We're leaving."

"We're going to Dad's?"

"Maybe later. For now, we're going to have fun. Common. Get ready and meet me downstairs."

I hurried to my room to get my jacket. At the same time, I called an Uber. The ride back to Seoul would cost me an arm and a leg, but it didn't matter. Right now, nothing was more important than being alone. I had to keep what little self-esteem I had left. I needed to lick my wounds. I didn't need company. Unfortunately, I realized that a little too late.

"I'm ready, Aunt Inaya," Ethan announced from his room. I grabbed my jacket and closed the room door behind me.

"Let's go, kiddo." I put my arm over his shoulder and took the stairs. The second we reached the living room, my steps halted. Taehyung was sitting on the couch, his legs spread and his arms propped up on the backrest. His tie was loose. The first few buttons of his white shirt were undone. His lips were puckered in a way that unsettled me. His presence altogether unsettled me. Shouldn't he be at work? What brought him back so early? I quietly plucked at the lapels of my vest while keeping my eyes on him. He was looking at me too. Very intently, I must say. A look so intense. So different. So strange. And I could blame it on my encounter with Yoongi and everything that went down in the last twenty-four hours, but something about this moment made me uneasy. Something about how Taehyung was looking at me made me uneasy. It made me feel like a prey caught in a hunting trap.

"Where to, sweet Inaya?"

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