Dedicated to my inexhaustible suppliers of choco-chip cookies in the time of crisis - dancinglimbo and HormonalOutburst.

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*Ten years later*

There is something so strange and fascinating about autumn, isn't it?

It arrives every year with a buoyant lack of subtly, and how I have come to love it.

Sure, there are several other quizzical browns and melodious breezes that come as a comforting quilt to the mother earth, but I see caramel leaves tumbled to spirit by brisk autumnal touches that rouse them from their brief naps, requesting a wistful embrace before the snow claims them.

I even see leaves of gold, berry-red, browns and other striking shades, each like a colourful beacon of hope, hung to their respective tree branches and flailing in their own rhythm.

Maybe it's the small factors, but I love to take long walks in autumn. After all, there is a calmness about autumn afternoons - a calmness very peaceful, very feminine - almost reminding me of my mother's warm embrace.

"Mommy, I don't like this muffler!" Complained my six-year old son, proceeding to remove the warm muffler from around his neck.

I sighed. "But Asahi, I thought you like vermillion." I stopped him from removing his muffler and instead looped it around his neck in a much more loose but fashionable manner.

I smiled when he rolled his eyes.

"But it's so itchy," he mumbled, rubbing his red nose adorably.

I simpered, poking his chubby cheek. "Asa-chan, it's cold, and you don't want mommy to get worried, do you?"

Asahi pouted cutely, and I almost resisted the urge to squeeze him into my bear hug.

I offered my pinky and he unwillingly wrapped his small fingers around mine in a tight grasp, taking quick steps to match my slow strides.

Asahi came like a blessing to me, like a early sunshine with hues of vermillion and gold, beaming on a sandy sea-shore, like the morning sun winking through the branches of urban trees.

All my life has been a quest for 'perfect,' but the first time he smiled at me, I knew I was a goner. He is everything that I hoped - that I wished for - the human embodiment of 'perfect' wrapped in a small cloth, as the nurse placed him securely into my arms.

I felt tears when his eyes blinked, and I broke into a hearty laughter the moment he wrapped his small fingers around my forefinger. Inexplicable feelings rushed to me like the storming West wind and I broke down with happiness, just because I couldn't control them.

A single golden leaf pirouetted down an invisible spiral of breeze, spinning through the air as it let itself carried down. It shook slightly, as if it could have been whisked away any second by the grip of any icy wind, but it kept floating down the twirling course.

It blew past my face, and Asahi followed its trance, as it landed lightly on the ground - the shiny, vibrant colours standing out against the ambers and bronzes beneath it. It was so delicate, that I wanted to reach down and pick it up, but instead Asahi released his hold from mine and rushed forward to grab it.

"Carefu-" But my words seemed to be stuck in throat as a man in black coat picked it up, examining its sensational hue and smoothing out any creases. He offered the leaf to Asahi and his face brightened with delight, twirling it around his fingers, and holding it close to his heart.

The man gave a tender smile and lifted his eyes, only to meet mine.

I would be lying if I don't say I didn't feel a jolt, but I wasn't sure whether it was a jolt of ardour delirium, or a jolt of sadness and shock that rippled through my skin.

The once familiar eyes, the glistening alabaster skin, the sharp features of his face all too hard to miss; now needled me with the intensity and reflection, same as mine.

He stepped forward and I stepped back instinctively.

He stopped, digging his hands deep into his pockets and fixed his gaze, yet once again, on me, but this time his lips tugged upwards into a soft smile.

If it weren't for those small wrinkles forming around the corner of his eyes and smile, Yoongi's face would've looked the same as before. But it is evident - a lot has changed.

Although his skin glistened like the morning star even in this harsh weather, his posture seemed sluggish, his shoulders broader and he looked taller. His hair was like the dark of a moonless night, unkempt and longer than I remember. His smile was soft, but it held a sadness - a guilt, a regret in them.

He opened his mouth to say something, but I became deaf to his words as soon as the words came out.

I was once again teleported to a time that seemed endlessly hopeless and bright to me - a past with the gleaming hope of a possible future.

I am reminded of the freckles on his back that I used to trace with my forefinger, like playing connecting the dots.

I am reminded of his lopsided grin that he used to give me whenever he won any game against me.

I am reminded of that one white shirt with a singular black rose, so striking in its hue and embroidery, right on the chest pocket, and the white fabric of the shirt that hugged his features so perfectly, the day we had started having complications in our relationship.

I feel a blooming sadness spread like a juvenile flower opening its petals for the first time with the morning light. My feet feel frozen, unable to move. My fingers cold and limp, and my eyes hurt with unshed tears.

I knew I moved on, even though I was fully convinced Yoongi was most definitely absent from my life; but just an accidental glimpse and all the memories that were originally stacked in a wooden casket in the back of my mind - opened with a whirling wind and the pictures blew out with independence and spirit, tainting my mind with a sorrow so hard to explain.

Even after all these years, nothing has changed. And I'm the only one to blame. I just can't stand to un-love him. Why's is it even so wrong to think about him?

Why is it wrong to think where we went wrong?

A strong hand laid on my shoulder, bringing me back to reality. I turned my head just in time to see my husband - Itsuki, staring down at me, his dark brown eyes quickly changing from that of glinting with delight to that of mild concern.

"Hope, are you alright?" He whispered, supporting my form partially against his hard chest.

I blinked, and the unshed tears fell down in soft rivulets. Itsuki wiped the tears with his thumb, providing me with a serene smile.

Itsuki called Asahi, and gave him the rainbow candy that he promised him earlier while we were taking a stroll around the park.

Asahi cooed and unwrapped his candy, taking a loud lick. Itsuki chuckled, and looked at me once again, this time - firmly clasping my fingers in his warm grasp, urging me to take a step forward.

I did.

One step, two step, and several many; avoiding Yoongi by keeping my eyes low. I restrained myself from looking back at him, from even thinking about him, because if I did, I knew my heart would betray me once again.

My heart is a traitor - a traitor that I don't have the ability to understand. It gives me hope, it gives me life, it shows me visions that I desire only to shatter with a single touch of reality. And when I think I'm collecting its pieces to mend a new one with my bloodied hands, it drops again, spilling the vile juices of the past.

"Hope, who was that?" Itsuki nudged me with his shoulder, a concern etched between his eyebrows.

The more I stared at Itsuki, the more my tears dried up, the calmer my racing heart synchronised. Itsuki always had a tender presence that soothed everyone around him. Maybe it's his doe like dark brown eyes reflecting hope, or his peaceful smile promising liberty, or maybe his gentle words that left a cooling presence that of a summer ice drink.

He tightened his hold, unconsciously rubbing circles on my knuckles.

Asahi followed our trail, but kept his distance from us.

I wish I could reply something - something that would not sound insane, but a truth. Something that would make sense, and clearly reflect my feelings through my words. But I held back, primarily because I don't trust my heart lately. It could utter words that would even surprise me.

So, I lied.

I lied with all the ferocity, all the pain that I felt, looking into his eyes, as if the world was a happy place again.

"Nobody."

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AN: So her name is Hope. Not J-hope. I like SOPE but this is not a genderbent SOPE fanfiction.

Extremely thankful to the judges, award shows, and most importantly my fellow readers (around the globe) who gave this story - a chance.

Editing would start from early July.

So this is my cue to leave and hopefully not return until and unless I am done with my upcoming exams (wish me all the luck, I need it!).

I wish everyone a very happy summer ahead. Xoxo.