LISA

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Rules.

Protocol.

Guidelines.

I need something.

Minimal thought was involved in my decision to request this flight to Sydney. After months of following Jennie's posts on social media, I needed to see her. Really see her.

Why? Well, I'm still trying to figure that out.

Now I've seen her. Now I know how her lips feel against mine. That's not why I came here. I feel like I need to apologize to Rosé. It's stupid, but feelings are exempt from any sort of reason or justification.

Jennie had too much wine.

She said some crazy shit.

I was tired.

She was confused.

Period.

It doesn't have to be awkward. Maybe I requested this flight because being close to Jennie makes me feel close to Rosé. But I don't think that's it. I took this flight for the same reason Rosé couldn't get enough of Jennie—she doesn't look at me like someone who lost her wife.

Jennie didn't look at Rosé like a woman dying from cancer.

I didn't fully understand the importance of that feeling until now.

So … have I flown to the other side of the earth to feel alive again? It's looking like the most honest explanation.

After I get out of the shower, there's a text from Jennie.

I can't make it to brunch. Jisoo has a tour scheduled. Happy birthday. Safe flight home.

Reading it three times, I grapple with the disappointment I feel. We didn't say goodbye. With my next breath, I call her.

"Hi!" She answers as if she's excited, maybe even a little surprised to hear from me.

"Hey. Last minute tour?" I ask.

"Yeah. I'm so sorry. Jisoo is too."

"What time will you be done? We didn't get to say goodbye."

There's a long pause.

"Jen?"

She clears her throat. "Unfortunately, not until later. And Jisoo and I have plans tonight. She's fixing me up with a friend of a friend. A date. That's good. Right?"

Another pause holds the line for several seconds.

"Sure. That's good. Be careful. Be smart."

"Yup," she says with a clipped voice.

"Jen?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you happy?"

Her silence feels more honest than her next words. "Yes, Lisa. I'm happy. I've never been happier in my life."

"I'm glad. I needed to hear that. Let me know when you decide where you're going next. Maybe we can meet up again."

"Sure."

"Bye, Jen."

"Bye," she whispers.

I stare at my phone screen for several seconds before tossing it aside and pulling on a T-shirt. Plunking onto the edge of the bed, my head drops and my eyes close on a deep exhale. Marrying Jennie wasn't supposed to be anything more than the gift of insurance and cheap flights.

Doing the right thing for the right reason.

Yet here I am … sulking in a hotel room in Australia because I have a wife who is not Rosé. A wife whose happiness is not my responsibility.

I really, really need to stop thinking the word "wife" when thinking about Jennie.

Different kind of wife.

Different emotions.

Different mentality.

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