JENNIE

I blinked my eyes open and quickly squeezed them shut again. Knowing I'd been caught, I fluttered my lids as though I hadn't been about to feign sleep. My husband stood over me, watching, but I focused on the nightstand to avoid his stare.

"It's nine," Taehyung said gently. "Better get a move on."

I rolled over and faced the wall with a small sigh, unable to handle his soft expression. "I'm not going."

"Jen," he started.

"I have to work today."

"Work?" he asked.

"Things are crazy at the office."

"It's the weekend, and I told you about this birthday party last week. Can't it wait till Monday?"

I shook my head. "I'm under deadline."

"I'm sure you could spare a Saturday afternoon for family," he said wryly.

"Call Yuna if you don't believe me."

"Of course I believe you," he said, taken aback. "But you're working too much. You need to take some time off, babe. It's been over three months of this."

I gulped. Had it only been three months?

Taehyung continued tentatively, his tone hedging. "I know it's been hard, but this isn't what Davena would've wanted. She'd want you to move on."

I almost laughed out loud, but I didn't. I never did. I didn't deserve to move on. For one, I'd used my grief over the death of Davena, a family friend who'd always been there for me, as an excuse to seize the night and fuck another person. But Davena was only a fraction of my problem. Mostly, I couldn't stop thinking about that other one.

The mattress dipped when Taehyung sat. Hesitant fingertips touched my shoulder, and my skin pebbled. I couldn't remember when he'd last touched me. When he'd stopped even trying. His caress was strange—unexpected but not unwanted. It triggered a wave of guilt that left my heart pounding. Because of what I knew. Because of what I'd done. Because, after three months, I still burned with desire. But it wasn't for him.

I braced myself as Lisa's face flashed across my mind. I wished I wouldn't think of her every morning and dream of her at night. I wished her memory would disappear, the way she had from my life. Three months. Three months since I'd stormed from her apartment, since that night . My insides flurried as I remembered, the details still fresh in my mind despite the time that had passed. Despite the fact that every time they surfaced, I dashed them away immediately.

"Well, I have to go to the party." Taehyung's voice cut into my thoughts. "You know how my sister can hold a grudge."

"Of course you do, sweetie." The endearment was forced, unnatural, but Taehyung wouldn't notice. "I wrapped Jimmy's video game last night—it's on the kitchen counter."

"Thanks. I'll bring you back a piece of birthday cake." When I didn't respond, he stood and left the room. Soon after, I heard the front door shut and exhaled a long breath.

Hours were slow, stretched and elongated like a rubber band that never snapped. On my better days, I woke up numb.

Today is not one of those days, I thought as I dragged myself from the bed.

Dressed in an outfit much too crisp and binding for the weekend, I meticulously applied my makeup. Every strand of my golden brown hair was combed into obedience. Inside, I had cracks, but I wouldn't let them break the surface.

I was on the train within the hour. I found comfort in the way everything blurred together through the windows. A child's squeal had me blinking from my trance. Across from me, a young man wrangled two toddlers as his wife cradled a baby on her lap. It was chaotic and messy, but she watched her husband with obvious love. The woman grinned as he dodged apple juice spray. I looked away, fiddling with the clasp of my purse.

The morning after my night with Lisa, I'd cried my eyes raw against the brick wall by her apartment. I hadn't known up from down, left from right, love from despair. But I'd locked it up so tightly I could still feel the chains digging into me with every movement. When Taehyung had returned from his trip that same day, I'd mustered the biggest, most convincing welcome I could manage. But I couldn't look him in the eye. And I couldn't pretend to want his hands on me. And though Taehyung was never one to pick up on my subtle cues, I had made it impossible for him not to.

Somehow, the week had passed. After a late night at work, I'd walked into an apartment filled with twenty of our closest friends and family. I'd gritted my teeth and let them wish me a happy thirtieth birthday, barely making it through the night. Not even Jisoo or Rosé, my closest friends in the world, could scratch the surface. I could only put my energy into acting normal.

Then, I'd overheard Rosé and Taehyung in the kitchen toward the end of the party.

"How's she doing?" Rosé asked.

"I can't tell, and it freaks me out," Taehyung said. "She won't talk about Davena at all. She keeps to herself and pretends nothing is wrong."

"Well, Davena was like a second mother to Jennie," Rosé said. "There are times in her life when she was closer to her than to her actual mom."

"I think that's why she's taking Davena's death especially hard. She and her mom haven't been getting along."

Rosé sniffed. "She doesn't look well."

"I rarely see her eat," Taehyung said. "I'd feel better if she at least cried, but she does nothing except smile and laugh in the weirdest way."

"She was like this when her parents divorced." Rosé sighed. "I tried to tell you. She's hurting. She doesn't deal well with loss."

"I don't know what to do."

"Have you tried talking to her?" Rosé asked.

There was a pause. "She leaves the room when I do."

"It's still fresh. Just give her time, Taehyung."

After the last guest had left, Taehyung and I had fought. I'd made some empty promise to come home early from work but had forgotten and unknowingly missed half of the surprise party. I asked him how he could've possibly thought a party was a good idea.

I started leaving for work early and coming home late every day. With my recent promotion over my co-worker Wendy to senior editor at Chicago Metropolitan Magazine, it wasn't hard to find projects. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. And not a day went by that I wasn't reminded of her. Of that night. And of the irreversible thing I'd done.

As the train barreled along, I tried not to remember. After all, the separation from Lisa had been longer than the time I'd known her. Surely that was enough time to move on?

But our stolen moments together had proved impossible to forget. I fought myself as I always did when the memory threatened, but in that moment, alone on the crowded train, I wasn't strong enough to stop it. I remembered the pain in her hard brown eyes when she'd demanded that I speak up. That I tell her I wanted nothing more to do with her. I rewound through our final conversation, when she'd said she wanted me to herself, no matter the consequences. I recalled how she'd felt pressed against me, and how I'd wished she would take me again.

Her hands on my hips had held me steady as she'd mercilessly driven me to orgasm . . . twice. It was unforgettable. Haunting. Relentless. Under her affection, under her touch, I'd come alive. And since then, I was slowly drowning—hounded by the memory I tried to repel and weighed down by the guilt.

My footsteps echoed through the empty Chicago Metropolitan Magazine lobby. Maybe it wasn't necessary for me to work on a Saturday, but I couldn't deal with sitting through a child's birthday party with Taehyung's family. I weaved through the empty cubicles until reaching a door that had previously belonged to my boss, Diane, but which now read:

Jennie Kim. Senior Editor.

I flopped into my big desk chair and rubbed my eyes. On the days I wasn't numb, everything seemed sharper, more excruciating—shame, grief, desire. It was a constant battle to swallow the emotions that rose up my throat one after the other.

My fingers flew over the keyboard, but other things occupied my mind. I owed Taehyung more than I gave him. He'd been patient, and I knew he was becoming truly concerned. Whenever things turned intimate between us, I pulled away without an explanation. He attributed my distance to Davena's death, but that was only part of it.

When my cell buzzed, I glanced at the screen to see Rosé's name and ignored the call. Within moments, my office phone began to ring. I sighed with defeat, guessing Rosé wouldn't give up.

"What's wrong?" I asked when I picked up the receiver.

"Good afternoon to you, too, Jen."

"Seriously, Sé. Is everything okay?"

"I'm downstairs," she said.

"What? Why?"

"Taehyung texted me that you were going into the office, and I was in the neighborhood, so I thought I'd surprise you for lunch."

"You should have called first," I muttered. "I'm in the middle of something."

"So take a break and pick it up later."

"Later, I have other things to do."

"How?" she asked. "You work nonstop, and it's Saturday for God's sake. What could be so important? I haven't talked to you in weeks."

I wasn't avoiding her. I was avoiding everyone in my personal life. They were all reminders of what I'd done, what I could've lost because of my reckless night. What I had lost the next morning. Facing my friends and family meant facing a reality I didn't like. "My schedule has been full with this promotion," I explained. "Beman has me under impossible deadlines. They need me."

"I know they do, but I need you, too. We need you. Come downstairs—lunch is on me."

"Fine," I said, exhaling forcefully.

There was a brief pause on the line as I saved the document on my computer.

"Fine?" Rosé repeated after a moment. "What the fuck is wrong with you? I made a special trip over here to take you to lunch."

"You said you were in the neighborhood."

Her voice softened. "I miss you."

"Look, I said I'd come. Just give me a minute." I hung up before she could respond and proceeded to lock up the office.

Downstairs, a deep breath of fresh air helped. Rosé waited in a sleeveless tank top and denim cut-offs. Despite her casual outfit, she'd curled her bright blonde hair into perfect ringlets as usual.

I tucked some of my hair behind my ear as I approached her, then pulled my sweater closed.

"Aren't you hot?" she asked. "It's the dead of summer."

I shook my head. "I only have an hour."

She rolled those big blue eyes of hers, pulled on my arm, and started walking. "Then you'd better get talking."

"Talking?"

"Yes. It's time to have a conversation, and that's why I'm buying you lunch."

"What's the topic of this conversation?" I asked. "And don't say Davena Donovan, because that's all anyone ever wants to talk about."

"Because you won't " she pointed out. "You won't talk to Taehyung about it, you won't talk to us, and you refuse to see a shrink. Forget about poor Mack." She waved her hand. "He's beside himself, and you can't even pick up the phone."

My heart stopped along with my feet. "Who told you that?"

"Taehyung."

"Wow," I said. She continued walking, so I ran to catch up to her. "No wonder you sound exactly like Taehyung. Do you guys get together and talk about me? Have little powwows about how to get me to spill my guts? Well, here's a tip—get a new hobby, because there's nothing to spill. I loved Davena, but I've made my peace with her passing. Life goes on, Rosé."

She muttered something under her breath.

"What?" I asked.

She sighed. "Jen, you can talk to me," she said in an atypically delicate voice.

I glanced down at the pavement as we walked, willing myself to stay calm. "Everything is fine. You don't need to worry."

"I do, though. You never talk about her, and you haven't seen Mack since the funeral. It's not healthy, and . . ." Her eyes drifted over me. "It shows."

I rewrapped myself in the cardigan Jisoo had given me for my birthday. It had fit back then, but now it was looser.

"Jisoo needs you," Rosé continued. "With the wedding next weekend, she has to know she can count on us."

"Of course she can," I said defensively. "I've been there every step of the way—did I not host the wedding shower, help you stuff invites, and have I not done everything she's asked?"

"Yes, you have, it's just obvious that your heart isn't in it. And it hurts her feelings."

"She said that?" I asked.

"She doesn't have to."

I swallowed. Jisoo had looked forward to her wedding her entire life, and that included my part in it. It wasn't fair to cast a shadow over a time she'd always remember. "Okay," I said. "I get it. I'll try harder."

"Good. So let's start with how you felt when you heard the news about Davena," Rosé said. "Maybe you can explain why you hid it from me that night? It's no wonder you randomly disappeared from your own party. Nobody can keep something like that inside, not even you."

"No—what I meant was that I get what you're saying about Jisoo," I said. "I'll change. I'll be the dutiful bridesmaid. But I'm not up for this random therapy session."

"You can't change without talking about it."

"Again, there is nothing to talk about," I said. "People grieve in different ways, so please just drop it. As far as the wedding, I'll make sure I'm back to my old self. For Jisoo."

Rosé heaved a deep sigh and looked away as she bit her thumbnail. "You're a stubborn bitch."

An unwilling smile found my face. "Where are you taking me for lunch anyway—Milwaukee?"

"Nope, we're going to a place with the largest, juiciest burgers around. You need some nourishment," she said, tugging at the sleeve of my sweater. I almost gagged at the thought of consuming a whole hamburger when my stomach was in constant knots, but I figured this was what choosing one's battles meant.

But when we arrived, my heart dropped. I was standing in front of the restaurant where Lisa had taken me to lunch months ago, on our way to visit her nearby project.

Rosé held the door open, but I couldn't move. "Hel-lo ?" she urged, ushering for me to enter.

I fumbled for an excuse to leave but came up short. It was Saturday, anyway, and Lisa shouldn't be working nearby, so I followed Rosé inside.

I recognized the red-lipped hostess, despite the fact that she wasn't nearly as cheery as she had been when I was with Lisa. I wondered if she was trying to place me, since she gave me a curious, narrow-eyed look. I furtively scanned the restaurant as she led us to an open, conspicuous table.

I ordered a burger, or rather, Rosé ordered one for me, but I found it hard to stomach. After making a show of the first two bites, I nibbled on the side salad while Rosé caught me up on the goings-on at the public relations firm where she worked.

"You've got to come with me to California next time," she was saying. "Los Angeles in the summertime is the shit. I even took a couple surf lessons."

"Doesn't sound like work," I muttered.

"It's all about schmoozing, Jen, and—"

"Lisa!" I heard behind me.

I froze.

Was that . . . ? No.

"Lisa, man," the male voice boomed. "How've you been?"

My heart whipped into a violent pounding, filling my ears as blood rushed to my head. I waited for that deep bass that had lulled me to sleep with its memory some nights and others, had haunted my dreams.

Rosé cocked her head. Her mouth moved, but I heard nothing.

With slow precision, I turned my head over my left shoulder and glanced back. Two person I'd never seen before shook hands emphatically. Through my decelerating heartbeat, I heard one call the other "Lisa."

I shook my head quickly and returned my attention to Rosé. She was still talking about California, though now she was looking at my plate. To preempt another argument, I forced myself to take another bite of hamburger. I chewed the patty methodically until it was mush in my mouth and swallowed because I thought she might notice if I spit it out.

"Well, that was worth an extra hour on the treadmill, right?" Rosé asked her empty plate and covered her tummy with her hand.

I was full, too. It didn't take much these days.

I'd told Lisa I was empty inside, but I couldn't have known how wrong that was. For one stolen moment, she'd filled me with herself, physically and emotionally. In her absence, the void in me had expanded. Now I was empty. Now I was poisoned.