Bend & Break | Wooyoung [Ongoing]

11 | he goes nocturnal shopping

Him.

Oh. Her lip-tinted mouth formed around her noiseless acknowledgement. In the process, I reminded myself that I didn't believe in coincidences, but that in every coinciding occurrence there was a connection. Right now, I'll be simpleminded and call this destiny. And the terrific part: the timing. Muye decidedly shooting me a text and some thirty minutes forward, emerging through the doors of the last place she should be, one of.

In the following breaths after Oh, I brought back to mind my objective of going tactical.

I remembered. When I'd declared with a spurt of resolve, when I said so to Changbin, delivered noncommittally to save my limb in a specific scenario where every upcoming action seemed life-changing. I had decided it wasn't a bad idea, I also recalled. Taking my own advice shouldn't lead to more hurt, I was now thinking. Blueprinting, however, could come to play tomorrow. At least whatever wasn't today would do, at the same time not too distant that I'd be forgetting since I was a selective forgetter.

Must work on timing, I noted. At the wake of noon, alone with myself, I will draw out a table on my desktop and get to listing all the possible approaches one can take to win over the wrong woman. (Also hoping we move away from deception and materialism and then it would turn out she was the right woman afterall.) I'll call it Operation: Win Over The Wrong Woman—WOTWW, for short or probably just as hassling—because replacing The Wrong Woman with Song Muye simply felt ... tactless.

At 7:15 (said the digital timepiece above the main entryway), at dusk (said the prior stated time and the night sky outside), for reasons probably too unnerving to comprehend, I was taking in the same face from recent daydreams and semi-nightmares and Changbin's recent work adventure feat the well-disposed unemployed friend.

We were like psychics. Muye assessed me from head to toe, I did some assessing right back but I stopped my eyes wandering as much. Whether she had been draped in a fashionable wrap coat that left everything to the imagination, nothing stopped her claiming I undressed her, optically and inappropriately, to a group of people—coworkers or friends or the redhead looming behind her. Muye, as opposed to our last encounter, was not wearing sky-high-heels, was closer to earth in denim and, uh, not-sky-high-heels, her hair free from its usual upraised fashion. I committed this laid-back version to memory.

How amazing was it? She was stunning any way. At the office, in my neighborhood, at a convenience store. Muye was my two girl friends should they ever go all the way. Instead of glaring, she only showed confusion. There, too, was disappointment—from what she was seeing.

Simple: no suit.

I would be deeming it sad to watch if it didn't benefit me. No Changbin to stunt the growth of our sluggish progressing relation. I imagined Dad right here (with Mom): That's why I'm saying my avid interest in gardening is not a sign from the universe to start a nursery, dear, son—he would say to his family. And with a try-and-understand look towards Muye: With or without a corporate attire, the truth of the matter is my boy here can only guarantee you happiness and moderate convenience. But he is worth it. (Mom beside him nodding in agreement).

This meeting however, now this was a clear sign as any. Every door of escape has been shut, I have been caught in my element, in another setting. Without Changbin present to say to me in one disappointed gaze that he expected more from me.

It was over. It was also the beginning. If Muye's seen me here, she's seen me everywhere. No assumptions, I was only speaking based off her inability to part with her old life of wherewithal and every colourful opinion Changbin has in regards to her. Song Muye in a store that wasn't tucked in the best part of a shopping complex and selling items worth tons of paychecks. Will wonders never cease.