Babymonster One Shot

The Last Kiss | CHIYEON

Chiquita felt the keys slip through her fingers as she unlocked the front door, exhaustion from the day settling deep into her bones. The house was quieter than usual, but the faint sound of a cartoon playing in the living room indicated Chichi, their four-year-old daughter, was watching her favorite show. As Chiquita entered the house, the familiar scent of dinner being prepared drifted from the kitchen.

Ahyeon was standing at the stove, stirring a pot of soup, her movements slow and deliberate. The sight of her wife used to fill Chiquita with warmth and love, but lately, all she felt was frustration and resentment. They hadn’t been intimate in months, and Chiquita couldn’t understand why. Ahyeon had grown distant, pulling away from her both physically and emotionally, and it drove Chiquita to seek comfort elsewhere.

As she leaned against the doorframe, watching Ahyeon cook, Chiquita’s mind wandered to the affair she had been having. The guilt was always there, lurking in the back of her mind, but she justified it to herself. Ahyeon doesn’t love me the way she used to, she thought. She’s not interested anymore. How can she blame me for seeking what she refuses to give?

But tonight, something felt off. Ahyeon’s face, pale and gaunt under the dim kitchen light, seemed even more tired than usual. Chiquita had noticed the changes in her appearance but had chalked it up to stress or sleepless nights with Chichi. She never thought to ask—never considered that something deeper might be going on.

Ahyeon turned to face her, a soft, almost unreadable smile on her lips. “Chiquita,” she said, her voice delicate, “Can I ask you something?”

Chiquita shifted uncomfortably, caught off guard by the gentleness in Ahyeon’s tone. “Sure. What is it?”

Ahyeon hesitated for a moment, as if weighing her words carefully. “For the next 14 days… I want you to kiss me every night before bed. In front of Chichi. I know it sounds strange, but I want her to see us as a family—like we used to be.”

Chiquita frowned in confusion. “Why 14 days?”

Ahyeon’s smile faltered, but she quickly recovered. “Just… trust me on this. Can you do that?”

Chiquita didn’t know what to make of the request. It seemed random, almost desperate. They hadn’t shared a kiss in months, and now Ahyeon wanted them to act like the perfect family in front of their daughter? Still, something in Ahyeon’s tone—something soft and sad—made Chiquita agree. “Alright. For Chichi’s sake.”

That night, after dinner, Chiquita found herself standing in front of Chichi’s bed, Ahyeon by her side. Their daughter’s wide eyes sparkled with excitement as she clutched her stuffed animal, watching her parents closely. Chiquita bent down, placing a soft kiss on Ahyeon’s lips. The kiss felt strange, foreign. The warmth she once felt for her wife was buried deep beneath layers of frustration, anger, and guilt. But she did it. For Chichi.

As the days passed, Chiquita followed Ahyeon’s request. Every night, they would kiss in front of Chichi before tucking her into bed. They spent time together as a family—watching cartoons, playing games, and laughing at Chichi’s silly jokes. At first, Chiquita went through the motions, not fully understanding the point of it all. But as each day went by, something inside her began to shift.

She started noticing the little things about Ahyeon again—the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled, the softness of her voice when she spoke to Chichi, the way she quietly took care of everything without complaint. Chiquita realized she had been so focused on her own anger that she hadn’t seen the love that still lingered between them, buried deep beneath the surface.

By the tenth day, Chiquita found herself looking forward to those moments of closeness. The resentment she had felt for months began to melt away, replaced by something much more powerful—regret. She was wrong. Ahyeon hadn’t stopped loving her. And Chiquita hadn’t been there to notice.

On the 14th day, Chiquita made a decision. She was going to fix things—make things right. After work, she stopped by the flower shop where she used to buy Ahyeon’s favorite roses. She picked out a bouquet, along with a box of chocolates that Ahyeon had always loved. Tonight, she would tell Ahyeon how sorry she was. She would apologize for not being there, for letting her anger and frustration push them apart. She would tell her that she still loved her—more than anything.

Chiquita practically ran up the driveway, excitement and nervousness bubbling in her chest. But as she approached the house, a strange feeling of unease settled over her. The house was quiet—too quiet. She pushed open the door, expecting to hear Chichi’s laughter or Ahyeon’s soft humming from the kitchen. Instead, she heard sobbing.

Chiquita’s heart dropped as she rushed toward the bedroom, her hands trembling. The sight that greeted her when she opened the door made her world collapse.

Chichi was sitting on the floor beside the bed, her small body shaking with sobs. Ahyeon lay on the bed, her face pale and peaceful, her chest still.

“No… no, no, no,” Chiquita whispered, stumbling toward the bed. She shook Ahyeon’s shoulder gently, then harder. “Ahyeon, wake up. Please.”

But there was no response. The room felt suffocatingly still. Chiquita’s vision blurred with tears as she fell to her knees, the flowers and chocolates tumbling from her arms. Ahyeon was gone.

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At the funeral, Chiquita stood at a distance, numb as she watched Ahyeon’s casket being lowered into the ground. Chichi clung to her side, her small hand gripping Chiquita’s tightly, but Chiquita barely registered the touch. All she could think about was how she had failed. She hadn’t been there for Ahyeon when she needed her most.

As the mourners began to leave, Asa approached her. Ahyeon’s best friend, who had always been protective of her, looked at Chiquita with a mixture of pity and fury.

“She knew, Chiquita,” Asa said coldly. “Ahyeon knew you were cheating on her.”

Chiquita’s breath caught in her throat. “What?”

Asa’s voice shook with barely concealed rage. “She knew. She didn’t tell you because she didn’t want to hurt you. She didn’t want to burden you because… she was dying.”

Chiquita’s mind went blank, disbelief coursing through her veins. “Dying? What are you talking about?”

Asa’s eyes filled with tears, her voice breaking as she explained. “Ahyeon had cancer, Chiquita. She was fighting it for months. She didn’t tell anyone because she didn’t want anyone to worry, especially you. She didn’t want to burden you with her illness, especially when she found out about your affair.”

Chiquita staggered back, her world spinning. Cancer? Ahyeon had been dying, and Chiquita hadn’t noticed? She hadn’t seen the weight loss, the fatigue, the subtle changes in her wife’s appearance. And while Ahyeon was suffering in silence, Chiquita had been betraying her, consumed by her own frustrations.

“She asked you to kiss her in front of Chichi because she wanted your daughter to remember you as a loving family,” Asa continued, her voice thick with emotion. “She wanted Chichi to have those memories of her parents together… before she was gone.”

Chiquita collapsed onto the ground, her body shaking with sobs. “I didn’t know,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I didn’t know…”

But it was too late. Ahyeon was gone, and Chiquita would never have the chance to make things right. The last kiss, the last moments they shared, were a reminder of everything she had taken for granted. And now, all she had left were regrets and the memory of the woman she had lost forever.