ATTACHED • Winrina

• chapter thirteen •

“Winter! Winter!” Giselle’s voice echoed through the always-chaotic living room where she and Ningning had set up camp. It was a treacherous zone filled with scattered notebooks, coffee mugs, and several snacks that had mysteriously lost their packaging. They were on a quest: to interrogate their friend about the state of her supposedly ingenious book.

“Yes?” Winter called back, emerging from her tiny room, an impressive fortress of ideas and existential dread. She had her glasses perched low on her nose, looking like a scholarly owl.

“Have you finished your book yet?” Ningning chimed in, leaning forward on the couch with the intensity of a caffeinated squirrel.

“I’m getting there,” Winter replied, a bit too evasively. She knew that vague answers never satisfied Giselle or Ningning; they had a radar for half-truths.

“Getting there? You’ve been ‘getting there’ since the day the dinosaurs roamed the Earth, Winter!” Giselle said, hands on her hips. “What’s the title this week? ‘The Eternal Struggle of the Procrastinating Author?’”

Ningning snorted into her snack—probably something that used to be popcorn but now resembled a UFO.

“In my defense, once I finalize the title, I promise it’ll be a best-seller,” Winter shot back, trying to channel her inner literary diva.

“Best-seller? More like ‘Only-Seller’ if you don’t finish it, and the only one buying it is your mom,” Giselle quipped, winking.

“Maybe I’ll write a chapter about you two,” Winter threatened, a mischievous grin spreading across her face.

“Oh yes, a thrilling tale about how to consume snacks while providing zero motivation. Best idea ever!” Ningning exclaimed, nodding animatedly.

“Hey! I bring at least 43% motivation. You two just drown it in snacks,” Winter argued, laughing.

“Snacks are vital to the creative process!” Giselle declared, holding up a bag of gummy bears like they were the Holy Grail. “Do you want a gummy bear? It might inspire you to write more!”

“Next you’ll suggest I dip them in mustard for extra brainpower,” Winter retorted, shaking her head at the absurdity before moving to grab a bear. “But, hey, you might be onto something…”

“Mustard gummies are a culinary adventure I’d prefer to avoid,” Ningning muttered. “Just finish your book, please! I won’t send you a single gummy if you don’t.”

Winter rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smirking. “I’ll finish it, I promise. Just give me a couple more days.”

“Days? Last time you said days, the sun had to start a new orbit,” Giselle joked. “Look, we’ll help you. Me and Ningning will act like those groupies who scream at rock stars to keep writing.”

“Oh no, you two are more like that crowd that throws tomatoes at the stage,” Winter quipped back, rolling her eyes. “But fine, I’ll give you a real update tomorrow, okay?”

“Giselle, make sure to bring extra snacks!” Ningning replied, lifting her eyebrow in mock seriousness.

As the duo departed, with Giselle making dramatic exits as she tossed a fistful of gummies into the air, Winter leaned back and sighed. Was she ever going to finish this book? Could she mentally survive her own characters killing each other off?

• • •

Before she could spiral into an existential dilemma, she pulled out her phone. She tapped on Jimin’s name, biting her lip. Winter acted as if Jimin was away for a few days on a work trip, and Winter missed her way more than she was comfortable admitting. After several minutes of deliberation—because texting first was always a monumental decision—Winter sent a simple message: “Hey, when do you come back? I miss you.”

Winter stared at the text, her heart racing as if she had just bungee jumped off a very high cliff. ‘I admit it, I miss Jimin,’ she thought, feeling a thrill alongside a hint of vulnerability. She fidgeted with her phone, her mind racing with what to say next. Knowing Jimin was often unnaturally busy, she felt an urge to express just how much her absence was echoing in Winter's quiet apartment.

She added another text, “By the way, do you want to come over when you’re back? I promise not to distract you from whatever you're busy with…unless you’re wildly looking to be distracted… We're going on a date! You can tag along Jungkook oppa if you like,”

Winter read and re-read the messages, her heart fluttering like a butterfly with enthusiasm and panic. Would Jimin think it was weird? Would she feel suffocated? Or would she think Winter was just sweet? Just as she sent the texts into the ether, she cursed under her breath.

“She probably won’t even see this until next week,” Winter muttered darkly. Flopping back onto the sofa, she sighed. Whenever Winter recalled Jimin's words—"I'll be back before you know it"—a familiar sense of longing crept in. She often found herself contemplating when that moment would arrive. Although they exchanged messages in a casual manner, Winter never caught even a hint of when Jimin might return.

Time in the strange universe of ‘waiting for text replies’ stretched indefinitely. Winter switched her attention back to her book, staring at the blank pages as if they were smirking at her. The scene needed something, anything beyond the stale concept of narrating feelings.

About an hour later, her phone buzzed, and her heart did that little jig again as if it thought it had won a lottery.

“Back on 26th! Is that a challenge? Because I’m always down to be wildly distracted. And a date sounds like a plan. Can’t wait! Bring out the snacks!”

Winter laughed, warmth blooming inside her chest. Ignore the butterflies of panic, focus on the joy. It would be nice to see Jimin again; there was just something inexplicably magnetic about her!

Her smile widened as she typed back. “Great! Just let me know the time so I can prepare all my best distractions!”

She stared at the phone, waiting for a response, but nothing came.

Hours passed in a blur of anticipation, and when the evening rolled around, she paced around her apartment, her imagination spiraling into a whimsical array of ideas about how the reunion would unfold. Would it be all hugs and long gazes? Would there be snacks galore? Motorbike rides under the stars?

Suddenly, a loud knock shattered her spiraling thoughts.

Winter jumped, heart racing. The knock sounded urgent, and she crossed the room to the door, bracing herself for some random delivery guy or, at worst, a neighbor waving around a cheeseboard.

“Who is it?” she called, feigning nonchalance.

“Your long-lost love!” came a surprisingly cheery response. It was unmistakably Jimin’s voice.

Winter’s heart raced as she flung the door open, and to her utter surprise, there was Jimin, standing there with an lasagna-sized dish of homemade something that was wrapped in foil. “Surprise! I had to come back a bit early, and I thought you might miss my cooking too. Also, hello!”

“Oh, wow! You really—” Winter stammered, caught off guard. The sight of Jimin’s grin sent her stomach into gymnastic flips.

Jimin grinned broadly, eyes sparkling, “—kind of missed you, too, and that doesn’t sound like a huge surprise, does it? Now, get ready for a night of snacks!”

Winter chuckled nervously, stepping aside to let Jimin in. This was about to get interesting. But just as she closed the door behind them, a loud crash echoed from the kitchen, followed by an ominous silence.

“What was that?” Winter exclaimed, her eyes widening.

“I think the universe is trying to interrupt your work progress,” Jimin replied, glancing over her shoulder toward the noise.

Winter’s heart raced as she moved toward the kitchen, the chaos brewing behind her felt like a chaotic sitcom waiting to unfold. What awaited them beyond that door was a mystery, a comedic chaos laced with possibilities. Would it be the return of an old foe—like the blender that met a tragic fate during her cloak of isolation—or something far worse?

And as they stood at the threshold, just about to step into whatever awaited them, the cryptic sounds echoed ominously, leaving a cliffhanger that thrummed in the air: “Shall we investigate?”