snippets of VCY

an hour before new year

Luscious gowns and tailored suits fill her vision.

Cladded in a black gown herself, her high heels clicked against the marble floor, causing those nearby to look up in wide-eyed surprise, followed by hushed whispers.

Men tear away their gazes quickly when they notice the chunky ring on her left hand, their ears turning red.

She waits.

Scans the room and sips the wine, crimson lips leaving their imprint on the glass.

And then smiles.

"What a lovely ring," he remarks, holding a flute of champagne–which makes her grin wider, he is hosting the party after all.

She attempts a tight smile in response and his gaze betrays his amused expression.

"Seems expensive," he doesn't move to hold her hand or inspect it closely, passing vague descriptions by just a glance.

The heat in her stomach refused to dissipate.

"How unfortunate though," that makes her look at him.

Arching her brows.

Nothing comes out of his mouth except for the twist of his lips.

His arms snake around her waist, and then there are lips tracing her ear.

"It's fake,"

She still scans the room with her eyes, noticing how no one cranes their neck to even look at what they're giving out in this hall.

"Change that then," and the burly hand rubbing circles on her waist stops.

She wonders how much he's drunk as his lips move to her neck.

She can practically feel them stretching.

His voice is darker, like warm honey when he purrs "An hour before the new year,"

Time has always been the bitch, she realizes.

"An hour to change this then," and those were the magic words needed as she felt the metal band slip out of her finger, being replaced by a cool, oddly familiar and fitting one.

He breathes at her neck, smiling as he hears her pulse race, grabs her hand and they're moving.

"Escaping your own party?"

"I've got a wife to marry, byeonhosanim."