it's one of those lulls— fleeting moment of silence where the phone isn't ringing and there isn't a patient yelling a nurse's (sometimes, her) ear off. too late to make anything more than some quiet rounds, eventually settling down at one of the computers and updating chart work in the meantime. something would always come up, least she could do was keep busy in preparation for another long night ahead.

it's calming at the very least, checking her watch and counting down the hours before her next surgery prep, the attending's name plastered at the top of the schedule doing nothing to spark excitement. to put it simply, she finds ji wenbai to be an arrogant asshole, foolishly involving herself with the likes of him once upon a time and paying the price for it.

still paying the price, as it seemed.

he wasn't exactly her boss, yet most days felt like it. knuckles turning white after most encounters and biting her tongue in the midst of her superior. alas, it was moments spent in front of a computer about ten years passed its expiration date that held her together, room voice of nothing more than background noise and feet shuffling down the hallways. until of course, the door opens and the silence is cut through like a knife.

"room's occupied," she mumbles, pen in between her teeth and finishing up a note before beginning to look up. perhaps the wrong choice, eyes widening in the slightest before straightening her posture. "doctor," she addresses him, something sickeningly sweet about the change in tone, posturing to give him a fake smile just to sell her saccharine. "what do i owe the pleasure. if i recall, there's still ... three and a half hours before i'm obligated to you."

she'd made more than a dozen bribes and triple that in threats to track him down, chen ye vanishing before her very eyes months ago. no words, no goodbyes, not even a simple letter to satiate her. father hadn't made her privy to the inner workings of business. if anything, she'd been shielded from it all, held in complete darkness and for the longest time? meng yuqi had been content to live that way. as long as she had what she desired, the means could possibly justify the ends.

it is the darkness she's most comfortable wading through anyway, moving in secret and avoiding a watchful eye. she was sheltered, not useless. the need to be cunning and selfish, ruthless for her own desires, was simply in her blood. so she'd take and take until her comfort was restored, even if today, it's led her into the unknown. a street name she can't recognize, area she couldn't even remember having been driven through, glancing above at the name matching the description she'd been given.

nothing about her appearance would indicate she'd be stepping into a tattoo shop, far too bright and delicate as she steps inside. her eyes peel the surroundings, promptly stopping at the only one who'd brought her to this place in the first place. yuqi is too prideful to admit she'd missed him just yet, even if it's glaringly obvious without words. she's even to prideful to ask him one of the seven questions in her head. instead, manicured nails tap on the counter, waiting for him to look her way. "i'm here to get a tattoo, can you help me?"

it's unlike him to bend to anyone else's will — to force himself to be anything more than what he expected of himself at this point. family that would forever remain disappointed in him, most meaningful connections severed before they had a foot to stand on. yet somewhere along the way, he'd played into the facade the woman beside him was looking to sell. a respectable husband, playing up every bit of their relationship as if it was a performance rather than a family gathering. it isn't until they get into the car the tightened smile drops, a reminder of how sore his face felt from over exertion. he shoots one glance at eunha, refusing to linger before turning the car on.

fifteen minutes ago, they'd been madly in love to the naked eye — fawning over the innocence and lightheartedness of a new relationship. now? he never knows what to say to her, not that it feels there's much to say. his mind is conflicted over the juxtaposition, the back and forth of a mere charade. so he lets the silence simmer on the way home. something is lightly playing on the radio, something a little too romantic if either of them had cared to turn it up. no — the coldness suited them better. wonbin pauses for a moment after the gear shifts to park, finally giving eunha something more than a meaningless glance. “is it worth it?” he asked, question on the tip of his tongue for far too long.

"before  you  shut  the  door  in  my  face,  you  should  know  there's  a  hound  of  paparazzi  outside  your  building."