snippets of VCY

what if, you and i were meant to part ways

She's wearing his robe and lavish blue pajamas because they are rightfully hers and the robe flaunts up in the air as she moves back and forth from the kitchen to the low table while clearing the clutter.

Then, she's moving to the room after fetching the bag of corn biscuits, opening the window and letting a small smile grace her lips as Inzaghi and his girlfriend await their breakfast.

A pigeon flexing his girlfriend in front of her is the last thing she wanted but here she is.

She's crumbling the biscuits on the windowsill and the two start eating—seemingly famished.

When she snaps at the pigeon in faux-annoyance.

"Yah Inzaghi.." The pigeon looks at her, not a bit startled as he's used to her ranting—reminding her of him again.

His girlfriend is still pecking on the biscuits while he coos and bobs his head at her, asking her what's up.

"You've been showing off your girlfriend to me, why don't you go to his island to peck at his fingers for me?"

The pigeon starts cooing in retaliation, perhaps stating how he's happy and settled her with his girlfriend.

She sighs, shaking her head before placing a little more corn biscuits as the two seem quite hungry.

And after a glance slowly moves to slide the window close long before a little farewell tap on the window.

She skips into the office singing good morning to Mr. Nam who's assembling a pile of files.

She skips till her desk until there's the awaited postcard sitting on the table neatly.

The innocent, lifeless object causes her heart to flutter, and a searing warmth spreads across her chest.

Then Mr. Nam's voice chimes in.

"It's the 1st already byeonhosanim. Time's flying."

Cha Young looks at her paralegal who's smiling at her and she nods, reciprocating his smile before holding the cards in her hand.

She lets her fingers run over the ink as she tries to read out the proverb.

However, her pronunciation in Italian needs a little helping hand.

She makes her way to the seat, the card in her hand, and slides the table drawer open to take out her trusty Italian pocket dictionary.

And she starts translating.

"Rilascia ciò che ami. Se torna, ti appartiene; se no, non è mai stato tuo."

"Release what you love. If it returns, it belongs to you; if not, it was never yours."

That's the sentence she comes up with after 30 minutes of translation.

She clicks her tongue.

"That's not how it works!" She exclaims, annoyed startling Mr. Nam.

She looks at Mr.Nam who shakes her head, hiding his smile.

Whereas, miles and oceans away.

Vincenzo listens to the waves crashing and watches how the sunlight peeks through the curtains.

He lays on the wide expanse of the bed, eyes wide awake, heart not his own since he came from Korea and mind filled with her.

She's always been on his mind ever since he left.

That is not a lie.

Every little occurrence tugs at his thoughts, pulling them inexorably back to her.