An Edelweiss

She loved edelweiss. The little bushes and the small flowers that grew on a path behind his cabin that leads to a forest. She said she couldn’t find them in Seoul. He knew the busy streets of Seoul barely have enough ground to accommodate the ever-growing pedestrian so he took some of the bushes and kept them in a ceramic flowerpot for her.

She loved the fireflies that came out almost every night near an oak tree not too far away from their patio. She told him about the stories her late mother used to tell—the ones about her childhood in the island with her brother—and the fiery bugs they captured to light up their bedtime in a jar. So he once took her to capture some them and put them in a jar. She smiled wide enough to make his smile last the entire night.

She loved classical music too. Vivaldi and Tchaikovsky, also Bach and Beethoven. All in all violin and piano, though she wasn’t the one to play the instruments, as she is not a very musical person. So he went through his father’s collection of classical album and put them on every night until dawn so she would be able to sleep with her favorite symphonies playing in the background.

He loved books. So she huddled next to him in front of the fireplace at night, listening about how romance blossoms and kingdoms perish. Of King Henry and Julius Caesar to Jane Eyre and the lonely siren. He looked happy. She wanted him to be happy.

He loved flowers. Or so she thought because he spent a lot of time outside, putting bushes of edelweiss in pots and arranging them around the house. She didn’t mind though. The tiny flowers are the most beautiful things for her. So she would happily squat down next to him, holding out the ceramic flowerpot voluntarily to help him. He smiled. She was happy because his smile seemed sincere.

He loved the night sky—the calming darkness and the constellations up above the horizon with the twinkling lights across the pitch-black atmosphere. She would help him with their hot chocolate and they would sit on the balcony with blankets wrapped around their shoulders. He always smiled at the sight of the stars. She was always happy to see his smile as she tightens the blanket around them to chase the cold breeze away.

He didn’t need to know, did he?

“Over there is Sigma Draconis.” Daniel pointed out to the night sky. Seon-Ri could barely make out the star among thousands of brilliant constellations that splattered above their heads. “The eighteenth star. Can you see it?”

Seon-Ri shook her head, “I’m not a telescope.” She replied, giving her brother a look that made him laugh softly. She sighed quietly as she tightens her blanket around her shoulder. The night was getting colder but the night sky was impossible not to stare at. She always thought sleeping is a waste of time when you can see such a beautiful view just above your chamber door.

Her brother noticed her gesture and put an arm around her shoulder to bring her closer. “You’re getting cold, no?” He asked her with a small smile on his face. “Do you want to get inside? It’s already late.”

She could hear Yiruma playing softly in the background; looks like her brother had found her secret stash of music underneath her scattered keepsakes. “To sleep and to miss one second of this would be such a waste,” she spoke softly with her eyes locked on the sky.

Daniel patted her shoulder gently, “You know we can always see them anytime we want.”

Seon-Hae nodded, “But then it wouldn’t be as special, would it?”

Daniel blinked in confusion. “Special?”

His sister nodded softly, “Yes. The magic will rub off when you get too used to it.”

“I’ll make sure not to get used to it then.”