"At least take the scarf..."

She doesn't let her mother finish what she was going to, but slamming the door right on her face she goes out in such a soul-piercing, bleak midwinter's morning in a black down coat and boots.

The snow has stopped only now. The roads being slippery, she takes each step with extra patience, though there's still a panache at the way she walks, the one only seen in high-end classes.

The night patrollings are not only paying lip service, they are actually lending some hands too. It gets more obvious if to look at the heaps of snow piled at the sides, clearing out the main roads. And it's better than the last time she remembered fifteen years ago.

Walking down along the slope, as she almost nears the market place, she puts on her shades. The country people aren't really fond of her and she doesn't bother correcting them.

In December, a dire silence evades through the pine and deodar forests, lakes and all around the small town Shimla, as if under some sinister trance the whole town has followed the grim reaper on his way back to afterlife. Sometimes it's scary, yet still beautiful. In fact, solitude has its own beauty; just that it has a different way to voice it.

That's why she came back to her hometown after so many years in the first place.

She just wants some time off her daily life drama, away from the nitpicking so-called sophisticated society, away from fame, money, scandals and her once precious creations.

Most people don't come out at this hour, so the roads are almost deserted, and after last night's heavy session, there will be hardly any customer at her current preferred cafe.

It's a small yet cozy one, built up of transparent glass walls. An elderly South Korean couple opened up this place two years ago when they immigrated from Seoul to Shimla, to spend their later days in the slopes of the Himalayas.

The day she first crashed at this place on a sore evening, they took her in as if she was their own girl, despite all the rumors they've heard since the moment she came back. Even her own mother has never shown her this much care as they have in these few days. That's why this place feels like a home to her.

She pushes the glass door open and a small bell rings, apprising the Choi couple of her presence.

"Oh! You're early today, Commie dear," Mrs. Choi notes with her warm smile. "Why you came out of your place in this weather in the first place?"

"I don't wanna talk about it, Mrs. Choi," she informs her with a faint smile, with her shades still on.

"How many times I've told you to call me ahjumma? Ahjumma! Is that so hard to spell?"

She smiles guiltily realizing that she's made the same mistake again.

"Oh! Let her be, yeobo," Mr. Choi cuts in to stop his wife from starting another scolding session. "Just take her order. She looks worn out."

She fusses at her husband before taking up Commie's order and finally leaving her in her own space.

As they start brewing, she gets lost in the familiar aroma of coffee beans and hot sheep milk. It's one of the best thing about this cafe and that's why their caffeine tastes different than others.

At that time the bell rings again and two middle-aged men get inside, plopping themselves comfortably on the tools before the counter.

As their eyes fall on her, they start talking to themselves in such way so that she can hear them loud and clear.

"Isn't that Murali's estranged daughter who is a writer?"

"Yeah, seems like so. I've heard she's a big time in Delhi and earning a lot."

"Ugh! That doesn't change the fact that she and her anglo mother killed our man Murali."

"You're right. Look at her! So shamelessly roaming 'round the roads as if she owns them! Who she thinks she is? Pathetic bitch!"

"Let's gather our people and kick her and that woman out of this place. How dare she came back after what happened last time?"

"What why! Don't you know what witches do? They kill people and drink their blood. That's how they keep up their pretty faces," one of them mocks.

"My cousin's elder son works in Delhi. He told me that she's always all over the news and they say, she calls dibs on men more often than she changes her dress. And look how she's tryna hide!"

"Hey missy! Leave the glasses out, we can still see you," one of them calls out at her.

Mrs. Choi slams two cups of hot coffee on the counter, spilling a bit of the hot liquor on both of their hands.

"Ouch! Ahjumma!" They groans in pain while rubbing their freshly burnt skin.

"What ahjumma? Get out of my face right now. It's not a place for you low-life punks!"

And that way she kicks both of them out of her shop.

Commie has been quiet for all this while. She keeps on sipping on her latte, often looking outside through the glass to nowhere in particular.

She's used to this, since the day she accidentally killed her psychopathic father fifteen years ago who was trying to have his way with her and since then on, she and her mother had been ostracized by the whole town. The town-people even tried to kill them by burning down their old mansion. After that day, they abandoned this place and never came back until now.

She's a renowned horror-thriller writer, her life filled with everything a woman can ever ask for: luxury, money, fame, epic career- everything. But the ghosts of her past still haven't left her behind.

Everyday at her workplace, she has to brave with all the nasty comments and harassments, coming from her fellow male writers and editors and that's how the rumors started in the first place.

And the way she behaves, is a part of her defense reaction, her only mean to protect her broken-self.

She's now way too good at hiding her own demons.

"Are you alright, dear?" Mrs Choi asks her warily.

She turns at her with a faint smile. "Ring me for another one please."

"Okay if you say so," she sighs before going her way.

The bell goes off again, making her alarmed for another probable dissing. But this time, a young man comes by, with a bright smile on his face and a bunch of freshly picked snowdrops in hand.

Ordering his usuals, he happens to settle beside her which makes her skittle away a little on the wooden bench, away from him.

Looking her like that, he smiles even more widely as if he was already expecting that.

"Ugh! The weather's gonna be like this for a few days. I wonder why I came back from training anyway," he starts talking to himself and tsk tsk under his breath.

"I'm really curious, how people can see others from behind those black round stuff, what they say, yeah, sunglasses! Does it give a feel like a blind? I really wanna try sometime."

By now she has got that he's up to something for the way he talks, but strangely enough, she feels this urge to talk back to him instead of staying quiet.

"Accha, ahjumma! Why do you think people like to dress in black so much," he throws it playfully at Mrs. Choi who came to serve their drinks.

"Hmmm... You say. How may I know?" Mrs. Choi plays along.

He smiles while stealing a glimpse of her. "Because...They will stop wearing those once they get the darkest shade," he starts chuckling. "And they hasn't yet found that out."

Both of them burst into laughter, and even Mr. Choi joins them, which makes Commie finally lose it.

She slams her hand harder on the wooden desk, startling them all. "Ha! You think that's funny? But let me tell you something, you've such a terrible sense of humor."

The couple decide it's time to better to leave it all on who started it first, so they leave quietly.

"I'm not sure, but people say I'm funny."

"They must be delusional."

He smiles goofily. "You think so?"

"I know so!" She looks away.

"Then what do you think the answer must be?"

She can't pinpoint where he's trying to lead this conversation to, but still looks back his way, at his deep black eyes, and instead of amusement, she sees curiosity in them.

"With time, when eventually every color is lost, only black stands...with power, elegance, mystery and strength." Her reply came from the core of her heart and carried a grave sense of sincerity.

"People who truly admire that, they prefer black over everything."

He smiles like he's gotten exactly what he wanted.

"Isn't that the same color which also means fear? Doesn't that mean the ones who put it on, deep down they are also afraid of something?"

His queries shake her to core, surfacing her smothered emotions once she buried neatly.

"The heck are you trying to say?"

Suddenly he leans back and laughs so brightly as if nothing happened.

"Nothing. Ah! Don't take it too serious. I'm kidding, no?"

She sighs in frustration, but says nothing.

"Uh-uh! Don't. They say everytime you sigh, a bit of happiness escapes."

"Who are you? Psychiatrist?"

"Actually I've had a major in psychology years ago, but honestly I can't remember any bit of it," he smiles at her like a child. And for her, it's too dangerous.

"Ugh! Don't smile that way. People might take you for a PBA patient." She sips on her drink, looking away. Outside people are starting to crowd, opening their shops or stalls gradually, despite this bad weather.

"Oh! What's wrong with it?" He touches his cheeks pretending to be utterly shocked. "People say, I should smile more often; they say, 'cause it suits me."

"Ugh! So annoying," she groans to herself.

"Is that what I heard? You said, so charming, huh?"

She facepalms herself mentally for what she has gotten herself into.

She looks at him, wearing the most irritated expression possible. "I said, so annoying, which is you are," she concludes while poking his chest with her slender finger.

At this, he grins cheekily, with his teeth on show.

"No need to give me details on what you ate last night." She sips on her cup to look away, but it's already empty.

"Then can I give you this?" He places the snowdrops on the table in front of her.

"What's this all about," she asks calmly.

"You were looking at them outside the small home-made greenhouse a few days ago. That's ours. You were wearing this, uh, big black hat, and you crouched down on the snow to look at them properly, and you had this big smile on your face, so I thought... to... that it'd be nice to give you some," he explains roughly. "I mean, you know, they don't really grow in this weather, so I made a little work on it before...anyways, it's rare to see them around, so I thought, you must've...liked them."

He looks at her expectantly for any reaction like a high schooler waiting for his grades, since she hasn't spoken anything after that.

To be precise, she is unable to speak anything at all, because someone has moved her so deeply for the first time. He is the first one to approach her not for her looks, her wealth nor fame, and definitely not with any dark intentions. He simply came to give her something, not even caring for who she is.

After a long pause, she takes her shades off, revealing her stunning gray eyes and takes those flowers in hand to feel the surreality of the moment.

She looks back at him. She wants so bad to tell him how happy she is right now, and how much this means to her, but those words get stuck at her throat.

"Ah! I've tried to give you this earlier, I made a few attempts though, but failed and ran away. Back then I thought, you were too scary, which you are not...in fact. A little, yeah, but not too much," he says to loose up the tension in between them.

"Thank you," she only says, looking at him intently.

"So I take it, you like them?"

At this, she casts him a smile so wide that it touches her eyes in the process, and nodes in approval. "Hmm...Do you know what does they mean?"

"Yes. They mean hope."

"That's true," she replies, looking at him in the eye.

"Gosh! That was close. I'm so relieved now," he jokes.

"So I guess, I'll be seeing you here tomorrow morn?" He asks, standing up from his seat.

"Yes," she answers, still smiling.

"Okay, so I guess, I'm running late. I need to help fixing the water pipe in kitchen, it froze due to heavy snow, so gotta go home now," he informs.

"Oh sure. You should."

"See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah...Bye," she adds.

"Bye!" He waves at her with his both hands up, and smiles cheekily.

"Ya! Who will pay for you punk?" Mrs Choi fusses at him.

At the interaction of those two, Commie laughs for the first time in a while. He has this strange warmth which maybe and only maybe has started to thaw her cold heart.

As he goes out of the shop, he waves at her again from outside which she returns gladly.

Then everything happens so quickly, that she gets numb for a moment.

From the other side of the road, a few people chase down a man to this sidewalk. The man has dry blood splattered all over his face and a large bloody axe in his hand.

"Get out of my way," the man hollers angrily at the warm person.

Before he can even react to that, the man crosses him in a lightning speed.

And then she watches him slumping on the sidewalk on his knees, his face paler and his eyes filled with shock and horror, and in moments his body collapses on the cold sidewalk. The thick snow on the ground turns crimson right before her eyes, which she stubbornly refuses to believe at all.

People start to gather around his motionless body, and this time reality hits her harder.

She stands up instantly as unbeknownst to her, tears rolls down her cheeks, and she runs out of the door vulnerably.

But she leaves her snowdrops behind, those fall on the floor from her hand, scattering everywhere.

She forgot to tell him that sometimes those snow flowers bring along ill fate too.

*****
A/N:
Yeobo- honey
Ahjumma- aunt

Xoxo,
Shena