I think it's great that Jimin was found.

I think it's great that their family is back together.

I think it's great that Namjoon is ignoring me.

It's not like I don't get it. I'm the one who messed up the investigation that kept his child out of his arms for 5 years. I know. I know.

Maybe if I would have found Jimin sooner, he would care about me more.

Maybe if I would have been there with him when the gun went off, he would answer my texts.

Maybe, maybe, maybe...

What I hate the most is that this isn't who I am. I'm not the girl who sits around waiting for her Prince Charming to rescue her. If I have problems, I fix them. If I want something, I take it.

But I can't take Namjoon away from his family.

He's the one thing I wanted that I never could have.

And the funny thing is, every time I felt something toward him, every time I found myself falling deeper and deeper into his charm, I wonder if he was even thinking about me at all?

I don't have to wonder, really. I know he wasn't. That's why he doesn't reply to my messages anymore, because Namjoon had something he wanted and he got it.

Leaving me empty-handed, alone.

It's not that saving Jimin wasn't good enough for me. It was, it is, it will always be. When I wake up in the morning, my only consolation for my past mistakes is the fact that Jimin's home now, that he's safe now.

I still have the note he wrote for me. A neon sticky note, trapped inside a glass frame. My most prized possession.

If anyone came over, they'd probably ask me about it.

But nobody comes over.

I live alone. When I crave contact with people, I go over to my brother's house. Yugyeom and BamBam always have enough energy to take my mind off whatever it's stuck on. Hugging them makes me feel less alone and more loved, even if it's only for a little while.

Like Namjoon and I, trapped together under horrible circumstances, for a little while. But the sand in that glass has long since run out, and I'm the only one who wishes I could flip it over and start our time together anew.

I wonder if Namjoon ever thinks about me. Not as a police officer, not as a work associate.

As me.

Lisa.

But where in his mind would he ever have space when his whole mind, his whole life, is filled with six beautiful children?

But not a wife, my mind whispers. It likes to play this game, a game I call It's absolutely hopeless, a game my brain calls But it's fun to torment yourself.

Stupid things give me hope. No ring, an ex he won't be getting back together with ever, the way I can look into the kids' eyes and see how desperately they crave a mom.

But it's all pointless. I know that.

There was a reason why the first wife left and, as bitchy as she seemed, I can sort of see why. How painful it must be to stand beside someone you love with all of your heart, only to see them looking elsewhere, never at you.

I don't know if I'd mind too much. I love the kids. 5 years is quite a bit of time to get to know someone, and I knew all of them pretty well. Except for Jimin, of course, but that's my fault. I know that too.

But then maybe I'd always be forced to wonder: does he want me here for him, or for his kids? Does he love me because his children need a mom, or does he love me because he loves me? Does he think about what type of shampoo I use or what my sleeping face looks like or if my nose scrunches up cutely when I yawn? Does he think about any of that?

Will he ever?

Is it-

No, I immediately cut myself off, trying to stop the train of thought that was perpetually hovering at the edge of my thoughts, a train that I couldn't shake off, a train that I refused to board. But it always pulled into the station, regardless.

Is it time to move on?

Any sane woman would. 5 years and nothing to show for it, not a kiss, not a night, not a ring.

He had never in any capacity given me any sign to think that falling in love with him was a good decision, the right decision.

He had never in any capacity given me any sign to think that he felt the same.

So why had I picked him in the first place?

And why couldn't I move on?

Because you want someone to look at you the way Namjoon looks at Jin, at Yoongi, at Hobi, at Taehyung, at Jungkook. At Jimin.

His eyes, full of love, full of hope, full of protection against the darkness of the world, full of a need to teach you everything he can, full of a need to make you the best you can be, full of a need to shelter you in his arms, full of a need to you claim as his own.

I want to be claimed. Not in a base, sexual way. I want someone to call me theirs. I want someone to hold me, only me. I want to belong to someone, to something, to some idea.

I want a family. I want to wake up in the morning to the sound of yelling, the sound of six alarm clocks, the sound of feet hitting the floor outside my door, the sound of bowls clinking as they're removed from cabinets, the sound of milk sploshing over the rim of the bowl and spilling onto the table, the sound of yelps as they realized they spilled. I want to wake up in the morning with someone's arms wrapped around me, with someone's legs tangled with mine, with someone's mouth nuzzling into my neck, even if it's prickly with stubble yet to be shaved. I want to wake up in the morning knowing that I'm a part of something, knowing that someone is waiting for me, knowing that I will be missed if I don't show up and overwhelmed with love when I do.

I want to wake up in the morning to all of that, as chaotic as it may be, instead of where I am now.

I open my eyes. The room is dark. It's dark because I turned off the lamp when I went to bed, and nobody else is here to turn it back on.

When I reach across the bed to turn the lamp on, I don't have to apologize to anyone for landing an elbow in their ribcage, because there's nobody here. The bed is empty aside for me, and I don't fill as much space as is meant to be filled.

I turn on the lamp, and the room has light, but the darkness is still there, lingering in the corners of the room and in the bags under my eyes and in the cracks in my heart where cobwebs are starting to form and dust is beginning to accrue.

I step out of bed, and the floor is cold under my feet. The air is dead, silent. Nothing to break the quiet. Not even a floorboard squeaks. The apartment is brand new, part of a recently-constructed complex, so everything is in perfect condition.

I don't want perfect. I don't want silent. I don't want cold.

I want worn and torn, battered and bruised, loved and adored over years and years. I want crayon marks on the walls and chairs with uneven legs and spoons that are a little bent out of shape and tables with marks in them and books with dog-eared pages and floorboards that squeak and six kids yelling at me to wake up and a man to press his warm lips to mine and whisper Good morning, beautiful in a rough voice, the first words past his lips that morning because I'm the first thing on his mind that morning.

Maybe there is a Prince Charming out there somewhere, waiting for me to find his squeaky floorboards and the crayon marks on his walls. Maybe.

But I found someone else first. Maybe he's not a prince. But he treats his family like royalty, and one day, I want to be his queen.

I sigh as I grab my phone off the bedside table. I wince as I remember sending Namjoon a text last night, probably in a moment of naive hopefulness, asking him to have dinner with me soon. I know I shouldn't have sent it. I know what his reply will be, or rather, his lack of reply. I know, I know, I know. I know I should move on, I know I should stop looking at someone who will never look at me, I know, I know, I know. I know I should delete his number, I know I should block his stupidly fine ass, I know I should-

***

Lisa dropped her phone before picking it back up to view the rest of the message.

Attached to the text was a picture of Jimin with his nose pressed against the glass of a fish tank, Jungkook standing just behind him with his chin on Jimin's shoulder (although he had to bend down a little bit to make it work), Yoongi smirking from the edge of the frame, Jin pointing at something in the fish tank, and Tae and Hobi, caught in the reflection from the glass, kicking each other in the shin, Namjoon standing between them sheepishly as he held his phone up in one hand.

Lisa couldn't hold back the smile that broke her face as she instantly saved the picture. Then she moved her thumb to hover over Jimin, pressing down lightly on her screen as she imagined him at the aquarium, seeing fish of every shape, size, and color for the first time in his life, unlocking a world outside of his own, one that he'd never known to exist.

Sort of like how Namjoon didn't really know of Lisa's existence.

But if Jimin could learn...

...couldn't Namjoon?

Lisa sighed, smiling softly at the excited boy in the screen. She didn't want to think too much about Namjoon. She didn't want to hope too hard.

But she didn't stop herself from replying.

She paused for a second before shooting Mark a text as well.

She smiled to herself.

Maybe Saturday will be the day.

Maybe.

Lisa snorted.

Lisa laughed, shaking her head as she briefly contemplated murdering Mark, but she truly loved him. He'd always been a supportive brother to her, even when she'd chosen to become a police officer instead of choosing a job their parents found more suitable and safer, even when she'd told him that she thought Namjoon was sort of hot, even when she'd broken down and confessed to him that she thought she was in love with Namjoon and it hurt more than anyone had ever warned her.

She was lucky she had Mark. It meant that, even when she felt lonely, she would never truly be alone.

Even if Namjoon never saw her the way she saw him.

Even if that would break her heart.

Saturday, she thought to herself, forcing herself to exhale.

I'll either find the home my heart has longer for, or I'll end it for good.