EPILOGUE
Parisian sunlight has a different quality to it, Mina thinks, watching it play across the rim of her coffee cup. Everything here feels slightly magical, like reality filtered through an Instagram preset that makes ordinary moments shimmer with possibility.
The last two years have passed like pages in a well-loved book—familiar but somehow new with each reading. TWICE's final single still tops charts even now, two months after they announced their disbandment. Nine women choosing their ending rather than letting it choose them.
She remembers fragments of those years like photographs scattered across a table: The way Nayeon cried when she found the perfect wedding dress, not because it was perfect but because she suddenly realized they were really doing this. The afternoon Chaeyoung appeared at her door, hands shaking but voice steady, finally speaking words that had lived in her heart for years. The text message from an unknown number that made her panic until she realized she'd forgotten that Nayeon's contact was saved as a heart and bunny emoji combination.
The wedding itself exists in her memory as a series of sensory impressions: Grecian waves against white lace, Sana's arms around her waist, Nayeon's smile bright enough to rival the Mediterranean sun. The way Chaeyoung had needed time, but eventually came, because that's who she is—someone who loves deeply enough to celebrate others' joy even when it costs her own.
The reconciliation happened naturally, like waves smoothing rough edges from beach glass. And then, in the way life sometimes offers up perfect ironies, Chaeyoung met Somi at one of Mina and Nayeon's dinner parties. They’ve been the closest friends prior to it, but something clicked at that party and they somewhat saw each other in a different light and the rest, as they say, wrote itself.
The café door chimes, pulling Mina from her reverie. Chaeyoung emerges triumphant, balancing a tray of croissants with the same care she uses when handling her art supplies. Something about the scene feels familiar, like déjà vu but warmer somehow.
"Now go and eat. We're running late," Chaeyoung says, setting a perfectly flaky croissant on Mina's plate. When Mina doesn't move, caught in this strange moment of almost-remembering, Chaeyoung adds: "Mina-unnie, our wives are waiting for us."
Wives.
The word hits like a key turning in a lock, opening doors in Mina's memory she didn't know were closed. She reaches for Chaeyoung's hand again, studying the ring there like she's seeing it for the first time—though she knows she's asked about it before, has heard the story multiple times.
"Tell me again," she says softly, "about the ring."
Chaeyoung's laugh is fond, familiar with Mina's occasional bouts of sentimentality. "Which part? How Nayeon basically became Somi's personal jewelry consultant? Or how she accidentally directed her to the same designer she used for yours?"
"All of it," Mina says, because suddenly she needs to hear it again, needs to understand how all these pieces fit together so perfectly. It’s not loss of memory; it’s the reliving of something so beautiful, something she once feared would upend her life and all that it’s come to. It’s cherishing the moments of the in-between that’s usually gets mushed around in the beauty of it all.
"Well, you know Nayeon-unnie," Chaeyoung settles into storyteller mode, breaking off a piece of her own croissant. "When Somi mentioned wanting to propose, Nayeon practically kidnapped her for a day of ring shopping. Ended up recommending the same designer she used for yours because, and I quote, 'If it's good enough for my Minari, it's good enough for my favorite dongsaeng's future wife.'"
The rings aren't identical—Chaeyoung's stone is slightly smaller, set in a way that won't interfere with her art. The bands carry different engravings: M&N on Mina's, JS&SC on Chaeyoung's. But there's a symmetry to them, like parallel stories written in precious metals.
"Sometimes I think she did it on purpose," Chaeyoung continues, a smile playing at her lips. "You know how she is—always trying to take care of everyone, even in the smallest ways. Like making sure Somi got a ring that would somehow connect all of us."
"That does sound like my Nayeon," Mina agrees, remembering how her wife had practically bounced with excitement when Somi showed her the ring before the proposal.
Their phones buzz simultaneously—the group chat they share with their wives. Nayeon's sent a selfie of her and Somi at the Louvre, both making exaggerated bored faces with the caption: If you two don't hurry up with breakfast, we're leaving you for the Mona Lisa
Somi adds: She's prettier than all of you anyway
"We should go," Chaeyoung says, but she's smiling at her phone in that soft way she reserves for Somi. "Before they actually do replace us with Renaissance art."
As they gather their things, Mina feels something settle in her chest—a piece of understanding clicking into place. All those years ago, when strange visions of the future kept appearing, she'd thought they were warnings. Had seen fragments of this moment—the rings, the café, the croissants—and drawn the wrong conclusions.
But time, it seems, had a better story in mind. One where love doesn't divide but multiplies, where hearts grow to accommodate new forms of happiness without diminishing old ones.
"What are you thinking about?" Chaeyoung asks as they step into the Parisian morning, threading their way through streets that smell of coffee and possibility.
Mina thinks about time slips and wedding dresses, about texts from unknown numbers and rings that connect rather than divide. About how the future rarely arrives in the shape we expect, but sometimes that's exactly what makes it perfect.
"Just that I'm happy," she says simply, and means it with every version of herself that has ever existed or will exist.
Chaeyoung's smile suggests she understands more than Mina's saying. "Me too, unnie. Now come on—let's go save our wives from art-induced boredom."
Their laughter mingles with the sounds of the city as they make their way toward the Louvre, toward Nayeon and Somi, toward the future that turned out to be better than any vision could have predicted.
Because sometimes the best futures are the ones we couldn't imagine—the ones that surprise us with their perfection, that take all our careful assumptions and rearrange them into something more beautiful than we dared to hope for.
Mina's phone buzzes again – another message in their group chat. This time it's Nayeon: Hurry up slowpokes, I miss my wife
Followed immediately by Somi: Yeah, hurry up, I miss MY wife too
Chaeyoung rolls her eyes but picks up her pace, and Mina follows, thinking about how some words—like 'wife'—can mean such different things to different hearts, and how sometimes that's exactly as it should be.
The morning sun catches their rings as they walk, casting little rainbows on the ancient stones of Paris. Somewhere in the back of Mina's mind, she thinks she remembers seeing this moment before, but differently. Like a photograph taken from another angle, showing only part of the full picture.
But this—this is the complete image. This is the future that all those glimpses were trying to show her, if only she'd known how to look properly.
This is their story, written not in time slips but in croissant crumbs and group chat messages, in matching rings and shared laughter, in love that found ways to grow beyond any boundaries they tried to put around it.
This is their happily ever after, more beautiful for being completely unexpected.