Chapter Text
8 year old Mira doesn’t understand why her family won’t hug her.
8 year old Mira doesn’t understand why her family never show up at her dance recitals.
8 year old Mira doesn’t understand why her parents never say ‘I love you’.
12 year old Mira doesn’t understand why her parents only attend her brothers basketball games.
12 year old Mira doesn’t understand why her parents are always away on business trips.
16 year old Mira wonders why her housekeeper, Seong-Min, cares more about her, than her mother.
When 19 year old Mira moves to New York and meets her roommate in college - a short girl with black hair and a love of turtles - she finally understands that, sometimes, you choose your own family.
8 years later
27 year old Mira wakes to the shrill of her alarm blaring, at 6:30am. Groaning, she rolls over to stop the irritating noise from echoing around her bedroom any further.
Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she slowly lifts her body up, groaning, as her stiff joints wake up in the cold chill of her apartment.
Padding over to the bathroom, she opens the door to her walk in shower, turning the dial to hot before looking in the mirror - taking a moment to drink in the sight of the dark circles under her eyes (the result of another late night answering work emails).
Sighing to herself, she turns and enters the cubicle, hot water cascading down from the waterfall shower head instantly easing the tight muscles in her back.
After towelling off her wet hair, she pads into the bedroom, walking into her walk in closet and taking out a fluffy beige hoodie which she swiftly pulls over her head, to fight the off the bitter morning chill.
Deciding she needs coffee to get through the day, she opens her phone and orders from her favourite coffee shop - Café Bene.
Walking into her living room, she takes in the silence, choosing to walk over to the giant windows overlooking Central Park to watch the trees dance in the morning breeze.
Her father being the richest man in Seoul meant Mira learnt, early on in childhood, that money and status meant more than love in her family; something she was able to give them when she became owner and CEO of the most prestigious choreography firm in America, ‘Golden Enterprise’. However, standing now in her $200 million penthouse apartment in Central Park tower, Mira wonders if she would give it all up just to feel the love that is always portrayed in movies.
Her shoulders tense, before the sound of the apartment intercom buzzing interrupts her thoughts.
She walks over to answer, saying good morning to her doorman, ‘Mystery’ - seriously, what kind of a stupid name is Mystery!? - before asking him if he can bring her coffee up for her.
When he appears at the front door, Mira thanks him for bringing it up, tipping him $50 in the process.
After her first sip of coffee and a pep talk to herself, she decides to get ready for work.
Walking back upstairs to her bedroom, she takes a quiet breath. The room feels like her own quiet sanctuary, floor to ceiling windows that frame the New York skyline are softened by long flowing curtains that diffuse the bright morning sun into a warm glow. Soft grey carpet covers the floor, the twisted pile providing warmth and comfort with each step.
A few framed photos of herself and Zoey lean against a black floating shelf, memories of the moments that matter most to her.
She sits at her vanity table and pulls out her hair dryer, the warm air working with the brush in her hand to style the long strands.
Growing up, she kept it a light-pink, however, after becoming CEO, she had decided to dye it slightly darker. She brushes the flaming locks out of her eyes, tying two high ponytails at the back, leaving some soft flowing pieces out to frame her strong cheekbones.
Deciding on a long, sleek, figure-hugging dark dress and black heels, she pairs the outfit with a black blazer and grabs her work bag, before pressing the lift button.
Taking the elevator straight down to the basement car park, Mira unlocks her Maserati Levante and sets up her driving playlist, before making the commute to her office.
Most people would hate the chaos that New York streets bring in rush hour, but not Mira. Mira loves being able to put her foot on the gas and just fly but she thrives on the slow crawl down exhaust filled streets. Thrives on the sound of impatient drivers honking their horns. Thrives on the momentary chance to just breathe. To watch suit clad investors rushing through crowd filled sidewalks, overpriced coffee sloshing out of plastic cups as they speed walk to the subway.
As she pulls the car into her private underground parking garage at the office, she tips her head back against the soft leather seat, taking a long deep breath.
Security open the doors for her, bowing their heads in respect as she nods to the reception desk in greeting.
The first person she spots is her best friend, and head of IT, Zoey.
“Zoey, it’s 8am and you don’t start until 9am, why are you here so early again? Do I need to put you on leave for you to finally take a break?” Mira huffs out.
Whilst pressing the elevator button, Zoey giggles, “How would you ever get through the day without seeing my face?”
Mira sighs, rolling her eyes before her face breaks into a grin as she murmurs, “Sure, you keep telling yourself that.”
After a brief elevator ride in which Zoey excitedly discussed the 2 hour turtle documentary she watched last night, Mira arrives at her office. It’s the largest office in the building with a 4 seater couch pushed against the wall in one corner, and a glass coffee table positioned in front.
A large flatscreen tv lines one wall, mainly added to the room for some noise on nights when Mira would stay late to answer emails.
She takes a seat in the ridiculously expensive Elyium R office chair her father gifted to her, when she became CEO.
There is a short knock on the door before her assistant Bobby swans in. A small middle aged man, with the smallest moustache and sweetest smile
“Bobby, you do realise that there is no point knocking if you’re just going to walk in anyway?” Mira says.
Bobby stands there, looking down at his phone before mumbling out, “Oh, shush! Have you seen the social media numbers from that last piece you choreographed for the nations sweetheart pop star?”
“You know I don’t obsess over numbers, that’s your job Bobby,” Mira says softly.
“Well, you should because everyone is talking about it. This is why they pay you the big bucks,” Bobby says, before winking at Mira.
Mira shakes her head, clicking through her emails whilst her foot subconsciously taps the floor.
“Did you want something?” she breathes out.
Bobby eyes her closely. He loves Mira like a daughter and seeing her hunched over her desk with tired eyes makes him wish she would just take a break from corporate life and relax a little bit. “Me and Zoey are going to that new bar in Manhattan tonight and you are joining us, even if just for one drink. You need a break Mira.”
Mira shakes her head, “Absolutely not, you know I don’t drink on work nights Bobby.”
“So… have a water, for fuck’s sake! Just come and have fun with us please,” Bobby huffs out, his tone walking the line between annoyance and caution.
Mira’s eyes widen in shock at his choice of language. “Fine,” she says, “ONE drink!”
The small man chuckles to himself for a moment, a proud smile crossing his face at the fact he was able to persuade the usually grouchy woman.
“You’ve got a call first thing this morning that I had to bring forward from tomorrow because we have a very unhappy customer,” he mumbles hesitantly.
Mira’s eyes shoot up, confusion lacing her features at the statement - Golden Enterprise pride themselves on their stellar reputation.
She doesn’t even bother opening her mouth, simply casting her assistant a strong look before he cracks.
”It was Kieron…from the junior team…he-he told a new client that you would choreograph an 80 second social media video for them.”
A look of bewilderment crosses Mira’s dark brown eyes, “Okaaaaaay? What’s the problem? I’ve choreographed social media videos before.”
Bobby cringes slightly, before locking eyes with the woman he knew was going to lose her shit as soon as he opened his mouth, “He said you would do it for $100,000.”
Mira shoots out of her chair, a loud “A HUNDRED GRAND??” booming out around the office.
Realising her threatening stance, she lowers herself to the chair softly, her hands lifting to rub at her temples, “I wouldn’t get out of bed for a hundred grand Bobby.”
“I know. Look, I’ve scheduled a meeting with them so you can decide how you want to play that, but I listened to the meeting recording and he was bragging that he works here. Said he knew you and you’d do him a favour. Just another young man thinking he’s better than he is.” Bobby states, frustration in his tone.
”For fucks sake. Looks like I’m going to need that drink after all,” she huffs, tipping her head back “Okay I’ll do damage control with the client, put a meeting in with Kieron after. I want to know what the fuck he was thinking when he made that statement.”
Bobby gives a slight nod, before leaving the office and closing the door behind him.
At 10:30, she leans back in her chair with a loud huff sounding out around the office. The client meeting went about as well as she had expected. Frustration lacing their tone when she advised that Kieron does in fact not know her personally. Feeling nice, and wanting to placate the client, she offered her services at a discount rate as an apology.
She drafts an email to the HR team, discussing the potential for new company wide training to be created on managing client negotiations.
A knock at the door interrupts her spiral and she lifts her head, a low “Come in,” echoing around the office.
Bobby pushes the door open, holding it wide for a young man with a sparkle in his eye to stroll into the room. Mira raises her eyebrow, a small smirk crossing her lips at the arrogance she sees in the young man.
”Mr McGuire, it is lovely to see you again…oh wait, we’ve never met before. Have we?” Mira begins, an air of nonchalance in her voice.
”Miss Kang, it is truly an honour to meet you,” he rasps out, a cocky grin on his face.
Mira takes her seat, leaning back slightly before fixing a cold glare at the man sat in front of her “I had a very interesting conversation with a disgruntled client today. Apparently a certain junior worker advised that he knew me personally and that I would work for a discounted rate.”
The smirk is wiped from his face instantly, terror flashing behind his eyes as he stares wide eyed, “I..erm-I…well-“
”I am the CEO of this company. I am your bosses, bosses, bosses, bosses, bosses, boss. I have a very specific pricing structure in place because I can’t choreograph for everybody. That’s why I have other hired choreographers. I don’t like people going against my rules and I definitely don’t appreciate junior colleagues lying about knowing me to make themselves look better,” Mira growls out “One more stunt like this, and you will be fired before you can say sorry and I can promise you right now, the reference I write will mean you never have a job in this city again.” Taking a deep breath, she stands from her chair before smoothing her jacket over, “Are we clear?”
A quiet, “Crystal,” is mumbled out before Kieron bows quickly and runs out of the room, the echo of shoes screeching across the marble floor filling Mira’s ears.
The remainder of Mira’s day is uneventful. At 5pm, Zoey and Bobby enter her office, whooping and hollering, ready for their night out.
Mira drives all 3 of them to the new bar, weaving through late night New York traffic, before pulling up outside the sleek glass exterior, reflecting the city’s skyline. She steps out of the car - heels clicking on the pavement before she tosses her long hair over her shoulder and throws the keys at the young valet outside.
Zoey and Bobby follow, excitedly whispering between themselves.
Mira walks ahead - using her well-known status to bypass the long queue and walk straight up to the bar security team, who automatically open the red velvet rope for her to walk through.
Hearing the grumbles from patrons in the queue makes Zoey chuckle, “I love not having to queue when you come out with us.”
The bar is alive with chatter. Laughter cuts through the low hum of conversations and clatter of ice in glasses. Candles flicker in small glass holders on each table, casting flickering shadows across the dark polished wood.
Noticing Mira walking through the door, the Maître d' automatically walks them to the V.I.P area at the back.
“My name is Marie - what can I get you this evening?” she spoke, softly, yet loud enough to be heard.
“3 Subak Soju’s please!” Zoey shouts excitedly. She knows she should let people make their own decisions but she just gets so excited to do things for the people she loves, and if ordering drinks removes the pressure of deciding, then she would happily do it - every time!
Mira rolls her eyes, having already told Bobby that she didn’t want to drink this evening. However, looking at Zoey, lit up in excitement, she didn’t have the heart to disagree…
Scanning her eyes around the bar, Mira notices a couple sat in a corner booth; their heads close together, whispering in the dim light, oblivious to the noise around them.
Pulling her eyes back from the intimate scene, Mira locks eyes with Zoey, who gives her a knowing look - something she quickly avoids.
Their drinks arrive at the table - 3 glasses filled with vibrant, red liquid, topped with a lime wedge and a sugared rim.
The friends lock eyes before saying their usual toast, “Here’s to those who wish us well, and those who don’t, can go to hell!” - ending in the group laughing before sipping their drinks.
“Wow, now that’s definitely worth drinking on a work night!” Bobby says.
At 10pm, Mira realises her eyes are starting to droop and she starts yearning for her bed.
After hugging her friends goodnight, she steps out into the cool evening air and hugs her arms close to her body. She walks to the valet, who swiftly brings her car over and she slides into the crisp leather seats, automatically turning up the heat to stay warm.
Feeling her stomach grumble, Mira realises she hadn’t yet eaten and suddenly finding a craving for some late night Ramyeon; she makes the rash decision to stop off at a local 24 hour convenience store.
After parking up, Mira feels a sense of unease, feeling as though she was being watched but brushes it off as tiredness.
She loads up on Ramyeon cups and Pepero sticks before walking in the dark, back to the car park.
Light footsteps sound behind her and the uneasy feeling creeps back up, making the hairs on her neck stand and goosebumps travel along her arms.
Suddenly, a tall figure in a dark hood grabs Mira’s arm, yanking her back - his knife glinting in the streetlight. His cold eyes set on her like the gaze of a predator hunting prey. She feels his fist connect with her cheek as she jerks her head back, a gasp leaving her lips at the feeling of knuckles grazing her cheekbone.
Mira’s reflex reaction kicks in and she moves her body out of the way, grabbing the attacker’s wrist and using his force against him, to pull him forward before swiftly kicking him between the legs. He sinks down to his knees, screaming out in pain, tears forming in his cold, dark eyes.
Mira stands in a state of shock for a moment, her body shaking from a mixture of fear and adrenaline, before acting on instinct and running to her car, throwing herself in before locking the doors and speeding off.
Back at her apartment, Mira sits on her sofa drinking a hot tea to calm her nerves and replaying the events of the evening.
She wonders why she was attacked. Did they want her car? Did they want the watch on her arm, that she knows shimmers in the light? Or, did they want her?
The shrill of her phone snaps her from her thoughts and she picks it, hesitating for a moment. Mira is not one to be vulnerable; she has a hard shell and doesn’t like people to think otherwise, however, her body aches and her mind is exhausted.
Bobby’s voice slurs through the speakers, “Mira, did you get home okay?”
She hesitates for a moment, deciding how much to divulge before ultimately deciding to be honest and open - something she promised her friends she would work on. “Bobby, I’m going to take tomorrow off. I stupidly decided to stop at a store on the way home and someone attacked me. I didn’t see his face, so, before you say anything, no, I didn’t call the police… there is no point.”
“JESUS - Mira, are you okay? Are you hurt? Do I need to come over? Do you need anything?” Bobby’s voice rushes out.
“I’m fine, Bobby - just shook up. He managed to get a punch in on my cheek but it’s fine, just bruised a little bit. I think I need to just sleep in tomorrow and forget it happened,” Mira says tiredly.
Bobby hesitates for a moment, before mumbling, “I can handle everything tomorrow, but have you thought more about the private security firm we discussed last month? You are very well-known, and it may be at a point of thinking seriously about this.”
Sighing, Mira rubs her eyes, taking a moment to think before responding tensely, “No, Bobby, I don’t need someone dictating where I can go or what I can do. I’m finally free to do as I please and I’m not having that be taken away from me.”
“You will still be free, Mira. No one can ever take that away from you now, but it would help me sleep at night, if I knew you were safe. You don’t have to do anything, I can sort it all out.” Bobby says softly.
He receives a curt answer before the call disconnects, “No Bobby, I’m fine.”
Sighing to himself, Bobby makes the call anyway - ‘She’ll thank me for this,’ he thinks.
Too sick with shock to eat the ramyeon she was craving, Mira grabs an ice pack from the freezer and placing it on her rapidly swelling cheek. Wincing slightly, she shuffles upstairs to her bedroom, removing her dress and heels before flopping down into bed, burying her head under the covers and crying herself to sleep.