[Note: Dialogue/s spoken in English is italicized.]

“A-aw! Please, be g-gentle. Ouch!”

Wincing like a madman, our family nurse finishes stitching the open wound on my forehead. Seriously, why do I have to start at this state. . .what the hell? What a nice twist.

I glance at my daughter—Abigail, also known as Gaeul here in Korea—her face was still tear-stained from crying too much earlier. She’s been crying since we came to my parents’ house with my busted face. Which kid wouldn't cry if they see their parent looking like a bloated zombie? It’s hard to explain but the thing is. . . I was dating this girl named Yuhee. Turns out, she’s also dating this hunky that looks like a health geek and the type to stay in the gym for eternity.

We were damn caught. Worse, we were caught in this woman’s appartment currently making out. Which~ left me no chance to escape easily, you know? 

I mean, of all times right?

“Eomma, please don’t give me that look anymore. I didn’t know she had a boyfriend, alright.” I clear out to my glaring mother for the nth time. The nurse has already finished the stitches and was covering it up with thick gauze. “You’ve only been here for three months and your head is already busted.” Eomma retorts and heaves a sigh.

“Make it clear, Eomma. Abigail’s here. My head’s busted, literally. Just literally. I don’t hear voices in my head yet.” I make it a point and she just gave me that motherly glare again. “Daddy, is it very painful?” My daughter comes close to me after hearing her name out. She sits down on my lap while looking up to my forehead and other bruises on my face. I hold her back on her tiny waist.

“You know your Appa’s a Superman, right?” I coo sweetly and she suddenly reaches up to the bruise on my lips. “A-aw! S-sweetie, I said Superman, not Numbman. I can still feel it, I'm not numb. You know. . . Superman gets injured too.” I tell and my mother gave me that light hit on the arm. “Stop being silly to your daughter. She’s already worried.” Eomma scolds.

I look up to her and sighed.

“Eomma, I’m fi—“Three months here and how many women have you dated?” She cuts me off. I cover my daughter’s ears as I think of a nice answer. “Three.” I mouth back at her. “See? You change every month, what do you think your dau—“Eomma, I’m not a playboy. I never broke up with anyone. It’s them. And this previous one, as you can see, we were caught before she could break up with me.” I explain softly.

My mother sits beside me and puts her hand on my thigh. “Son, I know you want Gaeul to have a mother but. . . you don’t find it on purpose.” She tells. “Eomma. . . I didn’t find it on purpose for six years in London and I was single for six years. That doesn’t include the girl I worked with in one photoshoot back in London, I thought we were getting there then suddenly she said I remind her of her dead father. I was father-zoned. I mean, it hurt so much that it left me scarred. Eomma tell me, do I look dead?” I answer back and again she hits me on the arm but she couldn't help but to chuckle.

So I give her back a reassuring smile.

“Eomma, I’m just saying. . ." I hug Gaeul on her waist first and gave her a kiss on her pink cheeks. “It’s true that it comes unexpected but. . . it’s not like I can just lie down on my bed and wait for her to come. It doesn’t work like that. Gaeul is growing a