A HUSBAND?!
Escaping Woohyun!~“YA! ~~~-AH!” your mother yelled from downstairs through the speaker on your wall. “GET UP!”
You turned over in your bed and yawned. You opened your eyes a teeny bit, but then squinted because of the bright sun in your eyes.You wanted to sleep some more, but you knew you had to get up…eventually. You would wait as long as possible. Who cared about your mother? SHE never came to wake you up in person. She couldn’t complain if you didn’t get up.
Your maid knocked at your door and opened it. “Miss, your breakfast is waiting.”
“Aigoo, I don’t want to get up,” you groaned, but you sat up anyway. “What is it today?”
“Belgian waffles.”
*Mmm...waffles~*
“Mother is getting into European food, isn’t she?” you said as you got up to get dressed. “I’ll be down soon. You can leave now.” Your maid bowed and left the room. You walked to your closet and pulled out your uniform. You squeezed into your clothes.
Looking into the mirror, you frowned. Same old face with round cheeks. Plain black hair that hung from your head. A stupid red and black uniform with a wool vest and plaid skirt that just reached your knees. The school you attended, Woollim Academy, was fancy and for rich kids and all that, but they didn’t have nice uniforms for the students. Laaame.
You sighed and grabbed your bag to go downstairs.
~
“Annyeong, umma, appa~” you said. You sat down at the table. It was a really long rectangular table. It was had fancy plates, forks, knives, and other stuff and a candleholder with three candles, even though there was a big crystal chandelier on the ceiling. Your mother sat at one end. Your father sat on the other end. You sat on one of the empty sides, closer to your father. He would leave you alone if you didn’t do anything.
“Good morning, ~~~-ah,” they said. Your father started on his work already. He was typing on his laptop. Your mother was drinking a cup of tea. She had a small smile on her face.
The smile meant bad news for sure.
“Umma, why do you look so happy...?” you asked. You looked over at her with a suspicious stare. Your umma always seemed to have some plot to try and make you the perfect daughter. They always failed. Couldn’t sing or dance. Couldn’t do gymnastics or ice skating. at crochet, couldn’t cook. Couldn’t even do origami except those stupid paper stars that you had jars and jars of. Your mother had ordered you to make one thousand of them. Who knew what was coming next?
“Oh, nothing much. Just found you a hubby.”
“A HUSBAND...?!?!?!”
Your appa frowned a little at you. “I’m trying to concentrate, dearest, could you keep it down?”
“YA!!!!!! Did YOU do this!?!?!” you asked your dad. He had the real connections.
“A bit,” he said. He didn’t look up from his laptop.
“Don’t bother your appa, ~~~-ah. He’s busy. I’ll tell you what, I’ve finally found you a boy who wants to marry you—”
You were sick of with your mother’s evil planning. Your life was officially ruined. You got up and pushed your chair in angrily. “I DON’T GIVE A DAMN!!!” you screamed as if someone was pulling your hair and ran out of the dining hall to go to school.
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