I’ve never really been one of those people who remember her dreams. I’ve literally tried everything—journals, recorders, getting the girls to tell me if I ever talked in my sleep—but, none, nothing. With the creepy exception of my recurring motorcycle nightmare, nothing ever really seemed to stick.

But not this time.

For some strange reason, on this particular night, something told me this was a dream I was going to remember. And when I finally came to the following morning, still curled up in Sehun’s lap, guess what?

I dreamed about Mogu.
Or, specifically, I dreamed about the time Mogu ate my favourite stuffed toy—a bunny named Daisy. I’d screamed my head off when I had climbed into bed that night to find my beloved Daisy missing from her usual spot under the covers. Her pink nose. Her soft pink ears. The floppiest ever.

Vanished, without a trace.

At first, Mom and Dad said I must have left her somewhere. Over at Shiah’s house. In the laundry room. Under my bed. I denied all the accusations. Because I knew the truth. Daisy wasn’t missing. . . Daisy had been kidnaped.

It was a total chaos when Dad noticed a strange trail of slobbery cotton leading from the upstairs hallway, down the stairs, into the living room, and right out of Mogu’s doggy door. Yes. It’s true. The dog ate my bunny. He ate her pink nose, worn from where I’d kissed it a thousand times. He ate her floppy pink ears. He even ate her beautiful blue eyes. (One of which showed up a few days later, it should be noted, a little less blue and a little less shiny.)

“Everything,” I whispered, still only half-awake. “I remember everything.”

I remembered Daisy. I remembered Mogu’s swollen belly as he lay stretched in the starlight, all passed out and full of bunny. I remembered being angrier than I’d ever been in my young, short life, and the most guilty look in his sweet, brown, doggy-eyes when he saw me crying. I remembered the way he’d pressed his soft, black, whiskery nose to my face to say he was sorry.

And then, for some reason, I remembered the way Mom had held me in her arms that night, telling me that Mogu was only a puppy. And that he hadn’t meant it. I remembered the smell of her hair and the warmth of her silk cloth robe. I remembered the way she’d made me feel better in that special Mom-way nobody else on earth could ever do.

But this was more than memory. This was longing. Unexpected, overwhelming longing. This was holding hands when I was little, and the two of us being silly in our pajamas on Sunday mornings. This was us hurting each other because we could and being best friends and growing apart and the anger and resentment over what neither of us had fought hard enough to hold on to because—in the end—kids have to grow up someday. These were feelings I had locked away and buried in a time capsule, sealed off in a safe, secret place deep inside where nobody would ever find it. A place that somehow, over time, I had forgotten.

I missed my family. I missed my mom.

I opened my eyes, swollen from crying, and looked up at Sehun.

“Angel?” he said.

“I want to go home.”

“You want to talk about why?”

I shook my head. Stretched and got to my feet. Something felt hard and heavy in my chest, like a block of concrete had settled in there while I was sleeping. But something else had settled in there too. A plan, which I was looking forward to putting into action.

But first, home.

“So.” He sounded upbeat, like he was trying to lighten the mood. “I was thinking I’d show you this really cool spot no too far from here—“

“I want to go home,” I said again. “Now.”

He gave me a funny look. “A little bossy this morning aren’t we?”

“If that’s what you want to call it.”

He scratched his head. “The thing is. . .”

“What?” I said. “The thing is what?”

“It could be a little bit of a problem, is all,” he said.

“And why would that be?”

He sighed and dug his hands into his pockets. “Listen up, Yewon. I know you don’t like to hear it, but things are different now. You can’t just go doing very little thing exactly like you used to—“

“Who says?”

“Seriously?”

I glared back. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

“Man,” he said. “Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the highway.”

“So just zoom us or whatever.” I held out my hand. “I’m ready.”

He crossed his arms. “Allow me to remind you that I am not your personal chauffer.”

“That’s funny,” I said. “Because I think that’s exactly what you are.”

“You’re really something else,” Sehun muttered before grabbing my hand.

I felt a jolt of electricity shoot through me.

“Ouch!” I yelped, and jerked my hand away. “Jeez! Electrocute me much?”

“Aw,” Sehun said. “The sparks are totally flying between us­.” He wiggles his eyebrows, teasing me.

I rubbed my arm, scowling. “Shut up.”

“Look,” he said. “Don’t shoot the messenger. You’ve got ever right to be pissed off, but don’t forget.”

“Don’t forget what?” I snapped.

He kicked a big rock hard, sending it flying across the road. “Don’t forget I’m all you’ve got now, okay?”

His words stung, but I couldn’t help marvelling at what I’d just seen. Somehow, Sehun had made that rock move. With his foot. He’d made contact with an object that existed in Real World. Even though he didn’t. I was totally stunned.

“How’d you do that?”

“Sorry?” You mean you don’t know everything about being D and G? Well isn’t that a shocker.”

“Okay, okay,” I groaned. “I get it. I’m sorry.”

“Say it first.”

“You’re the only one I’ve got,” I mumbled.

“I can’t heeear you . . .”

“You’re the only one I’ve got!” I felt my face flush. “Now will you show me how the hell did you do that or what?”

He smiled. “First things first.” He grabbed my hand, pulling me close. Before I knew what was happening, it was as if we’d taken off on the most fantastic roller coaster ride of all time, spinning through the air at speeds so insane I wanted to throw up just thinking about them. My stomach was in my throat, my feet were on fire, and I couldn’t even hear the sound of my own voice against the wind, screaming for it to stop.

Then, suddenly, it did.

“Home sweet home,” said Sehun.

I opened my eyes. Felt my whole body shaking and twitching and generally freaking out as gravity and inertia caught up with the rest me. “D-d-don’t ever d-d-do that again.”

“I’ll make a note of it, Angel,” Sehun said.

I didn’t like him calling me Angel. Just like I did not appreciate his different nicknames for me, or the way he always seemed to get information out of me without ever really telling me anything about himself. But for now, I was willing to let all of it slide. 

Because we were standing in my driveway.
18 Jungwon-do, Jurisan.

The house was drenched in shadows. All the windows closed. All the curtains drawn. As if whoever lived there had moved away years ago. Or simply stopped caring.

It had only been few weeks since my death, which wasn’t long at all, especially in the grand scheme of All Eternity. But seeing the way the cool light hit the roof—the muddy, yellow, uncut yard; the dried-up leaves; the soft whisper of the ocean just a few block west—it suddenly seemed so much longer.

The place felt warped. Twisted. A ghost of its former self.
Just like me.

“What happened here?” I asked.

“What always happens,” Sehun said. “They lost somebody.”

The sound from my brother’s room caught my attention. I see him, a boy with unkempt dark hair, jeans, and a black sweatshirt strummed his guitar loud, not caring whether the other neighbours were bothered by it. He continued to strum his electric guitar as loud as he can.

BAM!
BAM!
BAM!

“Younghyun!”

My dad’s voice

And then I saw him through the window. His green sweatshirt, the super-soft one I got him for Christmas last year. His black glasses.

Dad.

I felt my throat close up and tiny little pinpricks shoot across the back of my neck. I wanted to run to him. I want to run to him so bad.

“Younghyun, stop with the noises. Mom’s trying to sleep.”

“Sleep?” I said.  “Still? What time is it?”

It had to be at least eleven in the morning. And my Mom was an early bird. She always got up two hours early than us to prepare breakfast, prepare our lunches before going to work. No way could she still be sleeping! She used to get annoyed with us if we slept past nine, even on the weekends.

“Okay.” Younghyun’s voice was distant. Like he definitely wasn’t listening and he definitely didn’t care. Without meeting his eyes and before he unplugged his guitar he strummed for the last time louder than the previous ones.

Dad shook her head. He was annoyed, I could tell, but didn’t have it in him to ask him again. He let the door slam behind him as he went out of his room.

“One big happy family,” said Sehun.

I ignored him and the sound of yelling caught my attention. I walked to the window of the kitchen to get a look. There they were. Mom and Dad. Sitting across from each other at the kitchen table. An untouched mug of coffee sat in front of her; an unread newspaper and empty plate in front of him. She was crying. He had his head buried in his hands.

“You’ve got to stop,” he said. “How much longer are you going to put us all through this? How much longer are you going to put Yewon through it?”

Me?  They’re fighting about me?

“I need to understand,” she said. “I can’t let it go until I do.”

“You’re obsessed,” Dad said, his voice breaking. “You can’t fix her. She’s gone, Gayoung. When are you going to accept it?”

“It doesn’t make sense, Minjae.”

“She’s gone, Gayoung, listen to yourself.” He got up from the table and carried his plate to the kitchen sink.

“She was healthy,” Mom continued. “We were on top of it. Her heart was healthy.”

“Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe we were wrong.”

“No!” Mom snapped. “An acute massive coronary in a kid like her? Tissue doesn’t just tear, Minjae. A heart doesn’t just split in goddamn half!”

“Calm down,” said Dad. “Younghyun can hear you.”

Mom took a deep breath. Looked like she was trying to collect herself. “My team has never seen a case like it,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “Yewon could help us save other people—to make sure something ike this won’t happen again.”

“It’s not your fault, Gayoung-ah,” Dad said. “It’s not anybody’s fault.”

“That boy had something to do with this.” Mom shook her head. “I know he did.”

You’re right, Mom. You’re so close.

“What are you going to do?” Dad demanded. “Lock up an eighteen-year-old boy for having a fight with your daughter? He’s a child, Gayoung. You saw her heart—“ His voice wavered. “You saw it with your own eyes. We all did. Don’t you dare try and tell Kim Jongin is responsible for that.”

More than you think.

“You’ve been sleeping at the office for weeks.” Dad turned around to face her. “We need you here, Gayoung-ah. Younghyun and I need you.”

“What about Yewon?” she said. “She doesn’t?”

“She’s GONE!” Dad snapped.

No, no, no, please don’t fight, please don’t fight.

I wanted to cover my eyes and my ears—I wanted to run away and never come back. But I couldn’t tear myself away from the window.

“I’m close,” said Mom. “I have a theory.”

“You have us,” sobbed Dad, a second time after I’ve seen him broke down in my funeral. “Isn’t that enough?” He said.

“No.” She stood up. “Not right now it’s not.” She took her car keys from the counter. “I’m one of the top cardiac surgeons in the world, Minjae. How do you think it looks? How do you think it looks when I don’t have an answer for what had happened to my own daughter?”

That’s my mom for you. Always the realist. It was what she did best, after all. She gave the facts. She laid out the truth. People came from all over the country—all over the world, even—seeking her help. It had to be killing her that she hadn’t been able to put me, her own daughter, back together again.

Dad was different. He was the artist in our family. The free spirit. He taught advanced drawing classes at Seoul Art Institute. When they first met, their differences made them stronger. Now those very same differences were tearing them apart.

“They need me at the hospital,” Mom said.

“We need you here,” said Dad.

Stop it, stop it, please don’t fight, not over me. I’m so sorry.

“I’ll try not to be too late.”

“What about dinner?” said Dad bitterly. “It’s her birthday, Gayoung-ah. You’re really going to work late tonight?”

I froze. My birthday. I turned to Sehun.

“Eighteen,” he said.  “Happy birthday, Yewon.”

Mom sighed. “I’ll do my best.”

“Your best isn’t good enough.”

“I have to do this, Kang Minjae.” Her voice was cold. Angry. I couldn’t remember the last time she’d called my dad by his full name.

“Fine! Do whatever you want. I don’t care.”

I darted from the kitchen window, across the yard. I took the porch steps two at a time, racing the front door. I had to try and talk to them. I had to let them know they didn’t have to worry about me. I would go inside, and everything would be okay. I’d find a way to make it okay.  This was my family. And they needed my help.

You can’t, Sehun whispered in my head.

Can’t what? Stop telling me what I can do and can’t do.

 I reached out, preparing to feel the cool touch of smooth, hard metal just like I had a thousand times before. But when I grabbed the doorknob and tried to turn it, nothing happened.

What the—?

I tried again. Then again. I was locked out.

“I hate this stupid house!” I lashed out, trying to kick the door in.

Still nothing. No matter what I did or how much I pushed and shoved and rammed my body into the door, it wouldn’t budge.

“I hate it I hate it I hate it!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, the words burning my throat like hot coals. After a minute, I collapsed on the porch stairs, breathing hard. I was so angry that tiny wisps of steam were rolling off my arms and back. I was literally on fire.

Sehun slowly made his way up the steps. “Feel better?”

I’ve got to go inside.

You CAN’T.

“That’s crazy!” I screamed. “Why not?” I spun back around, jumped up, and tried the door all over again. Yelled for someone—anyone—to please, please, please let me in.

“You’re not ready, Yewon. Not yet.”

“What do you mean, not yet?” I snapped. “I went to Jongin’s party. Why can’t I go home? Look, I’m focusing.” I squinted at the door and concentrated as hard as I could.

“I’m focused. None of this makes any sense.”

Sehun spoke quietly. “It doesn’t have to, Angel.”

Younghyun darted right past me then, pulling the front door open with one quick turn, no big deal. I tried to sneak in. Tried to shove my foot in the opening. Anything to get inside. But the door slammed shut in my face.

Not welcome.

I sank to my knees, resting my head against one of the windows on either side of the front door. They were yelling again. Mom’s voice was booming through the house loud and clear, and I could hear Mogu barking his head off. I banged on my thighs with my fists. “I’m right here! Stop it, you two! Stop fighting!”

I glanced through the window. Inside, things looked the same as always. The same hardwood floors; the same closets; the same cabinet in the dining room; the same big comfy couches peeking out from the living room ; the same shelves and shelves and shelves of books.

But there was nothing I could do. Nothing but watch my sweet, once-perfect family fall apart around me. I squeezed my eyes shut and clunked my forehead against the glass.

I hate this. I hate this so much. Everything is so unfair.

A tiny sniff suddenly caught my attention. Then a whine, followed by an excited sneeze. I looked up and felt myself melt into pieces.

There, staring at me through the window, his long, silky ears and kissable face just inches from my own, was Mogu.

This couldn’t be real. Those big brown eyes couldn’t possibly be looking at me. I spun around to check the street. There had to be a squirrel, or a cat, or some other animal that must have caught his attention. A jogger, maybe? Or a stray Frisbee from Mr. Woo’s front yard? But nothing stood out. Nothing seemed to be moving at all.

Well, that’s weird.

I turned back to the window, and there was Mogu, still sitting in the exact same spot as before and still looking right at me. He hadn’t budged an inch. His bright white chest was all puffed out, and his head was cocked curiously to the side. He sniffed the air and let out a deep, uncertain woof.

“Hey there, handsome boy,” I whispered.

He tilted his head again in that unbelievably cute way dogs do when they’re like, huh? , and I watched as his tail began to thump gently on the floor.

This is not even a little bit possible.

I couldn’t help myself, and slowly reached out my hand toward the glass.

He jumped back and began to bark.

“Shh!” I said. “Quiet!”

His ears perked up the second the word left my mouth. 

“Good boy,” I said, my eyes locked on his sweet face. “Come on, boy. Come one.” I reached toward him a second time. Let my hand come to rest on the window.

Mogu went still. His tail stopped thumping and he leaned in cautiously for another sniff.

“Mogu?” I searched his eyes. But there was no recognition. There was nothing.

He can’t see me. Who am I kidding?

“I’m sorry,” Sehun said softly from the porch stairs. “I really am.”

My hand fell back to my side. And I began to cry.

“I’m so stupid,” I said. “You were right. I’m just stuck here forever and ever, through the rest of this lame eternity, without any family, or any friends—“

“Um, thanks,” interrupted Sehun.

“—or boyfriend, or even my dog—“

“Yewon, wait—“

“—until, like, my soul disintegrates or the universe explodes—“

“Yewon, look—“

“—or whichever awful thing comes first—“

“God, will you LOOK?”

“Huh?” I looked up.

Mogu was scratching the window. Right where my hand had been.

“Oh my god,” I whispered. I couldn’t believe it. It was the only trick we’d ever managed to teach him.

He’s trying to shake.

Tears began spilling down my cheeks and I let out a giant laugh. “You crazy dog, you CAN see me!” For a moment, all of the anger inside me melted away. I jumped up, clapping my hands and laughing my head off while Mogu started barking and baying and spinning in circles on the other side of the glass.

“Good boy!” I cried. “Good boy!”

He responded by leaping up and furiously trying to the window.

Sehun shook his head. “I’ll be damned. Never seen anything like that.”

“Mogu, no barking!” I heard Dad yell from the living room. “Who’s at the door?”

“It’s me!” I cried out. “Dad, it’s ME!”

He walked up to the door and I heard the clicking of the lock. Suddenly, he was there.

Dad.

We were face-to-face.

I reached out, but my hand passed right through him.

No, please. Please see me. I’m here.

He shivered a little and pulled his sweater tighter around his shoulders. But Mogu seized his chance, diving forward through the open door, and started to cover me with doggy kisses. I couldn’t get enough. I’d never wanted to be covered in dog drool so badly.

“Mogu, stop it.” Dad grabbed his collar and tried to pull him back inside, away from me. I could see by the look on his face that he was a little freaked out. Something was off. He wasn’t sure what.

Before I could reach him, before I could make him see, he took a step back through the front door. I felt the old anger and resentment bubbling back up.

“Dad, Dad, Dad, don’t—“

“Come on, Mogu. Let’s get your breakfast.”

“Stop it! Stay with me!” It wasn’t fair. I just wanted to go inside. Why the hell couldn’t I go inside?! I took a step forward, and Mogu began to bark again.

“What’s gotten into you?” said Dad. “Stop it. Stop it right now.”

He didn’t budge. He didn’t want to leave me.

“Kang Mogu, get inside this minute.” Dad pointed sternly into the living room.

He let out a long, high-pitched whine like he knew he was in trouble, and looked up at me for support. He didn’t understand why I couldn’t come inside too. I wished somebody could’ve explained it to both of us.

“It’s okay, Mogu,” I said softly. “Go inside. Go with Dad.” I kneeled down. Took his face in my hands and  covered him with kisses. “At least this is something,” I said. “At least we have something.” Then I pushed him inside.

Dad closed the door right behind him, locking me out for good. I stared at him through the chilly glass.

“I hate this.”

“Don’t we all,” said Sehun. “Don’t we all.”

Suddenly, the sound of the garage door opening caught my attention. “I’m going to the hospital,” I heard Mom say from inside. Her tone wasn’t friendly. Not even a tiny bit.

No, Mom. Don’t go.

I wiped my face, jumped to my feet, and flew down the front stairs. If anyone was leaving this house, they’d have to run me down first. I tore around the edge of the house.

“Mom!” I yelled. “Don’t go!”

She put the key in ignition, started the car, and backed right out of the driveway. I watched her face as she checked for oncoming traffic, turned right, and sped away down our block. Like she couldn’t get away fast enough.

But I was sick of being left behind. So I started walking toward the street. I started jogging. Then I was running, full force, as fast as my legs would let me go.

Yewon, what the hell are you doing?

Following her, what’s it look like?

Sehun was instantly by my side. He grabbed my hand.

Hold on.

Seconds later, my feet smashed into the concrete walkway of Seoul Medical University. I went flying backward twenty feet, straight into a hedge.

“Ugh,” I groaned, once the air had finally crawled back into my lungs. “That really hurt.”

“Seven and a half,” said Sehun. “Nice height, good distance, but automatic three-point deduction for the sloppy landing. “

“Give me a break.” I rubbed my bruised knees. “It’s foggy. Bad visibility. And I’d like to see you try that in a dress. I demand a recount.”

“Now, now, let’s not get greedy. You’re lucky I gave you the extra half point.”

He pulled me up, laughing. I dusted myself off and limped over to the bench. Then we waited.

Fifteen minutes later, I finally saw Mom’s old Volkswagen coming down the road. She put on her headlights, turned left and parked in a spot not too far away from the hospital entrance. I stood up as she walked towards me.

Mom, I’m here.

I reached out to touch her, but just like with Dad, my hand passed right through her. She kept walking. So I followed. I followed her through the automatic sliding doors into the ER, down the hallway that smelled like plastic and alcohol, and into the open elevator. She hit the button for the fourth floor and leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes. I finally got a good look at her.

Her hair was messy. Permanent dark circle had chiselled themselves under her eyes, and she looked thinner. But she was still so beautiful. I reached over and tried to hold her hand.

Mom, it’s me.

She pulled away, slipping her hand into her coat’s pocket. The elevator came to a stop. Ting-ed twice. Doors opened.

Sehun and I followed her down another fluorescent hallway and through a pair of swinging doors. We passed the intensive care unit and finally made a left into the cardiology wing.

I shivered and felt my stomach tense. The last time I’d come through here was on a stretcher. Mom had been holding my hand. Even though I was already gone.

We took another left and arrived at her office door. She rummaged through her pocket, pulled out a set of keys, and fiddled with the knob. Sehun and I followed her inside, even though we couldn’t see much, since the room was totally dark. She shut the door behind us, locking us in.

Wait, why did she lock it?

Then she flipped on the light. And I gasped out loud.

It was like a bomb had gone off, The room was a total disaster. Covered wall-to-wall, floor to ceiling with papers.  Newspaper clippings. X-rays. Photographs. Journal entries. Dozens and dozens of  notebooks. There wasn’t a molecule white space anywhere.

What is all this stuff?

Maybe she’s got a new hobby? Sehun joked.

I didn’t laugh, because I had a feeling she was on to something. I ran my hands along the messy, collaged walls, skimming the headlines.

TEEN SUFFERS MASSIVE CORONARY.
LOCAL GIRL, 17, DEAD FROM WEAKENED HEART—
COULD YOUR CHILDREN BE AT RISK?

Then I got it. Mom did have a new hobby. And the new hobby was me.

Even more framed articles and scattered clippings lined the walls, along with several magazine covers featuring my face front and center.

All of these are about ME?

I didn’t know what to say.

“Hey, look,” said Sehun. “You’re famous.”

I walked over to Mom, who’d sat down at her desk. Watched her as she riffled through stacks and stacks of papers, sometimes pausing to cut out articles, sometimes pulling a reference book from the messy, dusty shelves to look something up. She scribbled endless notes into notebook after notebook—questions and theories and stories she’s discovered in all of her research.

I’d never seen her like this before. She was like some weird, alternate version of herself. Driven crazy by what the medical facts couldn’t possibly explain. Dad was right. She was obsessed. She couldn’t stop until she solved the puzzle.

Oh Mom, it’s just a broken heart.

I curled up on her back leather couch, the one where Younghyun and I used to make paper fortune tellers from Mom’s notebook scraps and then read each other’s futures out loud. Two kids. One pet, a goldfish named Nana. You’ll live in a mansion. You’ll be an astronaut.

But we never could have predicted this. Not in a million years.

Seeing her like this made my chest ache. I’d messed so much up for so many people. Still, in a way, seeing how much she cared made me love her even more. Watching how wrapped she’d become in answering the biggest mystery of her entire career: Me.

The phone rang. She picked it up.

“Yes?” She paused. “Honey, I know…I’m sorry too.”

I sat up.

It’s Dad. They’re making up.

“Okay,” Mom said. “Good. I’ll be there soon.”

She’s going home, she’s going home, she’s going home!

I jumped up. I was a little kid on Christmas morning.

Mom finished typing an e-mail, packed up her bag, turned off the light, and locked her office door. We followed her out to the parking lot and climbed into the backseat. I was so glad to get out of there.

“I can’t believe you’re making me ride this old thing,” Sehun grumbled. “I’ll be laughingstock of heaven if anyone finds out. Zooming is so much more efficient.”

I giggled. It was fun watching him get annoyed.

We sped down the road and Mom turned the radio. Beatles.

“OhmigodIlovethissong!” I cried, feeling more hopeful than I ever had since leaving Slice. “Come on, Mom, turn it up!” I started singing at the top of my lungs. “One day, you'll look. To see I've gone. But tomorrow may rain, so I'll follow the sun~”

“Wow. My hearing will never be the same.” Sehun remarked. “Remind me to get you singing lessons for your next birthday.”

“Oh, right,” I scoffed. “Like you’re SO much better.”

He raised his eyebrow. “Observe the master.” Then he threw his head back and started totally rocking out.

“And now the time has come. And so, my love, I must go. And though I lose a friend. In the end you will know. Oh-oh-oh~”

The crazy thing was, Sehun was good. Like, really, really, good. I was thoroughly impressed. “Dude! You should try out for The Voice!”

He smiled and threw me an invisible microphone. “Do we dare try to harmonize?”

I did my best, but after about five seconds of screeching, the two of us broke down into hysterical laughter. So what if he’d discovered my flaw. Laughing felt good. No, it felt amazing.

Everything’s okay now. It’s going to be okay.

Sehun smiled at me. I smiled back.

Yewon? I heard him whisper. Do you remember—

“Hey!” I cried out as a local market went flying by.

I glanced back over my shoulder, confused. “Mom, what are you doing? You missed your turn.”

Is he taking a new way home?  Weird.

We sped down the highway, passing the familiar street after familiar street.

Maybe she’s stopping somewhere to buy food or something?

We hit a red light, and Mom put on her headlights.

“Mom, why are you turning here?”

She waited for two cars to pass, then made a quick left, into the parking lot of the Crystal Hotel.

What’s at the Crystal?

She pulled into a spot, shifted the car into park, and shut off the ignition. She unbuckled her seat belt and climbed out.

What the hell is she doing?

Sehun didn’t venture a guess.  He was just as clueless as me.

We followed Mom through the hotel lobby with the friendly bellhops and the big chandeliers and the fake palm trees. We followed her into the elevator and rode up with her to the eleventh floor.

Eleven, my lucky number.

We followed her down the long, carpeted hallway. Until she stopped in front of room 1108. She knocked twice. I heard someone undo the lock from the other side. The door opened.

It was a man.

I froze.

No.

Dark and a slight curly hair. Deep brown eyes.

No.

“Gayoung-ah.”

“Dohwan-ah.”

Mr. Woo?

I couldn’t breathe. My teacher. My neighbour. My father’s best friend.

Mom dropped her bag. Removed her coat. Before I realized what was happening, she had broken down, weeping. A little bit at first, then more, until she had melted one hundred percent into his arms.

No, please. Please no.

“Unbelievable,” whispered Sehun.

Oh my god, I’m going to be sick.

And they were hugging.

And they were kissing.

And then I bolted down the hallway and didn’t look back.

It's an update! The chapter is a bit long because I think the previous chapters were a bit short. If you noticed I used Gayoung and Minjae as Yewon's parents, and Dohwan as her teacher and also the affair of her mother. I've been a huge fan of these trio as I watched them in the Kdrama, The Great Seducer/Tempted. Minjae's character in there was sooo great, I like how he still continues to love Gayoung even though he was being pushed away. And Gayoung with her y attitude was also great! Oh, if you haven't watched it yet, you should! Anyways, hope you enjoy this update and don't forget to leave a comment, subscribe, and maybe upvote! Thank you very much! <3