Yaebin fiddles with a silver tray of sliced fruit, reordering each piece in a nervous attempt to clear her mind and body of the anxiety bubbling around inside of her. Children are one thing – She feels at home with their innocence and wide-eyed sense of wonder about the world. They way judgement doesn't exist in their minds is comforting to her – but the prospect of greeting and mingling with an entire classroom of parents, all looking at her with a critical eye, absolutely terrifies her.

She wipes her sweaty palms on a napkin and lets out a slow, shaky breath.

A few chimes play over the intercom system in the ceiling of the classroom before Principal Freeman’s voice echoes loudly.

“All faculty and staff, please report to the auditorium for a brief meeting before open house begins.”

Yaebin grabs her oversized cardigan from the back of her desk chair and pulls it over her arms, the wine-colored fabric falling loosely around her waist. It’s warm outside, the summer sun blazing down even as the evening creeps in, but the air conditioning is blasting and, paired with her current nerves and small stature, Yaebin can’t help but shiver a little. She pulls her sweater close to her chest and walks out into the hallway toward the assembly.

When Yaebin arrives at the auditorium, she scans the room to see if she recognizes any familiar faces. Jonathan is on stage, fumbling with a microphone stand. In the far left corner, she sees Eunwoo sitting in one of the greyish-blue fold out chairs with her arms crossed over her chest; she looks as excited as Yaebin feels about the entire evening. But no matter how much she searches, she doesn’t seem to find the one person she’s anticipated seeing.

With a sigh, Yaebin hides in the shadows and slumps into a seat as far back in the auditorium as she can. Jonathan begins his welcome speech, his voice booming through the room, but the words are lost on Yaebin. Squinting in the darkness, she continues to try and find Minkyung, but it quickly becomes evident that she’s simply not there. Yaebin hadn’t thought about the possibility that she, just maybe, isn’t a teacher at all…

Lost in her own thoughts, Yaebin doesn’t even realize Jonathan has finished talking until her peers rise from their seats and make their way to the exits on either side of the room. She quietly shuffles back to her classroom and waits for people to arrive.

Within the first twenty minutes, she meets many parents, as well as some of her new students who came along begrudgingly. She greets each of them with a warm smile and a friendly hello, but by the end of the night, the fakeness of it all wears on Yaebin. By the time Mark Tuan saunters into her classroom and introduces himself by getting way too close for her comfort, Yaebin all but wants to scream.

“Are you into art and stuff?” Mark asks, pointing toward the far left end of the classroom where Yaebin has pinned numerous prints and photographs, as well as a few paintings from her own collection. They’re mostly abstract, of various shapes and colors but no recognizable subject; she’d only put them up to encourage her students’ creativity and teach them that conforming to the “rules” isn’t always required to make something beautiful.

“Yes,” Yaebin responds. “I mean, I think all subjects are important of course, but the arts are vital for early childhood developme-“

“I couldn’t disagree with you more,” Mark grunts. “My son should focus on science and sports. Grow up to do what he’s supposed to do. Not draw pretty butterflies and glue sparkles on them.”

“If I may,” a voice interrupts, “I think the artwork Miss Kang has here is absolutely stunning.”

Despite having only heard it once before, Yaebin could recognize the voice anywhere. She turns on her black heels to face Minkyung, who’s analyzing the canvas in front of her with sincere interest.

“The blocks of color are reminiscent of Matisse,” Minkyung notices, reaching out to run a red-painted fingernail over the dried paint, “but the actual composition is slightly more modern. There’s a wonderful mixture of methods here that a novice wouldn’t be able to blend so seamlessly.” She turns to face Yaebin.

There may be a dozen other people in the classroom with them, but to Yaebin, the rest of the world fades away. They’re close enough for the first time that Yaebin can see the color of Minkyung’s eyes.

“Do you know the artist?” Minkyung asks, the corners of curled up into the slightest smile. Yaebin can’t help but stare at her lips, stained a lighter yet similar shade as the blouse from a few days before – Minkyung Red. Tonight, however, she wears a white button up with the sleeves rolled to her elbows and black suspenders tightened over her shoulers. A silver chain rests around her neck with a small letter X charm that falls against her sternum; Yaebin wonders for a moment why and what exactly she would ever need a letter X around her neck for. 

“I’m the artist,” Yaebin confesses. She feigns confidence, raising her jaw slightly and breathing slowly and evenly. That is, until Minkyung takes a small step forward, inching just a bit closer to Yaebin.

Out of the corner of her eye, Yaebin swears she sees Mark scowl before walking away.

“Well, Miss Kang, you have some real talent,” Minkyung compliments. “I can say with total confidence that my daughter will be in good hands with you as her teacher.” She reaches out and touches Yaebin’s elbow softly, and the contact alone makes Yaebin want the floor to open up and swallow her whole right then and there; she wants it and fears it all the same.

With Minkyung close, Yaebin can faintly smell the scent of her perfume. It’s flowery and sweet with the faintest tinge of lilac and honey. Working at the makeup department of Nordstrom’s as a teenager has made Yaebin a perfume connoisseur of sorts, and she finds Minkyung’s choice a perfect fit: regal, sophisticated, and above all else it smells so damn good.

“Do you enjoy....art, Mrs. Kim?” Yaebin eventually manages to ask, while kicking herself, because obviously she enjoys art after she just went on and on about her paintings on the walls. 

Smooth Kang.

The taller woman laughs, low and infectious. “Minkyung, please. I haven’t been Mrs. Kim in years.”

Yaebin is absolutely mortified by the little squeak that bubbles up .

“I enjoy a lot of things,” Minkyung adds. The tone is light, borders on flirtatious.

But that certainly can’t be, Yaebin thinks, because there’s no way someone like her could appeal to someone like Minkyung.

“W-well, I really hope I live up to your expectations.” A beat. “As a-a teacher,” Yaebin stutters. “For your daughter. I hope I-“

“Have a wonderful evening, Miss Kang,” Minkyung interrupts. She looks over at one of Yaebin’s paintings once more before pulling her car keys from the pocket of her purse. As quickly as she’s arrived, Minkyung is gone, lost in the crowds of the open house, and Yaebin is a mess in her wake.