Krystal still is not used to sharing her things, or in this case, her personal space. Hence, why she lets out a scream when her eyes flutter open and immediately sees Myungsoo at the other end of the room that morning. She quickly covers with her hand, hoping that he won’t be awake and she is beyond grateful when the said guy only moves a little, but is still in a deep sleep. She stays still for a while, before gets up from her bed.

She heaves a sigh of relief, mentally scolding herself for forgetting that she is now sharing a room with another person. She has been taught to share things, to give and give and give, but come to think of it, she didn’t really practice it since she was the only child, and everything was hers. She didn’t need to share though she was taught to share, and everything has changed. What’s worse is that she has to share personal space with someone that hates her.

She tiptoes as she tries to minimize the sound she creates on her way out of the room. The floorboards creak every now and then and she bites her lower lip, suddenly feeling that the room has grown a few times larger. Her eyes never leave the guy as she drags her feet across, her heartbeat quickens under her chest. She has no idea why she really is terrified of him, but he has made it clear that he doesn’t like her and so she can only try to cause less trouble as possible.

She finally makes it out and she leans herself on the frame of the door, patting her arms in a proud manner, silently praising herself for successfully going out of the room without waking him up. She turns around, peeping at the figure that’s covered by a thin piece of blanket, making sure that he really is asleep. His hair is messy, though his face peaceful. She softens, thinking that it would be really nice if he actually has that expression on his face all the time. Shrugging, she quickly skips downstairs, not hearing the chuckle that slips from the figure a few second later.

Krystal is surprised to see Mr. Kim in the kitchen as she thought that the man would be away for days. She smiles warmly nevertheless to him who’s apparently having breakfast while reading the newspaper. “Mr. Kim,” she greets cheerfully. “Good morning!” She takes a seat across him before she wanders her eyes around, sensing that something—or someone—is missing. She looks at the plate of toasted breads and a mug of orange juice on the table. Curious, she looks up, only to find the man staring at her amusingly.

“Mr. Kim,” she begins. “I don’t mean to pry, but where is Mrs. Kim…?” she carefully asks, her voice low. She has noticed it from yesterday, the day when she arrived there, and though there are solid evidences (the pictures, three chairs in the kitchen, the house itself feels like it has a woman’s touch in it) that the said woman is there, she hasn’t seen her at all. In fact, when she watched Myungsoo hanging on clothes in front of the house from the window, she noticed that there weren’t any woman’s clothes at all.

“She’s not here anymore,” the man answers softly, folding the newspaper and places it on the table. He fixes his gaze on the confused-looking girl. “Passed away two years ago. cancer. That strong woman, battling with it for six long years. Can you believe it? She didn’t complain, just living her best life, better than the well. Until two years ago. Tough time. It was all bad and depressing, but Myungsoo had it worst,” he tells, his expression softens every second. “I hope you forgive him if he, you know, are hard to deal with.”

She feels bad, and immediately tears fill her eyes, making them glassy. “I’m sorry… I didn’t know…” she trails off, blinking the tears away. The man shrugs, chuckling when he notices the pools in her eyes.

“Don’t cry. It’s fine,” he assures her before he gets up to prepare a breakfast for her.

She stands up abruptly and makes her way to his side. Smiling sheepishly, she ask