It has been a week since I stepped my foot into Oh Couture as Mr. Oh’s secretary. It was a hustle, having to work under a demanding boss. There were countless moments I felt livid at the snide and sharply critical remarks by Mr. Oh, reproaching me for my incapability. There were also several times I received subtle warm gestures from him which had my heart palpitate unnaturally.

         Almost every day for the past week, I had left the office more than an hour after my official working hours in courtesy of Mr. Oh’s overtime habits. By the time I reach home and wash up, I have barely five hours of sleep. I felt more lethargic, but I still look forward to reporting to Mr. Oh every morning as I rise from bed.

         Albeit having spent a full week with Mr. Oh, I still could not figure him out. He was like a tightly closed book with feelings all bottled up. At times, it made me exceptionally frustrated and at other times, it made me genuinely upset.

         I sighed, fishing out my diary from my bag and flipped through the pages.

         Day four of work, extremely furious and embarrassed at myself. I had it written on a page with deep pen marks.

         I chuckled, remembering the eventful day where I accidentally spilt coffee on a rare fabric piece obtained for apparel tests. Mr. Oh hollered at me in front of the Operations department in the meeting room and at that point of time, I was so exasperated at myself that I stormed off.

         Day seven of work and I still have no updates on the new Autumn release, I recalled scribbling this anxiously. The pressure Father and Ms. Lee is giving me is stressing me out.

         As I read my inner thoughts I wrote on my diary, I felt nothing but guilt churning in the very pit of my stomach. Even though Mr. Oh has not been treating me well in the office, he still trusted me wholeheartedly as an employee in the office. I felt immense culpability for the fact I was going to break his trust eventually. The image of his betrayed look made me feel exceptionally torn inside.

         Heaving out a heavy sigh, I forced myself out of my train of thoughts and changed into a peach blouse and a pair of light-washed denim jeans. I sat before my dressing table and put on some light makeup.

         “Hyejin,” Jihye greeted upon knocking on my door and entered. “Going out?”

         I gave her a small smile as I applied blusher on my cheeks. “It’s the weekend. I promised Mr. Oh I’ll have his groceries done,” I told her.

         Jihye nodded, seemingly in deep thoughts. “Are you coping well with the workload?” She asked, frowning. “I don’t have a good impression of Oh Sehun,  seeing how he has to rob you of your weekends for something he can do for himself.”

         I laughed, shaking my head. “It’s part of my responsibility. Besides, I’m the one who delayed this duty until the weekend. It’s on my part to blame,” I shrugged.

         “Look at you, all grown up,” Jihye ruffled my hair and peered at me with adoring eyes. “My little sister is no longer little!”

         I rolled my eyes and retorted, “I’m a working adult now! If I put aside my real motive, I can say I am very contented with my job.”

         Jihye scrutinized my foolish grin and glistening eyes with a concerned look. “Hyejin, are you falling for the chairperson, Oh Sehun?”

         I blinked at her question, caught off guard. I have never thought of questioning my feelings, furthermore validating it. Shaking my head, I laughed nervously. “Definitely not,” I told her, unconvinced myself.

         Jihye pressed her lips and gave me an intent look. “Hyejin, you know you can’t fall in love with him,” she pre-empted me. “Not with your current status and position. I don’t wish to see you heartbroken.”

         A bitter taste laced my tongue and my heart sank almost immediately. This was the consequence I was denying myself of. Not wishing to dive deeper into the topic, I gave Jihye a small smile. “Look at the time,” I said, glancing at my watch. “I got to go now. I’ll talk to you later!”

         Without further words, I grabbed my bag and left the house hastily with heavy feelings clouding my mind. I quickly did my groceries which consisted of basic ingredients and drove towards Mr. Oh’s apartment. As I punched in his password and stepped into his front yard, I was yet again mesmerized by the beauty of the plum blossoms grown.

         “Mother, if you see this, you will be over the moon,” I uttered, observing the pink petals. “You’ll never expect to smell the same sweet fragrance you love in here too.”

         “Young lady, why are you muttering to yourself?”

         I perked my ears at the sound of a breathy yet wise voice. Turning around, I was met with an aged woman in her late seventies. I glanced at her, perplexed by her identity. Nonetheless, I brushed it off. “I was admiring the plum blossoms,” I confessed, spreading a satisfied smile across my face. “It’s my late mother’s favourite flower.”

         The grandma’s lips formed into a shape of an ‘o’, peering at me with an indescribable look. “How do you know that they are plum blossoms and not cherry blossoms? Most people confuse the two species.”

         I chuckled and let out a sigh. “They’re both five-petaled flowers with similar hues, it’s not a wonder that people will confuse them. Mother taught me to close my eyes and sense. If I smell an intoxicating, sweet aroma as I walk through the blossoms, then they’re plums, not cherries.”

         I watched as the grandma smile, contented with my reply. “You’re right. Cherry blossoms have a more subdued aroma. If it’s not Sehun who taught me the difference, I will also confuse these trees as cherry blossoms.”

         I tilted my head, perplexed at the mention of Mr. Oh. “He planted these?”

         The grandma shook her head. “His foster mother planted these for him,” she told me. “I was overseas for long-term treatment and I could not take care of my grandson when his parents passed.”

         “Grandson?” I blinked, surprise evident on my face. Almost immediately, realization dawn upon me and I bowed formally. “Sorry, it didn’t cross my mind that you are Mr. Oh’s grandmother. I apologize for not greeting you earlier.”

         The grandma laughed. “I don’t see an issue with that. I probably looked too young to be his grandma!” She jested wittily. “I forgot to ask. Are you… his girlfriend?”

         I widened my eyes, shaking my head profusely. My heart palpitated in an inhumane speed and my hands started to get clammy. “No—”

         “She’s my secretary.”

         I adverted to the tall figure approaching us, recognizing him to be Mr. Oh. I gulped, scrutinizing his casual fit with a plain shirt and jeans which was a stark difference to his work attire. A warm fuzzy feeling crept up my heart at his attractiveness.

         “What are you waiting for? Bring the groceries in,” Mr. Oh told me with his usual cold demeanour.

         As I picked up the bags of groceries, his grandmother slapped my hands away and frowned at her grandson. “You imperious brat,” she reprimanded him. “Help her with the groceries! You’re a man, don’t embarrass me by making a lady do all the work.”

         I bite back a small laughter as I witness Mr. Oh gaping at his grandmother. Displeased, he grudgingly lifted the bags of groceries with ease and walked into his apartment. Locking arms with me, his grandmother gave me a sneaky smile and prompted me into the apartment.

         “Sehun,” Mr. Oh’s grandmother called while the latter placed the groceries in his refrigerator. “Bring this young lady— what’s your name?”

         “Bae Hyejin,” I told her.

         She nodded, laughing. “Bring Hyejin to your room and accompany her while I whip up some dishes for lunch.”

         Mr. Oh furrowed his eyebrows, giving his grandmother a look of absurdity at her request. “But I’m busy with work, grandma.”

         I smiled awkwardly, placing my hand on hers. “Mr. Oh has his things to do, I think I better not disturb him. Maybe I can help you out with the cooking?” I suggested.

         His grandmother shook her head and threw her grandson a dirty look. “It’s the weekends, why are you still thinking of work? Besides, I have a guest here,” she chided him with a look of disapproval.

         “But—”

         “It’s a demand, not a request,” she declared firmly.