ღ Chapter Fifteen ღ

My father and I…weren’t particular close, but I think I’ve already mentioned that before. It wasn’t that we didn’t like each other, we got along just fine. Growing up, my mother raised me a lot more than my father. After their divorce when I was in 6th grade, I stayed living with my father mainly because my mother was a journalist who covered a lot of international affairs and traveled a lot.

My dad knew that I was a girl with common sense, and more or less left me to my own good judgment. It was because of that that he let me study abroad in Beijing for high school. He was always willing to help me out financially, but I preferred to work for my own living.

Both of my parents have remarried since, and I have a new step mom, a new step dad, and a new step brother on my mom’s side.

Mom’s job had settled down in the last few years, and she was now firmly rooted in Seoul, doing investigative reporting for the Seoul Daily. I still tried to spend as much time with her as possible. Her side of the family was nice, modern and liberal, and I preferred them to my dad’s traditional and conservative family.

However, I was still obligated to Friday night dinners at least twice a month with my dad,  step-mom, and my scary grandmother. I swear my grandmother on my dad’s side is the devil in disguise. She’s prissy and prim, and I think she’s always been disappointed in me.

What for? I have no idea. Maybe it was because I was too much like my mother; I was too wild, too free. She was always critical of me, and nothing I did ever seemed good enough.

When I told her about the internship that I had landed, she only casually raised an eyebrow. “J&C Enterprise? That’s an impressive start,” she said.

I wanted to smack her. But no, hitting old people is generally looked down in this society.

“How old are you this year, Jae-in ah?” she asked over a bowl of rice.

“I’m…ah… 23 (Korean age, Jaein’s birthday is in December 1990), halmeoni (grandmother),” I replied.

“23 already? And still single? Aigo, too much like your mother, too careless and free spirited.”

And there she goes, criticizing me yet again.

“Yes, grandmother,” I replied. It was often better to humor her than to fight her.

Across the table, my father and step mother ate in silence, observing us.

“My friend’s grandson is 25 this year, you know, and his family owns the