I studied her face as she gracefully moved her fingers on the piano keys. Dark brown eyes, naturally long eyelashes, bangs that covered most of her forehead, and that small smile that was pasted on her face whenever she played the piano. Those features of hers, I love.

“Seungho-ssi, it’s your turn,” She instructed as she stopped playing the sorrowful but sweet melody. “Start playing from the pick up to measure 7.”

I took a good look at the music sheet before putting my hand on the keys. At that time, I took notice of her fingernails. So she cut them again, huh? She must take these lessons seriously. I felt pretty ashamed then for not paying attention. In fact, I began messing up.

“Seungho-ssi,” She said as she stopped the tapping of her fingers. It was a habit of hers, for she did that to keep beat and to match time. “I know you really despise playing piano and that you don’t look forward to my lessons, but can’t you try to enjoy playing piano? That way, these lessons won’t be that dreadful.  Please?” She begged, clasping her hands together. “For me?”

“Oh, come on, Minhee-ah, it’s not like I hate your lessons. You know that.”

It’s true. I don’t hate your lessons. In fact, I look forward to them. Because that's my only excuse to see you.  

“But you hate playing the piano, which is why I’m here.”

It’s true. I hate the piano and I hate playing it. In fact, I hate everything about it. But, I guess I’ll have to like it little by little since you said so. Because if it’s for you, I would do anything.