The alarm bell made you fell on the floor. “Aish!” You shouted, but cupped your mouth when you realised your parents were probably still sleeping since it was only 7. Your school – wait no, new school – starts at 8 unlike your old school, the one where you could not stand watching Rae Hee and Hanuel giggling away. Especially when they were close to you, it hurt. It hurts you more than how the boys had hurt you.

It was hard getting you in your new school. You aren’t brainy , a requirement needed to enter the school. Good thing you came from a wealthy family. As you put on your ballet flats, you smelled something.

“UMMA! ARE YOU COOKING SOMETHING!?” you squealed.

You went stomping down the stairs. Your house was a decent one even though you were rich. Your parents don’t think it was necessary to spend the money on a huge mansion. Comfort. That’s all they wanted. When you reached the kitchen, you peeked at your mother. She was a beautiful woman and still is. You looked over your mother’s shoulder. She was making pancakes.

“I LOVE YOU UMMA!!!” You squealed again.

Your mother jumped and her finger touched the hot pan.

“IM SO SORRY! IM SO HYPER! OMO!!!”

She smiled at your childishness even though you are 17 already. She waved you away.

30 minutes later

“Enjoy your day at your new school, love,” she s