I can’t think why my mother is too happy to see my diploma as I hand it to her - framed and furnished by the side with my medal. She becomes even more excited when I also pass to her the plaque for special awardee. Most unusual of all is the fact that she doesn’t try to hide the pride in her face - in my presence.

My parents have never been vocal on compliments, which, I believe, is the reason why I’ve always strived to be the best. They don’t praise me for any exemplary work I’d manage to achieve, but neither do they (excessively) castigate me for my mishaps. But then I hate to risk having them resent my existence and contend with disappointment, so I always aim for the best.

She doesn’t say more so I bow a little and turn around. I am exiting the third floor reception hall to go to my room when she stalls me.

“How are your college applications?”

My heart races. I compose my expression before facing her again. The white dress lining her torso down to her knees is striking against the gray settee she is settled in. My mother rarely dresses in casual; it’s safe to assume she’s always readied herself in case she needs to attend an urgent meeting or when she suddenly comes across important people with whom she’s already acquainted with. It must feel stiff being in the corporate world. I wonder if Sojin thinks the same towards her own parents and brother.

Sojin. College applications. Right. My mother is asking me a question. I clear my throat. “I’m good. I have five interviews in line.”

She nods. “Where?”

“Two local universities. Three overseas.”

She nods again. “Perhaps you can tell us more about it over dinner, what do you say?”

I panic at once with her proposal. I don’t know what else to tell them. I don’t think I want to elaborate anything, especially the part where I’m still hoping to scoop information on where Sojin is enrolling.

It’s been three weeks since I’d last seen her. We messaged each other exactly four times from that day onwards (and only because I couldn’t seem to reach her through call). And on all occasions was I the one who messaged her first, until the conversation wound down to college applications and then she’d start a new topic and not reply again when I answered. How very elusive she was and still is. Once, a few days ago, I determined to finally tell her how I wanted to also consider which university she’ll be enrolling. But she only replied with a smiley with its tongue rolled out.

This morning I tried calling her. I was already able to ring the other end but she still wasn’t answering. And now, seven hours later, she still hasn’t responded.

“You seem really off today, Luhan.”

I twitch. “Huh?”

My mother rises from her seat and approaches me, the framed diploma and medal as well as the plaque all in one hand. “You need to tell me something?”

“No,” I say, chuckling. “I’m sorry; it must be the coat and tie choking me.” I gesture my own outfit and smile. I had a preliminary screening earlier for an offer from one of the local universities, one of the two I told her about and the same one I’m scheduled for a final interview tomorrow.

She nods only once. She’s skeptical.

“Remember, I’m not used to these kinds of clothing anymore,” I say to reassure her. And it’s true. Back in elementary, I used to frequently wear coats and ties and tuxedos and ticktacks to dinner parties I obviously had no choice but to attend to. I can’t remember what those parties were about, but I knew it had something to do with my parents and their business partners whom they, too, didn’t have a choice but to entertain in the name of courtesy.

My mother loops her arm around mine and tows me towards the elevator. “Yes, I know. But I’m glad you’re dressed to kill.”

I see my brows furrow a little on the mirrored panels as they seal. “Where are we going?”

“I was thinking that you accompany me to this jewelry store I’ve been itching to visit since yesterday.”

Seriously. “Really? Where’s that?”

“Same building,” she says, “but we go through an annex from this hotel to an aisle of stores.”

“Okay.” She seems like she’s already visited the place, though.

“I looked it over on the city map of stores,” she says suddenly. She must have detected the skepticism in my tone. As the elevator dings and we stroll out, I remember what Eunjin told me in Lemon Hospital after Sojin championed the IAC; of how easy it is for Sojin to read people she deeply cares about. Maybe Eunjin was right, but maybe I am really just too easy to decipher.

I shrug it off and my mother to the jewelry store she was talking about. Unlike Sojin who claims she’s plagued with wanderlust, I am quite the opposite. So despite having left my apartment and lived in the hotel for three weeks already, I am still very unfamiliar with the neighboring places. The store’s classy ambiance though, clearly smells and tastes of extravagance.

Two people, a man and a woman (a couple, I suspect) are huddled over one glass enclosure. The man seems to be offering the woman something, to which the woman is being vocally hesitant to accept. Body language-wise, however, she seems interested enough.

I scan the rest of the store. There isn’t any other guest, and soon the couple leaves as well, a shimmering diamond pendant now gracing the woman’s neck. Told you she’s interested.

I think we spend two full hours inside before my mother finally decides which stone she wants as a pendant to this golden necklace she picked earlier. I don’t understand her meticulousness; to me, they all look the same. She’s handing her card to the lady by the counter when a piece of jewelry catches my attention. I lean over the glass panel and squint my eyes. The silver lace is a little shorter than that of a necklace. It must be a bracelet.

I study the pendant more thoroughly until I’m sure I’ve seen the same one. I don’t know when or where, but I’m certain I’ve seen it somewhere.

“Luhan.” I swivel around. My mother is clutching a small, black, velvety pouch in addition to all the other stuff (my diploma, medal and plaque) she’s holding. “Fancy anything?”

I shake my head. “I think I’ve gone dizzy staring at the same set of jewelry for two hours.”

She frowns before glancing at her watch. “It’s already six? We better go.”

I’m not given a chance to ask where as she tugs me out of the store and leads me through another carpeted corridor. When we come out, I see an aisle of fine dining restaurants. The twilight sky is the only proof that we are actually already outdoors.

I see my father’s car parked along the sidewalk to one restaurant. It must be where we are headed. My palms instantly turn sweaty. I honestly don’t know how or what to tell them when they begin their interrogation. I wish I could teleport.

But my mother is already walking me inside the revolving doors before I can muster the will to ditch them. She slips her hand into mine and pauses a while by the counter. A butler steps out and bows. He proceeds to lead us to where I suspect my father is waiting. Why does this feel like I’m heading for a hearing rather than a simple dinner with my family? But then again, nothing is ever simple with my parents.

“You seem nervous,” my mother remarks as we are being ushered into the private cubicles. She glances my way when it takes more than five seconds before I find my voice.

“Do I?”

“Your palms are practically dripping, Luhan.”

I slide free from her touch at last. “Sorry.” I fall back a few steps, haul out a handkerchief from my coat (the same one I used earlier to wipe buckets of sweat minutes before my screening) and attempt to dry my palms. But my skin moistens as soon as I’ve dried them. Aw, man.

My heart leaps when the butler finally pauses before a pair of tall, wooden double doors. I’m gonna be thrown into a dungeon, I just know it. No, into a hungry den of lions. I can already hear them growling from inside, eager to tear apart my limbs and feast on my flesh and slurp my blood.

“Sir?”

I shake my imaginations off and meet the butler’s look of concern. “Sorry, I’m coming.” I step beside my mother. I don’t even bother to look at her anymore. I don’t want to know what she has seen in my face.

The wooden doors moan in protest when they are pushed open. It is the intricate glow of chandeliers that first catches my attention. And then the bloody red carpet sheathing the entire floor. And then the long dining table. And finally the people - not person but people - settled along each opposing side.

I think my intestines just exploded. If it isn’t the glint of recognition in the eyes of Sojin’s father or the waft of relief in the smile of Sojin’s mother that rendered me paralyzed, then it’s surely the undeniable frolic in the smirk of Sojin’s very own brother, Eunjin.

Sojin’s mother is the first to relinquish her seat and greet us. She kisses my cheek and then hugs my mother. Eunjin and his father also rise. His father shakes my hand and bows before my mother. When they are settled back in their seats, Eunjin shakes my hand once and pulls me in for a half hug. He slams on my back twice, muttering, “Sorry, man” (without sounding sorry at all) before pulling away and replacing his seat.

Beside me, my father fetches my mother and pulls her chair for her. I remain standing on the edge of the dining table. To my left, confused and pleading me to sit down, are my parents. To my right, amused and interested, are Sojin’s parents and brother.

But Sojin is nowhere in sight. Is she yet to arrive? Are we supposed to be waiting for her? Is this why she hasn’t contacted me the entire day at all? Is she even coming over? What, on freakin mother earth, are we all doing here?

“Luhan, honey -“ my mother doesn’t call me endearments so it must be Sojin’s mother who has spoken. “You must be very confused right now -“

“Where’s Sojin?” I can’t help the panicked edge to my voice. I don’t care.

“She’s just -“ my mother begins, but is interrupted by Eunjin.

“She already left.”

“What?”

“About half an hour ago or something.”

“Luhan,” my mother tries again, “it’s probably best if you -“

“Where did she go?”

Eunjin shrugs. “I thought she told you.”

“She didn’t… she never…” I press the hollows on my forehead. “Where is she headed?”

But Eunjin is frowning at his phone. “Oh, look, she just boarded her plane.” He lifts the screen for everyone to see. “Asked me to wish her a safe flight.”

Flight!? She’s flying - what the hell?

Without second thoughts, I dash out of the restaurant and hail the first cab I see. “Airport,” I demand as I skid inside. “And as quickly as you can, Sir, please.”

The metropolis must feel the urgency brewi