I couldn't take his quietness any longer, it was more than awkward. It was like he was trying to be distant with me.

"What's the matter with you?" I asked. "You've been silent." I ran my hand down his arm reassuringly, he should confess anything that had been troubling him to me.

There was a sudden transformation in the atmosphere which was once less rigorous. He lowered his head in something that confused me greatly. Was he ashamed? No one here of higher rank, besides myself, was scolding him. I would never even dare myself to, I loved him with all of my heart.

"I think we weren't meant to be," his words were hushed.

"Are you playing games? You just confessed to me that we were perfect."

"You'll find out when you mature." Mature? I was a wise, adult that would soon be the ruler of this man and many other. "How dare you speak down to me, do you even know who I am?""Yes, that's why I could never love a pathetic, greedy, like you. Goodbye." His last words were whisked away into the air, leaving a visible cloud. My heart wrenched multiple times. I found myself in tears for him, longing him for several agonizing years.

I closed the back cover of the novel in shock.
"What an ," I muttered. "What type of guy calls a girl out like that?" Another voice in the back of my mind reasoned with me that she spoke lowly of him anyways, so she deserved it. Maybe someone else should have said it, but fate- the author- chose him instead. She left us to ponder what could happen, the princess committing suicide, the man could've been cheating, who knows.
"Sweety, dinner is ready. Come before it gets cold," my mother spoke from the kitchen.
"Be there in a second."
I slightly tossed the book on my bed, where the colors of the bedspread almost camouflaged it completely. The stairs raced under my feet, something my mother always told me not to do. Taking a sharp right turn led me into the scorching lights of the kitchen where my mother was setting out the table.
"Sit, sit, sit," mother motioned me to the chair in front of her. "Dohee!" she called for my younger sister. She was probably the only person that I would risk anything for. Of course we had our days of hatred for one another, but our strong bond and love resurfaced and shadowed out the anger. I could never stay upset towards her for more than a day, besides, I was always taught to forgive.
"Yes, mom?" my sister said as she was hoping down the stairs. At the moment the food and her eyes met, she dashed the rest of the way down the stairs- which I warned her multiple times not to do- and to the chair across from me. My mother sat at the head of the table.
"Did you hear anything about dad?" I inquired before shoving a chopstick-full of Jjajjamyeon in my mouth.
"Aiish, why do you eat like that?" She mumbled to herself while wiping some of the black bean paste sauce off of the corner of my lips. I knew it, my sister realized after a while that she was avoiding the question.
Dohee, after swallowing and knowing to not speak with full, took the opportunity to ask what I was thinking, "Why are you ignoring Unnie's question?"
"Dohee, don't eat with your mouth full," my mother lightly scolded her. "It's not polite." My little sister rolled her eyes which she was prone to, usually receiving multiple warnings before anything serious happened. Her eyes were a blessing and a curse. When they crescent with her contagious grin, they were harmless but for evil, she will use them upon her victim allow her some type of leverage; most likely begging my mother for another twenty dollars that she spent on posters. I knew that she had an addiction with music but I didn't dare to disturb her enticing fantasy.
I glanced to my sister as a signal that I didn't want to hear my answer anymore. For the rest of the meal, Dohee was twirling the remaining Jjajjamyeon in the bowl pushed distantly from her with her chopsticks. She had lost her appetite due to the topic of our father. She mustn't acknowledge the lack of visits from him because I was already acquainted with her fragile heart that could shatter under the slightest of memories or saddening thoughts. She was sensitive, maybe too sensitive but she was made that way.
"Thanks mom," I said rather bitterly as I stood to place the dish in the sink for her to wash. I wasn't in the washing mood, leaving the presence of my now shortened family and into my room where I could relieve my stress in private. Thirty-six black elongated notes stuck out at me first, the fifty-six white notes shone in contrast. When I brushed my fingers upon each note, it reminded me of what I used to be. What I originally was. A girl who was anything but experienced. An innocent, naive, adolescent little child that still required the warmth from her affectionate parents. Now that one of them left, with or without bidding a sincere goodbye, everything about me transformed; physically, mentally, and emotionally. I grew into a lady where my shoulders were drew back, my head held high away from stares, and my mind set. Nothing important usually rambled in my mind except for upcoming exams to prepare for. Anything else was shunned away. Feelings, emotions, that diminished into the fine air long ago. I became rebellious and disobeyed my mother, we both knew that she couldn't contain me only the scolding of a father could. I wasn't afraid of her or anyone period.
"Unnie, are you okay?" Dohee's voice was muffled between the door.
"If mom sent you up, just go to your room."
Her voice woke me up from my unconscious state, forcing me to step away from the piano. I dragged my suddenly heavy feet to the bed where I allowed my body to crash over the bedspread. Mother would have warned me about wrinkling them and how much time she was consumed in scrubbing the sheet, inch by inch; setting it to dry then fixing my bed alone without any aids.
"Open the door, I want to talk."
"I don't want to, Unnie is sleepy," I answered and faked a yawn loud enough for her to hear.
Footsteps trailed away from the door and down the hallway where more noises were emitted; a slammed door, and the soft melody of a lone violin. She was tuning her violin until she found the correct pitch then dragging the bow back and forth over the strings. If there were less mistakes such as plucking the wrong note and brief moments of silence to pick up on the next note, she would've played like an angel.
I glanced around the bedroom walls- which were barren and vacant compared to my sister's- with half-lidded eyes. Her melody unwound me of the apprehension that always seemed to occur every time I neared the topic of my father. He taught me how to play the piano when I was only seven years old and ever since then, I would discover new songs to serenade him with. He enjoyed every moment of it, his widening grins always reassured me of my terrible playing. Effort was all he cared for, not if I played the cords properly or sang on the correct pitch. His only desire was for me to always smile but now that was thrown at the window. He was a hypocrite, wanting me to grin but abandoning me when I required him the most. All he would receive from me if we ever encounter again would be a face filled with disgust and hatred.