My hands were sweating, my heart pounding, I couldn't stop fidgeting with my fingers and moving my right leg at full speed. I checked the time again. 5 minutes late. No wonder because she had never been a very punctual person, but at a time like this she could have a bit more finesse and pity me. I was dying of nerves. 

Every time I heard the roar of an engine lifted my head, full of hope, but soon I looked down again feeling that noise going away. I heard another engine, this time closer. The bike stopped in front of the restaurant, but it was not her. It was a red bike... 

My jaw almost dropped to see her golden hair cascading over her shoulders when she removed the helmet... What had she done with her baby? I never thought she could break away from that machine. I saw her walking towards the door. Just a few seconds passed but for me it was an eternity. I wiped the sweat from my hands in my pants and got up from the seat to see the door open. She looked to the other side, eyeing the tables. I was waiting for her to turn towards here.

As I noticed her staring at me my hands started to play with the end of my shirt nervously. Now I could see her more thoroughly, and not only that, this time I could see her eyes too. Definitely she's still using that thick line that made her little almond eyes look like a feline, but something had changed in that look. Before, those eyes trapped me, hypnotized me, I could spend hours and never get tired of looking at them, but now... now her eyes were just two black and cold spots, she had a more mature glance, but also more chilling, as if something prevented me look through them. Before, I could find out her emotions with just looking into her eyes, now all I saw was a soulless look, cold eyes... A shiver ran down my spine as she walked toward me. 

"Annyeong" She greeted with a bow. Formal, too formal. I didn't know what to do so I responded in the same way. She sat down and put the helmet on the chair at her right side when the waiter came to take note. He had already approached me before but I told him I was waiting for someone.

I looked at the menu, but I don't why I did it. I always ordered the same, the combo plate No. 6 was my favorite. It had the right amount of meat and came with salad instead of fries. I like potatoes but they are very heavy for me, and if we add to that I have to eat them quite often due to the love of my two children to them... 

"Combo plate 6 and a water juseyo" I saw her smiling almost imperceptibly. What was so funny? 

"Number 11 and a beer juseyo" The waiter bowed and left. Again I could breath the awkwardness in the environment. Finally she broke the ice "You haven't changed" I couldn't help but smile and, because of the sudden warmth I felt in my cheeks, I bet I was blushing. Not every day someone tells you that you're just like 10 years ago. 

"I can't say the same about you" I said back to her. Changes may not be very noticeable but she definitely was not the same as before. Besides her cold gaze, her features were also more defined, whereas before she was only a teenager, now she was a grown woman. Also her new haircut made her look more mature.

I could no longer mantain her empty gaze and turned my eyes to the street. A blood red object got my attention again  "I never thought you would change your baby" Her eyes followed the path of mine, but soon turned to me, even though I wasn't able to keep the look. 

"It was unusable after the accident" This time I do looked at her with my eyes wide open. Accident? Have she had an accident? How? When? What happened? My heart raced with worry. 

"Did you have an accident?" I asked with a more trembling voice than normal. 

"Yes, but it was nothing serious. I'm alive" At that moment the waiter came to bring the drinks and left again. She raised her hand from under the table to reach the beer and, for the first time, I saw it, she had it bandaged.

"What happened to you?!" I exclaimed grabbing that hand. She withdrew it quickly and looked at her embarrassed, also withdrawing my hand. I shouldn't have touched her. 

"It's nothing, just a cut" 

"So many bands for a cut, don't you think?" I replied squinting. She was obviously lying, may have passed already 10 years since the last time I saw her, but she was still a terrible liar, at least with me. 

* 

"Have you eaten the chocolate I bought yesterday?" I asked as I entered the room. She was sitting comfortably on the couch watching TV and... with her feet on the table. I stood before her with folded arms, raising an eyebrow. "What have I told you about putting your feet on my table?" She quickly lowered them. I kept looking at her without changing position until her eyes met mine.

"What?" She began to feel intimidated. Good, that was what I wanted "I told you I didn't eat it" A few seconds and she would give up. It was so easy to pry the truth from her. With her it was needless the polygraph or all that stuff of 'good cop, bad cop' that appears in the series as CSI, with a simple piercing look it was enough. "Okay! I was! Are you happy?!" I smiled and sat down beside her, kissing her on the cheek. She looked at me with a frown, "What's so funny?" I smiled even more, showing my teeth. 

"Nothing, just that..." I said sensually moving closer to her, running my index finger down her cheek to the corner of her lips "You're stained" I leaned to pose my lips slightly below the corner of , it gently. I pulled away and looked at her, her eyes still closed. 

"Really?" She asked believing that I meant it. I nodded and kissed her again, this time adding my tongue. When I pulled away I looked at her again, the stain was still there.

"It's pretty hard to remove, it's like ... I was drawn into your skin" Her eyes narrowed. At last he understood. That was supposed stain your mole and I was only teasing her. I felt his stubby fingers on my ribs doing a little pressure and within two seconds he was writhing on the couch laughing dead. Tickle my weakness and she knew it. "Stop! Please stop!" I screamed with laughter, I was running out of air. When I finally stopped I jumped to catch your breath, but was still laughing slightly. I stared at her with a smile on his face. His eyes narrowed, his lopsided grin that melted me, tousled hair and that cat staring at me. I grabbed his shirt and threw it to me to make you lie down on my body. Chest to chest. "You owe me two tablets of chocolate" 

She arched an eyebrow "Two?" 

"One for having eaten and I bought another for not asking permission to do so" joked before giving a peak on the lips. Obviously not meant it was not going to buy anything to make greater knowing how bad it was money. All he had was his baby value, and refused to sell it, the end of the day was a gift from his father, one of the few good things that had left him an inheritance.

She confessed me that her father had a gambling problem, he frequented more than he should casinos and bet large amounts of money. When he died the accumulating debt came to light, neither more nor less than half a million won. That was the gift that  he let to his wife and daughter. He wasn't a bad person, nor a bad father, he had never mistreated Chaerin or his wife, but that debt could have killed them. Money belonged to no good people, who wouldn't hesitate for a second to extort or torture someone to get their money back. Luckily the bank gave them a loan and they could settle the debt with the mafia, but that meant that the amount payable would increase considerably. Every month sizeable sums of Chaerin and her mother's salary went straight to the bank, so the money that they had after that was just enough to afford housing, food and bills. The only quirk that she could have was the gasoline to feed her baby.

I never told her, but I invited her to dinner at my house often because, even though I knew that she ate everyday, products she bought were not great, fairly cheap and of dubious quality. That way I made sure she ate well. I bought the ingredients and she cooked them, it was like a mutual agreement, even though she knew nothing. 

* 

I wonder if she paid that debt already... A melody took me out of my thoughts. It was her mobile phone. I saw her looking at the screen and rolling her eyes. Something tells me that she didn't want to answer that call “Bonjour ma chérie. Comment allez-vous?...” I stared at her dumbfounded. What language was that? ¿Spanish? Italian? No... French! Yes, only the French people pronounce the "R" in that way. 

When she hung up I asked "French? Since when do you speak French?"

"Since I live in France" My eyes widened. Did she live in France? That's why I haven't seen her for years... But then, what is she doing here? 

The waiter came with the order. "Number 11?"

"For me" she answered. The waiter put her plate in front of her and then did the same with mine. "Gansahamnida" We thanked at the same time. He bowed and left. I was still mulling over the France stuff. I remembered that she had said that if she could, she would go to France to try her hand at some fashion workshop, maybe she did, maybe she has fulfilled her dream. 

"So you did it?" I asked. It seemed obvious what the question meant, but she seemed not to understand me because I watched as her raised an eyebrow like she always did whenever she didn't know about what someone is talking "Are you a designer in Paris?" 

"Yes" She replied calmly before take a piece into . Yes? And that's it? Didn't she want to tell me anything more? At least I guess that job has allowed her to pay the debt, I don't know what's the salary of a designer in Paris but I don't think that it's a low salary. 

"Congratulations. It's what you always dreamed, right?" I smiled. I was really happy for her, I know how much she wanted to work on something related to fashion.

"Gansahamnida" She thanked me. I wanted to know more, to know how she became a designer and for who she worked. ¿Would she know famous people? Have I seen someone wearing one of her designs without knowing it? I began to torment her with questions. At first she responded dryly, but gradually it became a more fluent conversation. She even dared to ask me about my work. Compared to hers it was just a plain and boring office job. 

We finished eating and continued chatting about this and that. It may sound strange to say this and I know that makes no sense, but it was such a pleasant conversation that it was awkward. What I mean is that we have 10 years without seeing each other and we're talking as if nothing had happened. I look into her eyes and try to figure out what she's thinking, but all I get is being intimidated by the cold, impenetrable but at the same time penetrating gaze. Even smiling, the expression of her eyes didn't change. Would she hate me? Or maybe already forgot all about me? There are so many things I'd like to know but I can't ask... 

"Have you finished yet?" The waiter had returned to collect the dishes and leave the dessert menu on the table. As he left Chaerin started to browse the menu and I did the same. This place had a delicious cake we always asked for, but I never was able to finish it and she had to eat it. After reviewing the menu a few times I raised my head slightly to look at what she was doing. Her brow furrowed and her eyes, which analyzed in detail the paper in her hands, showed me that she had noticed the same thing. They no longer had the cake.

My phone started ringing, distracting my attention from Chaerin, and hers from the menu. "Yaboseyo?" I answered without looking at the number that had called me. 

"Sweetheart! Whew... I need you to do me a favor" He was my husband, but it was rare in him to call me at lunchtime, plus the tone of his voice seemed a little alarmed. 

"What's up? Is there any problem? "

"No, it's nothing serious, it's just a problem into the office and I'll go out a little later. Can you go get the children?" When my husband finished work he always went to pick up our children. I couldn't because I was working until later working overtime. You may ask: then, what are you doing eating with Chaerin?. In my office they pay overtime with money or days off, so when I had the opportunity to eat with her I didn't hesitate for a second and left a message to warn my boss that I would take a day off. I know that when I go to work tomorrow a sermon about "warning with time" will be waiting, and it's logical, inform at 2am that I won't appear at 8 by the office is not very decent. 

"But..." I started to say, but he interrupted me.

"I have to go. I love you" And before I could answer a