Dedicated to @cheri86 for being such a dear :)

                 Dara was still thinking about Kwon Jiyong four hours later as she sat in her parents’ living room. Though it had been designed and decorated by the best, Dara had always found it austere. She toyed with her slice of anniversary cake, not listening to the conversation around her. Her mind reeled back and forth to Kwon Jiyong and how his dark eyes had warmed up when he spoke about Hayi. How torn he’d been at her advice about his daughter. How, in spite of himself, he’d eyed her with masculine appreciation.

                “Sandara, darling, are you all right? You’re flushed.” Donghae’s voice penetrated the haze of her distraction. She was faintly surprised to see him there, so immersed had she been in her thoughts. She shifted uncomfortably in the wing chair.

                “Yes, Donghae, I’m fine.  I was just thinking about….my job.” Well, almost.

                As she made excuses to him, Dara took in Lee Donghae’s meticulous appearance. His fashionably cut short blond hair was perfect for his swank appearance. He wore a charcoal pin-striped suit, white starched shirt and a solid tie. Gold cuff links twinkled when he raised his sherry. He moved with the confidence instilled in him by years at prep school and Harvard Law and he spoke with the precision of an affluent attorney. She winced inwardly at his similarity to her ex-husband, Jaejoong. They exuded the same aura of self-importance and they even resembled each other physically. They were clones, both chosen by her father, both perfect catches in his opinion and theirs, both totally dedicated to their positions in society.

                “How is your job, Sandara?”  Park Eun Mi asked hesitantly, setting her plate one the Queen Anne table. Dressed to celebrate, she wore a black Chanel suit trimmed in white. Her latest bauble form her husband, Jihoon, a three-carat diamond necklace, hugged . Because Dara knew she was expected to dress to the occasion, she’d donned a peach silk blouse and a matching full skirt that swirled at her knew.

                Turning to her mother, who sat adjacent to her on the brocade sofa, Dara answered quietly, “Many of the kids at YG are really troubled. I’m needed there.”

                “I’m sure you are, dear.”

                “Well, get it out of your system now, darling.” Donghae put in as he patted his mouth with his napkin in a delicate way that irritated Dara almost as much as his assumption that she would do whatever he wished.

                Why shouldn’t he? She thought ruefully. I’m the model wife and daughter. At least I was.

                “When we’re married, you won’t have time for those kinds of those activities.”

                Dara felt the hairs on the back of her neck bristle. She picked up her chardonnay and took a sip to cool her temper. “Donghae, I’ve told you, all of you, that I’m not ready to remarry. And I certainly don’t intend to give up my job. I thought you understood that.” There was iron in her tone beneath her velvet smile.

                “Please, let’s not argue,” Dara’s father interjected. Park Jihoon was a tall stately man, still trim at sixty. Appropriately attired for the evening, he wore a navy blue suit, a light blue shirt and striped tie. He rose from his seat near the floor-to-ceiling Palladian windows and moved to the cherry wall unit that housed the bar. Pouring himself a second glass of wine, he added, “We’ve seen so little of you in the last couple of months.” Dara thought she heard a note of pain in his voice, but it was not there when he finished. “And we’ve had to practically beg for your time twice in one week. It’s your mother and my anniversary. I don’t want to spoil it with squabbling.”

                Dara bit her tongue so hard she could taste the coppery blood she’d drawn. She felt guilty for neglecting her mother in August and September. Dara was- since Bom’s death – the only child Eun Mi had. But Dara had been unable to make the changes she needed in her life under her father’s thumb, so she’s maintained her distance. Park Jihoon’s need for contr