The Bookkeeper

"Hyeri!" A voice of a man welcomed me as soon as Chanyeol turned off the engine. The image of the man: hair that looked like a nest, face that seemed like shaving was never an option, a shirt with a print: "Oh My Flowers", a stained apron hanging on his neck and a pink bunny slippers, that in my memory, a gift from my aunt when I was 14, was standing outside of our front door, smiling.

"We will bring your things on your room, Hyeri," Baekhyun patted me on the back, making me at ease from my stiffened position.

"Dad," I sighed. "Don't tell me you used the kitchen?"

His smile had gotten wider as I approached him.

"Aw, I missed my little girl," not minding the stains on his clothes, he pulled me into a hug that made me grasp for air. "Da-d," I tapped his back exactly three times, a sign of surrender, to let me go.

"What happened to your face?" he asked.

"Where's Dyo?" I squeezed pass through him, avoiding his question, and went ahead to the kitchen. It was a relief to see Kyungsoo keeping things in order.

"Oh, you're back," he said.

He's never been the talkative one, rather he kept the balance on this house. Let's put Baekhyun and Chanyeol on the other side.

He was my cousin on my mother's side. He was living with us for five years now. As I went to study in Seoul, I put him in-charge because he was someone I could rely to.

"Did dad used the kitchen?" I asked him.

"I was having a nap, but I managed to stop him."

"Good."

See, very reliable.

"What did he do this time?"

"Cookies. Exclusively for you.”

I could feel my face softened on Kyungsoo’s information. So, I went back to the living room to see him sitting on the couch. He looked like his mind was wandering off somewhere.

"Appa," I called over to him.

He flinched, but he found his composure immediately.

"You should clean up. Look at your clothes," I told him.

He traced his eyes on his shirt, then looked into mine, "I stained yours, too."

"Ah, I'll clean up later. Have you been doing well?" I bent down to be on his eye-level and stared at him. Well, more like examining him. He had grown old for just a few months. Maybe because he haven't trimmed his hair and shaved his beard, and the wrinkles on his face was showing.

"You're always taking care of me, Hyeri. As your father, I should do my job, too," there was a hint of sadness on his voice, I could tell.

I held his hands. "You have done enough, Dad," I assured him.

After my mom passed away, her responsibilities as a mother was divided among us, her children. I was the second oldest of the group, and because of my sister's weak heart, she gave me the authority of being in-charge. I was ten back then, too young to take care of a grieving family. Maybe, that's the reason why I hid my colors. If I showed my weaknesses, then who would be the person they'd run to? No one.

I patted my dad's lap before I went upstairs.

Everything was still the same. The creaking noise of the staircase, the smell of the fresh flowers, the loud music from our neighbor, Sehun's untidy room, and Miyeong's perfume smell.

Miyeong.

My feet dragged me to her room without my consent.

No difference. Everything was just the way as it was before.

I sniffled the air. It made me feel like she was alive.

I opened my eyes. Emptiness.

"I shouldn't be here," I closed her door and went to my own chamber.

Maybe there were things that looked the same, but it won't hide the fact that everything in this house changed.

My bedroom could be