"Miss Bijoux,"

I slammed my pen on the desk and flung my notebook ferociously shut afterwards, angrily turning my chair 180 degrees so I could see the maid.

"I think I made it crystal clear that I do not want any kind of interruption because I'm trying to write!" I exclaimed at the young maid, completely irritated. I have had a writer's block for almost five long months and now that I am off it, I keep getting distractions from everywhere around me, school's uncountable exams, practical training with my father and in college, a number of unnecessary home parties that I have to attend even though I do not have any part in them. Maids, from the youngest to the eldest, knew how much I get infuriated by the mere distractions they cause while I'm writing, therefore, they have always made sure not to disturb me in any way while writing, and I, for more emphasis, would remind them a hundred times before I imprison myself in my room to try and create something worth reading.

"Your father wants you in his office." The maid did not budge after receiving my rude, unusual attitude and stated in a monotonous tone before non-verbally excusing herself and closing the door afterward. I, therefore, like a mere leaf in the breeze of mid-summer, flew to my closet to pick up something presentable to wear so I can meet my father; he wasn't one of those fathers with whom you can sit comfortably, wearing your cheapest and ugliest clothes, or simply make noises and talk weirdly as your nature lures you to. He was over-controlling in all aspects of my life that he even controlled how I should be dressed in front of him, I do understand that he wanted me to always look presentable, not specifically to him, but to everyone and I respected the fact that he wanted to teach me such a thing but it was suffocating, the fact that I couldn't have a normal father like others. To whom you can talk informally and joke around, around whom you can goof without fearing being scolded, for whom you can say or do something good and expect a warm hug in return, with whom you can sit until moon bids the sky farewell. But as I grew older and he, too, grew older he knew how to voice his feelings, he knew that I needed warm hugs and supportive words more than orders and constant lecturing about things I never cared about. However, it was too late, whenever he tends to tell me any kind of good words now, they immediately melt vainly within me, just like entering one ear and leaving the other without a single trace. And when he would give me one of the warm hugs I had always longed for when I was younger, I would feel burdened to wrap my arms around him. Howsoever, as you cannot teach an old dog new tricks, my father, as much as he learned to do a few things that could make me happy, he still did a lot of other things that would throw all of his efforts down the trash can. He never knew how to weed out this pollutive trait out of my life, that one trait that tarnished the luster of my dreams and appetite for life.

After audibly knocking on my father's door, he opened the door for me with a wide warm smile adorning his lips.

"Hello, father." I greeted shyly, plastering a wide smile on my lips too. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into a warm embrace and I dove in it, wrapping my arms around his waist.

"So, if I don't call for you, you will never come to see me and check on me?" He spoke up gently as he loosened his arms, and so did I.

"I was studying, my final exam is in a week." I lied, fearing that he would start scolding me if I said that I was writing and not studying for finals.

"Oh! My hard working daughter! I want you to make sure to teach everyone a lesson and become number one!" He yelled whisperingly, ruffling my hair. As much as I wanted to not smile, I had to. I have never been passionate about studying medicine, nor did I ever care enough to study and get high marks for myself; I have always wanted to be a writer, who would be smart enough to write what people want to read, I wanted to relate to common people and make them relaxed by just reading my writings but I never told my parents about it, simply, because I knew they would never care; they have always made it crystal clear that I would study medicine no matter my dream was.

"Father, you know I can't guarantee 100% that I can do that," I faked a smile,
and so did I fake my statement. I really did not care about becoming number one or anything but the only reason I got high marks is that I studied so well, and so did my intellect never fail me, to absolutely avoid my father's unnecessary scoldings. "I'm not the smartest out there!" I let out a small forced laugh that almost hurt my stomach due to the forceful stress.

"I do believe in my daughter who inherited her mother's intelligence, and I know that you can make it but we will have to wait for the results to see," My father paused as he walked up to his elegant huge desk, on which numerous pieces of paper were scattered haphazardly everywhere. "I have something to tell you. I have been waiting for this moment almost my whole life!" He spoke up enthusiastically, never meeting my gaze as he searched his locker for something.

I stood there silently, awaiting him to voice what he had to say for me, my hands crossed awkwardly in front of me.

He walked up to me once again, a photograph in between his index and middle finger that I couldn't see so well since I wasn't wearing my glasses. He handed me the photograph, excitement b his features. I took the paper from in between his fingers and lifted it to my face so I could clearly see who was in the picture.

"Who is this?" I eyed him questioningly, wrinkling my eyebrows. "I don't think I have ever seen him before."

"I told you before not to wander around without your glasses," Usually he would scold me for not wearing my glasses, which I despised wearing so much, but now he just laughed it off, snatching the picture out of my hand. He slightly leaned in so we could both look at the picture, and just as his vision wasn't any better than mine, he lifted up the picture and so it was dangerously close to our eyes. He pointed his finger at the person in the picture. "Look closely, you know him and he looks exactly the same as he was before."

I pulled the corners of my lips downwards, as to tell him that I still didn't acknowledge said man.

"This is Junmyeon!" My father exclaimed as he slapped the picture with his other hand, goggling at me for not knowing such an obvious answer.

"Junmyeon wh-" I paused for a second to make sure of my assumption, the name wasn't foreign to my ears, yet, it still felt foreign somehow. But realization quickly hit me when my father told me his full name.

Kim Junmyeon.

And now that his name became more familiar, his features became more familiar as well, and I remembered the person my father was referring to, whose features were really still the same as my he said a while ago, but with a much masculine mixture embellishing them. He looked outstandingly handsome and robust. "Ah! I remember him now. What is with him?" I asked, boredom sweeping my voice.

"He will be here the day after tomorrow to meet you." My father, out of the usual, held on the same smile he had been holding on ever since I came here, making me question his whole overzealous attitude.

"And why would he want to meet me? The only thing I remember about him is how much I hated him in elementary school but come to think of it, he suddenly disappeared, even his brother Sehun, I guess that was his name?" I blabbered to myself, but my voice was audible enough to be heard by my father, who was still standing closely next to me.

"Yes, they both studied abroad. Junmyeon finally graduated but Sehun still has a few years before he can come here."

"I still don't see the point of meeting him?" I questioned, arching an eyebrow at him.

"To cut things short because I have a meeting in an hour, let me tell you a short story. When his father and I decided to cooperate and build the very successful private hospital we possess now, we promised each other that we will convince, or lure, our children to study medicine so they can be knowledgeable enough to take over where we will both leave off. And you already know that part. One day, when we were both sitting together, including our families, we saw you, Junmyeon and Sehun playing together, you say that you hated Junmyeon, but back then when you were younger you really liked him, and so did he. His father and I both noticed the way you two played together, and how you even once made yourself lose on purpose in order to make him happy because he never knew how to play chess as much as you used to know how to play it. Somehow, the same idea flickered in both my and his father's mind, and ever since then we decided that there can't be a more influential and powerful couple after his father and I that could save this hospital we spent all of our youth dreaming and working on it, and so we thought that you both can never find a better companion for yourselves, I honestly cannot think of a better man than him that could be a husband for my lovely daughter! But you know I cannot force you to do such a thing, the decision is completely yours, but please, put in mind the months and years of youth and happiness I spent and ignored in order to build this hospital and that you are the only daughter I have, and that you are the only one in this world I have faith in to efficiently take over my place."

I was not shocked. Shock is an understatement to my horrified and terrorized condition, I can already see everything coming, and I can already see all the dreams I have left within me being crushed and scattered like a million falling drops of rain that I prayed to over and over again to help me be the person I have always wanted to become, glimmering and hurt after every time my father would remind me of my decided destiny. Although his very last words were only said to comfort me that it was all my decision as he said, somewhere in between what he said, there was a great contradiction and emptiness of words that could never go by unnoticed. The way he said it was my decision with a low, heavy tone but after that reminded me how I should do whatever I can or whatever he tells me to do to protect his place and part in the hospital, even if it requires demolishing yet another step of my flight of stairs.

"But father, I have once talked about a colleague in college before you in dinner and back then you seemed pretty much okay with it," Clutching on the last string of hope that he really meant what he said when he said that it was all my decision, I managed to remind him of true events and of my boyfriend, whom I have mentioned before multiple times before him. "I don't think I should meet that guy the day after tomorrow because it would be pointless to do so when I already do have a boyf-" When I finally felt like I have enough courage to protest I halted mid-sentence in complete shock when my father's hand that was once gentle enough to pat the soft material of my dress, under which my back was, earlier, was now stained by the devilishness that shamelessly seeped and covered my father's soul thoroughly as it made a connection with my cheek.

"Remind me if I'