I didn't have many friends at school in Korea. I didn’t have any friends at all. Period. I was six, but I wasn’t an idiot. I realized that no one wanted to be around me. My classmates pretended that I didn’t exist. Whenever I would try to join them to play a game, they would either ignore me or appoint me as the “monster” or whatever role kids didn’t want to take on.

Donghae sets down a plate of peanut-butter and jelly sandwich in front of Eunhae, who stared at it with a sad expression. He pours her a glass of strawberry milk, and he sits down in front of her. She continues to ignore his presence, but Donghae waits patiently. The pout on Eunhae’s face would not erase itself, even though Donghae already cut the crust off.

“Does it not look good?” Donghae asks, bending his neck to meet his daughter’s single-lidded eyes.

Unwillingly, Eunhae raises her head. She frowns at the sandwich, which makes Donghae doubt his PB&J sandwich making skills.

“Baby?” Donghae calls.

“Dad, why don’t kids play with me?” Eunhae asks.

Donghae feels a chip in his heart. He knew this day would come. “You can play with me and Hyukjae appa.”

“But you guys are old!” Eunhae whined. Donghae wonders if he sounds just as petulant whenever he and Hyukjae would argue. Donghae thinks he ought to be offended.

“Maybe the kids think you’re too scary,” Donghae provides thoughtlessly.

Eunhae glares at him. “I’m not! I share my lunch with them!”

Donghae chuckles, despite himself. He feels really bad for his daughter. “Okay, listen to me.”

Eunhae props an elbow on the table and rests her cheek on her hand. She pouts even harder.

“Those kids, they don’t know you, but that’s okay. You will meet someone who would want to know you, and spend time with you, and be friends with you,” Donghae said, suddenly remembering the time he met Hyukjae for the f