A few days off that night, the days went by a restless flash, Hana not being able to grasp the small moments that managed to escape in between. The scorching sun returned weeks after, indicating that the rainy season was indeed at its tail’s end. Hana, utterly disappointment she had to let go of the calming showers, decided it might be finally the time she must prepare herself to face the reality that the icy grey clouds had once covered.

 

One of the being school.

 

As she had pondered on it earlier, Hana wanted to leave responsibilities of studying behind and solely focus on something else. It might be some useless job on a newspaper column that she could join after her mother’s surgery was finally complete. Whether her mother survives or not, it was not going to sway her decision, perhaps. The red umbrellas behind her bed were still there, alone and looked abandoned, for the reason Hana never used it.

 

It carried the smell of the musky damped soil, the missed rain and a slight twinge of him. Hana was of course imagining it. She must have seen a lot of good dreams.

 

During the days she remained absent from her school, she ran of heels juggling shifts on her shoulders. The heels tired her, her skin bruised black and blue and sometimes it even bleeded. Her mother’s surgery wasn’t not far long, as the doctor informed. He only needed to carry some formalities and some tests before he could finally take the procedure.

 

Hana knew he was lying. There was no tests needed if he had concluded already that her mother was long dead and only survived as a dull corpse then. She sometimes visited, which was painful, as she could bear to see the machines beeping signalling her mother’s deteriorating life. Hana sometimes talked, about the weather, the people she met, her manager and also the rain man. She knew it only reached a blank wall, her words bouncing back to her only.

 

Hana’s manager did pay some cash to her in advance, and she was more than grateful. She often mentioned to him, but the old man waved it off. However, he did sternly allocate some tasks to her, which Hana thought was of course what she should pay off by. She even convinced herself that is she had to work for a lifetime here, she wouldn’t hesitate whether it was distributing leaflets out by the street under the ruthless warm rays or serving coffee to none but her manager in the back room.

 

“I want you to take these stack of leaflets and distribute it to people. I am sure you can do it?” Her manager broke it up to her one evening and Hana nodded, while wiping up the table that were already clean.

 

The sky was a color of hopeless tangerine, clouds of pink hue was laid sparse giving it the feeling of a mesmerizing gradient. Hana looked up, however she felt nothing except tired. The leaflets on her hand were heavy, and unfortunately she could only gave out a couple. Whenever she did although, the paper was crumbled and thrown off wherever on the streets of Teheran-ro. Hana didn’t mind as she picked it up and straightened it up with her palm.

 

It was already evening and Hana believed she didn’t have anything better to do than distribute leaflets to nonchalant pedestrians.

 

A cold gust of wind flew by her sometime later, causing some of leaflets to fly off uncontrollably. She didn’t chase it , as she sighed looking at the sole papers covering the dirty pavements off the streets. She bent and picked up the closest paper and added it to her small stack, as she waddled up to pick up the others. She might have imagined when she saw someone pick up a leaflet from the fallen ones, and stuffed it in his leather briefcase His beige coat seemed familiar, the particular smell of cologne wafted under her nose and perhaps his raven hair came to her sight.

 

But it was only a mirage, something she only imagines to convince herself that times aren't so hard. He must come by. The rain would come soon, drenching her sneakers and there would be that red umbrella over her head and she would find herself staring at his eyes.

 

During wee hours of the dark night, she would turn the knob, welcoming herself to her coop of worn-out coach and a small bed arranged at the corner of the house. Hana would think maybe it was written in her fate, that she would be left alone and lonely.

 

One morning, she made up her mind to give a visit to school. It had been weeks since she had seen the disgusted faces of her classmates or the pity faces of her teachers. Although, she wasn’t that eager either. It would make herself feel loathing against herself.

 

Holding her straps tight, she stepped in to the class, catching less attention than she expected. There were some snickers, some ‘how was last night’ thrown but it was of course nothing new. Nothing Hana couldn’t handle at that point.

 

When she took her usual seat at the side of the windows, fixating her stare outside at the empty courtyard, her thoughts trailed nowhere. Hana questioned herself, whether it was right for her to attend school that day or she could have just abandon her duties as a student on an anonymous note. She inwardly sighed, as she heard the classroom door shut, the arrival of the teacher obvious. The class went silent, and the shuffling of the teacher’s shoes stopped.

 

Curious, Hana averted her gaze from the uninteresting bunch of plants to the person standing in front of the class. She felt dubious of what laid at her sight. Of course, she was deserving of being disappointed and deceived. She was always at the receiving end of all of these ordeal but she couldn’t figure out why.

 

The one thing she thought would be hers to treasure was no longer there, as it blended in to the reality of cruelness.

 

The rain man stared straight at her, his dark orbs empty of any emotion. There were no galaxies that were reflecting in it, just the pathetic reflection of Hana. Hana removed her gaze as she resumed her usual posture, pretending nothing was wrong.

 

Minho cleared his throat, and there were no greeting from the students. When Minho watched them, he noticed they looked back at him clueless, except her She didn’t even spare him a second glance.

 

The students sensed a string of tension lingering in the warm air of summer, so they dared no to utter a word.

 

“Roll Call.” Minho announced. It drew the student's attention as some of them started to mutter some string  of words among themselves.

 

“Yeri?”

 

“Yes, here.” The student raised her arm, although she was busied herself gossiping to her clique of friend right after.

 

After a few, it was her name, marked in bold on the paper. Minho wasn’t sure what he should have done, or do. Before he could form her name with his lips, Hana muttered a stern ‘here’. Minho couldn’t bear the despise her voice carried but he was although helpless.

 

“Yeri,” he said after he had finished his roll coll. “Could you mention a very important rule that all students must apply?”

 

Yeri stood up, with lazy movements. She looked annoyed, to be frank but Minho could care less about her leg pain for all that matter.

 

“Punctuality. A rule that only a student here doesn’t actually can’t relate to. “ Yeri sneered.

 

“Yeri, yes, you are right. So could you please repeat what you said about that particular student about a few weeks ago?” Minho raised his eyebrows, as he took a small glance at Hana. He could see her shoulders a bit tensed a little however her visage was plain as always. Minho, perhaps, missed her shy smiles and those small talks he had.

But it must end soon.

 

Yeri, mumbled cowardly.

 

“I called her a for she hans outs in night clubs and she rarely attends school.”

 

“True,” Minho remarked, “but may I ask on what reasoning you based your assumption upon? Did you perhaps see her coming out of a night club?”

 

Yeri fell silent so did the whole class of spectator, who took their pleasure watching the scene unfold.

 

“Lee Hana.” Minho called out. This is where it should end. “ Could you explain yourself? Or defend yourself?”

 

Hana stood up, lowering her head. She felt embarrassed, raged and most of all hurt. What purpose did he have to mention all of these in front of those people?

 

“No,” her voice quivered. Tears stained her cheeks, as he rfist were coiled tightly. “No, I am not a !”  she shouted then. The burden of her chest lifted, and she felt emptier than she should have. Been. Forgetting her bag behind her, she passed by Minho like a glimpse, exiting herself out of the class.

 

Minho stared at the closed door long after she was gone.