1

He was introduced to me simply as my mom's “good friend and colleague.” But I was already thirteen then, the age when hormones began raging and making all of my peers view each other with hallucinatory rose petals and steam. I knew how infatuation manipulated the body language and mien of teenagers, and I suppose that its effects were not less visible in adulthood, or for my mother in particular.

Even disregarding my keen eye, with how her divorce with my father had imprinted itself onto her capacity to love, doubts that she wanted me to meet this handsome man on the sole basis that he was a “good friend” soared. Still, I chose to be sensible enough to not point out the blatant lie, though not enough to resist observing their interactions like the busybody housewife living three apartments down the hall from ours.

As much I scrutinized him, the man named Baekhyun did not induce the wariness I often felt around older men. He directed a warm and chaste gaze at my mother even with her attention somewhere else (and later at me when he caught me staring over the menu). His neat eating manners earned him some brownie points, too. I figured they would become laxer the more we hung around each other—I myself was guilty of sloppy table manners when alone or with those I was comfortable enough around. Still, the number of pigs in human bodies I’d witnessed in the past made me grow to appreciate the consideration for close-mouthed chewing at least a little more.

Taking pity on the almost too well-mannered man, I slumped back on the cushioned chair and slung one leg over my other. While bringing the glass of ice water to my lips in this casual pose, I hoped to convey with the eye contact I sent his way that he didn’t have to sit as stiff as he was. He caught it and, after a few beats of interpreting, let a grateful expression adorn his face as he copied my posture.

By the time our evening out was over, Baekhyun had charmed me into giving my mother an almost immediate approval when she asked for my opinion of him. I was lounging against the headboard on my bed and she sat on the edge of the mattress, kind of like patient and therapist, though in reality, she looked more like she should have been in my “patient” seat. Her eyes gleamed with apprehension before I replied and with ecstasy after as if my answer was the end-all of her potential relationship. I didn’t have the heart to mention that there was now no point in her lying before the evening.

Baekhyun and my time together increased in exponents as months passed until we were comfortable enough to, as I foreshadowed back when I was thirteen, chew with our mouths open around each other. Of course, his relationship with my mother had also been progressing as well. About a year after our first meeting, a sneaky suspicion was brewing in the back of my mind that I would soon have someone new to fill my absent father's presence.

He was young compared to my mom, even considering that she was also so for a parent of a teen. But the mid-twenties is a point for some to consider and desire a settled life, and he happened to be included in that category. Even while the involvement of a child and a previous divorce is even more effective repellent than a young age for most in terms of marriage, Baekhyun was just the perfect fit for my dear mother: open-minded, patient, and all that. On my fifteen birthday, he pulled me aside from the celebrations to ask for my blessings for his proposal. The summer after my middle school graduation, they held an intimate ceremony on the beach near the restaurant that held fond memories for the three of us.

I might be an unreliable narrator—I was already a teenager when I met Baekhyun, old enough to know what attraction beyond primary school crushes was like. It’s more of a surprise that neither he nor my mom suspected that I would consider him as someone within my scope of uality. And as I matured, with these sentiments being unable to dissipate around his constant presence, I learned what desire felt like as well from him. By then I had acknowledged the truth of my feelings, though over my dead body would anyone ever hear it coming out of my mouth.

I struggled to conceal my titillation around him at first. It was an act of mercy from Mother Nature or whatever higher-up out there that people made the unconditional assumption that I was just an adolescent girl not yet adjusted to a drastic change in my life. This in truth didn’t make much sense, considering that, before I acknowledged my feelings, I had expressed a clear willingness to have Baekhyun around every day. After all, that was already almost the case with his near-daily visits that always included setting aside at least a handful of minutes for me. Still, it was this illogical reasoning that bought me time to perfect my composure (and develop a knack for acting). The only thing I refused to do was refer to him like my actual dad, which there was no complaint about anyway. A mere ten year didn’t suffice for it. (When I learned that people started coining “daddy” as a ual term, I almost cried in relief that I hadn’t fulfilled my act in whole.)

I coursed through high school longing for the day I admitted into college, escaped the house, and met someone my age who could charm me and stop the clenching of my heart whenever my stepfather did anything.

And I made it through my late teens, pining yet surviving. I got accepted into my preferred university, which happened to be out of our province. I wanted to snicker when I saw the dismay fleeting over Baekhyun and my mom’s faces upon learning my first choice school. Little did they know that I had been targeting it since for years.

We combined two celebrations into one gathering for both my acceptance-departure to college and their wedding anniversary. As we gathered around the dining table to discuss the planning, a rather bitter taste started to reside in my tongue. In all honesty, my mind had been so preoccupied with leaving the house and Baekhyun and my mom that I almost forgot how habituated I grew to feel with my current life. Now that the moment to break out was near, apprehension started to sink in, and I had to remind myself that this was the end result of years of scheming. Besides, even if I was out of the province, the trip was only three hours by train.

I hefted a sigh as I plotted my chin onto my hands, stressed from packing earlier and now planning. My elbows were propped up on the table at which Baekhyun sat in front of me and my mom, who was explaining the party preparations. After I lifted my head again, I caught him staring at me with his eyebrows furrowed. I would have assumed he was just concerned over my tired demeanor, but I realized there was more to it when he glanced away as soon as I returned the eye contact. Baekhyun rarely avoided me, which I was assuming he was doing at this moment. We had made a silent but mutual agreement long ago to banish the usage of the cold shoulder, both of us being the stubborn mules we are.

I nudged his leg under the table. When he ignored it, I repeated the motion to receive still no response. Then I reached out for one of his hands resting on the surface. If there was any physical feature of his that I had to say I adored in particular… His hands would be the third I’d list. His fingers are long and slender, ideal for playing the piano as I sometimes watched him do. If they weren’t so big, I would have described them as feminine.

Before I could trace them with my own fingertips as was my intention, he retracted from my hold. Then our names were called. I directed a confused gander, perhaps with a tint of offense, at him before turning to the woman next to me.

“How about you two go to the supermarket and then pick up the cake at the bakery? I’ll be manning the kitchen since I don’t trust either of you to do so,” she suggested after gaining our attention, sending a pointed glance between the two of us at the last part. I scoffed in play offense and returned a quip. Meanwhile, Baekhyun replied with a smile that appeared almost reluctant.

When our household meeting dispersed, I rushed to reach him before he slithered into his private study as I had correctly foreseen. It was the one room in the house that wasn’t open entry to anyone save for himself. While he usually let us in whenever we asked, I had a feeling this time would be an exception.

“Baekhyun,” I called out. The pleading tone from my subconscious—a sound I despised—threatened to slip into my voice. He paused in his tracks. I could almost hear my heartbeat in the few seconds both of us stood in silence. Then he turned around. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed or frustrated to see his demeanor transformed, the apples of his cheeks inflated and the skin near his eyes crinkling with his trademark smile.

“Did I worry you?” he cooed upon seeing the perplexity on my face. “You looked so cute when you were confused, I really just wanted to tease you more. I'm sorry.”