That evening Jongin sat uncomfortably at the dinner table. Namjoo’s mother had prepared an overly sumptuous meal for the family. A pretty lady wearing an apron unsuitable for her elegantly caked face. Jongin didn’t know a mother who wore makeup at the evening table. His mother hadn’t. Not even Jonghun’s mother did.

Tugging at his shirt as he sat down, his father who just arrived home ten minutes prior, asked, “Where’s Namjoo?”

“The school called and said she hurt herself today,” his step-mother explained setting down a warm bowl of food beside his father. “She’s still asleep.”

“She should at least be at the table. It’s only manners,” Dami muttered quietly, but loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Well, now,” his father began then glanced at his new wife, “should we wake her?”

“I’ll go,” Dami perked up with a too happy smile.

“She must have had a rough day,” Namjoo’s mother sympathized. “Let her sleep hmm?”

Dami scowled across from him. Once Namjoo’s mother settled down into her seat adjacent his father, Dami started, “Dad.”

“What is it?”

Eyes gliding his way, she said, “Jongin cut classes today.”

All eyes landed on him. Swallowing, Jongin explained, “It wasn’t unexcused. I told the homeroom teacher before leaving. I didn’t think Namjoo would know the way home.”

“How kind of you,” Namjoo’s mother beamed. “Thank you for looking out for our Namjoo.”

Dami rolled her eyes.

“Good job, Jongin,” his father praised. Turning on Dami, he started lecturing, “I heard you didn’t do so well on your geography exam.”

“Come on, dad,” Dami whined. “I just scored ten points lower than last time.”

Jongin tuned them out as he peered at the empty seat beside him. After finishing dinner, he headed back upstairs. Curious if Namjoo was yet awake. Wasn’t she hungry? He paused by her room and looked at the knob. Debating whether to open the door and see for himself. He hurriedly withdrew his hand when he heard Dami coming up the stairs. Her eyes narrowed when she reached the second floor.

“What?” he asked.

“What is with you?” Dami asked. “You want to peek at her again?”

His face grew red. Flustered, he spat, “What are you…”

“Don’t even think about it,” she glared. Stood rooted where she was. He frowned at her. Unable to fathom her animosity toward the new family. Giving up he whirled around to head into his room.

The homework Jonghun had passed along shot into sight when he turned. Sitting right in front of him on his bedside table. An obvious sore to the eye. Sighing he sat down and flopped onto his back. Staring up at the ceiling. Wondering what he may have done to tick Dami off.

Nothing.

He’d done nothing, but left school early to help Namjoo home. That was all he had done. As far as any special treatment he hadn't done anything different. If Dami was hurt he would have done the same for her, so what was the problem?

“Whatever,” he mumbled flipping over to bury his face into the sheets.

After showering he switched the lights off and climbed into bed. Figuring he could copy Jonghun’s homework before class started. And Namjoo…well, she could figure things out on her own.

Making himself comfortable he buried himself under the sheets. Shutting his eyes but opened them when he heard a door open. Pushing himself up with his elbow he caught light streaming underneath his door.

⸛⸛⸛⸛⸛

Damn she was hungry. Her head was spinning and she had a headache from sleeping so long. Frightened when she saw the sky was dark, she’d gotten up right away. Why hadn’t anyone woken her?

Dragging her injured leg, she held onto the wall for balance using her memory of the house layout as a guide. Where the wall ended at the kitchen entrance, she jumped on one foot toward the kitchen table bumping into it with a grunt.

Now that she was up and moving her ankle was throbbing again. All the blood rushing down made her injury pulse. Hissing through her teeth she limped toward the fridge. She wanted medicine to soothe her cramps and fill up the gaping hole that had taken over her stomach. She hated life right now because she had no idea where the family’s stash of medicine was.

Food first she figured. Namjoo nearly went blind when she pulled the fridge door opened and the light shocked her. An array of neon circles spun in her eyes before she blinked and shook her head. Cursing as she jumped when the kitchen lights suddenly flicked on. Gripping onto the door handle she searched the room. Spotting Jongin standing by the kitchen entrance, a hand on the light switch.

Their eyes landed on each other. Standing a space apart but neither moving. Namjoo blinked taken aback when he snorted holding back a laugh.

“What?” she asked.

“You look funny,” he grinned amused, “like you’re stealing.”

Namjoo flatly stared back. Not humored. Also stricken that he was talking to her.

His voice…was nice.

“Are you hungry?” he stepped toward the fridge. She inched back as he dug through the containers inside. “Your mom said not to wake you.”

“Since when does she care so much,” Namjoo muttered underneath her breath.

She snuck a glance to see him stuffing the container into the microwave. Either he heard and decided not to comment or he hadn’t.

“Hey,” Namjoo tugged on his shirt. Embarrassed but she needed it more than the shame engulfing her. “Where’s your medicine? My cramps hurt.”

Seated at the table a few seconds later Namjoo was gulping down a warm glass of water. A spoon, a fork, and a warm bowl of food landed in front of her. Served to her by the son of the house.

“Thanks,” she quietly said.

“I’ll be back. Eat up.” Namjoo watched him disappear and wondered what he was up to. Picking up her spoon she took a bite of the food. Recognizing the familiarity of it.

Her mother’s cooking.

Something about it. Not too bland. Not too salty. It wasn’t perfectly tasting either. Namjoo just knew it was her mother’s amateur cooking. Her mother was more of a woman of the arts. In the makeup department rather than the kitchen. Throwing salt and pepper around. Cutting meat and vegetables. Stirring a mix of food into a pan sizzling with oil.

Kim Sua wasn’t born for the kitchen.

What was she trying to show off for? Surely Jongin’s father hadn’t married her because she was a good cook?

The trailblazing thought had her snickering to herself. She immediately str