I’ve always wondered how it felt to have a complete family.

            At the tender age of one, my family was torn into shreds. My mom had abandoned our family the second after she gave birth to me; my father was too caught up with his work to even notice that his spouse went missing. My brother was only older than me by a year, and as a two-year old, he could only do so much—whine and cry. After all, it was an action that babies were professionals at. With this broken family of mine, it then left one person to take care of the Park siblings—my grandmother from my father’s side.

            She posed as the motherly figure my brother and I never had. When we were down with a slight cold, she would concoct a chicken soup for us to drink. When our father wasn’t at home to celebrate the holidays with us, she would be the one handing out gifts and whatnot. Sure, we had maids, but we never had a family-like bond with them. But my grandmother supplied this “family-like” bond. And for that, I was thankful.

            But every story has an end to it. And her end was at the age of 92—a pretty old age, if you ask me. My grandmother’s death was like a cold bucket of water being poured onto my father, head on. With all the preparations for her funeral, time had caught up to my father when he realized my brother and I were no longer the little toddlers that ran around the house, which was what he once made us out to be. No, we were far from chasing each other around and crying when we fell down. We were in high school, both my brother and I. In fact, Chanyeol was graduating that year my grandmother passed away.

            Simply put, a year of happiness took the wrong turn. But my father began to make more time for us, as a result. He would try tucking in little “father-and-children” days, in order to make up for the many years that he was absent for. I honestly began to believe my father was actually trying his very best to salvage our broken family, albeit it was already too late. But really. It’s when they try that it’s when it matters.  

            Slowly and slowly, my trust for him began to build up. And gradually, I began to forgive him.

****

            The wrinkles that developed over the years became more prominent, making it easier to tell that he was a senior citizen of sixty years. Most of the wrinkles and graying hairs were all thanks to the ruckus his one and only son was causing. The paparazzi had recently caught his son exiting a club with a hostess, and now the limelight was now directed above Kim Incorporations.

            The media had already established that the Kim’s heir was a Casanova, but this didn’t reflect too great on the other Korean companies either. When his son would take over the company, several CEO’s would perceive him as a joke and not take him seriously. Worst case scenario was, the businessmen would take advantage of the fact that his son was a player and show up with skimpily dressed women and deals would be signed just like that. Even that thought of having his son be taken advantage of gave Kim Jong Up an excruciatingly painful headache.

            No, Kim Jong Up had enough with giving his son the space he wished for. It was high time he tied his son down with an anchor—not necessarily the real object itself but other things, like marriage and whatnot. By using this method, this would prove to many companies that in fact, his son Jong In was a devoted man and could be serious when he had to.

            “Call Mr. Park,” Jong Up demanded his iPhone’s Siri. A few beeps echoed back and forth between the spacious room’s brown-colored walls before he heard the other line pick up. “Hello?”

            “Jonghyun, it’s me, Jong Up. I would like to negotiate a deal with you. Do you have any time to meet up somewhere nearby?” Jong Up paused, allowing a brief moment for his friend to respond. “I’ll head up to your office in about half an hour. Yes, I’ll see you then. Goodbye.”

****

            “I can’t believe you’re at it again, Jong In. Didn’t your father warn you to stay out of the limelight for one month? Apparently that’s not one of your abilities.” One of Jong In’s best friends skimmed over the newspaper’s main article of the day for the umpteenth time.  

            “Didn’t I tell you I prefer to go by the name Kai, Kyungsoo?” Jong In—or Kai as he had now preferred to be addressed as—merely shrugged. He took a sip of his black coffee, letting his taste buds savor the bitterness. “Besides, I don’t care what my old man thinks. I’m just having a little fun, and here he is, caging me like I’m some sort of untamed beast.”  

            “Well you sort of are an untamed animal, Kai.” Another friend of his chimed in. He stood tall at six feet, easily towering over the rest of Kai and their group of friends.

            “Shut up, Chanyeol. At least I don’t throw parties every other week.” Kai rebutted with much ease.

            “At least I’m not spotted by the media taking a s.lut out of a ghetto club,” Chanyeol smoothly shot back with a snarky remark.

            “You little—” Kai was about to throw a fist in Chanyeol’s direction before a few other friends jumped in to stop him just in time. Or else Chanyeol would leave the little café shop with a busted lip. How lucky.

            “Kai, we’re just worried for you.” Anothe