I purposely clanked my utensils to the plate, earning me stares from everyone in my table, including Mino. I could feel him smile a little, seeing as I was following his notes, even though he couldn’t do them himself.

I ate slowly, not because I was acting, but because I felt sick to the stomach. I felt heavy all over and I knew it was Mino who was bothering me.

“Are you okay?” He put down his fork before asking.

I looked up at him, knowing I got his full attention, and also that of Jina and my father.

I shook my head no, and felt my eyes sting a little.

“Do you want to go home early?” My father asked, and I looked at him blankly.

“She should,” Jina told him. “We can do this some other time soon.”

No, thanks.

“Excuse me,” Mino offered and my father let him go.

“You should finish your food,” my father told me after Mino had left.

“Or at least try,” the woman beside him chirped in.

Why did she keep on telling me nice things? What do they need exactly? My approval? Why?

I honestly didn’t care what my mom’s ex got himself into!

I swore that passing minute without Mino beside me felt longer.

I looked up at that very moment, and spotted Mino walking towards us, a smile on his face and a slight bounce in his steps, with a shorter man in black following behind him.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” he told the man who remained unseen.

They reached our table and they stood next to each other, and Mino introduced the man to us.

“This is the man behind the keys,” Mino offered and I stood up.

“Sir,” I muttered absentmindedly.

“You know each other?” Mino asked, confusion obvious in the way his eyebrows met each other.

Mr. Dong smiled willingly, and bowed to my father to greet them. What a turn of events.

“He’s my Creative Writing professor, how do you know him?” I told Mino.

“He moved into our building, and we have some of our classes together,” Mino replied, now smiling.

Odd, I thought.

“Youngbae hyung, this is my uh…girlfriend, her father, Mr. Kim, and uh,” Mino paused, not knowing how to introduce the woman.

“Jina ahjumma,” I continued his sentence for him and he looked at me grateful.

“Mr. Dong, I didn’t know you played in restaurants,” Or that you played.

“I’m just filling up for a friend,” he shrugged.

“You played well,” Jina ahjumma commented.