MINHO POV:

It's 4:12, and Sooyoung should have been here a long time ago. I'd been waiting for almost two hours, and my hope was slowly dying. I sigh and, for the last time glance up at the clock. That's it. She wasn't coming. 

4:13. I'm halfway off my chair, ready to close the door. And suddenly she's there, smiling apologetically and taking out her books, ready to start another lesson. She acted so casual, completely oblivious to my relief. I feel like hugging her, automatically forgiving her for being two hours late. It didn't matter, as long as she was here. 

We sit down side by side, teacher and student. As soon as she starts teaching, everything suddenly made sense. I let the words wash over me, sink into my brain and warm my heart. Her voice is so calming. If only she could sing for me...

Instead of swiftly leaving like last lesson, Sooyoung smiles at me this time and waves. Then she apologises again and leaves. Only after she's gone do I realise I hadn't asked her to go out with me.

My mother is in the doorway, observing me. I hadn't noticed her prescence, and wondered how long she had bee standing there. She studies me for a few more moments, then at last speaks," I suppose you like her?" 

I'm taken aback, not sure how to answer the question. "Yeah." I mumble, eyes downcast. 

"I'm sorry. But you can't. It cannot be."

I raise my eyes, questioning her silently. What was she talking about?

"A long time ago, Choi Sooyoung's family and ours. We had interactions, then conflict. I don't want you to mix with her bloodline; it's bad blood." She spoke in a dull montone, with no trace of emotion, as if speaking about something that had happened to someone else. 

I didn't understand, and was going to question her, but she her heels and shuffled out. My question died on my tounge, and I'm left to wonder what in the world she had meant. 

SOOYOUNG POV:

My mother had never told my sister the story; she was never intending to tell me either, but I had forced every last piece of information out of her. 

We had often crouched in the darkness, whispering back and forth. And that was how she had passed the secret onto me, through our quiet conversations, voices lowered so that Evangeline would never find out.

I had only realised who Minho had been after meeting his mother. I had seen her face in photos, and recognised her immediately. 

Five decades ago, Choi Minho's family had still been as rich as they were now, and our family as poor. And my grandmother had served them as a servant. My grandmother had been young then, and was one of the many maids that attended personally to the Grand Master himself- Minho's grandfather. It was said that beauty ran in our blood, and indeed she had been beautiful. In fact, the she was prettiest of all the maids and definitely the Master's favourite. Of course, he took a liking to her and forced her to be his mistress against her own will. He had had a child with her, a baby girl whom they christened Nam Young. My mother. The Master had presented all his wives and mistresses with identical pendants with the same charm; a half moon. My grandmother had received one, but soon after giving birth to my mother she had run away from home after having her husband abuse her. She left with injuries and a baby in her arms, and the police stopped her at the train station after seeing her bad condition. She had no one, no friends, no family. Nothing but the clothes she wore and we precious pendant. She was nursed back to health by one of the kinder police, and given a home. He soon became like a brother to her, and today I call him my Great Uncle Changmin. He was a strong man, and ready to take on the man who had hurt my mother so badly. He sought him out and took his revenge, which landed him in prison for 10 years. Meanwhile, my grandmother passed away and left my newborn mother to Changmin's wife, who raised her like a daughter. 

But to this day, my mother and I bear a mark that is a reminder of our ancestry: a half moon birth mark in our ankles, which I try to cover up at all times. And I'm in love with the grandson of the man who had been in charge of all this pain and suffering. I'm in love with someone who could actually be... my distant brother.