It just sits there, that stupid blue envelope that Jungmin had left me for my birthday. I should rip it, tear it into a dozen pieces, and spit on it. And yet, a week later, I've still been unable to execute those actions. Part of me wanted to open it and find that it's some sappy apology that embellishes how much he's missed me and won't leave, again, and that he's here to stay. But what if his interest in me fades, and like before, he slips away, focusing purely on his new family?

 

I was five-going-on-six when he left. My memories of our time together are brief and hazy. But, from what I can remember, he'd been a good father. He'd taught me to ride a bike, fixed up my scraped knees when I'd fallen off, read me bedtime stories…

 

"Dara?" My mom's voice cut through my thoughts, bringing my gaze to my feet, marching me to the foot of the stairs.

 

"Yeah?"

 

"Dinner's ready," she said.

 

I descended the stairs quickly, forcing a smile onto my lips when I saw the frown on her face.

 

"You okay, honey?" she asked.

 

"I'm good," I replied. "Just hungry." I patted my stomach, just to emphasize my point. And satisfied, Mom nodded, smiled, and lead the way to the dining table. I lost the smile instantly, only to put on another display of faux cheerfulness when I saw Durami and Ji Eun already seated in the kitchen.

 

"Hey Dara," Ji Eun chirped, twirling the pasta around her fork. "Durami's just been telling me about all these concerts you and your quintet have been doing. It just sounds so cool! I wish I could play an instrument and play in a group like that. She says you're going to be playing at a couple of schools soon, and that ours will be one of them. I can't wait! It's going to be so great to see you and Jiyong…"

 

Durami nudged her, looking panicked at her reference to his name, and furiously shook her head. Ji Eun's eyes are sympathetic when she muttered, "Sorry, I completely forgot…"

 

"You've got nothing to be sorry for," I interrupted. "I wish you'd all stop tiptoeing around me. You treat his name as if it has some taboo latched onto it. I don't care about him; feel free to say whatever you like about him. I don't care."

 

I stabbed my fork into a meatball then, and forcefully shoved it into my mouth, refusing to see the surprise on their faces.

 

My thoughts slipped back to the wedding, where I'd danced with Jiyong. After my futile attempt to discern what had been troubling him of late, and his brief comment on my bracelet, the band had stopped playing and our services had once again been required. That had been a week ago now and we haven't spoken since.

 

"I'm not really that hungry," I said, pushing my plate forward.

 

I didn't wait for a response, and neither did I look for one on their faces. I just stood up, swiftly tucked my chair under the table, and hastened up to my room. And then, when my door's closed behind me, I collapsed onto my bed and pick up Ambiguity and read.

 

 

 

An extract from Chapter 22 of Ambiguity

 

Naomi leans slumped forward against the bar, incognizant of the loud chitter chatter from customers, as her attention is focused solely on Ace. He's talking on his mobile, just round the corner, his mood buoyant and his face beaming. She's never seen him like this, and she can only pin his sudden mood change, from his recent despondency, on a girl. This belief, however, also stems from the words she's been able to discern from his conversation. She's discovered that his conversant is named Sarah and that he's 'missed her so much' and 'can't wait to see her'.

 

Naomi's now moved from off the bar and has pressed herself against the wall, as near to Ace as she can be to discern his conversation without him realizing he has an eavesdropper. He's still on the phone, and his smile is still broad. He nods enthusiastically, muttering, "I care about you a lot, Sarah. Don't forget that."

 

A wave of jealousy washes over Naomi. He's moved on. It's what she wanted him to do, yes, but she can't suppress the resentment she feels towards this Sarah.

 

"I work at The Crown. It's just off Seven Street," Ace says. He pauses, laughs, and then says, "Can't wait. I'll see you tomorrow."

 

He ends the call, sighs contentedly, and turns round, only to find Naomi staring at him. He notices the forlorn look on her face instantly and he frowns.

 

"What's wrong?" he asks.

 

"Nothing," Naomi replies, suddenly snapping to attention.

 

He's not convinced, however, and raises a questioning eyebrow. "You sure?"

 

"Yes!" she snaps, and nervously rubs the back of her neck. "Who were you talking to? Is she your girlfriend?"

 

Ace's still frowning and takes a moment to scrutinize her expression: she's tense and her jaw is tightly clenched. "No," he says slowly, "Sarah is not my girlfriend."

 

Naomi lets out a short breath, feeling incredibly stupid. "Oh."

 

He gives a small smile. "Yeah, oh." He pauses in thought, and then asks, "Why would you care? You made it clear you don't feel the same way towards me as I do you."

 

"I don't," she says quickly, "I was just…curious."

 

He gives a fleeting smile. "Curiosity killed the cat."

 

 

 

I slammed down the book and ran a hand agitatedly through my hair. My eyes strayed to the blue envelope once again. I stood up, knowing what I need to do, and picked it up. I've never considered the idiom, 'curiosity killed the cat', as really applying much to me. If I were to mirror any particular species in the animal kingdom it would certainly not be a cat, but perhaps, a bold, free-spirited, domineering bird.

 

I tore the envelope open, hesitating for a moment before slipping out the card. It says To my Daughter on her birthday… in looping, pink writing. Taking a deep breath, I flipped it open and read.

 

 

 

 

Class dragged on, long and laborious, as my eyes flitted frequently to the clock on the wall. I tapped my pen impatiently against my book, gaining glares from the students around me as Mr. Yang came to the end of his long lecture. And then, with a flamboyant gesture to the door he declared, "Class dismissed."

 

Nerves twisted inside my stomach, and I'm once again contemplating as to whether I'm doing the right thing. I packed my books away slowly, no longer impatient to leave class.

 

I my phone, flipping its top up and down, wondering whether I should just cancel, fabricating the excuse that something's come up and could we please reschedule?

 

I'm so consumed in my thoughts that I failed to hear the footsteps behind me, and I failed to notice the tall, broad shouldered figure beside me.

 

"What's wrong?" Jiyong asked.

 

I jumped back, surprised, and my heart sunk in that instance. Why does he always turn up at the most inconvenient of situations?

 

He raised a questioning eyebrow, still awaiting a response.

 

"Nothing," I snapped. "Nothing's wrong."

 

He crossed his arms, as stubborn as ever. "You were fidgety all through class, and you look flustered and nervous."

 

"I'm fine," I said, and glared.

 

His eyes trained to my hands, where I keep wringing them together. Damn, I hadn't realized I'd been doing that, it's always been a nervous habit of mine. I dropped my hands instantly, positioning them behind my back.

 

He raised a skeptical eyebrow and took a step towards me. I frowned, took a step back, and regained the previous space between us. I didn't like the concern sketched into his features; it just gave me the illusion he cared, when in retrospect, I know he doesn’t.

 

"Just go away," I said tiredly.

 

"Why?" Jiyong asked. "Waiting for someone?"

 

"Yeah. So?"

 

His jaw clenched. "Seunghyun?"

 

"No," I responded, frowning.

 

He nodded, relaxed, and then jerked his head towards the parking lot from our position outside the college's entrance. "Your car's not in the parking lot. Got problems with the engine or something?"

 

"No, my car is perfectly fine, thank you very much. I just didn't drive it this morning."

 

His lip twitched upwards. "You succumbed to public transport?"

 

I fixed him with a dark look, hoping it translates as: Piss off. But the smirk was still there, and he looked as if he's going nowhere.

 

"Yes, I took the bus. Big whoop." I paused. I didn't think before I speak, the words slipping off my tongue before I can fully contemplate their consequences, as I muttered, "Jungmin…my dad is picking me up."

 

Jiyong's eyebrows rose up in surprise. Well, that had certainly taken him off guard. "Your Dad?"

 

"Yeah," I said, my words coming out thick and fast. "Big surprise, huh? Couldn't believe it when he turned up two weeks ago, all apologetic and wanting to be a part of my life again and stuff. Thought he didn't care, forgot all about me, y'know. But apparently not. I don't know, maybe he did, and now, he's just suddenly decided to look up his only daughter." I should stop talking and walk away, but my feet remain firmly planted on the ground and my mouth moved on its own accord, blurting out every thought and feeling that had festered in me since Jungmin's arrival.

 

"I'm probably doing the wrong thing, seeing him," I continued. "He'll probably let me down and just leave. He'll hurt me." I gave a bitter laugh. "I don't exactly trust my judgement right now. I don’t read people very well, y'know."

 

As soon as my little rant was finished and silence dropped on us, I berated myself for my sudden lucidity, and my eyes darted away from his instantly, the ground suddenly holding a greater appeal.

 

Those jumble of thoughts had plagued my mind for weeks now, but, until now, I'd just never voiced them, preferring to keep them stored away. I didn't know why I'd unloaded them all on Jiyong; I wish I hadn't, because we're not 'together' and we're not friends.

 

I casted a furtive glance at him, only to find his eyes soft and sympathetic. He held out his arm and took a step towards me. The arm dropped to his side, however, when I took a step back in response. His lip twitched downwards and his brow furrowed.

 

"Your dad left when you were five, right?" he asked.

 

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

 

"And you haven't heard from since then?"

 

I shook my head.

 

"Did he say why?"

 

A nod.

 

"And do you forgive him?"

 

This time I shrugged, and bury my hands deep inside my coat's pockets.

 

"You know," Jiyong began, moving imperceptibly closer, "people can make mistakes. Perhaps he had a good reason for leaving."

 

I snorted (a very un-lady-like gesture, I know) and fixed him with a hard look. "Well, it wasn't good enough."

 

Jiyong said, "He made a mistake then. But you're willing to forgive him..."

 

"Am I?" I asked hotly. "'Cause I'm not sure I…"

 

"Then why have you agreed to meet with him?" Jiyong interjected. "Life's too short to hold grudges."

 

I brewed in silence for a moment, my eyes never leaving his.

 

"Do you forgive your dad for leaving?" I asked.

 

He hesitated, but eventually replied, "Yes."

 

I frowned. "But he let you down, and he's left you to pick up the pieces."

 

"Yeah, he did," Jiyong said. "But I'm tired of hating him, and I've accepted him for who he is: selfish and weak, and didn't try enough... didn't care enough to help his wife." He paused. "We can't go back in time and fix our mistakes, even though, sometimes, we'd do anything to."

 

I didn't find time to convey a response, or to contemplate whether his last utterance holds a double meaning, as a loud, blaring horn prevented me. I casted a swift glance across the car park, my eyes instantly locking on the well-built stature of Jungmin.

 

"That's him," I said. "I better go." I found myself eager to meet Jungmin then, as I want - need to get away from Jiyong. Because it's times like these, when he putd on that facade of genuine care, that the mass of hatred I feel towards him begins to ebb away, and that, I cannot have. I need to hate him, because the alternative...

 

I turned to Jiyong, surprised to find him giving me an encouraging smile. "Good luck, Dara."

 

I didn't issue a reply, but instead, crossed the car park quickly, not wanting to catch myself between a speeding car (seriously, some of these students are maniac drivers) and opened Jungmin's car door, slipping inside slowly.

 

"Hey," he said, smiling broadly. "I'm so glad you called, Dara."

 

I simply nodded, forcing a small smile onto my lips. "Where are we going?" I asked.

 

He seems impervious to my brashness, or is simply so joyous as to our meeting, that he answered in the same chipper tone, "A small coffee shop not far from here." He paused. "Was that a friend you were talking to? Or was he a boyfriend?"

 

The first response that flitted through my mind was 'none of your business', but then I remembered that I've already inwardly promised myself to not make this meeting tense and awkward. I didn't have to agree to meet him, as he'd suggested in the birthday card he'd given me, but I had. He wanted to know about me and my life, and I supposed, in a way, I'm curious to know details about him, too. I can never trust him…completely, of course, as he'd lost that a long time ago. And I'm not anticipating in him 'sticking around', either. I have no expectations for us. I'm just playing it by ear.

 

"That guy is not really my friend," I replied, referring to Jiyong, "he's just someone in my class."

 

"Hmmm. Thought I recognized him," Jungmin said. "Thought he was one of your play friends when you were little. Of course, he'd be a lot bigger now, but there was just something about him…"

 

He remembered. The flare of hope and happiness that sparked from that statement surprised me. And I can't suppress the smile quirking my lips upwards because he remembered; he remembered something about me, even if it was, unfortunately, Jiyong.

 

"It was Fang," I said. "Aka Kwon Jiyong, my archenemy."

 

One hand left the steering wheel as he snapped his fingers, remembering. "Ah, yes," he said, "you and him used to get into all kinds of squabbles. Your mom used to get so frustrated having to be called to the school because of it." He paused. "He's turned into quite a strapping lad."

 

I didn't offer my own opinion, choosing to stare outside instead, watching the tall, broad conifer trees merging into a long, seemingly endless, green hue.

 

"So you're at college," Jungmin began. "What do you study?"

 

"English and Creative Writing," I said.

 

He smiled. "I suppose I should have guessed. You loved being read to when you were younger, and was always insistent on going to the library, lugging half a dozen books out with you."

 

I smiled, also, as the image of a girl of around five vividly forms in my mind.

 

She's struggling with a hefty pile of books as she comes out of the library. Her brown hair was secured in high pigtails, and she's grinning from ear to ear when she sees her dad waiting for her. She rushes towards him, the stack of books threatening to collapse before her father jogs over towards her, taking the books from out of her small arms. The girl giggles and the father warmly remarks, "What am I going to do with you, Dara?"

 

I frowned when the memory ended. I watched him from out of the corner of my eye as he took a turn on the road, and we entered a car park. Resentment filled me for a moment, igniting the burning questions, Why the hell did you leave me? Wasn't I enough?

 

But then the car becomes stationary and Jungmin's getting out of the car. I followed suit slowly behind.

 

We grabbed a booth near the end of the café, absently flipping through the menu, neither sure what to say. The tension is thick and heavy, pressing down on us until I'm almost certain I'm going to bolt because it's just too much: too much emotion, too much resentment… I'm not sure I can forgive Jungmin like Jiyong had forgiven his dad. I'd waited so long for him to call, and then, when he didn't, I just substituted longing for loathing and hatefulness.

 

"Are you ready to order?" Jungmin asked, his eyes still on the menu. But when I didn't supply a response, he looked up, his eyebrows raised in question.

 

I nodded tightly, and asked for just a cup of coffee. I'd gotten very little sleep during the night, my mind absently preoccupied on Jungmin and what I was going say and do, and how I was going to find some resolution from this meeting. So coffee, right now, would be more than welcome.

 

He got up, and went to place our order. My eyes surveyed the café: it's fairly modern, with several white circular tables traversing round the room. Wilting potted plants are dotted here and there, but due to their obvious lack of care, they give the place a somewhat despondent feel, which even the vibrant coloured seats and wall paintings fail to uplift.

 

Walking diligently back over with two steaming cups in hand, Jungmin placed them meticulously on the table.

 

"So," he said, still just as enthusiastic, "do you have any hobbies?" He blew on his cup, and the flimsy wisps of steam instantly dissipate. "Tell me whatever you like," he continued.

 

"I love reading, of course, and I play the piano," I said.

 

He smiled broadly at my latter utterance. "My mother, your grandmother, was a wonderful pianist."

 

"Really?"

 

"Yes," he replied, nodding enthusiastically. "She was a great woman."

 

I frowned. "Was?"

 

Slowly, and somewhat reluctantly, he noded. "She passed away just before you were born." He paused. "She tried to teach me when I was a kid, but I just never got the hang of it." A small smile formed on his lips, in remembrance, and then he laughed, loud and unrestrained. "I have no hand eye coordination whatsoever, you see, so trying to play two different things at once, was nigh on impossible for me."

 

"Oh," I said. "Well, I play in a quintet, as well, with four other string players from college."

 

He smiled again. "It sounds nice." And fell quiet.

 

After several moments, I said, "Mom said you were a scientist," not wanting to be trapped in that stifling silence once again.

 

He nodded. "I am. I test new medicines, making sure they're safe for humans."

 

"You've moved from Canada," I stated, "so you must have changed your job, right?" I'm watching him carefully now; he's hunched forward, his head partially bowed. He wouldn't meet my eyes.

 

"Yes, I did. I'm now working in the city."

 

"Didn't you like it there, back in Canada?" Didn't they have phones there, back in Canada?

 

"It was nice," he said, "but a better job presented itself here…"

 

"So you seeing me now, is just to do with convenience," I interjected, my voice hard.

 

"No, it's not," he protested, seemingly flustered.

 

"Because I don't see how picking up a phone is that difficult, y'know," I said. I'd snapped, something which I'd promised myself I wouldn't do, but knew that I needed to get it all out. I need to know why he wasn't there for me.

 

He ran a hand across his face tiredly, and it's only then that I saw how weary and aged he looked: much older than his fifty years.

 

"I'm sorry, Dara," he apologized, his voice cracking on my name. "I always meant to call you, honestly, but I just didn't know what to say. The look on your little face when I told you I was leaving…it hurt, a lot. I was going to call you, every day, but I just kept putting it off and off until a year had gone by, and then another year, and so I thought that you wouldn't want to hear from me when so much time had passed."

 

I shook my head, angry. A year or two would have been better than a whole freaking TEN YEARS.

 

"So why now?" I asked.

 

"I missed you," he replied simply. "It had been too long, and I wanted to apologize. I want to make it up to you; I want to get to know you."

 

I took a deep breath, my eyes glued to the coffer cup as I listened to the cacophony of conversation from customers, the clinking of cups and cutlery, and the whirring of the fans above us.

 

"Could you ever forgive me?" he muttered quietly.

 

My head snapped forward then, my face impassive, unreadable. I don't know how I should feel, and I don't know what I should say. Can I forgive him?

 

"You left us," I said, "and I didn't know why. I used to think that maybe I'd done something wrong and…"

 

He opened his mouth to interrupt, but I stilled his protest by holding up my hand: let me finish.

 

"I was only five," I continued, "so I don't suppose I really understood. I still don't, not really." I paused, remembering Jiyong's words. "But what's done has been done, and there's nothing that can be done to change that. So I… forgive you."

 

A smile alighted on his lips, and he seemed somewhat relieved, his rigid posture becoming more lax. "Thank you.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I'm back," I shouted, as I enter the house, slipping off my boots.

 

Mom appeared in the hallway immediately, her face written with concern and apprehension. "How'd it go?"

 

"Good, I think," I said. "As well as it could have gone. We both know where we stand, and we've both found out bits about each other, so…"

 

"Will you be seeing Jungmin again soon?"

 

I hung my coat on the peg, and walked with Mom further inside, into the kitchen.

 

"We're meeting up in the next fortnight," I said, "as he's going away on a business meeting for a week or so tomorrow."

 

Mom gave me a small smile, and went to grab a pair of oven mitts from beside the oven. "I hope everything turns out alright, Dara. I don't want him to let you down."

 

She wrapped me in a tight hug.

 

"Me too.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

An extract from Chapter 23 of Ambiguity

 

Naomi watches Ace attentively from out of the corner of her eye. He keeps casting frequent glances at his watch, and then to the main door, and then to the window outside. He's impatient, she can tell, as he keeps tapping his foot at an erratic pace, drumming his fingers consistently against the table. And she knows what's caused this behavior: Sarah, the girl to whom he was supposed to be meeting. She doesn't know anything else about her, having failed to entice anything more from Ace, save that she isn't his girlfriend.

 

The main door groans open suddenly, and a small boy, around four with a head of unruly brown locks, comes dashing inside.

 

"Matthew!" A young woman's voice scolds. "Come back here, right this second."

 

The boy totters to a stop, the mittens sticking out of his bright green coat swinging from out of the arms by a tenuous thread of wool.

 

The boy turns around, waiting for who Naomi presumes is his mother.

 

A young woman, no older than Naomi, comes into view. She's tall and slim, with dark, curly locks that reach just below the collar of her long, navy coat.

 

Ace stands up immediately, his face filled with uncontained vigor and jubilance. The woman sees him, too, and much the same expression alights on her features. They close the distance immediately, and grasp each other in a long, protracted hug, neither seemingly willing to let go until the small boy begins tugging at his mother's coat.

 

The woman pulls away laughing, the smile still fixed in place, and puts a hand on her boy's shoulder.

 

"This is my son, Matthew," she introduces.

 

Ace crouches down to the boy's level and warmly greets, "Hello, Matthew. Do you know who I am?"

 

The boy nods timidly, while his hand searches for his mother's. He finds it, and his small hand grasps hers.

 

The woman's expression begins to take on a more forlorn look as she watches the interaction between her son and Ace. "I'm so sorry, Ace," she apologizes, "I should have told you about him much sooner."

 

His head snaps up to look at her in surprise. He straightens up from his crouched position on the floor, and gently leads her into one of the more private booths.

 

Naomi sighs dejectedly, no longer able to discern any of their conversation.

 

She feels hollow as she listlessly wipes over the bar, her eyes never leaving the huddled group in the corner.

 

“Was she Ace's girlfriend at some time?” she wonders. Is that his son? And if he is, why did he never mention this before?

 

 

 

---

 

 

Woot. Too litle Daragon moment there. Mian.

So.... hi!!! Haha I guess many of you who read "Flowers From Heaven" were disappointed with what I did there. So to make it up for that, I updated Ambi. Yey! Haha ^_^

To those who don't know Flowers From Heaven, you can go check it out here: Link.

Check out her other story too. This one's completed already and this one's super nice too!!! Link.

It's an ongoing fic and it's really really awesome. It has 1000+ subscribers already. Go read!!! And you'll see me there! Hahahaha =P =P =P

Oh, thanks to those who supported me and didn't bad mouth me in their comments in FFH. Haha Love you guys! <33333

And lastly, Ambiguity has more or less 5 chapters to go. =((((((( Sad. Huhuhu Hope you read this all the way till the end. Thank you guys! Love you all!!! <333333