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The wind felt different today. The pavement seemed a little brighter, the sun braver with its shine, the air filled with the heavenly sound of people just passing by. The annoying assignment on her mind she managed to brush it off with Chef Kai's image comforting her in the kitchen. Maybe, at some point, she could work with both Chef Kai and Chef Yixing, her two most favourite chefs in the whole world. Her hands red and burned from carrying so much book as she waited for the bus.
Only then, a familiar figure stepped out of a Mercedes Benz and her eyes rolled- not wanting to see what was going on around her.
"Yah, Yongguyongyong~~"
Such an old CEO doing such a cringingly annoyingly cute face. Really she couldn't look away. Voices talked, but her eyes trained on her brother in law.
"ne?" said Jayoung nonchalantly, ignoring the fact that he was opening the door for her.
"How dare you, insolent child! Step into my Mercedes or I will end you."
"Hmm... what's the police number again?"
Of course, it seemed like her classmates had picked on the cue and started whispering 'sugar daddy' to which she almost puked.
"Aha~~ I see... I'm your sugar –"
"Shut up or I will cook you." Her words final, and Suho gulped visibly, walking back for her to take her time and enter his car.
It was a silent ride. Then, she realised that she hadn't asked about where they were going. Glances were stolen here and there. She concluded that the old man wanted to say something with his hands and fingers tapping the wheel anxiously – an action she rarely saw the confident CEO did. His collar twisted and with his scratching finger his pulled back his tie, eyes finally meeting her halfway.
"I don't want to ask how you're doing ..."
Her eyes just trained on the sidewalk blurring past her glazed vision. Her pinkish hair was the only thing was bright at the moment. The soft reflection purple of her highlight cascading down her shoulders burned into her brain – her head pressed against the window, her forehead reddened from the pressure.
Slowly looked back to Suho whose face was filled with worry – genuinely curiously of what her answer was.
"Is it not obvious enough?" She didn't mean to sound bitter. It was her puberty. Her voice no longer tender. The vocal cords bent and twisted her once innocent tone – her timbre now thicker, her voice hoarse but with a small hint of silky softness that was hard to find unless one listened closely.
Realising how harsh she sounded, the girl cleared her throat. These days she had to remind herself to 'tender' her tone, but at the moment, it was more than difficult to focus on anything else but Suho.
