Wrong Number

Chapter Four

"But he's Korean, he probably knows the basics." Kim Joyeon or Jo to be exact, interrupts. I nod my head, but come to think of it, Korean Literature is not the same as Korean Language. Somehow at some point, I kind of understand his struggles.

"He'll get better at it, his cousin is Eunwoo. The holy smart and hot pants in this school." I heard Jo's soft voice exclaim, but rather than comforting, her voice tasted like a hint of jealousy.

Mrs Kim whispers something to him just like how she did to me earlier. But, judging alone from Songkang's expression is not enough to know what Mrs Kim whispered to him. Is it a bad thing? Or is it something comforting. Mrs Kim should know better. He just got here not even a month ago.

As he turned his body around and walked back to his seat, his eyes met mine again but this time it was just a short glance. I shrugged it off, probably it is just an accident of eye contact.

"Tteokbokki after school yes, no?" Byul inch closer so I can hear her clearly. I am about to agree but then it hit me that I have a night shift tonight. Fortunately, the girl in charge reminded me about it this morning.

"Would love to, but I remembered I have a night shift tonight." If there's one thing I can describe Byul, it is her inability to hide facial expression. Her sparkling eyes dropped along with her smile. "I'll make it up next time, and it will be on me. Promise!" I held my palm up next to my face, and she chuckled.

"Alright, don't you dare to pay for your celebration, I'll pay for it, just make time." She pulled my hand down and rolled her eyes at me. But soon, it was replaced with a smile. "Congrats!"

My walk back home was accompanied with a light heart, it's been a while since I am this energetic walking back home probably because of the grade I got for my Korean Literature today. It was an instant mood booster.

I had expected to be the top in the class but the happiness came like a surprise every time.

Upon arriving in front of my gate, I saw a tall lady in her early 50s, looking luxurious with her neon pink fur coat in...Spring.

She had her cat-eye pitch black sunglasses covering her mono-eyelid, her hairs styled nicely in Savannah Chrisley Hairstyle and everything was complete with her ankle length brown boots.

I slowed my pace as I saw my mom walking towards the lady with both of her hands fidgeting against each other. Her eyes showed an obvious nervousness compared to the lady in front of her , who has her chin up in the air.

Slow pace turns into not walking at all. I hid behind the intersection of my neighbourhood as I peek over to both of them.

They were talking to each other and I could hear the sound of my heart shattering at the sight of my mom hunching, head brought down as she forced a smile at every word the woman said. The lady seemed to raise her voice before a white envelope was thrown into her face.

Seeing my mom flinch at her action, my feet seem to freeze in place. I wanted to run to her so bad but I remembered how it breaks my mom's ego for her daughter to see her in that state. So I take a painful step backwards.

My heart, I could feel them clenching hard, as hard as my fist that my knuckles turned white. My hands produced a red liquid as I dug my nail deeper into my palm but the pain, it was nothing compared to what filled my sight.

Who is that Lady, and why did she do that to my mother?

After a good 2 minutes, the black Mercedes drove away from our house. My mom bend on her knee, picking up the white envelope that seems to have something valuable than her dignity.