The Passengers (Book #2)

𝔄𝔟𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔗𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔑𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔗𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔈𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 ℌ𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔢𝔫𝔢𝔡

I trip walking up my uneven driveway. Awesome.

"Sooji!" Mrs. Oh says, loading a stack of beautifully tied pastry boxes into her truck bed. She waves me over. "How was school? No more weird noises today, I hope."

"Nope."

She searches my face. She looks like she wants to say something more, but decides against it.

I take a step toward my door and stop. "Just curious, but does my dad ever ask you about that night that everything happened?"

She tilts her head, considering my question. "Your dad has always been the silent, stoic type, even when we were kids. One summer he fell out of a tree and broke his finger. The thing swelled up to the size of a plantain, but he refused to admit that it hurt. In fact, he climbed right back up that tree and jumped out, just to prove it couldn't get the best of him." She raises a knowing eyebrow at me. "Now, I have to get to the bakery with these new recipes I was experimenting with. But anytime you feel like chatting, you just come over."

I open the side door to my house. "I will." But I probably won't.

The house is quiet. "Appa!"

"In the ballroom!" His voice comes from down the hall to the right of the stairs. I close the door and speed-walk in the direction of the sound. We're calling the room with the piano and the uncomfortable-looking old furniture the ballroom?

I step through the door, and I instantly relax at the sight of him, alive and healthy.

I avoid looking at the painting of Bona that hangs at the other end of the room. In fact, I haven't come in here since Joohyuk left. All I see when I look at Bona is eyes just like his, eyes that I miss. And I don't want to miss them. No magic. No thinking about Joohyuk.

My dad stands by a set of white silk couches and looks up at the high ceiling.

"What are you doing?"

"Just looking around this old place," he says, and smiles. "You know this room was never quiet when your grandmother was alive." He gestures toward an antique record player. "There was always music and hordes of ladies having tea and playing bingo."

I smile, too. "The way you used to describe her, I thought that Halmeoni didn't have many friends."

"Not when she got older, no. But when I was young and my father was still alive . . ." His voice trails off without completing his sentence. "You would think this place would be too big for just the three of us, but Eomeoni always filled it somehow. She would be severely disappointed if she saw how we never use this room now."

I watch him as he sits down on the couch near the fireplace. He hasn't talked about Halmeoni since our conversaton about what happened in the woods. Does this mean he's going to want to talk about that now, too? He pats the cushion next to him, and I choose the side that keeps my back to the painting.

He watches me. "What would you think about moving back to Seoul?"

What? "Leave Manyeo? Is this because of my sleep? I was having a hard time right after but it's way better. I swear. I'm sleeping through the night now." My words come out faster than I intended.

His forehead knits in concern. "I'm not saying we should go. I'm just checking on you. I want to make sure you're happy. I know you have friends here."

"At least one."

He smiles. "The way Sehun tells it, the whole school's fascinated with you."

"Don't believe him. He's an optimist. It's more like they don't clear out when I enter the hall." I look up at my dad. "But seriously, I really like it here."