A gush of warm air clamped onto my body, instantly taking away my anxiety. Or so I believe it did. I walked into the mahogany building, finding myself in the elevator and tapping the highest floor with a reluctant and shaking finger.
I did it, I pressed it.
And boy do I regret it.
It dinged and I stepped out the elevator with a heavy exhale, since when was I holding my breath? "I'm a mess," I laughed, running a very sweaty hand down my hair.
It was only then I noticed the many different kinds of ethnicities and races, across the room. I grinned. I loved seeing people from all around the world, it made me feel blessed and grateful to live in a place like South Korea.
A place that accepts anyone.
But then my smile wavered.
"Miss, can I help you?" I slightly flinched, stepping back. A beautiful almost western looking women, obviously a foreigner from her accent, asked cautiously.
"Sorry," I bowed, "May I know where Mr Jeon's office room is?" She looked sceptical at first, but pointed to her left, "the last room over there."
I thanked her, scurrying off towards that way, until I abruptly came to a halt. My eyes burning with tears, staring at the wooden door in front of me.
Nerves are kicking in.
Over thinking is kicking in.
Anxiety is building up again.
"I can do this!" I rubbed the tears away.
And then, I knocked.
"Come in," I heard from the other side.
And my heart sank.
I opened the door and my breath hitched.
My father.
He's here, he's right here.
But why do I feel nothing.
No love, no affection.
Just anger.
"What can I do for you—?" He averted his gaze to me.
My father is looking at me.
Right into my soul but it seems he doesn't know me.
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