Summer Break
While everyone else at the university had gone home to spend time with their families, some of my classmates and I stayed back to prepare for an upcoming test in our second year. We were determined not to fail it.
One morning, Prof. Kim called me and said that someone wanted to meet me. As we walked down the hall to his office, Prof. Kim proudly mentioned how much Freen had improved.
"Mr. Chankimha was very impressed and wanted to give you a gift," he said.
"What gift?" I asked, curious.
We entered Prof. Kim's office, and there was Mr. Chankimha sitting on the couch. My heart raced with nervousness as he greeted me.
"Let's sit," Prof. Kim motioned us to take a seat. "Good morning, Mr. Chankimha. This is our best student here in Empyrean Hall University, Rebecca Patricia Armstrong," he introduced me.
Mr. Chankimha seemed to be thinking about something as he tilted his head and furrowed his eyebrows.
"I think I've seen your face before, I just can't remember when," he mentioned. "But anyway, I'm here to congratulate you for the job well done." He extended his hand, and I gladly accepted the handshake.
"It's my pleasure to teach your daughter," I lied, trying to be polite.
"Don't be silly, Ms. Armstrong. I know you had a hard time teaching that brat. She's been complacent these past few months because she thought she already knew everything. I even told her to major in business studies, but she refused. She really wanted to pursue her artistic passion," Mr. Chankimha shook his head. "But seeing her happy in what she does, I'm fine with it."
"Mr. Chankimha, why don't we get straight to the point? I only excused Ms. Armstrong for a while from her study," Prof. Kim chuckled awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck.
"Oh, right!" Mr. Chankimha exclaimed. "I want to make you Freen's official and private tutor. I'm willing to pay whatever amount you want as long as you can teach her."
I turned to Prof. Kim, my brows furrowed. Was this the gift he was talking about? I wasn't sure I wanted more responsibility on my plate.
"You can think about it, Ms. Armstrong. If you happen to change your mind, you can call me," he said, handing me his calling card.
Mr. Chankimha might be a busy man, but when it comes to his only daughter, he will definitely make time. He came here alone, and I'm sure he canceled all his meetings to offer me the job personally.
"It's fine, Mr. Chankimha. I'll accept the job. I just need to finish studying for my lessons, and I'll tell Prof. Kim my schedule, so he can let me know when to start," I replied, smiling at him as I returned the card.
"If that's the case, then can I invite you to our mall? I just want to buy you something as a gift," Mr. Chankimha stood up and extended his hand.
I looked at Prof. Kim, and he nodded, encouraging me to accept the invitation.
As I've said before, I don't turn down money, even if it means dealing with a potential headache.
I nodded at Mr. Chankimha, accepting his gesture. He smiled back at me and excused both of us to Prof. Kim.
We got into his car, and he drove us to Chankimha's Mall, one of the most popular malls in the area. I could tell that Freen was living a luxurious life beyond imagination.
It's always a privilege to have parents who own so much.
Here I am again, feeling like I come from a poor family.
"Did we see each other before?" Mr. Chankimha asked while we were in the elevator.
"No, sir," I replied politely. "This is the first time I've seen you in person."
"Maybe I'm wrong," Mr. Chankimha said and shrugged.
When the elevator opened, we saw Freen carrying a paper bag, and her gaze shifted between me and her father.
I was about to wave hello when she suddenly dropped her paper bag and turned around angrily.
"Freen!" Mr. Chankimha shouted and chased after his daughter.
I stepped out of the elevator and furrowed my brows, observing the scene.
Wait, did Freen think I was her father's secret affair?
I chuckled at the thought. Seriously? She thought I would make her father a sugar daddy?
I wanted to laugh right then, but the staff around me looked judgmental, as if I had done something wrong.
"You must be Becky?" a woman approached me from the elevator and looked at me. "You're such a beauty. Let's go to my husband's office, and we'll talk about your prize for being a good teacher to my daughter," she said, motioning for me to follow her.
The staff dispersed, and I could see they found the answer they were looking for.
Yes, people, I am Freen's teacher, not her soon-to-be stepmother. Idiotic fools.