Cheryl
Every morning, I make breakfast while Mr. Han prepares coffee for us both.
“Thank you,” I said, accepting my cup as he handed it to me. He nodded silently, then walked out of the kitchen, his presence as fleeting as the aroma of freshly brewed coffee.
It must be sinking in now—having a nineteen-year-old under his roof, especially one who’s no use to him. I often wonder if he regrets the arrangement.
Today, we drove to Tonyhan together. Mr. Han took the wheel instead of Chris, and I sat quietly in the passenger’s seat.
I didn’t flinch when his hand brushed the gearshift. Therapy must be working, or maybe it’s just… different with him.
“Hi, Lili,” I waved as I reached my desk.
“Hey, married girl,” she teased with a smirk.
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Still not
