Getting a second chance at life isn't exactly as enchanting as it seems.
Sohee Young, who lived life like the callous person she was, dies. She gets another chance to live life correctly though, and that is by swapping lives with Lina Park, who die...
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"IT'S BEEN A while since we had some family time," Lina's mother exclaimed as she got into the passenger's seat. "Lina ya, aren't you excited?"
I squinted through the sunlight, closing my eyes from headache. Technically, Andrew would be joining us, and we'd be amidst screaming customers, so no, excited wouldn't be the word I'd use.
"Did someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed today?" Lina's father teased as he drove into the busy streets. The fresh breeze from stumbling into the car woke me up a bit, but the floating feeling didn't disappear. Next to him, her mother rolled her eyes with a small smile.
"You should have seen her attitude when she got out of bed today. Grumbled and stomped like a bear, I tell you!"
"Do you want some juk to calm you down?" The man next to her chuckled. "Just make sure not to terrorize our customers. Wouldn't want Andrew scoring employee of the month again."
"He doesn't even work here!" She mimicked, waving her hands in the air while laughter filled the air.
"When did I say that?"
"Last month, when we hung Andrew's face on the kitchen wall. You used to wash the dishes while glaring at the picture. Or did someone erase that traumatic memory?"
"I'm not that desperate," I mumbled. I doubted pushover Lina could be competitive for something other than grades.
Lina's mother turned around at my remark, giving me the Oh, really? face. Eyebrow raised and lips curled up. Antagonizing me. "Do you have a better excuse of why you wanted to skip today?"
Because I had better things to do than waste time serving customers in a restaurant that belonged to my fake parents. Still, I didn't complain. I wasn't the one who threw a fit that we're going to be late and coming out of the house last. Besides, we didn't live that far. Our restaurant, located near Diamond Bar, was a ten minute drive from Chino Hills, placed right in between H-Mart and a bakery shop.
"I don't know," I started, the bitterness creeping in, "it's probably because of the amount of AP's I'm being forced to take." Though I hadn't planned on altering Lina's life, the amount of AP classes the girl took sapped my energy away.
Maybe because her daughter never snapped back at her, Lina's mother reared back. "Don't start this now," she warned. I didn't know I needed a reservation to have a decent conversation with my mother. "It's a good day today. I know you're tired, but don't take it out on me."
Yeah, no. Annoyance clouded the fog in my head, and I fought the urge to scoff. Lina clearly had no life other than studying and chasing Andrew like a lost puppy—which wasn't the pastime of my choice. Call me selfish, but I actually wanted a normal teenage experience, not one directed by a Korean helicopter.
"I'm not tired. Try not to be self-absorbed for five minutes instead of thinking I'm acting out."
"Lina," said girl's father grit out.
"We'll talk about it later, okay? We have a long day ahead of us."
I clenched my teeth and shook my head. From the driver's seat, I saw a disappointed glance sent at me, as if I initiated the fight.
Sometimes I wondered if Lina's parents would have ever loved her if she wasn't smart.
The uncomfortable silence ensued until we arrived. Slamming the car door behind me, hands on my hips, I glanced at the rusty sign above the awning: PARK'S KITCHEN. Short. Simple. Bland. The bakery next door, with an icon of a woman holding bread, seemed to have better marketing design than the restaurant in front of me.
The inside didn't look any better, but it wasn't terrible. Tables arranged in a mixture of booths and seats had stovetops inserted in some of them to grill Korean BBQ. I made my way towards the kitchen, fingers tapping the marble countertop dividing the behind the scenes work and the customer service. Hand clapping my shoulder, Lina's father told me, "You can do kitchen duty tonight."
Was this a new form of torture? I blinked, and opened my mouth to retort. As soon as I did, the small bell attached to the door clinked, and Andrew walked in. He immediately stood out with his white dress shirt tailored to perfection, not a single wrinkle in it. Accompanied by fancy pants, he looked like one of the butlers my father had hired once. In a regular, normal Korean restaurant. Even Lina's—my—parents wore comfortable sweatshirts, my mother rolling up her pants, too.
"What are you wearing?" My lips crashed together, suppressing a laugh, all thoughts of being annoyed at Lina's father forgotten. Leaning my elbow against the counter, I watched as Andrew flushed and ran a hand through his hair.
"Do I look okay?" He asked.
Snorting, I replied, "This isn't exactly a Michelin restaurant."
To which his blush got deeper, eyes scanning my plain T-shirt—which ironically, was the best quality shirt I could find in Lina's room—and long sweatpants, something Lina's mother threw at me to wear knowing Lina's clumsiness.
"Andrew! You're here! Omo, look how handsome you are!" My mother appeared from the kitchen and winked at the new butler, wiping her arms off with a kitchen cloth. The thought of Andrew walking around, arm bent 90 degrees holding a napkin while the other hand carried a silver platter popped into my mind. I burst into laughter, hand covering my mouth.
Letting out an exaggerated sigh, Lina's mother threw her hands up in the air. "Don't mind her, she's just jealous of your style."
"I figured," Andrew switched to teasing mode, a smile curving up his lips. "I'm on serving duty, anyways, since someone couldn't stop stumbling last time."
The corner of my mouth twitched.
"Is Hanna coming today?" Andrew placed his keys on the cashier counter near the door. My eyebrows creased—Hanna?
"I'm sorry I'm late!" Bell chiming again, a girl around our age lunged herself through the doorway, wearing a plain T-shirt and skinny jeans, almost hitting Andrew, who had inched closer to the door. "Oh, sorry!"
Right. Of course I didn't know her. Hair pulled in a frazzled ponytail, face nearly bare of makeup, the hearts coming from her eyes when encountering Andrew's outfit were obvious. The girl smoothed down her own shirt, clearing her throat as she bowed. Briefly, I recalled how the stupid article called me a predator and bit back a scoff. Andrew definitely fit the role better than I did. Especially his obliviousness to how girls liked him—I mean, if he knew he was good looking, shouldn't he have figured? Or maybe he ignored them on purpose.
