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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MOM: LINA!
MOM: SOS!!
MOM: CALL ME!!!
I groaned upon seeing the frantic messages and the overuse of exclamation points. Did it really have to expand with every message? Rubbing my eyes, I leaned my hip on the kitchen counter, fingers pressing the button. The one time I decided to sleep in, and Lina's family ruins it.
"Lina-ya! Jigeum... Umma-ga bappa. Emma-lang tong-ahae." The phone crackled as she moved, and then the distinct beeping cut the line. My eyebrows knit together as I processed what she said. Lina! I'm busy right now. Talk to Emma.
Emma. What was she doing there?
On cue, my phone rang.
"Soh- I mean, Lina!" Emma greeted. "Your parents forgot that today was Hanna's day off, and customers are pouring in. I thought you'd be working here, but y'know, of course you're not since I'm calling you. Anyways, they want me to pick you up, so I'll be there in like ten? Fifteen?"
"I'm not going," I said, my voice flat.
"Too late! I'm already heading to my car, and I know you're already dressed. If not, just come with whatever you have on. Okay bye!" She rushed out, hanging up before I got the last word.
The sharp breath I released filled the air, and I closed my eyes. I'd woken up half an hour ago and did some yoga, wearing Lina's typical black Adidas sweatpants and a spaghetti strapped shirt. Still—it was too early for this.
✗ ✗ ✗
The rose pink jacket hung over my arm as I stepped out of the house. Inside of her car, Emma persistently slammed her hand over the steering wheel, a wide grin on her face.
"Good morning!" Emma cheered as I entered. Staying silent, I entered the car, and nodded my head in acknowledgement. "I like your outfit. Very comfy. Though I'm surprised you didn't change into anything fancier in the twelve minutes I took speeding here."
I glanced down at the white shirt I'd swapped. "I get annoyed at Lina because she can't piece two clothes together, and because she never wears color. So don't get me started."
"Alright, alright! I'm sorry for questioning your fashion sense." Emma laughed. "You ready for a long day ahead?" She continued, backing out of our driveway and swerving onto the road.
"Why do I have to help run it? It's not even my restaurant," I muttered. For some reason, I couldn't understand why my feet carried me to this car. Whenever my father asked—commanded—me to do something, it'd usually end up in an hour long shouting match, comparable to the MMAs. But a simple message by Lina's mother, and I came without a fight.
The two of us weren't close, either—we barely talked on the weekdays since she ran her restaurant, and because I stopped helping out unless she asked, all interactions between us faltered. The reason Lina remained so close with her parents was because she visited them every day after school, and I'd cut that off, too.
