𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃

21.

Mr. Lozero slides into the driver’s seat with practiced ease, his tailored navy suit barely creasing as he adjusts himself behind the wheel. I follow, slipping into the passenger seat. If the absence of a driver isn’t an indication of the conversation that’s about to unfold, nothing ever will be. He clears his throat loudly, as though unsure of how to begin.

“I heard from Secretary Yun that you’ve been applying to companies for some experience?” he asks, attempting to sound casual, acting as though his focus is entirely on the road.

“Mhm. Jin Corporation rejected me, and NextGen Pharmaceuticals is still leaving me hanging,” I reply smoothly, then add with a teasing smile, “Why aren’t you with Mom today, Dad?”

He coughs, flustered, before recovering. “Well, your mother thought I should spend more time with you. We’ve been... neglecting you a bit lately.”

Right. Of course, I believe that. Please note the sarcasm.

Outside, the road stretches ahead, bathed in the glow of the setting sun. His hands, perfectly steady on the wheel, turn every corner with calculated grace. No sudden movements—just like this conversation.

As the car glides smoothly onto the main road, I notice Mr. Lozero tighten his grip on the steering wheel, his eyes flicking toward me briefly before focusing ahead. He’s preparing himself—his subtle tells are easy to catch when you’ve grown up in a dog-eat-dog world.

“So... how are things between you and Caden these days?” he asks, feigning nonchalance, though the careful tone in his voice gives him away.

I raise an eyebrow, leaning back in my seat casually. “Caden? I haven’t seen him around lately,” I say with a shrug, my voice deliberately light, as if I—well, the original Faye—wasn’t the one who had the biggest crush on him once. The very idea almost makes me laugh.

Mr. Lozero glances at me from the corner of his eye, as though trying to gauge how serious I am. “I see. You two were... quite close for some time.”

I like how Mr. Lozero still tries to save some dignity for his daughter. Unfortunately for him, her soul's already been replaced. "Quite close" is both an understatement and an overstatement at the same time. An understatement because the original Faye was absolutely obsessed with Caden. And an overstatement because, well, Caden gave zero fucks, like the asshole he is.

I offer a small, knowing smile, keeping my tone casual. “Yeah, well, things change. People get busy.” Or people realize chasing after a guy like Caden isn’t exactly at the top of their priority list anymore. Or maybe a certain someone's soul got swapped out—for a better one—but no need to say these things out loud.

“And how’s it going in the new classroom? Are you settling in? Anyone giving you a hard time?” He fires off questions like a rapid-fire quiz, his agitation growing with each one. For someone so detached most of the time, it’s almost comical. Who knew he cared? Even if it's wrapped in mild paranoia.

But as we near the house, I realize he still hasn’t touched on the real topic. Seriously? We’re just going to pretend like everything’s fine? There’s a marriage proposal looming, and we’re avoiding it like the plague.

I respond with a brief, “Everything’s fine,” though my exasperation at his cautious approach is evident. His persistent tiptoeing around the real issues is wearing me thin, but I don’t press it. Not yet, at least.

As we turn into the driveway, two sleek, high-end cars come into view, parked haphazardly as though left in haste. The vehicles gleam under the dimming light, their placement unsettling, out of sync with the usual orderliness expected at our home.

From the corner of my eye, I observe Mr. Lozero’s reaction. His expression shifts ever so slightly—a faint frown creases his otherwise impassive face. It’s clear he wasn’t expecting visitors. His posture stiffens, betraying a flicker of unease that he quickly suppresses, though not before I catch it.

The house, bathed in the last rays of the setting sun, feels unusually still, as though bracing for something yet unspoken.