I tense at seeing him like I always do because even after all this time, I've never been able to entirely oust him from my heart, even if there's no love between us. My stomach tightens, and those irritating butterflies rise and flutter around until I push them down with a heavy inhale. Steeling myself to regain immunity and hating that my stupid, naïve heart can never remove the Jyeon of long ago from my head. Even though we have both changed beyond recognition in ten years, our story is a rollercoaster and long, and somehow all stops always end up at Hatesville, no matter how much we try to pull it back.

He looks good in a white shirt, navy tie, and no suit jacket. His black hair has been styled off his forehead to bring out his best features. His straight black brows frame the darkest brown, gorgeous eyes, and that faultless jawline enhances everything, even his full lips and how he chews his lower one when he concentrates. Jyeon was always blessed with how he looked, and it only causes me more pain when I stare at him, seeing the boy I used to adore. He hasn't been that boy for a long time - only in my memories, only by name.

"What is it?" He asks without looking up, fingers on his keyboard paused, and making zero effort to make eye contact with me. The instant aura of closed off and aloof that he always serves me, and his tone is flat. I ignore it, walk forward, and dump the file on his desk with little grace, folding my arms over my chest with nonchalance to show him I don't care. Always on guard, never hinting at weak.

"Your proposal results. It's plausible if you can get the board to agree. It looks like a solid investment, and I have no reason not to back it. I agree; we should go for it." I wait for him to lift it and open it, and he takes his time. He glances at me for a few seconds as he scans my outfit, has no facial reaction, no acknowledgment if I look good or bad, and then goes back to the task. Lifting it and flipping through it while he speed reads it. Infuriatingly unreadable, as always.

"Hmmm." He flips more pages, returns to the financial breakdown and risk report, and rereads it. I wait and watch, my insides churning because deep down, I know what today is, and it makes me want to ask him not to be like this for one day. It makes me want to break the mask of cold indifference I have worn for so many years and show him that girl he used to know and care for still exists inside the poster perfect Park daughter-in-law his mother polished for him. She sometimes wants to break free and curl up in his arms to cry it out like I did the day of my parent's funeral. She still wants that boy who held her hand through those dark days and tried to be the comfort in her life. My fingers twitch with the effort of holding it in, and I tap my foot to keep it under wraps.

"I thought we could have dinner together tonight with the family." I drop it casually, surprising myself because it comes from nowhere and I hadn't planned it, and catch him stiffening even while sitting reading. A pause, a furrow so subtle on his brow, but I can't miss it.

"Not today. I have plans." It's a curt and cold response, and despite not shedding a single tear since the day my parents died, I feel one rise up and clog in my throat like a sharp boulder that threatens to choke me. I know he avoids today, and maybe it still hurts him after four years, but I can never tell if it's grief or hatred. He still blames me for it, and I know it's where any possibility of us was destroyed. Just another notch cut out of my heart, along with the dozens of other times when life blew us apart so cruelly.

"Right. I guess I'll eat with them. I'll have the housekeeper keep yours warm."

"Don't. I'm staying out overnight. I won't be back." Again, another quick, cold reply to cut me off and clarify that today of all days, is not one he will ever spend with me. It won't ever be in my presence, whether it makes him sad or mad.

My face aches with the effort of staying composed, and I force a slight smile that I know won't reach my hazel eyes, flicking my long brown hair off my shoulder with sass, and I can't help myself wounding him the way he's hurting me.

"I guess you won't come to the cemetery with me then. To leave flowers on her grave?" The oozing disdain is undeniable, and I hate myself for doing this, but he doesn't understand what goes on inside me. How I feel, how much it still hurts even if it was my fault. That I'm screaming inside while the outer shell is a blank and emotional heartless bitch who lives only to make money. That I was pushed and molded and coerced and left Sohla Kim, the girl far behind, so long ago, to be able to take a step day after day to continue living. The same way he did when his father passed away after abusing alcohol and destroying his marriage for years after losing my father.

"Do you have a right?" He stays with his eyes on the report, his chest a little more noticeably heaving with his breaths but nothing else shows. A cutting question slipping out of that immaculate icy exterior.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I spit venomously, my tone instantly hostile, triggered by his words and stung by his ability to cut me down with so few of them. All these years, it's always been his biggest weapon against me. Because I loved him even when I didn't know it, and I think deep down, I love him still. I just don't want to.

"I don't want to do this today. Don't make me the bad guy again. Go....do whatever you're doing. Take the day off, take flowers, whatever. Just leave me out of it. I'm not interested." He closes the file with an exaggerated sigh, remaining composed, and flips it to one side, pushing his chair back and getting up. He shrugs his jacket from the chair behind him and makes it clear he intends to walk out to avoid this conflict. This is what he does. When I rise to any fight or attempt to bring up everything that's happened over the years, Jyeon leaves, and I hate it so much that I feel like I could spit teeth. My anger rises inside like molten lava, and it takes everything for me not to flip out and break loose.