"I'm so sorry dear, " my father apologizes. "Your soon to be step-mother's daughter had a school function, and wanted me present. I should have sent you a text to let you know, it just slipped my mind."

I frown. I have half a mind to refuse to forgive him, after all, nothing has ever 'slipped' his mind before.

"When am I going to meet this mystery woman anyway?" I ask, still frowning.

When Jimin and I had arrived home, my father had been waiting, repentant and apologetic in the sitting room. I find myself wondering whether or not Jimin's conquest actually waited for him as I sip on the warm tea my father'd had the butler prepare for us.

Our sitting room honestly rarely ever gets any use any more, so I was honestly surprised when my father had ordered me to sit with him.

The opulently decorated room is clean, and tidy, pictures of my father's descendants scattered about in garishly golden frames. A couple expensive vases stuffed with fresh flowers litter the room, shades of yellow and pink that blend harmoniously with pearl walls and pastel, antique style colored furniture of the same spectrum.

Even the rug itself looks like it costs more than some people's entire home.

I wring my hands together nervously, waiting for my father to speak as I sit across from him. The coffee table between us feels like a barrier, a border, and if I am anxious it is because my father's face is tight and drawn.

"About that, " he says, "they're coming over today. Both my soon to be wife and her daughter."

I am filled with dread, and unable to find my voice, I simply stare at my father distraught.

Suddenly, the doorbell rings. The butler, having just set down for us a tray of tea and snacks, scurries away to the door to answer it. The sounds of shuffling can be heard in the hallway, and a feminine voice.

"Why thank you, " it says, likely speaking to our butler.

Maybe it's just my imagination, or maybe I'm just being petulant, but there is something about her voice that I simply don't like.

I can't imagine I'll like the rest of her either.

In no time at all they have found their way into the sitting room, guided, no doubt, by the butler.

At first, the only one I can see is my fathers fiance. Her daughter hides behind her, whether out of shyness or fear I cannot say. The mother has cherry red lips, and hair dyed the color of spun gold. Her perfectly manicured nails and expensive designer dress seem right at home here, surrounded by the luxury bought by my fathers hard earned money.

I scowl, standing out of courtesy as my father does. Clearly she is a material type of woman, as I can see the way she appraises her surroundings greedily.

"Why, you must be Olivia, " she gushes, rushing forward to embrace me despite my half-hearted protests.

I don't want to be rude in front of father, but I have no desire to be touched by this woman. Despite her glamorous appearance, she smells like too much perfume and it makes me want to gag as she finally releases me.

And it is then that I get a look at her daughter, and my displeasure only mounts further.

It's the girl who accosted me at school the other day about Jimin.

"Hi, " she meekly greets me. "I guess I didn't introduce myself the other day. My name is Chan-ri, I hope we'll be as close as real sisters."

She offers me a tentative smile, and despite myself, I snort.

"Not likely, " I retort, finally deciding that I have had enough.

I have no interest in these gold diggers false pleasantries, nor do I have any desire to be within five feet of them. In my mind, they are intruding upon my sanctuary, my family, and are unwelcomed and unwanted.

"Olivia!" My father gasps, outraged by my disrespectful attitude.

But I make no apologies. And I know that it's incredibly rude, but I choose to walk away regardless, completely ignoring the way my future step-mother's face twists with displeasure. For a moment, I can see the monster beneath, and I am convinced immediately that she must be a horrid woman.

In all honesty, I don't care whether or not it's fair. Maybe I am hastily and unfairly judging her, but I refuse to force myself to accept her just because Appa wants me to.

"Olivia Shin! Get back here this instant!" Appa yells after me.

I continue walking away, not even bothering to look back.

I don't know if it's because I'm scared, but I just can't bring myself to like the girl. And I already dislike her mother.

Recalling the way she'd frowned as I'd abandoned what I'm sure my father was hoping would be a friendly first meet has me clenching my jaw in anger. Why? Why am I so angry and hurt about this?

Shouldn't I want Appa to be happy?

But why does he have to marry in order to be so?

Without conscious thought, my feet take me to Jimin's house, and I blink as I look up, realizing where it is I've stormed off to. A part of me wants to go inside, tell Jimin everything and rely on him for comfort as I've done so many times before.

But another part of me is still upset at him, and I don't think I can face him right now. The knowledge that he'd been intimate with Chan-ri is suddenly boiling, churning in my gut like something vile and repulsive.

Jealousy.

It's such a terrible thing.

So, instead, I seat myself down upon the old bench just to the side of Jimin's house.

"How depressing, " I think to myself, as I run my hand along the empty bench beside me thoughtfully "that at the moment I prefer the company of painful memories to that of my own best friend's."