The weekend was due tomorrow for the big battle on COD. The thought of being called a pussy if I didn't show had been bugging me more than the crazy fan base people established for BTS.

Alas, I was still trying to decide if I should care about my future or my reputation. Darn this conflicting decision.

"So brain, you can work any minute now, " I muttered, closing my eyes to trace back the things I wrote on my phone.

Stupid girl with her clumsiness!

You ain't that smart anyway for not working on the project on your PC and saving it on WP!

"Shut up, conscience!" I slammed the desk, annoyed with my uncooperative brain.

A knock pulled me up, tilting my head back to see my mother standing behind the slightly ajar door. "Are you decent, honey?" She asked.

Why would I let the door gaping like some cliche story where they were doing inappropriate things inside? I'd be locking everything like hiding a bomb if I were. Yet again, criminals didn't even bolt their stash on pompous cliche story. Pun pun pun?

"No, I'm nude and hiding a girl in here. You better be ready for grandchildren, " I replied with a snigger.

My mother chuckled, pushing the door with a glass of orange juice on her grip. "I'm looking forward to that day, " she said. By now, I was sure she would throw me a party for bringing up my relationship.

I chose to stop the topic there before she dragged more of the issue. "So, how's work going?" I asked.

My mother worked as an architect. She spent her time drawing and constructing plans. Excellent wouldn't justify her skill on it. But even her outstanding designing skill couldn't build a great marriage. The man I had as a father was like an overclaimed material.

"About that, I uh... Have this event, it's happening on, " she sputtered by the account of hesitation.

For sure, she was trying to coax me on coming with her again to some dinner, or whatever. "Nope. They always have cakes, cocktails and who knows what else they have there."

She released a sigh. "You can't keep being this way Val. You're letting your life waste away."

Not this conversation again!

"Get out. I'm not in the mood for this! " I spat, turning to look at the window facing the street. The respond was harsh, but she knew it was coming. As the person who'd sat with me on therapy, she should be more sensitive about it, right?

The door creaks pulled my gaze back. Guilt came late when I heard my mother's sniffles. Am I becoming my father? Who'd started raising his voice at her before eventually turning violence? I paced to reach her but stopped at my threshold.

"Later, " I mumbled, convincing myself she would always get over it anyway.

As I sat back to continue arguing with my brain for not helping me, a figure caught my sight outside. The dimples again, and she was skipping? Like a little girl who just got candy, her plump skirt bounced as she made her way from the direction she'd murdered my phone. My eyes keep tailing her as she got closer and closer to the pavement opposite my house. Her hair was tied back, making a short ponytail. Candy coloured socks covered up to her knee. For a moment, I couldn't help myself from staring at her.

"Does she live nearby?" I absentmindedly mumbled. "Why should I care anyway."

When I was about to shut the blinds, I saw her stopped then looked straight to my house as if she saw me. I was practically diving down, forgetting my window was a one-way reflection. "Wait, she can't see me. " I facepalmed.

She jogged crossing the road, waving cheerfully before my mother came into the picture. At the time, I wished I had superpowers to listen to their conversation. Moreover, why were they even talking? My mother was friendly, but she didn't go calling strangers and hugging them. Or does she?

Dinner talk could have sold the answer, but I realised there wouldn't be one today since my mother was going to that event. I strolled to the kitchen where she was storing a wrapped container into the fridge.

"If you're hungry, just heat it okay, honey?" She said, noticing me but avoiding eye contact.

"I'm sorry for lashing out. Let me make it up to you, how about dinner tomorrow?"

She forced a smile, the kind she always drew every time my father gave excuses for his fault. "That sounded nice."

"Who's the girl you were talking with just now?" I let out, a thing I thought she would assume as my usual change of topic facade.

Lines appeared more visible on her forehead after the question. She shrugged, "Just someone friendly."

"You hugged her, " I commented.

My mother chuckled, "Because she was friendly."

So miss dimples were clumsy, forgetful, and she hugged strangers. Why shouldn't this surprise me?

With curled lips, I pulled a bottle from the still gaping fridge. "That's good. You could be best friends soon, " I voiced before sipping the water. Sarcasm at its finest, I should say for myself.

The crest on my mother's usual oval eyes flared her suspicion. "You know her, don't you?"

Like a hit, I spurt out the contents in my mouth, chocking from the accusation. I was sure she'd be impressed if she knew I was asking the girl for money. The kind soul hosting the likes of woman who birth me would disagree on it.

Coughing, my answer came short. "No, I don't."

"You do! Omg, you do!" My mother exclaimed. A huge grin turned on her lips as if she'd just won the lottery.

"No, no, I don't, " I refuted. It wasn't a lie since I barely knew miss dimples. No name, nada what so ever except she worked at that wicked place.

But my mother paired with a thing of me denying as the opposite; I stand no chance. Darn my petty mouth. With joy attached to her face, she clapped her hand, "Bring her to dinner tomorrow, and it's a must."

Do you hear that Val? It's the Jaws theme song playing. My throat ran dry, eyes bulging and staring at my mother's jumpy mood. Should I argue again with her? Or I'd play along and came up for an excuse for miss dimples absence tomorrow?