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I glanced at my reflection in the glass window, my thoughts prying away from the donuts sizzling in the oil. They always did when I let myself think for too long.

FLASHBACK
It was quiet, except for the clinking of glass. Everything in that damn dining room reeked of expensiveness, and it made me feel small, overwhelmed.

My gaze flicked to Jaehyun sitting across from me, his eyes scanning me up and down, just like they did every time we met.

"So, I was thinking," my father began, his tone clipped and authoritative. "Nara, Jaehyun-I think it's time we start marriage arrangements. You've been engaged for more than two months now." He didn't even look up as he continued, "We should tie the knot. Hmm?"

"But, Father, I don't want to marry Jaehyun," I said, crossing my arms over my chest. My voice was steady, but the weight of what I was saying pressed hard against me.

My father, ever the businessman, gave me that cold, unyielding look. "Nara, Jaehyun is a smart, capable man. You need to be with him. We've already discussed this." His voice carried the kind of finality that left no room for argument.

"Nara, darling," my mother chimed in, her words sweet but empty. "You know we're doing this for your best. He's a capable young man. He has everything you'll ever need."

My eyes darted to Jaehyun. That smug expression was plastered on his face, as if he'd already won. I felt like a puppet on strings, and I knew what was coming next.

My father's voice was cold as ice. "Don't make this harder than it has to be. You'll marry him, or you'll ruin everything we've built."

I let the frustration bubbling inside me take over. Standing up abruptly, I shoved my chair back, the sharp scrape echoing off the marble floor. "I don't care about your business empire, or Jaehyun, or any of this bullshit!" I snapped, my voice trembling with anger.

My father's jaw clenched, his eyes blazing with fury. "So you're going to throw away everything? All of this?" he barked, gesturing to the opulence surrounding us.

"Yes!" I yelled back, my heart pounding. "I'm willing to throw it all away if it means I get to choose for once. I'm not a puppet, and I won't be anyone's perfect little princess!"

His face turned cold, his eyes narrowing into slits. "Then leave," he said, his voice quiet but laced with venom. "You're no longer welcome here. You've made your choice. You're no daughter of mine if you can't follow through. Leave."

BACK TO PRESENT
A sharp sting snapped me back to reality as a drop of hot oil splattered onto my hand. I winced, looking down at the fryer. The donuts were burnt.

"Damn it," I muttered, grabbing the spatula to salvage what I could. A frustrated sigh escaped me. Every time I let myself remember, the past crept up like a shadow, heavy and unwelcome.

But then my eyes wandered to the little café around me-the chipped paint on the walls, the mismatched chairs, the faint hum of life-and, for the first time that day, I smiled. It wasn't the luxurious life my father had envisioned for me, but it was mine.

I adjusted the temperature on the fryer, muttering to myself, "I'm not going back. Not for anyone. Not for my father. Not for my family."

Tossing the burnt donuts aside, I reached for a fresh batch of dough. Starting over wasn't failure-it was resilience. A skill I had mastered.

And then Ms. Han, one of my regulars, walked in, the little bell above the door chiming softly. "Ah, Nara! Good morning," she said, her voice warm and cheerful as always.

I glanced up from the batch of burnt donuts, quickly brushing off the frustration lingering on my face. Smiling at her, I straightened up and gave a polite bow. "Hello, Ms. Han," I greeted. My tone was light, my words steady, as if I hadn't just been lost in memories I'd rather forget.

"So, your order?" I asked, forcing a smile as I set the spatula down.

Ms. Han smiled back, her eyes crinkling with affection. "You know my regular-oh! And also pack a donut with that, will you? My granddaughter came home yesterday with my daughter. She loves sweets," she said, her voice brimming with warmth.

I nodded, my hands moving automatically as I prepared her order, but her words settled heavily in my chest. I could feel the love she had for her daughter and granddaughter radiating from her, so genuine, so effortless.

A sharp rush of jealousy coursed through me, unbidden and bitter.

Why did her daughter have the love I deserved? Why does she get her mother's love while I don't?

The thought twisted in my mind, unwelcome but persistent, and I clenched my jaw, willing it away. I had left all of that behind. It wasn't supposed to matter anymore.

"Oh, right-I'm so sorry, Ms. Han, but I accidentally burnt the batch of donuts. Is there anything else you'd like instead?" I asked, trying to keep my tone light and apologetic.

Ms. Han nodded thoughtfully, her eyes brightening after a moment. "Do you have that biscuit stack-up? The one you invented?" she asked, her voice laced with excitement.

"On it," I replied with a smile, grateful for her patience. I quickly moved to the cake counter, crouching down to retrieve the biscuit stack-up from its display. It was one of my favorite creations-a little piece of my imagination come to life-and seeing her enthusiasm for it was enough to lift my mood.

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