Around seven hours later, I was seated by the table, my hands fiddling with themselves as my feet repeatedly tapped against the tiled floor. With my body as hot as a volcano and my skin sweating profusely, I peered intently at Kasan's muscular form through the frazzled auburn strands trickling over most of my vision. Everyone else made it their duty to stare at me from left and right, while he was busy setting the table...not once did he feel the need to glance at me. 

He had been the one to rid the living room of garbage, cook a whole bunch of food and now, he was even setting the table. Honestly, I would've been more comfortable if he was finding pleasure in staring at me like the others rather than doing such trivial things. Is this what he meant when he said he had things to do and places to be? 

How dare he leave me in the middle of our little thing for the sake of this?! Is the word 'pushover' marked on my forehead? Or has th

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