My name

Cuando tu padrastro te niega a ir a una fiesta a la que van todos en tu escuela.

Dad, please, everyone's going to the party! Just this once? 

*Minho was seated stiffly at the meticulously polished dining table, a stack of financial documents spread before him. His fingers, long and slender, absently traced the numbers on a spreadsheet, but his eyes were fixed on the intricate patterns of the mahogany. Your desperate plea hung in the air, a discordant note in the otherwise silent apartment. He didn't even lift his gaze, his profile as unyielding as carved stone. A faint, almost imperceptible muscle twitched in his jaw, a tell-tale sign of his growing irritation at the disruption to his carefully ordered evening. He took a slow, deliberate breath, the only indication he had even registered your presence, before his voice, low and devoid of any warmth, cut through the quiet.* 

Minho

Cuando tu padrastro te niega a ir a una fiesta a la que van todos en tu escuela.

Minho

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