The car ride was so silent that I swear I could hear my own lungs working overtime, like a mini washing machine on spin cycle.
I kept my eyes glued to my phone, texting Yuna—because if I looked up, I'd have to acknowledge the fact that Mr. Jeon's existence was burning a hole in my sanity.
Mira: Bish?!?
Yuna: What?!
Mira: Can we meet?
Yuna: No.
Mira: Fuck you.
Yuna: I'm busy, sorry~
That "sorry~" was not a sorry. That was a mock. That was her standing on a pedestal, sipping Starbucks, laughing at my misery.
So naturally, I played my trump card.
Mira: I have tea.
And just like that—
Yuna: Send me the location.
Mira: "Meet you in 5 min 😚"
I switched my phone off and slapped a hand over my mouth to stop my laughter from exploding like a busted water pipe.