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Dressed in denim jeans and a blue blouse with frills along the sleeve; a sign that I relented to my mother's persuasion; I pushed my food around the plate.

I was served steak lavished in mushroom sauce with a topping of lingonberry and a sprinkle of parsley. All these displayed on a hotplate with a wooden frame carved into the likeness of an elephant.

The only conversation is the conversation around us. The whispers and chatter of the other patrons in this upper-class restaurant. The tinkle of metal as cutlery brushes each other, the clink of glasses tapped together in cheers.

Dark violet silk lined the tables and draped down. Sparkling light from the chandeliers above head heralded a somewhat romantic ambience to the place. But on this table that housed my parents and I, there was nothing but a thick tension of pretence.

I forked a piece of cut up steak into my mouth and chewed slowly. My father is dressed in a black suit. My mom is in an indigo dress that matches the colour of her tied up hair perfectly. Amethyst earrings dangles from her earlobes daintily. She is the perfect ornament on the arm of my formally dressed father, who has his black hair brushed back and gelled.

Here I am in jeans and a blue frilly shirt. I wish that I was dressed in my ratty jeans with my black tee shirt that has the word 'Metallica' in red letters splashed on in the front. I am only in this stupid blouse because my mother muttered a few words on social propriety and proceeded to look at me with pleading eyes. I couldn't care less. Like I give two shits about appearances and this façade of a dinner.

It seems like halfway through the meal, my father is unable to take the silence anymore. "How is your studies going?" His voice is deep, prim and proper. I would call it straight-laced without a tinge of warmth.

"Good, Otou-san." The words I am so used to saying slip smoothly out of my mouth like practiced water. I see the frown on his face deepen.

Then the creases along his face smoothen out, and I see him force a smile. "That is good to hear."

Oh, I am surprised. Since when did he become so polite and nice?

My mom smiles reassuringly at me as she lays a hand on his arm.

"Have you found a boyfriend?" he continues gruffly.

I can hardly believe my ears. Is he being cordial? From my experience, and that is all my life, he has been shooting down my university, my studies, my life. I doubt there is even an instance in my life where I pleased him. "No." I catch myself in time. "Not yet."

"Make sure you find yourself an intelligent young man. He must be well mannered and brilliant." Of course. Only the best for me. If I cannot be perfect, at least my spouse must be. The corners of my mouth tilts up in a semi sneer. It is hilarious. My father, he would have been proud of Shizuru if she were his daughter.

Unlike me, Shizuru's perfect. The epitome of grace, beauty and intelligent. Of course, her only imperfection is dating me. "Yeah yeah." I suppose my patronizing tone must have slipped out because he scowled at me. That's more like it. More what I'm used to.

"I heard from your mother than your current grades make you a second-lower class student. Isn't that quite disgraceful. You could do with putting more effort into your studies."

Ahhh, that's the dad that I know and am familiar with. "Being a first class honours student sucks. You have to go to all those boring talks and be on the dean's list." I am adding fuel to the flame. I should stop soon. My mom won't like an outright family squabble.

His face starts to turn a fascinating colour of red. "I am a well -respected man in the science society. I hold a doctorate and have published countless of papers. I graduated with first class honours in my years. And I have a daughter stuck in a biology program where she's of a second-lower class. Put's to shame my name."

I give him credit that he's not shouting. He still holds tightly to his values as a cultured bourgeois when he is obviously angry. It is my fault. I rarely talk back to him. I do not feel very tame today. "Maybe you could adopt that Fujino friend of mine you happen to like so much," I replied offhandedly.

"She…She is worth a million of you," he hissed. "You are rude and barbaric. You dress up like a man. Not a dollop of grace on you. What a disappointment."

My mom grip on his arm tightens and I see her lean over to whisper into his ear. She then smiles at me. "But Natsuki does so well in martial arts. You know, darling, she won an award in the taekwondo competition recently this year. It is quite praise worthy."

"At least there's something she's good at," my dad replied to the air.

Since my mother is trying to cover for me. I can afford to play nice. "I'll study harder." I swallow my pride for her only.

Besides, it's easier to say I'll study harder than to say I'll start wearing dresses. You got to be fucking kidding me.

My father goes back to eating his meal. He must be satisfied that I gave in to him.

My phone starts to buzz in my pocket. Fishing it out, I see that it is Shizuru calling. For a moment, I am undecided. I feel so close yet so far to her. His words spring into my mind. She's worth a million of you. I hit the end call button.

"Who was that dear?" My mom asked.

"Shizuru." I replied shortly.

"Don't you want to pick up the call?"

"it's fine. I'll talk to her another time."

"Finally. I see you've learnt some table manners," my dad remarked.

"Actually know what? Maybe I'll take her call afterall. Be right back." I managed to flash a smile before I left. Ahh, I'm so tired of snide remarks.

I make my way out of the restaurant. The tight knot of anxiety in my chest seems to unwind as I inhale the night air. I loiter outside the hotel, watch posh cars make their way up and down the driveway. I spot a few people taking a smoke out here, looking relaxed. I am almost jealous. The tension headache that started with dinner is kicking up a riot in my head. I could do with my penknife now. There's this uneasy feeling inside me, it's like I can't breathe, my heart is pounding in my chest and the pain tugs at me. If I could just cut, this would all go away.

I stare down at my phone, I have no intention of calling her. I just wanted to get away from my dad.

No matter how many times I tell myself it doesn't matter, it gets to me. I hate myself for being imperfect. I hate Shizurur for being everything that I cannot be. It wouldn't have mattered if I had never seen the disappointment in my mother's eyes back then. But I had. One can't turn back time.

I wish for a little blood. A little pain. Alittle peace. The people who cut and say they wish for death will never understand me. I cut to live, painfully, with all my heart.

The blade tucked in my wallet hidden within a folded receipt is calling out to me. But I can't and won't use it now. It is almost as though I confirm the imperfection spoken of me by cutting. As though the manifestation of this act proves how disgusting I am.

Maybe I'll just go back to hostel now. Take a bus, a long bus ride.

Who am I kidding? Even if I want to do that, it's not like I will. I am the obedient unassuming daughter, who doesn't just throw a rebel fest party and walk off. I am a tamed dog in front of my family. With a substantial bit of bark, and virtually no bite. In a few minutes, I'll go back into the restaurant, finish up my dinner and listen to whatever goes on over the dinner table. Hopefully, in half an hour, things will have wrapped up and I'll be given permission to leave.

I take a last few deep breaths of the chilly night air before heading back in.

When I reached the table, the conversation now revolved about some kind of research deal that my dad was currently managing. Sliding soundlessly back into my chair, I forced myself to eat my steak. It's not like I have an appetite. It's just that the faster I finish my food, the faster dinner will conclude. I fork the asparagus on the side into my mouth; chew mindlessly. It is a vain wish to hope for mayonnaise. And needless to say, it would be inviting trouble to even ask for mayonnaise. My food habits are a vile turn off to both my parents. My mom occasionally entertains me. My dad on the other hand forbids more than a 2cm by 3cm volume of mayonnaise at any one meal.

I wash down the asparagus with a thick juicy slice of steak. I am careful to not stuff too much into my mouth. Far be it for me to get nagged regarding my food etiquette.

When what seemed like hours passed. The billed was paid, my mom gave me a hug and my dad handed me a wad of cash before they bade me farewell.

At least he makes sure I have enough money. I'm sure he does it because he cares for me. But another part of my brain simply convinces me that he feels good establishing his position as the provider in the family. I don't want to think about it.

The bus that I board is virtually empty so I carefully choose and decide on a window seat. Taking out my phone, I plugged in my earphones and hit the play button for my music. Long bus rides with rock music is my idea of relaxation.

A quick check at my inbox revealed that Shizuru left me a message. 'Sorry, I must have called during dinner. Do you want to go out tomorrow?'

Do I? Or do I not? Sometimes I take vicious joy in being beside her. As though I'm an imperfection that she cannot do without.

'Sure. You decide on the events tomorrow. Afternoon pls. I want to sleep in late.'

She replies almost instantly. 'More than glad (: I know better than to wake you up early. You are a terrible morning person.'