You are that old?

Halfway to my home, Mar became nervous. I can tell by the way he kept on gripping the steering wheel. His knuckles were ghostly white as he drove at a snail's pace, which was so unlike the Mar I know.

Bin who loves nothing but to sleep and eat has already slept, so we are the ones who are awake.

"What's wrong?" I turned to him in concern. "Are you not feeling good?"

"I am."

"But, you don't look good. You are gripping that steering wheel like you have a problem with it, and you're trying to tell me that it's alright?"

Mar sighed, "I'm worried that your family might not accept me." He turned his gaze to the side, "I don't have that much Lovable trait. What if your mom decides I'm not good enough for you and force me to stop seeing you?"

"Don't worry, she won't do that."

I know my mom.