Late afternoon filtered softly through the windows of the Dream dorm, casting a golden glow over the quiet. Ethan had just woken from his nap, hair tousled and cheeks still flushed with sleep. He was curled on Lexie's lap, thumb idly tracing the embroidered edge of her hoodie.
The calm was interrupted by the buzzing of her phone.
Woori eomoni 🌷
Lexie, dear, if it's not too much—can you join us for Mass tonight?
6:30pm here in Gapyeong.
We'd love you to come along... and bring the little one too if that's okay.
l:EXIE
Yes, of course eomoni.
I would love that too.
Lexie blinked.
She stared at the message for a long moment, surprised not so much by the request, but by the gentleness beneath it. It wasn't a demand, not even a formal request—just an invitation cloaked in warmth and humility. The kind that could only come from someone who was trying to come closer without startling her.
Mark must've said something, paved the way.
She replied with a quiet yes before her hesitation could harden into a wall.
Then she called Matthew.
📞Calling: Matthew Lee💙👬
"Is this too weird?" she asked, not even bothering with greetings.
"Weirder things have happened," Matthew replied dryly. "Like you ending up raising a literal sunshine child."
She laughed despite herself.
"Is this weird?" she asked again. "Them wanting us to come to Mass?"
"Definitely," he replied without missing a beat. Then, softer, "But not bad weird. Maybe... growth weird."
Lexie smiled faintly. "You're still coming, right?"
"You think I'd miss that?" Matthew scoffed. "I'll pick you and Ethan up—make it a full van of unresolved emotions. I think Mark's joining too, right?"
"Yeah. We're at the Dream unit right now with him," Lexie said, glancing over at the still sleepy little boy on her lap. "We'll drop Mark off at your place so he can change, then once you're ready, come get us?"
"Got it. Chaos logistics, check."
She chuckled, the sound easing the tension in her shoulders. "Strangely comforting."
Lexie ended the call with a soft sigh, setting her phone down on the side table. The quiet hum of the countryside night slipped through the slightly open window, crickets chirping lazily against the distant rustle of pine.
She was about to lean back against the pillows when the door creaked open and Mark stepped inside.
"Hey," Mark said gently as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click. "Is my little man still asleep?"
"I'm awake," Ethan mumbled groggily, rubbing his eyes but not quite lifting his head.
Lexie smiled, brushing a hand lightly over Ethan's hair. "He kept trying to stay up—just in case there were more snacks coming." Her voice softened, colored with affection and quiet amusement.
Mark sat on the edge of the bed beside her, one leg tucked up. "You okay?"
She hesitated, then tilted her head slightly. "Can I ask you something?"
His eyes met hers. "Anything."
Lexie played with the hem of Ethan's sweater for a beat, eyes tracing the soft shadows cast by the late afternoon light spilling through the guest room window.
"Did you..." she started softly, "ever talk to your parents? About Ethan. About the fact that he's—he's living with me now, in Seoul?"
Mark was already looking at her, his gaze steady and unhurried. There was no judgment in his eyes—only quiet attention.
"I mentioned it," he said gently. "A little. Not everything. Just that he's here now, with you. That you're not living alone anymore."
Lexie nodded slowly, her fingers still worrying the edge of her sleeve. "Last month, before my trip back to Vancouver, I think I opened up a little about Ethan to your mom. But... it wasn't exactly a conversation. More like... she saw a glimpse."
Mark tilted his head, sensing the unease behind her words. "Lex."
"I'm just nervous," she admitted. "Your parents have always been so kind to me. I don't want it to seem like I've been hiding something—especially something this big. Especially from them."
Mark let that sit for a moment, the quiet stretching between them in something that wasn't silence, but understanding.
"They don't think that," he said at last. "You know them. They've never been the type to demand explanations. But... I also think they've been waiting—for you. For when you are ready to say it, your way."
Lexie met his eyes. "But I don't want them to hear it as an obligation. I want them to hear it as truth. That this isn't something I just decided one day. Ethan's not a footnote to my life. He's the whole chapter."
A small smile played on Mark's lips. "He's not just the chapter. He's the plot twist."
Lexie let out a short, shaky laugh. "Exactly."
Mark reached for her hand, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. "We can tell them. Together. You don't have to navigate this alone."
She exhaled, then leaned into his side, her head resting lightly on his shoulder. "Okay," she whispered. "Together."
By 4:00pm, Lexie and Ethan were back at her apartment in Apgujeong. They had dropped Mark at the unit he shared with Matthew—after an unusually loud car ride full of Ethan's tantrum. He insisted on sitting next to Lexie, who was driving, and threw a fit when told kids aren't allowed to sit in the front passenger seat.
Inappropriate as it may seem to road regulations, Mark offered to let Ethan cradle on his lap, calming the boy with gentle words and a promise that next time, when he's old enough to sit in the passenger seat they'd switch seats properly.
Lexie, though frazzled, couldn't help but glance to see Ethan finally settled in Mark's arms, cheek pressed to his chest, both of them oddly at peace.
* * *
Lexie stood in front of the mirror, fixing her cardigan over a soft beige dress. Her hair was loosely tied back, and she kept her makeup minimal. Elegant. Thoughtful. She hadn't dressed like this in a long time—not even for showcases.
Matthew, seated comfortably on the living room couch, was cradling a half-finished juice box Ethan had abandoned in pursuit of more exciting things. He watched Lexie with a crooked smile.
"You sure this isn't a low-key family blessing ceremony?" he teased.
Lexie rolled her eyes but didn't stop fidgeting with the hem of her cardigan. She'd already fixed her dress twice, and adjusted her earrings more than necessary.
"It's just Mass," she replied, but her voice carried the kind of nerves that didn't quite match the simplicity of her words.
"Mmhmm. Just Mass. With your maybe-in-laws," Matthew added with a knowing grin.
Lexie flicked a hair tie at him. "Shut up."
Earlier on, just thirty minutes after she and Ethan got home from the Dream's apartment, Mark and Matthew had arrived—already dressed for Mass. Mark had headed straight to help Ethan change, while Matthew settled into his usual big-brother-watching-from-the-couch mode.
Now, Ethan came bursting out of the hallway, with Mark trailing behind him. Ethan beamed in his little button-up shirt and khaki shorts, his favorite toy rocket clutched to his chest like it was sacred.
"I'm ready!" he chirped.
Lexie turned around just in time to see Mark crouch down behind Ethan and adjust the boy's Velcro sneakers with practiced ease. There was a gentle ease to his movements, like this wasn't something out of the ordinary.
She caught herself watching them a little too long.
* * *
The ride to Gapyeong was quiet, save for the soft playlist humming through the speakers and the occasional shift of Ethan settling in his seat beside her.
Lexie stared out the window for a while, letting the blur of city lights fade into the dark outline of the countryside. From time to time, her gaze drifted forward where Mark sat in the front passenger seat, silent. He wasn't saying much. But he kept glancing back, eyes lingering on them longer than necessary.
She caught him once—twice. Each time, their eyes met.
There was no need for words.
No pressure to explain or define.
Just... presence.
It wasn't for show. It wasn't another scene in a complicated story. It felt real. Unforced.
A small step. Quiet.
But hers. And his. Together.
When they arrived at the countryside chapel—Our Lady of Heaven Church, tucked beside a slope and scattered trees—the Lees were already there.
Seungmin abeoji stood with his hands behind his back, posture formal as ever but with a kind expression softening his features. Woori eomoni looked up as they approached, and the moment her eyes landed on Ethan, they shimmered.
"Oh," she breathed, voice catching. "You're even more precious in person."
She crouched—not urgently, not theatrically—but slowly, settling at Ethan's height like someone who had spent years learning not to startle children or strangers.
Then, without prompting, Ethan stepped forward and gently reached for the woman's hand.
"Mano po, halmeoni," he said softly, bowing his head as he pressed the back of her hand to his forehead with practiced care—something Lexie had taught him long ago, part of his roots that always stayed with him.
Woori eomoni froze for a beat—clearly surprised.
Then something shifted in her expression. A memory, maybe. A thread of familiarity. Her expression eased, mouth curving into something close to wonder.
"Oh," she breathed, half-chuckling. "You're a respectful little one, aren't you?"
Ethan turned next to Seungmin Abeoji and repeated the same gesture with care. "Mano po, harabeoji," he whispered shyly, then surprised both of them with a quick kiss on each cheek—his own innocent way of weaving his cultures together.
Lexie held her breath as she watched, fingers curling slightly at her side. She hadn't coached him for this. Hadn't rehearsed what to say or do. But somehow, he knew exactly how to meet the moment.
Woori eomoni's voice is gentler now. "I'm halmeoni," she said, smiling even as a glimmer appeared in her eyes. "That's... a long word, huh?"
Ethan blinked at her, thoughtful. Then gave a small nod. "Can I call you Nana? And... Dada?" he asked, voice soft but clear. "I already have my Lolo and Lola... and Halmeoni is kinda twisty in my mouth."
Lexie nearly laughed—her heart catching in her throat.
Woori eomoni's eyes crinkled with amusement. "Nana and Dada, huh?" she echoed, visibly charmed. "I think I can live with that."
From a small woven pouch beside her, she pulled out a thin rice cracker and held it out. "Would you like this?"
Ethan glanced at Lexie just long enough to be sure. At her small nod, he accepted it with both hands, giving a polite "감사합니다," before nibbling on the edge.
No pressure. No tension.
Just space—offered without conditions.
And to Lexie's quiet, almost stunned relief, the weight she had braced for... never came.
No judgment. No icy reserve. No unspoken questions.
Only something softer.
Something she hadn't expected.
Kindness.
She watched the moment unfold like something delicate and rare—Ethan, nestled in newfound grace, and her once-impossible hope beginning to take shape before her.
Mark moved beside her, not saying a word.
He simply slipped an arm around her back in a gentle, sideward pull. A silent assurance.
Lexie didn't resist. She leaned in, letting her shoulder rest against his, anchoring herself in the quiet understanding between them.
And for the first time in what felt like days, she let herself breathe.
* * *
Inside the chapel, the stained-glass windows spilled late sunlight in jewel tones across the empty pews. The 6:30 Mass hadn't yet begun. It was quiet, with the low rustle of hymn pages and the scent of beeswax and polished wood.
Lexie sat between Ethan and Matthew. Mark and his parents filled the space beside them.
During the homily, her eyes drifted. Ethan sat still, his small hand curled in hers, his toy rocket cradled in his lap like a sacred relic. His eyes were wide, following the priest's every movement.
When she looked up again, Mark was already watching. Not intrusively. Just... there.
Present.
For a fleeting second, Lexie felt the weight of the years stretch between them—childhood, heartbreak, reconnection—and then dissolve into this: a shared pew, a shared silence, a shared boy holding both their hands in different ways.
* * *
After the Mass, they didn't rush to leave. Seungmin chatted quietly with Matthew about fishing, recalling old stories of catching river trout as a boy. Woori eomoni offered Ethan a small container of fruit and tteok she'd packed.
"You don't have to eat it," she said with a smile. "But I thought you might like to try."
Ethan took a bite. Then another.
Lexie murmured a thank you.
Woori eomoni touched her arm gently. "We don't want to intrude. Just... to be present, if you'll let us."
Lexie nodded, her throat thick. "You're not intruding, eomoni."
* * *
As evening deepened, and they made their way back to the car, Ethan—without being prompted—wrapped his arms around Woori eomoni's legs in a shy hug.
She froze for a second. Then melted completely.
Seungmin abeoji tousled Ethan's hair. "Will you come again?"
"If Mommy says yes," Ethan replied.
Lexie smiled. "We'll see."
Once Ethan was buckled in, Mark lingered by the door, his fingers brushing the edge of the seat.
"That wasn't so bad," he said.
Lexie nodded. "No. It wasn't."
"Thank you," he added. "For letting them meet him."
She looked at him, steady. "Thank you for giving them the space to earn it."
* * *
The drive home was quiet again.
Ethan had drifted off within minutes, his small frame slack against the seatbelt, his toy rocket still clutched tightly in one hand. His soft breaths rose and fell in a steady rhythm, a quiet contrast to the hum of the road beneath them.
Mark sat beside her in the backseat. At some point, he reached over and gave her hand a gentle squeeze.
"You okay?" he asked softly.
Lexie gave a small nod, but her eyes remained fixed on the passing blur outside the window—buildings giving way to trees, the city's edges softening into something quieter.
She didn't speak, but her thoughts moved anyway.
How far they had come.
Not just the distance from Gapyeong to Seoul—but through so much more. Through fear. Through years of waiting. Through unspoken grief and hesitant, careful hope.
Not all families came through the front door.
Some slipped in through the side gate, arms full of soup and sincerity. Some entered quietly, with no need for grand declarations—just steady presence. Just small, intentional acts. Just showing up.
Over and over again.
And sometimes, that was enough.
Ethan stirred in his sleep, murmuring something unintelligible as his body shifted. Lexie leaned forward slightly, gently tucking the cardigan tighter around his shoulders.
Maybe this was how it started.
Not with fireworks.
But with a breath of faith.
And a boy clutching a rocket, dreaming softly in the backseat.
~~ 끝 ~~