The scent of something warm and savory filled the air as Seo-jun quietly stepped into the open kitchen. The clatter of utensils, the soft bubbling of stew, and the faint laughter of children playing nearby made the space feel alive.
Hye-mi stood at the stove, sleeves rolled up, stirring the pot with practiced ease. He turned slightly as he heard Seo-jun's footsteps.
Hye-mi said, glancing over his shoulder. "Dinner's almost ready."
Seo-jun nodded slowly, eyes trailing over the unfamiliar space. "Where are the fathers?" he asked, voice soft.
"They're away," Hye-mi replied, "handling some things at Grandma's house."
Seo-jun's brows furrowed. "Is Grandma okay?"
There was a pause. Hye-mi sighed as he turned off the stove. "I don't think she's doing too well."
Seo-jun's shoulders sank a little. "Then... why isn't she living with us?"
A small smile played on Hye-mi's lips as he wiped his hands on a towel. "You know how she is. Powerful, stubborn, proud. That's our grandmother."
Seo-jun let out a breathy laugh. "Yeah, yeah... I know."
He left the kitchen, heading to his room. The warm air of the hallway felt different — almost too calm. In the privacy of his room, he took a quick shower, letting the steam wash away the weight of his thoughts. A towel draped over his head, he stepped out, drying his hair with one hand when something caught his eye.
On the side table sat an old family photo.
His father. The other father. A much younger Hye-mi. A young Seo-jun standing awkwardly. And… a little girl — maybe three years old — held securely in their father's arms, a beaming smile on her tiny face.
Seo-jun stared at the picture for a long moment. His fingers brushed lightly over the glass frame. A small smile tugged at his lips, but his eyes shimmered with the sting of tears.
It was a happy photo. A distant memory.
From outside the room, he heard children calling out.
"Uncle! Dinner's ready! Come out!"
"I'm coming!" he called back, quickly pulling himself together.
He placed the photo back and straightened up, taking one last breath before heading out.
Back in the kitchen, Hye-mi was already setting dishes on the table. The kids giggled as they scrambled to their seats. Seo-jun took his place quietly, still slightly caught in his thoughts.
Everyone joined hands for a brief prayer before the meal.
Then, they began to eat — the soft clinks of spoons, the laughter of children, and the gentle presence of family wrapping around Seo-jun like a quiet comfort.
The living room was alive with the sound of clinking dishes and children's chatter. The table was crowded with homemade dishes — kimchi pancakes, galbi, seaweed soup, and bowls of warm rice. Hyemin poured water for the kids, fussing over whether they were chewing properly.
Seojun sat at the end of the table, mostly quiet, watching his sister in this domestic chaos she seemed to control with practiced ease. The twin girls were arguing about who got the bigger egg roll while Min-jae, ever the aloof eldest, poked at his food with a sulky expression.
"Min-jae, eat," Hyemin said, not even looking up from refilling bowls. "You're not going to war. It's just school."
He grumbled something unintelligible, but obeyed, stuffing a bite into his mouth while glaring at the twins.
Seojun chuckled. It felt oddly... peaceful. Foreign, almost.
His eyes wandered across the room. On the shelf near the TV sat a dusty photo frame. Seojun squinted and leaned a little to the side. It was an old picture — his fathers when they were younger, standing in front of the family house. In the center stood a girl in pigtails... and beside her, a smaller boy with a familiar scowl on his face.
His younger self.
Seojun looked away before anyone noticed the soft tug in his expression. He focused instead on the rice in his bowl, hiding the faint tightness in his chest.
Suddenly, the entrance door swung open with a loud bang.
An older woman's voice echoed through the house.
"Where are my grandsons?! Hye-min! Seo-jun!"
Both Hye-min and Seo-jun stood up quickly, surprised.
"Grandma?" Seo-jun said, eyes wide as he moved toward her. Hye-min followed right behind him.
The old woman stood proudly at the door, wearing a sharp but warm expression. She looked healthy, fit, and strong — not at all like her age would suggest.
Before anyone else could react, she pulled both Hye-min and Seo-jun into a tight hug. Her arms wrapped around them firmly, as if she hadn't seen them in years.
"My boys," she said, her voice a little shaky. "Look at you. Still so handsome. Still mine."
Behind her stood two men — Seo-jun's fathers. One of them looked like he was holding back tears, eyes shining with emotion. The other had a wide grin on his face, clearly excited to be back.
Just then, the kids came running into the hallway.
"Great Grandma!" they shouted in unison, their voices full of joy.
The old woman turned, her expression softening. She opened her arms and the kids rushed in, wrapping themselves around her legs.
"Oh, my dear great-grandchildren," she whispered, crouching down to hug them tightly. "You've all grown up so fast."