Ga-young slept so deeply that when her eyes finally fluttered open, the sun had already conquered the sky. It was noon. Miraculously, her mother hadn't woken her — not even once. The only sign of her had been a muffled, half-awake "I'm off to church!" that morning, and after that, the house had been swallowed by silence.
Then it hit — a nightmare.
She jolted upright, gasping, one hand clutching her chest. Her heart thudded against her ribs, stubbornly reminding her she was still alive. Groaning, she reached for her phone.
1:23 PM.
She sighed. "I slept too much," she muttered, brushing back her tangled hair.
Dragging herself to the restroom, she brushed her teeth with mechanical precision before trudging downstairs. The house was so quiet, it almost hummed the kind of silence that made her ears ring. Home alone.
She yanked open the fridge and gulped down an entire carton of milk in one go, then flopped onto the couch, munching on the leftover popcorn her mom had abandoned the night before.
And then, like lightning through her sleepy haze, a thought struck her.
Her hand flew to her phone. She scrolled to Min-jae's contact and hit dial.
He picked up on the second ring.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Min-jae," she greeted, suddenly more awake.
"Good afternoon, Ms. Choi," came his reply — his voice smooth and fresh, as though yesterday's breakdown had been nothing but a dream.
"I hope you aren't busy. I'm not intruding, am I?" she asked, cautious but lighthearted.
"No, not at all," he said, a hint of a smile in his tone.
Ga-young exhaled. "How's Mrs. Hwan doing now?" she asked curiously.
"She's doing quite alright," he replied, sounding relieved. "The doctors said her loss of consciousness was due to severe hypoglycemia — her blood sugar dropped too low for her brain to function properly."
"That's a relief," Ga-young breathed, her shoulders relaxing. "I was worried it might've been something worse. Does that mean she hasn't been eating properly?"
Min-jae nodded. "That's what they said. She's been stressed lately it must've caught up with her."
"It happens," Ga-young murmured, thoughtful. "I'm glad she's recovering."
Before he could reply, another voice suddenly burst through the speaker.
"CHOI GA-YOUNG!"
Ga-young nearly jumped out of her skin. "Ye-seul?"
"How could you do this to me?" came the scolding tone, dripping with mock betrayal.
"What did I do?" Ga-young asked, blinking in confusion.
"You didn't tell me you were leaving yesterday! You only told Min-jae oppa. Is he the only one you care about? What about me? Aren't we friends anymore?"
Ga-young stifled a laugh. "Ye-seul, I wanted to tell you, but you were too engrossed in the moment for me to interrupt!"
"Min-jae oppa was also engrossed in the moment," Ye-seul shot back dramatically, "but you still managed to tell him."
Ga-young sighed, knowing she'd lost. "Forgive me, Ms. Hwan Ye-seul, for I have committed a great atrocity."
Ye-seul chuckled. "I'll think about it. Anyway, I'll call you later Mom's asking for me!"
"Okay, bye—"
"I haven't forgiven you yet! Don't get too excited!" she added before handing the phone back to Min-jae.
"I'm sorry about that," he said, sounding embarrassed.
"It's fine," Ga-young replied with a grin. "We always talk like that." She paused. "You should probably get back to your mom."
"Yeah," he said warmly. "Thank you again for yesterday."
She waved a hand, even though he couldn't see it. "You don't have to thank me."
He chuckled. "I'll hang up now."
The line clicked off, but his words lingered. I'll hang up now.
He'd never said that before he usually just… did.
It shouldn't have meant anything.
But for a hopelessly delulu mind like hers, it was a tiny, priceless miracle.
Her bliss didn't last long. The door banged open, and her mother marched in, arms full of grocery bags.
"Welcome back, Mother," Ga-young said, trying to sound calm as she took the bags from her.
"Come take this," Mrs. Choi ordered, dropping another bag into her hands.
"How was the service?" Ga-young asked, setting the groceries on the counter.
"The priest talked about marriage," her mother said, dramatically rolling her eyes. "Then I remembered I have a twenty-seven-year-old living in my house."
"I'm glad I didn't go," Ga-young muttered under her breath. Then louder: "Why do you look upset? Is it because of your twenty-seven-year-old unmarried daughter?"
"I wish that were it," Mrs. Choi huffed, brushing past her. "Your father's relatives are coming over for dinner."
"What?!" Ga-young yelped, nearly dropping the eggs.
"I don't know what they want," her mother said, waving it off. "By the way — what about your boss? Is he free?"
Ga-young squinted suspiciously. "Mother… what are you planning?"
"Invite him for dinner!" Mrs. Choi said brightly. "I want to treat him. He seems like such a nice young man."
"You literally said you hate him," Ga-young deadpanned. "And no way — that's not happening."
"Come on, Ga-young, it's the least you could do for me. At least let them think you're seeing someone!"
"No way," she said again, more firmly this time, and turned her back.
Mrs. Choi sighed dramatically and stomped upstairs.
Ga-young groaned, turning to the sink. "Maybe I should just become a nun and be done with everyone's expectations," she muttered, scrubbing the groceries with a vengeance.
---
That evening, the dining room felt like a pressure cooker.
Ga-young sat between her mother and one of her aunts, the table beautifully set — but the atmosphere? Terrible. The air was so thick with tension, you could slice it with the butter knife no one had touched yet.
Her grandmother, Mrs. Kim, sat at the head of the table like a queen on her throne, her lips pursed in eternal judgment. The two aunts whispered between themselves in sharp, pointed tones that could've drawn blood.
Across the table, Mrs. Choi kept darting her daughter meaningful glances — the kind that screamed "Just smile and survive this."
Ga-young responded with her own look — one that said "You dragged me into this, deal with it."
The ticking clock filled the silence.
Then—
Ding-dong.
The sound of the doorbell was nothing short of divine intervention.
Mrs. Choi leaned toward her daughter, whispering, "Go get the door."
"Did you invite anyone else?" Ga-young whispered back suspiciously.
"No," her mother hissed. "Maybe they did."
Without looking up from her plate, Grandma Kim spoke in her slow, commanding voice, "You don't need to whisper when we're all sitting right here. It's rude."
Ga-young forced a tight smile. "Of course, Grandma," she said sweetly — while silently imagining banging her head on the table. She stood up, smoothing her skirt. "I'll get the door," she announced brightly.
As she walked down the hallway, her expression dropped instantly.
"When are these hags finally going to leave?" she muttered under her breath.
She reached the door, turned the handle — and froze.
An enormous bouquet of flowers filled the doorway. Roses, lilies, baby's breath — a literal floral explosion that completely blocked her view of whoever was behind it.
She blinked. "Um… excuse me, I think you've got the wrong house," she said, her tone cautious.
A familiar voice answered, smooth and warm. "Did I?"
The bouquet lowered just enough to reveal his face — Min-jae.
For a full three seconds, Ga-young forgot how to breathe. Her jaw slackened, eyes wide. "M-Mr. Min-jae?" she stammered.
"Flowers?" he asked, extending the bouquet toward her, the most charming smile she'd seen in forever.