Seo-yeon took a deep breath, put a hand on her stomach and walked up the stone path to Min Yoongi's house.
Mrs. Min opened the front door and called inside. "I'm home! And I brought a guest!"
The entrance was warm and smelled of soy sauce and old wood. Seo-yeon slipped off her shoes and put them neatly beside a pair of large brown slippers. A hallway led to a living room with a low wooden table, a soft green sofa and shelves crowded with photos. She tried not to look at them.
A man was sitting in an armchair by the window with a newspaper open in front of him. He was in his sixties, thin, with white hair and round glasses sitting low on his nose. He lowered the paper when he heard his wife's voice.
"A guest?" he said. "You didn't tell me."
"I didn't know until two hours ago." Mrs. Min put her bag down and pulled Seo-yeon gently forward. "Honey, this is Han Seo-yeon. Seo-yeon, this is my husband."
"Good evening, sir," Seo-yeon said, bowing. "Thank you for having me."
"Good evening." He folded the newspaper and stood up slowly. "Sit, sit. Don't stand on your feet."
"Honey, listen to what happened today," Mrs. Min said, helping Seo-yeon onto the sofa. "I was walking back from the market, standing at the corner near the bookstore. This poor girl stepped off the curb without looking, and a car came flying through a red light. It missed her by this much." She held her fingers a hand apart. "I grabbed her arm and pulled her back. I thought my heart would stop."
"My God," Mr. Min said. He looked at Seo-yeon with real concern. "Are you hurt?"
"No, sir. I'm fine. Your wife saved me."
"She's always been fast on her feet," he said, and for a moment his stern face softened. "Thank you for taking care of her, dear."
"Take care of her?" Mrs. Min said. "She's the one who needed taking care of. That's why I invited her to dinner. She's too pale, and she was going home on a snack. I won't allow it."
"Quite right," Mr. Min said, and he sat down again. "You did well."
Mrs. Min rolled up her sleeves. "I'm going to the kitchen. You two talk. Seo-yeon, make yourself at home."
"Auntie, let me help."
"Absolutely not. Sit."
She disappeared down the hallway, and soon Seo-yeon heard pots clanging and water running.
---
The living room went quiet. Mr. Min folded his hands over his knee and studied her over his glasses, not unkindly.
"So, Miss Han. Do you live nearby?"
"Not far, sir. About thirty minutes by car. My parents live in the next district."
"I see. And what do you do?"
"I used to work in event planning," Seo-yeon said. "I just quit. I'm resting until the baby comes."
"The baby." His eyebrows went up. "Ah. Congratulations." He nodded slowly. "That's a lot of work. My wife had trouble even with one." He leaned back. "And your husband? Is he well?"
Her smile faltered. "I'm not married, sir."
Mr. Min looked at her for a moment. Then he nodded, without any judgment in his face, and said only, "Your parents are looking after you?"
"Yes, sir. Very well."
"Good. That's what matters." He cleared his throat. "My wife told me you are a fan of our son's group."
Her cheeks went hot. "Yes, sir. Since the beginning."
"Then you've watched that boy grow up." He turned his head toward the shelves and smiled. "Come. Look at this."
He got up and walked to the shelf. Seo-yeon rose slowly and joined him. The shelf was filled with framed photographs. There was a small boy in an oversized school uniform holding a trophy. There was a teenager at a microphone, with a bad haircut and a huge grin. There was a young man in a graduation gown standing between his parents. And near the center was a picture of the whole family on a beach, with Min Yoongi, maybe eight years old, buried up to his neck in sand and laughing.
"He was an annoying child," Mr. Min said fondly. "Always singing. In the bath, in the car, at the dinner table. I once told him, 'If you sing one more song at dinner, I will tape your mouth shut.'" He shook his head. "He sang the next day. And the next."
Seo-yeon laughed, and her eyes stung. She looked at the boy in the sand and thought, You have your father's eyes. She put a hand on her stomach and kept quiet.
"He doesn't call enough," Mr. Min said quietly. "His mother won't say it, but she misses him. So do I."
"I'm sure he misses you too," Seo-yeon said.
"Hmm." He shrugged, but his eyes were wet behind his glasses. "Well. Sit. The soup is almost ready."
---
The dinner table was set in a small dining room off the kitchen, with a round wooden table and four chairs. Mrs. Min had been busy. There was a pot of soybean paste stew still bubbling in the center, a plate of grilled mackerel, braised potatoes, seasoned spinach, three kinds of kimchi, a fluffy egg roll, and a bowl of steamed rice for everyone.
"I made too much, as usual," Mrs. Min said, setting down the last dish. "Sit, Seo-yeon. Next to me. Eat."
"Thank you, Auntie. It looks wonderful."
"Then eat!"
She took her first spoonful of rice and stew, and it was so good she almost cried. It tasted like her own mother's cooking, simple and warm and made with care. She ate quietly, and Mrs. Min kept putting fish and egg roll on her plate before she had finished the last piece.
"Eat more. You're eating for two."
"I'm already full."
"No, you're not. Have the potatoes."
Mr. Min chewed slowly and said nothing, but every few minutes he pushed another dish toward Seo-yeon with one finger.
Mrs. Min began to tell a story about the time Min Yoongi tried to cook ramen as a child and set off the smoke alarm. Seo-yeon was laughing with her hand over her mouth when she heard the sound of the front gate.
It slid open, then closed.
"Is that the delivery?" Mr. Min said.
"I didn't order anything," Mrs. Min said.
Footsteps crossed the porch. The front door opened.
"Mom? Dad? I'm home!"
Seo-yeon's spoon froze halfway to her mouth.
No.
She knew that voice. She had heard it a hundred times on albums and videos. She had heard it once in the dark of a club, saying You're not dreaming.
"Yoongi?" Mrs. Min said, half rising from her chair. "Is that you? You didn't call!"
"I wanted to surprise you," the voice called back. "I got two days off. I thought I'd..."
He walked into the dining room and stopped.
He was wearing a gray hoodie and a black cap, with a duffel bag hanging from one shoulder. His hair stuck out a little under the cap. He looked tired, thinner than she remembered, with shadows under his eyes. He was smiling at his parents. Then his eyes moved to the stranger sitting at the table.
The smile fell off his face.
The duffel bag slid from his shoulder and hit the floor with a thud.
Seo-yeon couldn't move. The spoon was still in her hand, and rice was falling off it onto the table. She couldn't breathe. Her heart felt like it had stopped and started again.
"Seo-yeon?" he whispered.
His voice was so low that only she heard it. Mrs. Min was already talking, one hand on her hip, the other waving a ladle.
"Yoongi, there you are! Come, come, don't stand there like a post. We have a guest."
"Mom, I..." He took a step forward. His eyes hadn't left Seo-yeon's face. "What is she... How did she..."
"Yoongi, don't be rude," Mrs. Min said. "Look at you. You walk into the house after four months and the first thing you do is stare at my guest. Say hello properly." She turned to Seo-yeon with a bright smile. "Seo-yeon, this is my son, Min Yoongi. Though I suppose you know that already. Yoongi, this is Han Seo-yeon. She's one of your fans. She's been with you since the very beginning."
Neither of them said anything.
"Don't just stand there, say something!" Mrs. Min said. "She's a fan, Yoongi, a real one. She's been watching you since you were nobody."
"Hello," Seo-yeon said at last. Her voice came out as a thread. "It's nice to meet you."
Yoongi stared at her. Then, slowly, he said, "Nice to meet you."
Mrs. Min beamed, as if she had done something clever. "There. Now sit down. Seo-yeon is here because of me, and you won't believe what happened today."
Yoongi pulled out the chair across from Seo-yeon and sat down heavily. His hands gripped his knees. He still didn't take his eyes off her.
"This afternoon," Mrs. Min began, "I was at the corner near the bookstore. Seo-yeon stepped into the road, and a car ran a red light and almost hit her. I pulled her back just in time." She pressed a hand to her chest. "I was so frightened, Yoongi. For her and for the baby. I thought I was going to lose both of them right there on the street."
The room went silent.
"Baby?" Yoongi said.
His voice was very quiet.
"Yes, baby," Mrs. Min said. "She's pregnant. That's why I couldn't just leave her there, white as a sheet. I brought her home to eat."
Yoongi looked at Seo-yeon.
She was sitting behind the table, and the edge of the wood hid her stomach. He had seen only her face, and her shoulders, and the hands holding the spoon. He hadn't noticed anything else. Now he stared at her as if he had never seen her before.
"Pregnant," he said.
Seo-yeon dropped her eyes to the table. Her face was burning.