Page 149

His parents did not look like they wanted to laugh. They looked at me like I’d spoken gibberish, and when neither of them spoke, I looked to Jihoon for reassurance. He brushed a thumb over his lip to hide a smirk, and winked at me.

His mum recovered first. “Kaiya. I’m glad you could come. Have you eaten? You’ve travelled a long way. Please, join us.”

His father said nothing to me, but to Jihoon he barked, “Come.”

I bristled, but from Jihoon’s expression, I could tell it wasn’t worth it. We followed his parents through to the dining room, along with the rest of the group. Two tables had been pushed together to create one, long table surrounded by chairs. Some matched, some did not, obviously pulled from wherever they could be found to make enough room.

Jihoon sat next to me, even though this drew some looks, and despite his dad trying to indicate he sit opposite me. His mum put her hand on Youngjoon’s arm, and he closed his mouth on whatever he was about to say.

His aunt – Soomi – sat opposite me and didn’t try to hide the curious way she stared at us. The little girl, Soojin, sat on Jihoon’s other side. She did not try to pretend she wasn’t staring at me. I wiggled my fingers at her when she leaned around him to look me up and down.

“Uncle, who’s that lady?” she whispered loudly enough for the entire table to hear her.

“Do you think she’s pretty?” Jihoon asked, leaning down to speak softly to her.

Soojin leaned around him again, eyeing me more critically this time. I pretended not to notice.

“Yes,” she declared at last. “Is she your girlfriend?”

Jihoon ruffled her hair and chuckled. “Yes. Aren’t I lucky?”

Youngjoon cleared his throat, and I put a hand over my mouth to hide my smile. Jihoon leaned up in his chair and slid a look at me, holding my eyes for just a touch longer than necessary.

For a while, there was only polite small talk around the table as everyone ate. Jihoon repeatedly put food on my plate, and he wasn’t remotely subtle about it. If anything, he was acting deliberately obvious. I stared at him, but he just nudged my plate towards me, telling me to eat.

After a while, the focus around the table shifted to Jihoon. His uncle – Soomi’s husband – was very interested about the travel side of things. Soomi politely leaned towards me.

“He used to be in a band,” she said with a soft smile that cancelled out the way she rolled her eyes. “He always wanted to tour, but he only got as far as Jeju Island.”

I laughed, covering my mouth, and she leaned back in her chair, grinning at me.

Jihoon’s mum stared at him as if she was starving for the sight of him. She barely ate, but she watched every mouthful he took, pushing dishes towards him, telling him to try this or that. She fussed, but quietly, like she expected him to push her away.

Youngjoon, on the other hand, barely looked up at all. The entire table talked, and joked and got progressively louder as people relaxed, but not him. He stared at his food like he needed to focus on it, until he eventually put his chopsticks down and leaned back in his chair, staring at his son.

Jihoon didn’t look up, but from the way he straightened, I could tell he was aware of the scrutiny. He put his spoon down, and pushed his bowl away, taking a deep breath that I only noticed because I was watching so closely.

“You haven’t come home in a long time,” Youngjoon said. It wasn’t a question. It was closer to an accusation.

I saw his mum’s expression falter, like this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She looked between the two men as if she was looking for a middle ground, but could find none.

“I saw Halmeoni in Seoul,” Jihoon answered as though this had been the question.

His mum’s face fell, and I watched her look down quickly, because what Jihoon had implied was that his halmeoni was the only reason he might have come back to Busan.

Youngjoon turned to look at me, and I met his eyes. “You are British?”

“Yes, Abeonim,” I answered politely.

I’d made Jihoon promise it would be appropriate to call his parents ‘Mother’ and ‘Father’. I knew it was technically correct, but I couldn’t shake how it felt almost presumptuous.

“Your Korean is quite good,” he commented, as though I had asked for the assessment.

“Thank you. I have been learning for several years.”

“Because of him?”

He asked the question in a normal volume, but he might as well have shouted it, as all conversation around the table ceased. All except for Soojin, who kept up a steady flow of chatter about her school to Jihoon.