THIRTY
I get everything ready—food (once Jaeyong messages me that they’re leaving the building in fifteen minutes), something without all the oil and frying—so steamed chicken and vegetables, pickled daikon, kimchi and one serving of ramen to share.
“Raleigh?” Jaeyong calls.
“Yeah, in here! I’ve got the food on the table, come and eat!” I crank open the cans of diet soda, leave the cans there, and bring the glasses to the table. Jaeyong comes into the kitchen with something like a frown on his face.
“How come you’re eating like this, too?” He points at the steamed chicken and the overall lack of beer, fried chicken and spicy rice cakes.
I shrug. “I’m not going to be a jerk and eat your favourite foods in front of you when you can’t have them. Why would I do that? Besides, if I really
