Chapter 12: A visit to Grandma's House
1268 Words
Saturday arrived with the kind of bright sunshine that made Seoul’s streets feel almost too perfect. Mirae stood at the kitchen counter, trying to braid Minjun’s hair while he squirmed and giggled.
“You’re going to see Grandma today,” she reminded him. “So behave, okay?”
“Will she give me candy again?”
Mirae laughed. “Only if you say please.”
There was a knock at the door. She already knew who it was.
Minjun ran to the door and flung it open. “Ahjussi!”
Lee Jihan bent down with a warm smile. “Minjun-ah. You ready?”
Minjun nodded and lifted his little backpack. “Let’s go!”
Jihan looked up at Mirae. “You sure you don’t want to come?”
“I’ll come later,” she said softly. “I just need some time.”
Mirae watched the door close behind them, the silence in the apartment swallowing her whole. She stood there for a moment, hands flat on the kitchen counter, staring at the spot where Minjun had been. The weight in her chest grew heavier. She had spent years learning to live without Jihan — raising Minjun alone, working late shifts, eating cold meals beside a sleeping baby. Letting him back in felt like opening a window in the middle of winter. It was fresh, yes — but it was also freezing.
He nodded. “Alright. I’ll call if anything comes up.”
Mirae watched them go, heart tight. Her son holding hands with the man she once ran from. How strange life had become.
---
Jihan hadn’t stepped into his mother’s house in almost a year.
It still looked the same — all white walls, elegant wooden floors, and the scent of lilies.
His mother, Seo Hyejin, opened the door with an arched brow. “You finally decided to show up.”
He didn’t answer, but stepped aside to reveal Minjun.
Her expression softened instantly. “And who’s this little prince?”
“This is Minjun,” Jihan said. “My son.”
She froze. “What?”
Jihan knelt beside the boy. “Minjun, say hello to your grandmother.”
Minjun smiled brightly. “Hello, Halmoni!”
Seo Hyejin blinked a few times before gently taking Minjun’s hand. “Come in, sweetheart.”
She didn’t say another word until they were inside, and Minjun was distracted with the garden koi pond.
Then her eyes landed on Jihan like daggers. “Your son?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“From whom?”
“Mirae.”
She sat down slowly, shock all over her face. “You’ve kept this from me?”
“I just found out myself.”
“And you’re already calling him your son?”
“He is my son.”
Seo Hyejin sat in stunned silence for a few moments before saying, “So what are you going to do now?”
“I want to be part of his life. Fully.”
“And Mirae?”
He hesitated. “I want her too. But I don’t know if she’ll let me.”
His mother sipped her tea quietly. “You always were stubborn. Just like your father. But if this child is yours… then he’s family. And I want to know him.”
Jihan gave a quiet nod. “Thank you.”
He looked around the living room, memories flooding back. He used to sit on this same couch, swinging his legs while his father watched the news and his mother scolded him for leaving crumbs. That life felt like someone else's now. So much had changed — his father was gone, his mother colder, and now there was a little boy calling him Appa. The idea still felt unreal. But when Minjun laughed, something in him softened. This was real. And he wasn’t going to run.
---
Meanwhile, Mirae sat alone in her apartment, scrolling through old photos on her phone — pictures of Minjun as a baby, the tiny hospital wristband, blurry videos of his first steps.
She’d done it all alone. No family support. No Jihan. Just her.
She didn’t regret her son. Never would.
But now she was faced with a question she couldn’t run from: Could she let Jihan in permanently?
Could she trust him to stay?
She thought back to the night she found out she was pregnant. She had cried in the bathroom for hours, hugging a towel to her chest to muffle the sobs. She’d called Jihan again and again, desperate for his voice, his presence — but he never picked up. The fear, the loneliness, the shame — it had nearly broken her. From that day forward, she decided she would never beg anyone to stay. Not even the man who gave her Minjun.
Her phone buzzed.
Jihan: He’s with the fish now. My mom is smitten.
Jihan: No pressure, but you should come. He keeps asking for you.
She stared at the screen for a long moment before typing:
Mirae: On my way.
---
When she arrived, Minjun ran into her arms. “Omma! The fish are orange and white!”
Jihan smiled quietly behind him.
Seo Hyejin came out from the kitchen. “You must be Mirae.”
Mirae nodded. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Seo.”
“Call me Eomeoni,” she said simply. “If you’re serious about this family, that’s what you’ll call me.”
Mirae blinked in surprise, unsure how to respond.
“She likes you,” Jihan whispered as he passed by.
“Could’ve fooled me,” Mirae muttered.
They spent the rest of the afternoon in the garden — Minjun chasing butterflies, Jihan helping him reach for flowers, Mirae watching from the porch with something like hope blooming in her chest.
Seo Hyejin stepped out of the house carrying two cups of plum tea. She handed one to Mirae without a word and sat beside her on the porch bench. For a while, neither of them spoke.
“You raised him well,” Hyejin finally said.
Mirae looked at her in surprise. “Thank you.”
The older woman nodded. “He’s bright. Kind. Confident. That doesn’t happen by accident.”
Mirae smiled faintly. “I tried.”
“You did more than try,” Hyejin said. “You endured.”
---
That night, as Jihan drove them back, Minjun fell asleep in the backseat with a lollipop in hand.
“She’s not what I expected,” Mirae said.
“My mother?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“She’s intense. But she means well.”
“I can see that.”
They reached her apartment. Jihan helped carry Minjun inside and lay him on the bed.
Mirae turned to him. “Thank you. For today.”
He looked at her. “Thank you. For letting me.”
There was a pause.
Then softly, she added, “He’s happier now. Since you came.”
Jihan swallowed. “So am I.”
Mirae looked down, heart fluttering.
Before she could overthink it, she whispered, “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Mirae.”
He closed the door gently behind him.
Mirae stood by the door, listening to the silence he left behind. She glanced toward Minjun’s room, where her son now slept with his lollipop still stuck to his fingers. She walked over, gently took it from him, and brushed the hair from his face. Then she sat beside him, letting the stillness settle over her. Her life had always been just the two of them. But tonight, for the first time, she allowed herself to imagine a third.
- Writer
