The restaurant was a small place on a quiet side street, with six tables, paper lanterns and a grandmother in the kitchen who didn't look up when they came in. Yoongi had chosen it because it had a private room in the back. He pulled out Seo-yeon's chair, sat down across from her and took off his mask for the first time all morning.
"This is nice," she said.
"A friend told me about it. The owner doesn't watch TV."
"Good."
They ordered bibimbap, a pot of beef rib soup and extra side dishes, and he told the waitress to bring warm barley tea, not cold. Seo-yeon laughed.
"What?"
"Nothing. You sound like my mom."
"Your mom is a smart woman."
The food came, and she ate with real appetite. Yoongi ate three bites and put his spoon down. He moved a piece of zucchini from one side of his bowl to the other. He picked up his water glass, put it down, and picked it up again.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"I'm fine."
"You're not eating."
"I'm eating."
"You've had three bites."
"They were big bites." He cleared his throat. "Seo-yeon. I want to ask you something."
"Okay."
"I want to meet your parents."
She stopped with her spoon in the air. "I'm sorry?"
"Today."
"Today?"
"This afternoon. After lunch."
She put down the spoon slowly. "Yoongi, you drove me home last night and you said you weren't ready."
"I said you weren't ready."
"You said we weren't ready."
"I said that to be polite." He leaned forward. "I thought about it all night. I looked at the pictures again. I thought, I let you carry this for months alone, and now I'm hiding in a car outside your gate. That's not right. They should hear it from me. I should say it to their faces."
"They already know it's you."
"Then they should see me."
"They've seen the back of your head," she said. "From a window."
"That doesn't count."
She pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. "Yoongi, my dad is going to be scary."
"I'm not afraid of your dad."
"Your hand is shaking."
He looked down. His hand was gripping his water glass so tightly that his knuckles were white. He put it down and tucked both hands under the table.
"I'm a little afraid of your dad," he admitted.
"He cried at the first ultrasound."
"Did he?"
"He said his eyes were dry."
Yoongi laughed, and some of the stiffness left his shoulders. "Then he can't be that scary."
"He's very scary. He's just also soft."
"That's the worst kind."
"Yes."
"Okay." He took a breath. "I'll do it. I have a speech."
"You have a speech?"
"I wrote it this morning." He took out his phone, scrolled and cleared his throat. "Ahem. 'Good afternoon, Mr. Han. Mrs. Han. My name is Min Yoongi. I'm the father of your grandchildren...'"
"Stop."
"What?"
"You can't open with 'father of your grandchildren.'"
"Why not?"
"Because my dad will have a stroke."
"Fine." He scrolled. "'My name is Min Yoongi, and I am an honorable man with honorable intentions...'"
"No."
"'...who deeply regrets the past, and who promises to dedicate his life to your daughter and the two precious...'"
"Yoongi, it sounds like a wedding vow."
"Too much?"
"Much too much."
"Okay." He deleted something with his thumb. He typed. He frowned. "How about just, 'Hello. I'm sorry. I love your daughter'?"
Seo-yeon's face went red. "You can't say that either."
"Why not? It's true."
"Because..." She stopped and looked down at her bowl. "Because you can't say it first to my parents. You haven't even said it to me."
The private room went very quiet. Yoongi looked at her with his phone still in his hand.
"I said it by accident last night," he said slowly. "In the dining room."
"I know."
"I didn't take it back."
"I know."
"I'll say it to you properly. Later. Not in a restaurant with kimchi on the table." He turned his phone off and slid it into his pocket. "Okay. No speech. I'll just talk."
"That's worse."
"I know."
---
They didn't go straight to her house. Yoongi said he couldn't show up with nothing, and the next hour was a disaster.
First he stopped at a flower shop and bought a huge bouquet of white lilies, red roses and baby's breath. The florist stared at him for a long moment, and he pulled his cap lower. "It's too big," Seo-yeon said when he got back to the car. "My parents' vase won't fit it."
Then he went into a fruit store and came out with two baskets, one of apples and one of Korean pears, each wrapped in gold paper. "Two baskets?" she said. "One for each parent," he explained. At a department store, he bought a set of premium red ginseng for her dad and a silk scarf for her mom, and then went back and bought a second scarf in another color because he couldn't decide.
By the time he got back in the car, the back seat looked like a gift shop.
"Yoongi."
"Yes?"
"You're bringing a lot."
"Is it too much?"
"It's a lot."
"I'd rather bring too much than too little." He started the engine, and the car beeped angrily because he hadn't put on his seatbelt. "Sorry. Sorry."
"You're sweating."
"I'm not sweating."
"There's a drop on your chin."
"That's the air conditioner."
"It isn't on."
He turned on the air conditioner.
---
She texted her mom from the passenger seat: We're coming home. He's with me. He wants to say hello.
The reply came back in two seconds.
NOW?????
Then, before she could answer:
Your father is in the study. I'll tell him. Don't come in yet. Wait ten minutes. I need to put out the good cups.
Then:
TELL HIM TO WEAR SOMETHING NICE.
"He's wearing a hoodie," Seo-yeon said out loud.
"What?"
"My mom says you should wear something nice."
Yoongi looked down at his gray hoodie and plain jeans. "I have a jacket in the trunk."
"A nice jacket?"
"A stage jacket."
"Is it covered in sequins?"
"Only a little."
"Wear the hoodie."
They waited in the car under the same tree where he had kissed her goodnight. Yoongi stared at the white mansion through the windshield. Seo-yeon watched him straighten his cap, then pull it off, then fix his hair in the mirror, then put it back on.
"Is my breath okay?" he asked.
"It's fine."
"Smell it."
"I'm not smelling your breath."
"Please."
She leaned over and sniffed. "It smells like barley tea."
"Is that good?"
"Yes."
He practiced a bow in the driver's seat, hitting his head on the steering wheel. "Ow." He tried again, more carefully. "Is this the right angle?"
"It's fine."
"Is it too deep?"
"It's fine, Yoongi."
"What if I bow and my cap falls off?"
"Take it off."
"Then I'll look like I'm hiding something."
"You are hiding something. You're Min Yoongi."
"Right." He took the cap off and put it in his lap. Then he put the mask on top of it, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Okay. I'm ready."
"You're not."
"No," he agreed. "But let's go anyway."
---
Her mom opened the front door before they reached it. She was wearing her best blouse, with a string of pearls and her hair freshly combed, and she was smiling so hard that her cheeks looked like they hurt. Behind her, in the hallway, stood her dad with his arms crossed and a stern look on his face.
"Mom," Seo-yeon said. "Daddy. This is..."
Yoongi stepped forward and bowed. It was a perfect bow, deep and slow. When he straightened up, the bouquet in his arms hit her dad squarely in the chest.
"Oh!" Yoongi said. "Sorry! Sorry, sir!"
Her dad looked down at a mouthful of baby's breath. He removed a stem from his collar with two fingers. "Hmm."
"I, um." Yoongi looked at the flowers, then at the two fruit baskets he was juggling with his other hand. "These are for you. And these. And there's more in the car. I didn't know what you liked, so I got everything."
"Come in, come in," her mom said, taking the baskets and the flowers. "Oh, they're lovely. You didn't have to."
"I wanted to," Yoongi said. "I mean... Good afternoon. I'm sorry for coming so suddenly. My name is Min Yoongi. I'm the..."
He stopped.
Seo-yeon looked at him. His mouth was open, and nothing was coming out. He had forgotten the speech. He had forgotten the other speech. He had forgotten everything.
"I'm the father," he said at last, in a small voice. "I mean, of the babies. Of the, of your grandbabies. Your grandchildren. Both of them."
Her dad's eyebrows rose slowly.
"I know who you are," he said.
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
"You are the one who left her in a hotel."
"Daddy!" Seo-yeon said. "It wasn't a hotel!"
"Where was it?"
"It was..." She stopped. Her cheeks went hot. "It doesn't matter!"
"It was her apartment," Yoongi said quickly, then flinched. "No. I mean. I don't... I'm sorry. I left. I shouldn't have. It was wrong. I'm very sorry."
"Hmm," her dad said again.
Her mom touched his arm. "Honey. He's nervous. Let him sit."
"I'm not stopping him."
"You're glaring."
"This is my normal face."
"It is not."
"Please sit," her dad said, with the air of a man granting a favor. He turned and walked into the living room. Yoongi followed, still holding his cap, and perched on the edge of the sofa like a student at an interview. Seo-yeon sat beside him. Her mom bustled in with tea and a plate of cut fruit and sat on the other side of the table.
Her dad lowered himself into the big armchair, folded his hands, and looked at Yoongi over the rim of his glasses.
For a long moment, nobody said anything.
"How old are you?" her dad said.
"Thirty-two, sir."
"That is old."
"Yes, sir."
"My daughter is twenty-six."
"Twenty-seven," Seo-yeon said.
"Twenty-seven," her dad corrected. "You are five years older."
"Yes, sir."
"What is your job?"
"Daddy, he's a singer. You know he's a singer."
"I'd like to hear him say it."
"I'm a singer, sir," Yoongi said. "And a producer. And I write songs."
"Do you make good money?"
"Honey!" her mom said.
"I'm only asking."
"I make enough," Yoongi said. "I have an apartment. I have savings. I don't have any debts. I'll provide for them, sir. For all three of them."
"Hmm."
"I know that's not enough to make up for the past."
"No, it is not." Her dad leaned back. "Tell me. Will you run away again?"
The room went quiet.
Yoongi put his cap on his knee. He straightened his back, and for the first time since he'd walked in, his voice was steady.
"No, sir."
"You say that now."
"I know." He looked her dad directly in the eye. "I left once because I was scared. It was the biggest mistake of my life. I looked for her for months, and I couldn't find her. If I'd stayed, she wouldn't have had to go through this alone. I can't take that back. But I can promise that I'm not going anywhere. Not now, not after the babies are born. Whatever happens with my career, with the company, with the public. I'm staying."
Seo-yeon's throat tightened. She looked at her hands.
Her dad was silent. His mouth was a thin line, and his face gave nothing away. Her mom had gone very still, with a teacup halfway to her lips.
Then Yoongi reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet and opened it. He took out the folded picture and carefully held it out in both hands.
"I brought this," he said. "It's from this morning. I wanted you to see."
Her dad hesitated. Then he took the picture. He unfolded it and looked.
It was the gray image of two small shapes lying side by side, with their faces turned toward each other.
"Is this..." he started.
"That's the girl," Yoongi said, leaning forward. "And that's the boy. We heard both of their heartbeats this morning. They're doing very well. The doctor says they're the size of avocados."
"Avocados," her dad repeated.
"Yes, sir."
Her dad stared at the picture for a long time. His thumb moved slowly over the edge of it. He took off his glasses, wiped them with a corner of his shirt and put them back on.
"They look very small," he said.
"They're growing."
"Hmm." He cleared his throat. "My eyes are dry."
"Of course, sir."
"Don't look at me like that."
"I'm not looking at anything, sir."
Her mom burst out laughing. Seo-yeon laughed too, and then, after a moment, her dad's mouth twitched. He handed the picture to his wife.
"Look at them," he said gruffly. "Look. They're waving."
"I see them," her mom said, wiping her eyes. "Oh, they're beautiful."
Her dad turned back to Yoongi and pointed a finger at him.
"I am still angry with you."
"Yes, sir."
"I will be angry for a very long time."
"I understand."
"But you came to this house, and you said it to my face. That is more than most men would do." He straightened his shirt. "So. You will eat dinner with us tonight."
Yoongi blinked. "Dinner?"
"Yes. My wife has already started cooking. She never stops, as you can see." He glanced toward the kitchen, where the smell of garlic and sesame oil was drifting out. "You will eat, and then we will talk."
"Thank you, sir."
"And take off that hoodie. This is not a street corner."
Yoongi looked down. "I don't have anything else."
"Then borrow mine."
"Daddy, I think it will be too big."
"He can roll up the sleeves."
"Yes, sir," Yoongi said. "Thank you, sir."
He stood and bowed again, and this time he hit his knee against the coffee table and knocked over the pear basket. Fruit rolled across the floor. Everyone watched a pear travel slowly under the sofa.
"I'll get it," Yoongi said.
"Leave it," her dad said, looking at the ceiling. "Leave it. I'm sure the housekeeper will find it in a week."