“Jiho will be getting his permanent teeth soon, right?”
Children bloom in new ways every single day. Would he grow up to be as dashing as that man? Na-Eun continued, her mind drifting to a future that felt both distant and inevitable.
“Yeah. That’s why we’re moving tomorrow. You have to stay right by Mom’s side when we do. No touching anything dangerous, okay? And when I drop you off at Minho’s place first, make sure you play nicely.”
“Okay. I’m close with Minho. But Minho is the king of stacking blocks.”
“Is he better at it than you, Jiho?”
“Yeah. I can’t stack them as well as Minho can.”
“That’s okay. You’re still a son Mom loves very much. And you love blocks, don’t you? Just doing what you can is enough.”
Jiho nodded his head vigorously.
“Yeah. I like blocks, too. That’s enough.”
“Time for your milk, Jiho. Want some?”
“I can do it. I’ll open it.”
With that, he grabbed a milk carton, punched the straw through, and began drinking greedily. He was so cute and sensible that a smile came naturally to her face.
This was their last night in this house—a place where she and Jiho had struggled and managed to survive together.
* * *
Though she called it a “grand move,” she had little more than her clothes to pack. The new residence was fully furnished, and her own belongings wouldn’t have fit regardless. With only clothes, books, and a few essentials, the load was so light that hiring a professional service felt unnecessary.
Moving day arrived with a drizzling autumn rain. It would have been nice to have clear skies, but she couldn’t complain. Fortunately, she’d secured her deposit back quickly, as the house had been snapped up the moment it hit the market. Na-Eun sighed, surveying her neatly stacked boxes.
The move took half a day. She had wanted to avoid a professional team, but she knew leaving boxes scattered for days wouldn’t sit well with Choi Kang-Woo.
“Wow! Mom, is this really our house?”
Jiho raced around the sprawling living room, delighted. Seeing him so vibrant, Minho—who had been standing blankly to the side—began to run, too. Ms. Lee looked on, stunned.
“My, does Minho actually run around like that?”
Minho played well with Jiho at kindergarten, but he was never the one to initiate the activity.
“Yes. He used to run with Jiho at kindergarten, too.”
“That’s a surprise.”
“Does he talk to Jiho?”
As Ms. Lee joined the conversation, Minho immediately clamped his mouth shut, his expression fading into a blank mask. Seeing this, Ms. Lee turned to Na-Eun.
“Does he talk to you, teacher?”
“Yes. He talks to me, too.”
“Really? You’re amazing. I really leave him in your care. You have no idea how difficult it was, having him right beside me and not hearing a single word. Please tell me if you need anything at all. Up until now, I’ve been the one managing most of Minho’s needs.”
“Yes. Thank you. I’ll take care of him from now on.”
“Of course. I’ll handle the housework. I’ve always been the one to look after what Minho eats, anyway.”
“Would that be alright?”
“Certainly. The lady of the house told me so herself. She said I don’t need to worry about other things anymore—just to help the teacher.”
“Thank you. I look forward to working with you.”
After Ms. Lee left, Na-Eun flopped down on the carpet in the center of the living room.
“Ah, I’m exhausted.”
Jiho immediately followed suit, sprawling out next to her.
“Ah! We’re all moved in.”
Then, to her surprise, Minho flopped down right beside them.
“Wow, this is nice. The teacher is here.”
Jiho and Minho’s voices chimed in cutely. Jiho looked at Minho and grinned.
“We get to play together every single day now.”
“Yeah.”
Just then, the door opened, and Choi Kang-Woo walked in. His arrival was unexpected; she had been told he would return late. Na-Eun checked the time—only eight o’clock. Before she could scramble up, Choi Kang-Woo stepped into the living room, looking down at the three of them sprawled in a row. Na-Eun jumped to her feet, flustered.
“You’re home, sir?”
“Yes. It seems the move went well. Don’t mind me.”
Choi Kang-Woo headed straight for the stairs. Even though they had separate spaces on the second floor, the reality of living under the same roof hit her anew. She felt embarrassed to be seen in such a state: her hair was a mess, and she was wearing a comfortable tracksuit she’d used for cleaning.
It was disheartening that his first impression of their arrival was them panting on the floor.
“Let’s all get washed up. Minho, Jiho—let’s go in together.”
Na-Eun nudged the children toward the bath. They listened well. Jiho knew how to lather his own hair, but Minho stood there blankly, waiting to be cared for.
“Does Minho not know how to wash himself?”
Jiho asked. Minho simply looked at them with dark eyes and shook his head. Na-Eun smiled, put soap on a sponge, and offered it to him.
“Here, try holding this and scrubbing yourself, Minho. That’s right. Do it like this. You have to scrub your shoulders, your neck, and your tummy, too.”
She taught him carefully, tickling him to break the tension until Minho burst into laughter. Emboldened, he grabbed the sponge and began to lather his legs, fascinated by the slick texture.
“When you wash your hair, close your eyes like this, and rub the soap all over your scalp. Can you try it by yourself starting tomorrow?”
Minho shook his head.
“Teacher, please do it for me.”
“Shall I? Then how about I help you until you’re ready to do it alone, just like Jiho?”
Minho nodded. After she dried them off, the two boys ran back into the living room, completely naked.
As Na-Eun chased them with their clothes, Choi Kang-Woo came back downstairs. She hesitated, thinking the sight of her chasing naked, running children was hardly appropriate, but Choi Kang-Woo simply looked at Minho.
“Minho, you need to get dressed.”
Minho stopped, his mouth shut tight. Na-Eun looked at the two boys and then at the man.
“Then would you like to help Minho, Uncle?”
She asked with practiced naturalness; family bonds were vital for the boy. Minho carefully shook his head. Na-Eun didn’t miss a beat.
“Then I’ll dress Minho, and why don’t you dress Jiho, Uncle?”
The five-year-olds looked like innocent angels. Though he had never dressed a child, Choi Kang-Woo nodded and took the clothes from her. They were small underpants, a t-shirt, and pajamas—like doll clothes.
“Come here, Jiho. Let’s put on your underpants.”
“I can do it myself.”
Jiho took the underpants and pulled them on nimbly. Watching this, Minho followed suit, imitating his friend. Once they were dressed, Na-Eun clapped her hands.
“All dressed!”
She beamed, the brightness of her smile filling the room. Choi Kang-Woo stood there for a moment, as if he had stumbled into a strange, new world. After a beat, he clapped his own hands—a single, sharp sound. It felt awkward to be the only one standing still.
“Do you need anything?”
“I ran out of tea on the second floor.”
When Choi Kang-Woo spoke, Na-Eun raised her eyebrows and smiled.
“I have some here. Would you like a cup?”
“What kind of tea do you have?”
Na-Eun opened a drawer.
“It’s night, so coffee isn’t a good idea, right? I have some I brought with me—burdock tea and jujube ginger tea. I have lemon syrup, too, but that might be too sweet.”
None of these were his usual fare.
“Do you have anything else?”
“Peppermint, rooibos, and barley tea.”
Choi Kang-Woo let out a short, airy laugh.
“You have nothing but harmless things.”
“Of course. How about rooibos? It’s a tea the kids can drink, too.”
“That sounds good.”
Na-Eun prepared a light, lukewarm cup of rooibos for the children and a hot, strong cup for Choi Kang-Woo. Then, she poured herself a tea with a rich, savory aroma. The scent was so pleasant that Choi Kang-Woo paused.
“What is that smell?”
“Oh, this is the burdock tea. I made it at home.”
“You made it yourself?”
He asked as if the concept of someone making such things at home was entirely foreign. Na-Eun shrugged lightly.
“Yes. It’s not that hard to make.”
Just what kind of woman was she?