Na-Eun decided to set up a Christmas tree today. After all, what children loved most at the end of the year was the promise of Christmas and Santa Claus. She stood in the center of the spacious living room with Han Jiho and Minho, gazing up at a massive, towering pine. It was a centerpiece she had specifically requested to match the height of the soaring ceiling. Stacks of sparkling lights and boxes of ornaments lay waiting around its base.
“Kids, we’re going to make a Christmas tree today. You know what a tree is, right? It looks like this.”
She played a video on the large wall-mounted TV, revealing a tree glowing with vibrant, festive light.
“We’re going to make one just like that. Can we do it?”
Han Jiho and Minho nodded eagerly.
“Let’s make a wonderful tree. Fighting!”
As Na-Eun thrust her clenched fists into the air, the children mimicked the gesture, jumping and shouting, “Fighting!” Na-Eun took the lead on the lights.
“This part is for the teacher. I need the height, and the wires can be tricky for little hands.”
She slowly draped the lights, winding them through the branches until the entire structure hummed with a soft, electric glow. When she finally flipped the switch, the tree bathed the room in a gentle luminescence. The children grew restless with excitement, bouncing on their heels.
“Now, we’re going to hang the pretty balls and dolls.”
The silver and gold lights made the branches look as though they were dusted with starlight. Even without the ornaments, the tree was a masterpiece. Minho marveled at the twinkling bulbs, his expression softening with genuine wonder. Seeing his reaction, it was clear he possessed a delicate, sensitive nature. His father had been the same—was it hereditary?
The color scheme was a luxurious pairing of gold and warm red. The children made a fuss, each vying to be the first to decorate.
Han Jiho held a small, reindeer-shaped ornament and shouted, “I want to hang this one first!” but Minho countered, “No. I’m going to hang this one.” They bickered over the reindeer, tugging at the air between them.
“Kids, there are plenty of reindeer here.”
Na-Eun tipped the bag, spilling a collection of them onto the rug.
“Wow!”
The children were thrilled, darting around the tree with their treasures. Some were rustic, with visible wooden grain; others were elegant, shiny glass bells that chimed softly in their hands.
“Han Jiho, you hang yours at the bottom, and Minho, you hang yours over there toward the back. That way, we’ll be able to see all of them, right?”
Decorating with children was never just a simple task. Accidents were inevitable. Sure enough, one ornament hung too loosely and slipped, shattering against the floor. Na-Eun quickly ushered the children back, cleaned the shards, and was reaching to crown the top with a star when the front door opened.
Choi Kang-woo stood in the entryway, blinking in surprise. This was the first time a tree had ever graced this space. Since he had moved into The Annex, the staff had kept the house pristine, devoid of any such domestic displays. He had always found such things useless.
“Uncle! Look, we made a tree!”
Han Jiho and Minho jumped up and down, their faces bright with pride.
“You’ve come at the perfect time. I was just about to find a ladder to hang the star.”
“I’ll do it,” Choi Kang-woo said. He set his briefcase aside, took the star from Na-Eun, and secured it to the very tip.
With the gold star at the peak and the lights shimmering beneath, the tree was complete. The children stood back with a palpable sense of accomplishment. Even Minho seemed to have cast off the shadow of the events from a few days ago, chatting away with newfound animation.
“Uncle, did you eat?” Minho asked, tilting his head.
Choi Kang-woo felt a sudden tug at his heart. He was proud of his nephew for speaking so nonchalantly. Things that were ordinary for other children were major milestones for this boy, given his trauma—a wound inflicted by the very adults who should have protected him.
“Yeah. I ate,” Choi Kang-woo replied softly, gently patting Minho’s back as the boy leaned against him.
Perhaps because they were overstimulated, the children struggled to sleep. Even after being tucked in, they kept creeping back to the living room to catch one last glimpse of the lights. Even with the main room lights extinguished, the tree cast a warm, golden glow across the space. The tiny, flickering stars were reflected clearly in the children’s wide, curious eyes.
“Kids, that’s enough. We’ll be up all night at this rate. Come on, let’s go to sleep for real. The tree will still be here when you wake up, and it’ll be here tomorrow night, too.”
At Na-Eun’s gentle insistence, Han Jiho and Minho finally agreed and retreated to their beds. Exhausted from the day’s excitement, they fell asleep almost instantly. In the quiet that followed, the tree transformed the living room into a cozy, ethereal sanctuary. Na-Eun stood in the doorway, staring blankly at the glow, when Choi Kang-woo walked down the stairs holding a bottle of wine.
“The tree is beautiful. We should have a drink.”
Na-Eun smiled and headed to the refrigerator to slice some cheese. In the corner of the dim room, the tree lights pulsed like distant constellations. Red, green, and gold bulbs mingled, casting soft, dancing shadows against the walls. The glass snowflake ornaments scattered fractured rainbows across the floor, while silver ribbons caught the light with every subtle draft.
Na-Eun paused, her knife hovering over the cheese as she gazed at the tree. The light washed over her face, softening her features. When Choi Kang-woo extended a wine glass toward her, she smiled naturally.
“To a happy Christmas.”
As Choi Kang-woo raised his glass, the tree’s light reflected off the liquid, tinting their expressions with warmth. Na-Eun clinked her glass against his and nodded.
“Indeed. It’s a happy Christmas, being here with the children and you.”
Choi Kang-woo sat beside her, took a sip of wine, and set the glass on the table. The stillness of the night settled between them. The light from the tree caught in Na-Eun’s hair, making her smile shimmer.
“This year’s Christmas feels especially meaningful,” Choi Kang-woo said, his voice low. “Minho seems to feel it, too.”
Her heart skipped a beat at the tenderness in his gaze.
“Don’t you think?” she whispered.
Choi Kang-woo nodded. “Minho seems much more stable today. It’s as if the crying and screaming from a few days ago never happened. I’m relieved he’s recovering so quickly. And I heard from my mother that she found a doctor for him.”
Na-Eun’s eyes widened. “The counselor?”
“Yes. A trauma-specialized therapist.”
Na-Eun let out a breath of pure relief. “That’s wonderful news. It must have been difficult to track someone like that down.”
“Her resume is impressive. She has over fifteen years of experience in child psychotherapy and is one of the best in the country, especially for treating selective mutism caused by trauma.”
Choi Kang-woo’s expression brightened. He, too, had been carrying the weight of Minho’s pain.
“That’s a true blessing,” Na-Eun said, delighted. “Where does she work? Does she have a private clinic?”
“No,” Choi Kang-woo replied with a faint smile. “She currently works at the Department of Pediatric Neuropsychiatry at Korea University Hospital. She balances her treatment and research there. Have you heard of Professor Kim Yoon-Jung?”
Na-Eun nodded eagerly. “Of course. Professor Kim Yoon-Jung is a legend in the field. I’ve read several of her books. How did you manage to get an appointment with her?”
She squeezed her fist in excitement, a wave of ease washing over her.
Choi Kang-woo chuckled. “When I explained Minho’s condition and his current circumstances, she readily agreed to consult. I did pull a few strings—a friend of a friend, so to speak.”
Na-Eun beamed. “You did well.”
“She did mention that because she focuses on building trust with the child, it’s best if the parents or guardians work closely to establish a treatment plan.”
Na-Eun felt her eyes grow moist. “Yes, I understand. It’s such a relief that Minho has a good therapist. By the way, has Minho’s father gone abroad? I haven’t heard anything since then. It would be excellent if he could participate in these consultations, too.”
At the mention of the father, Choi Kang-woo’s expression shifted, and he said cautiously: