Her temper flared. Not at Eunjae, because Jiyeon couldn’t be angry with him for keeping a secret when she had a few of her own. She understood why he’d been putting it off instead of coming clean. Jiyeon didn’t blame him, but the situation triggered her sense of injustice. Why was it so hard? Would it ever just be normal?
Minutes ticked by as they sat together, an ocean and a full day apart. Darkness seeped across the apartment windows like ink diffused in water. The night seemed to expand, its borders encroaching on every pane of glass.
But on the screen, mid-morning sunshine slanted into Eunjae’s hotel room. Suddenly the distance felt tangible — no longer a series of numbers or a difference in hours, but aphysical and impassable barrier. A divide between one world and another. The unwelcome realization struck fast and lodged deep, fleet as an arrow, accurate to a cruel degree.
Eyes burning, Jiyeon rested her cheek on the tabletop. Eunjae reached for her on reflex. But she was too far away to hold, and this would be the case for another twenty-four hours. It had been like this for months.
In the end, she couldn’t bring herself to talk about Prism’s offer. Jiyeon kept imagining Eunjae on stage at that awards show, forcing a smile, determined not to ruin the performance. Her fingers went to the elastic looped around her wrist, seeking comfort in the mindless habit of twisting it inside out, then back again.
“You’re mad,” said Eunjae.
“I’m not. I’m fine. I miss you, though.”
He sighed. “You don’t even know how much I miss you. I’m not great with words or I’d tell you all about it. But I’ll be there tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay,” she murmured, closing her eyes. “With flowers and a puppy, right?”
“You have to ask?”
Jiyeon lifted her head. “Kidding! Please don’t bring a puppy. I never paid a pet deposit.”
“How much is it? Maybe I need to see the lease.”
“Oh, goodness.” She sat up to find him smiling at her. It was a fragile smile, but he was trying. She could try, too. Jiyeon ran her thumb over a section of elastic that was beginning to fray. “See you tomorrow, Ryan Kim.”
“Tomorrow,” Eunjae replied, “with flowers. And a puppy.”
Clips from footage recorded with Lizzie Han’s phone on the night Eunjae and Denny returned from Seoul
This video begins with a prime view of the Han family's kitchen floor. The linoleum features a pattern so scuffed and worn that it's difficult to tell if those are curling vines or thin, fluted leaves. But that is the hem of Mrs. Han’s long skirt, and when she swings the phone upright, we see Ezra’s face taking up the whole screen. His eyes widen. “Um, is that recording?”
“Yes, yes,” says Mrs. Han, transferring the phone into his care. She turns it around so that it's her face smiling at us now, a dimple in one cheek like all three of her children. Indicating the precise spot where she’d like Ezra to stand, she tells him, “Right here, okay? Later, when they come in, you stand here and get the video.”
She bustles away, but Ezra stays in place for a while. Slowly, he pans to his left, where Evan and Mr. Han have been tasked with hanging a hand-painted banner above the TV. One corner keeps fluttering down. Jeannie supervises from the dining table, by turns laconic cheerleader and whiny critic.
Ezra pans to the right. We glimpse Jiyeon on the couch, legs tucked beneath her, watching the proceedings with amusement. Her phone screen brightens with a notification as Ezra zooms into capture the words on the banner:WELCOME HOME, OUR BOYS!
There’s something about this that holds Ezra’s attention. He lingers on it for a long beat, conversations flowing around him. Then, Jiyeon says, “Five minutes. They're at the light on Linda Vista.”
Mrs. Han flies out of the kitchen, giving orders left and right. Lights wink out in rapid succession. Ezra backs up, wedging himself between a cabinet and a rather magnificent potted ficus. Caught up in the confusion, he bumps into the tree. This video ends and the next one begins.
It’s dim, but not too dim, since no one thought to douse the light on the back porch. Jeannie is heard whispering, “Auntie, why are we hiding, though?”
“So we can pretend we’re not home.”
“But they know we’re home. Like, that’s why they’re coming here and not somewhere else.” She goes quiet. “Ugh, I used my brain. You guys need to stop me from doing that so much, it’s not good for me. It’s affecting my morale.”
Mr. Han’s reply is muffled, indistinct. Jiyeon moves to Ezra’s side in the darkness, turning him so that the camera points at the apartment’s back entrance instead. He murmurs a question and she responds, “Hmm. I’ve just got a feeling.”
Sure enough, the glass doors leading to the patio slide open just a crack, allowing a sliver of moonlight to illuminate the gloom. Mrs. Han stifles a shriek as a megalithic figure shoves the blinds aside with a clatter. This giant hefts four pieces of luggage over the threshold in a show of brute strength.
“Unlocked! What are you people doing? That was a classic Red Protocol. Did you learn nothing in the last home invasion drill? Are you even doing the home invasion drills?”
Mr. Han throws his head back and lets out a great, booming guffaw. Jeannie complains that she’s off the clock and this is toomuch. The invader is met by both parents, one laughing, one scolding. Ezra takes a tentative step out of his hiding spot just as someone rushes past him in a blur. He follows, finding a sight line through the vertical blinds left swinging in her wake. This is how he manages to record his brother catching Jiyeon in an embrace that lifts her right off the ground.
She’s thrown her arms around him. Eunjae has his face buried in her hair. Even after he sets her down, it seems they will never let go of each other.
Just before the video ends, we see that Denny took all the luggage because Eunjae needed both hands for an enormous bouquet of flowers. Poking out of his duffel bag, we see a stuffed animal purchased at the airport. It's a puppy.
