“Yes,” Bae confessed, swallowing hard. “No one at school wears anything like this, why can't I just celebrate Thanksgiving or something—”
“Bae, I swear to God you’re being so selfish right now,” Beck warned. “That’s an incredibly insensitive thing to say. You’re a big girl now, you should know what’s right from wrong without us having to tell you!”
I pretend to be incredibly engrossed in a novel about the festivities on the coffee table. Wishing I was outside helping the others with the decor. Sydney and Jax couldn’t make it as they were having dinner at his parents’ house. So it was just the Kwons and the Yeos.
“I’m not going to yell at you,” Wynter spoke patiently. “You know that isn’t how I wish to speak to you. But I need you to comprehend that Chuseok’s not just about food and games, it’s about family, honouring who we are, and where we come from. Especially Dad.”
Bae shifted uneasily, her eyes darting to the mirror and then back again, as if the reflection didn't exactly reflect how she felt on the inside. "I'm not sure... I feel like I'm simply going through the motions sometimes. Like I’m only half of it. I haven’t grown up around other people who are like me. I'm half Korean and half English, so I'm not sure where I belong.”
Wynter stepped closer, his expression soft but resolute. “You don’t have to fit into just one place, you’re not a machine; you’re a person. But when we wear the hanbok, when we celebrate Chuseok, it’s more than just the holiday or the tradition. It’sabout honoring our father and the history that’s in our blood. It’s about respecting the people who came before us, Bae.”
“I just don’t feel enough at all,” Bae reared up, and I watched Wynter immediately soften.
“It isn't about being ‘enough,’ Bae. It is about recognising the aspects of ourselves that have shaped who we are. A butterfly doesn’t stop using its legs once it gains its wings. We don’t become less Korean because our family left Seoul. We do not have to be perfect or conform to a certain image. All Appa needs from us is to remember where we came from and carry a piece of him with us.”
“I didn’t mean to make Appa upset,” Bae cried, and Beck rolled her eyes. Wynter simply smiled warmly and opened his arms up to her as she leapt into his embrace and sobbed into his shoulder. “I’m a terrible daughter.”
“Aniya, neoneun geojeo inganil ppuniya just as we all are. It’s okay to make mistakes as long as you own up to them and make an effort to make things better,”You’re only human,Wynter cooed, wiping away her tears.
“You manipulative little—” Beck mumbled to herself, but Wynter gave a look to be quiet. “Fine. God, you’re so lucky you have Wyn to always back you and entertain your flair for dramatics.”
“My house is never this interesting,” I sighed.
“You don’t want it to be, trust me.” Beck laughed. “Come on, let’s go outside and steal some persimmons.”
“You don’t have to ask me twice!” I got up and followed her. I couldn’t help but linger in the doorway a little longer in awe of how gentle Wynter always was with Bae.
The earth could split in two and seas could run dry but nothing in this world could make Wynter distant from that little girl. I was certain she could blow through his life savings on cupcakes and ice cream and he’d just say “It’s okay you didn’t mean it.”
I joined Beck outside on the veranda. On the modest wooden table in the centre, a beautifully arranged songpyeon—traditional rice cakes stuffed with sweet fillings such Korean sesame and red bean—sat in delicate porcelain bowls, their pastel colours contributing to the scene's subtle elegance. A tiny yet magnificent charye table was placed up nearby to honour the ancestors. A well-organised buffet featured a variety of delicacies, including jeon (savoury pancakes), galbijjim (braised short ribs), and kimchi.
Along the walls, a few traditional decorations were hung—small silk lanterns swaying gently, their light flickering with the movement of the air. On one corner of the room, a beautifully embroidered hanbok was displayed, the rich fabric shimmering in the soft light. The scent of incense lingered in the air, adding a touch of solemnity to the celebration, while fresh flowers in vases brought in from the garden added a breath of life to the space.
The Kwon house felt like a living testament to their heritage, the decor a tangible reminder of both the past and the present—a place where tradition was celebrated, honored, and cherished.
“This function is top tier!” Cahya reviewed swirling around in the hanbok Wynter had lent out to him. “I get to play fancy dress up and eat ribs?”
“You look like a princess,” Soleh teased, and Jiwon laughed with him.
“It means a lot to me that you kids could come over and spend Chuseok with us, the more the merrier—I hope you enjoy our own little chaos,” Mr Kwon thanked us. “Soleh, there’s lemonade in the fridge if you’d like any.”
“Thank you!” Soleh cheered, running into the house.
Just then Bae walked onto the veranda in a long braid with white flowers woven in, rosy cheeks and stunning in hertraditional clothing. Mr Kwon smiled, seemingly in awe that she’d agreed to it.
“I thought you much preferred your normal clothes?” Mr Kwon said.
“These are my normal clothes.” Bae bowed in apology. “I’m sorry I was mean, Appa.”
“My Bae? Mean? Never.” Mr Kwon laughed, lifting her up and spinning her around. “Now how about we play some games?”
“Oh yeah!” Cahya shouted.
One of the first games was Yutnori, a board game that was both competitive and fun. The large wooden sticks—yut—were thrown onto the board, and with each roll, players cheered, hoping for the right combination that would move their pieces across the game board. It was a game of chance, but also of strategy, as each team tried to outwit the other, laughter spilling from every corner as the pieces inched forward or went back.
It was a fun evening; after dinner Wynter and I went outside and drank some sweet tea. Listening to the ocean crashing in the distance we didn’t speak much.
“Thanks for inviting us over,” I finally said.
