I sit there, hands clasped so tight in my lap my knuckles are turning white, and watch the show.
It is a show. It has to be. Nobody’s family is actually like this.
"So, the studio classes," his mother presses, leaning in like he’s about to reveal state secrets. "Professor Lim? Is he still wearing those terrible scarves?"
"Yes," Donghwa says, looking pained as he tries to subtly extract his hand from hers. "He’s fine. He says hi."
"He says hi?" Dohwa snorts from the armchair, kicking her legs over the side. "He probably said, 'Tell your mother she still owes me a bottle of wine from 1998.' You know he’s only nice to you because Mom funded his gallery opening ten years ago."
"He’s nice to me because I’m talented," Donghwa shoots back without missing a beat.
"Debatable," Dohwi chimes in, examining her fingernails. "Remember your 'Blue Period' in middle school? When you painted everything in the house navy? Including the dog?"
"It was artistic expression," Donghwa grumbles, sinking lower into the couch.
"It was a golden retriever, Donghwa," his father chuckles from his armchair, taking off his glasses to wipe them on his cardigan. "Poor thing looked like a bruised blueberry for a month."
They all laugh. It’s a warm, easy sound that bounces off the high ceilings.
I sit frozen, a polite, plastic smile plastered on my face, but inside, my stomach is twisting into a cold, hard knot.
I’m waiting for the pivot. I’m waiting for his father to stop chuckling and ask,But how are your grades? Are you top of the class? Are you making connections that will benefit the family legacy?I’m waiting for his mother to stop petting his hand and ask if he’s lost weight because it looks bad for their image.
It never comes.
They just want to knowhim. They ask about his motorcycle maintenance. They ask if he’s sleeping enough. They ask if he’s made friends—at which point Donghwa vaguely gestures to me, and they all beam at me like I’m a war hero for tolerating him.
It’s fascinating. It’s horrifying.
I watch Donghwa—the stoic, unbothered, "too cool for school" Alpha—actually relax. The tension that he carries in his shoulders at the university, that constant, low-level alertness of a Dominant Alpha guarding his territory, just evaporates. He rolls his eyes at his sisters, he grumbles at his mom, but he looks safe.
The knot in my stomach pulls tighter. It feels like jealousy, hot and acidic, but beneath that, there’s this hollow, aching loneliness that I haven't let myself feel in years.
This is what I’m competing with? This is the foundation he stands on? No wonder he walks through life like he owns the pavement. He has this safety net waiting for him. If he fails, if he drops out, if he decides to become a mime, these people would probably just buy him face paint and cheer.
If I fail, I’m cut off. If I’m not the best, I’m invisible.
I feel like an alien. I feel like a fraud in my cashmere sweater, sitting on their expensive couch, pretending I understand this language of unconditional love. I want to go home. I want to stay here forever.
The heavy oak door to the hallway swings open, interrupting my spiraling thoughts.
A tiny, older woman bustles in, balancing a massive tray laden with steaming cups and plates of colorful rice cakes. She’s wearing a simple uniform, her gray hair pulled back in a severe bun, but her face is round and wrinkled with smile lines.
I instinctively straighten up, preparing to ignore her. That’s the rule at my house. Staff are invisible. You don't engage unless you need something.
The woman spots us on the couch. Her eyes sweep over the mother, the father, the sisters, and then land on Donghwa.
The tray rattles dangerously.
"AIGOO!"
She screams it. Actually screams.
"Mrs. Park, watch the tea!" Donghwa’s father warns, but he’s laughing.
Mrs. Park ignores him entirely. She practically sprints to the coffee table, slams the tray down with a clatter that sends tea sloshing over the rims, and launches herself at the couch.
"Young Master!" she wails, grabbing Donghwa’s face in both of her hands. "Look at you! You finally came home! I thought you forgot about us!"
