Warm Sunday Morning Rays Seeping Through the Window
Warm Sunday morning sunlight filters through the window blinds, gently settling on my eyelids. Even before I open my eyes, a sweet, tickling body fragrance teases my nose, and I feel the steady rise and fall of regular breathing against my chest. Slowly pushing up my heavy eyelids, the first thing that comes into view is Seol-ah's crown, buried deep in my arms, sleeping soundly without a care in the world.
Her face is completely defenseless and pure—no flashy makeup, no designer suit wrapped impeccably from head to toe. She's just wearing one of my oversized white short-sleeved tees, loosely draped over her, clinging to my waist like it's her lifeline. The sight perfectly overlaps with the image of that small, fragile girl from our childhood, hiding behind my back and sniffling.
"Mmm…."
As I cautiously shift my body, Seol-ah furrows her brow slightly in her sleep and burrows even deeper into my embrace. Her tiny fingers clutch my shirt collar tightly, as if she's afraid I'll slip away even in a dream. It's strangely endearing. Worried the slightest movement might wake her, I hold my breath and gently stroke her soft hair aside.
Last night, after the heart-pounding confession at the amusement park, we returned to Seol-ah's officetel. I barely managed to convince her not to go to her multi-billion-won mansion. For a chaebol heiress's place, it's surprisingly simple and lived-in—smelling like real life. Of course, that's excluding the fact that "simple" here means a ultra-high-rise penthouse overlooking the entire Seoul skyline at a glance.
"Sleep well, my little one."
I whisper softly and plant a light kiss on her forehead. The sun is already climbing toward midday, and a faint rumble starts growling from my stomach like an alarm clock. Carefully, I move Seol-ah's head onto the pillow and tuck the blanket up to her neck.
Tip-toeing out of the bedroom so as not to make a sound, I head to the spacious, airy kitchen. She's probably used to fancy brunches prepared by a personal chef every morning, but today, I want to make her a warm breakfast myself.
Opening the fridge, I'm surprised by the array of everyday ingredients. It looks like her secretarial team restocks it regularly—organic veggies, fresh eggs, and high-quality bacon all neatly arranged. I roll up my sleeves and lay everything out on the cutting board.
Today's menu isn't some Michelin three-star course or premium Hanwoo steak. It's just soy sauce egg fried rice: sauté chopped green onions in oil for fragrance, add finely diced onions and bacon to fry until golden, then mix in fluffy rice and a bit of soy sauce, letting it caramelize slightly.
Back when we were ten, after my parents left for work, leaving us alone in that tiny one-room. The clumsy dish little ten-year-old Kang Jinwoo made, standing on tiptoes in front of the gas stove to comfort a whiny, hungry Seol-ah.
As the rice grains sizzle happily in the pan, the kitchen fills with the savory, sweet aroma of soy sauce mingled with butter's rich flavor.
I divide the fried rice into two pretty plates, piling it high, and top each with a perfectly sunny-side-up egg.
Seol-ah, who had dashed out barefoot, hugs my waist from behind, burying her face in my broad back. Her voice trembles badly, and her arms grip me with desperate strength. I recall her trauma from yesterday's confession in the amusement park Ferris wheel—the tears pouring out over her long-buried fear that I might suddenly vanish from her life one day.
I hurriedly turn off the gas and spin around, pulling her trembling form softly into my arms.
"I'm not going anywhere, Seol-ah. See? I'm right here."
"I thought… I thought you left me again without a word… I nearly died…."
With her face pressed into my chest, mumbling, her eyes are already brimming with clear tears. My heart aches as I furrow my brow and gently wipe her damp cheek with my thumb.
"Silly. Where would I go without you? I even promised yesterday I'd stick to you like a leech for life."
"For real…? You won't run away?"
"Of course. I was making breakfast 'cause I figured you'd be hungry. Look."
I step back and point to the two plates of fried rice on the table. Only then does she seem to notice the savory smell—her big eyes flick to the table. Simple, humble fried rice with a heart-shaped ketchup drawing. The moment she sees it, the anxiety in her gaze melts away, replaced by a radiant smile.
"This… it's that fried rice you used to make me every day, right?"
"Yeah. You remember. Han Seol-ah special: Kang Jinwoo brand soy sauce egg rice, force-fed to the picky eater. But this time, with organic butter and premium bacon, so it'll be a hundred times better than when we were ten."
At my teasing words, Seol-ah wrinkles her nose cutely and bursts into a bright grin.
"I'm starving. Let's eat quick, Jinwoo."
We sit facing each other at the table. The most plebeian, humble breakfast on a marble table worth tens of millions—but it's warmer and more perfect than any feast.
Seol-ah scoops a big bite with her spoon. As she chews and swallows, pure bliss spreads across her face, like she owns the world.
"Good?"
"Yeah… so good it's making me tear up."
Even with her mouth full, she lifts her spoon toward me with a beaming smile.
"Better than million-won hotel dishes. This fried rice you made is the best in the world. Can I throw a tantrum and demand it every morning?"
"Every day? Your cholesterol would skyrocket. How about three times a week?"
"Tch, so stingy. Fine, three times it is."
We laugh facing each other, savoring the world's sweetest ordinary breakfast. She tops my spoon with perfectly fermented kimchi; I dab the ketchup from her lip with a napkin.
Unlike the cold, cutthroat forest of capitalist skyscrapers outside the window, our little table brims only with cozy warmth and ticklish love.
After eating, we toss the dishes into the dishwasher and move to the living room's massive sofa. We lean back side by side on the plush cushions bathed in sunlight. Naturally, Seol-ah lays her head on my thigh, and I idly flip TV channels while combing through her soft hair with my fingers.
"Ah… this is perfect. Belly full, warm, and my Jinwoo's right in front of me."
Her drowsy whisper, pillowed on my lap, is as soft as the sunlight. She reaches for my large hand, interlocking our fingers, rubs her cheek against it, and continues softly.
"Jinwoo."
"Yeah?"
"Truth is, I thought money could buy everything. The time we lost, the ten years we were apart, my loneliness… I figured I could fill it all with my money and power."
Her fingers weave seamlessly between mine.
"But seeing you cook in the kitchen this morning, I realized how stupid that was."
Her clear eyes look straight up at me.
"Waking up to the smell of your fried rice on a Sunday morning beats buying a whole amusement park or building a trillion-won castle by a million times."
Her sincere confession hits deep in my chest. I set down the remote and tenderly tuck the stray hair from her forehead behind her ear.
"Me too, Seol-ah."
I lean down, meeting her eyes with a soft smile.
"Fancy clothes and luxury cars are nice, but right now—just lounging with my head on your lap in this baggy tee— this is the most perfect moment of my life."
My words bring the brightest, most loving smile to her lips. She wraps her arms around my waist, lifting her upper body slightly, and I pull her close by the waist, our lips meeting naturally.
In the lazy Sunday morning sunlight, our lips overlap slowly and softly. No grand events or suffocating displays of wealth needed. Sharing body heat, breaths, melting ten years of longing in this quiet, peaceful time— that's more than enough to fill our world to overflowing.
We savor each other's warmth with our lips for quite a while. When they part, Seol-ah shyly buries her face in my chest with a small giggle. I stroke her little back and gaze at the clear sky outside.
Our clumsy first love, started in a narrow alley as kids. My small, precious queen, who circled a long road to return to my arms. Our world's most ordinary and perfect Sunday morning ripens sweetly like cotton candy in the warm sunlight.